Well... I can't say that this is much to go on... yet... But I've been mulling the idea over for maybe a month now... It's pretty stereotypical, plot-wise, at least, but I think I could have a lot of fun with this, if I give myself the chance.
For now, there's nothing objectionable, but there will be shojo-ai/possible yuri in the near future, as well as Anthy-abuse, main character death (Well... Actually... They're alreeady dead as of the prologue, so...), mystery, ghosts, shadow girls... Lots of rain... Stuff.
Let's cut a deal: You all give me los of interested feedback. I work on a more substantial chapter. Deal? Oh, goody.
Utena - The Gothic Novel
She hadn't seen rain this intense in years. It began to pour from the dark, heavy clouds four days ago, and it had done nothing but fall ever more steadily.
The dark roads, banked by thick trees on both sides, were heavy with water. She hadn't seen the stars in days, as the sky had been full of nothing but those ominous clouds for some time, even before the rain had begun to fall. The forests they had been driving through recently, which she imagined would be dark even when the sun was at its zenith, were nothing but mist and shadow, intimidating depths where, it seemed, the winding road went on forever, and there were no other travelers besides her small party.
And now her carriage was broken down, trapped in the thick mud on the side of the winding road. As though her situation couldn't have been further complicated, both her driver and the footman were missing. They'd descended from their posts to try to dislodge the carriage from the mud, but, she noticed, soon their rocking pushes stopped. When she stuck her head out the carriage window to look for them, they were nowhere nearby.
Her aunt had indeed warned her of the dangers of travelling alone - especially for a respectable young lady. But her aunt had mentioned nothing of flood-like downpour, inhospitable roads, or disappearing serving men.
She'd been in many a strange situation in her relatively short life, but she still had little idea what to do. She considered awaiting the servants' return, but she found the very idea rather repugnant. She disliked the thought of wading with her valises through the mire much less that she disliked the thought of waiting for a carriage driver and a footman.
So, with few reservations, she picked up her two valises and threw open the carriage door, stepping out into the violent weather.