Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

Ski Lodge?

As Myst read the letter, she had far too many questions going through her head... on top of it all was why. Why would someone ask her to host a new ski lodge? Who would do that? How did they find me? What are they trying to find out, accomplish? She stared hard at the crinkled, but otherwise neat letter, tainted by the slightly scrawled ink, across the parchment-like paper. Biting her lip, she got up, peering out at the quiet gloom through a rain streaked window pane. 

Myst shot up, awake and alert. Oh, just that dream again. She thought, exasperated. This nightmare, accompanied by others reminiscent of the previous ski lodge, had plagued Myst since it had ended. She got up, walking around some, and  eventually found herself in the grand atrium. Glancing out the battered and weatherworn panes of glass that adorned the atrium and main flanks of the castle, watching the dark clouds swirl. As usual, the weather that consumed the outside of the castle remained a calm yet imposing dark grey, with occasional variation. Is it an omen? Should I just give up? Myst fretted. Just then, a beam of light shone through the overcast heavens, almost synchronised with Myst's decision, she would bring the Ski Lodge back!

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Myst had everything planned; set and ready to go. All she needed was receive the new set of guests. Again, she looked out the weathered pane of glass, like she had when she first obtained the castle. It once again crossed her mind that it was the only thing separating her from the rest of the cruel world. This time, though, the window was not just a reminder of hope, but also the lingering sense of dread, as it reflected the dusk's faint light off the snow and sleet. Shaking her head as she tried to dismiss such dark thoughts, Myst turned to the surrounding room. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the gleam of the palace's ballroom's polished floor, both the brilliant and creamy contrasting wallpapers as she meandered through the velvet-clad corridors, the ornately designed decorations and countless gadgets and trinkets. If she wandered far enough, she'd even glimpse the personalised guest rooms, precisely attuned to anything that the future vistors might want or need. Perfect.

If anyone had been witness to the expression carved into her delicate features at that moment, they would have quickly realised that she would not stop at anything reasonable to achieve her goals.