Note from author: I originally was going to write this in first person...butI'm so used to third person that I find myself switching back and forth between the two as I write. Therefore, my solution is to write only in third-person. Sorry if you really liked the first person. :-)
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The sign swung back and forth in the chill wind with a screeching noise as though it hadn’t been oiled for years. Once it had slowed to a gentle back and forth motion, Asha read the faded gold letters on the wood background.
MATCHMAKER’S MANSION- the elegant letters spelled out on the sign. Hesitantly, she looked to the door that it hung over.
Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. Asha shuffled in place, glancing at the door again. Yes, I am mad at my ex-boyfriend but is that reason enough to enter the creepy-looking place? The windows were covered with dust so that she couldn’t see through and the mint-colored paint was peeling off the front door in long strips.
NO! I have to prove him wrong- prove to him that I am capable of reeling in someone other than him. I don’t need him anymore, and I can find someone 500 times better.
With her courage boosted by her self-lecture, she strode over to the door and turned the door handle. She expected a huge creak like the sign over the door, but instead the door didn’t make a sound. It opened easily into a room dimly lit by a myriad of small candles strategically placed so that the entire room glowed. The scent of roses tickled her nose, the room perfectly warm compared to the biting cold of outside.
As she unwound her scarf from around her neck to let herself breathe better, she spotted a white velvet chair sitting before a desk. At the desk sat a man in an extravagant red wine suit that looked like it belonged in the Victorian era along with the white chair.
“Come right in, miss, wouldn’t want you to catch cold on this blustery morning,” he said in a pleasant tone, but all she could think was- Who talks like that nowadays? –and- I like his accent.
The door was already closed, so she took a few steps forward. He motioned her to come closer with a waving hand and she obeyed. She lowered her thawed-out self into the white chair, feeling like she was dirtying it by sitting on it.
“Well, since this is the Matchmaker's Mansion, I can presume what you are here for. You’ve come for a match…correct me if I’m wrong,” he leaned forward on his elbows. The candlelight bounced off of his gelled hair, making it extremely shiny.
“You are 100% correct, sir,” she smiled despite the fact that her heart was shivering with uneasiness.
“Right then, I suppose you’d like to fill out a form then. Here are the papers,” he dropped a stack of papers in front of her on the desk that made her mouth gape wide open. “Once you’re done— ring the bell. Our master matchmakers will go through every one of your answers and I will notify you in letter form when we have found the choice few that will most likely be your match. From there the fun begins.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he rose from his chair and before a single word could escape her mouth—he was gone.
She looked down at the stack of papers, having the sick feeling that a schoolgirl gets looking at her homework. Might as well get started. She pulled a feather pen from the marble cup on the desk and read the first line:
Would you be willing to die for the person you loved?
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