The House on the Manor 

This is not a ghost story. This story, in fact, does not begin with any people at all. Instead, our story begins with a house.

            Built in the late nineteenth century, the house was a marvel of architecture. From the dark depths of the lake that rested to its east, to a graveyard in the west. Though the grounds were as wide as they were luxurious, they were nothing compared to the manor at its heart. Brown brick spanned her walls. Cream handrails garnished the tops of the porch posts around the terraces. Replete with walls, the shades of soft green and cream, rich oak hallway floors, and polished marbles in the kitchen and bathrooms. It was obvious that even the smallest details aided in her beauty.  Commissioned as a present for a young family, now long lost to time, she housed them for generations.

            Her rooms changed with the times and favours of those within her walls, gardens aging like fine wine. As the paint chipped and peeled, it was embraced like a child, free of her leading strings, a testament to her fleeting adolescence. Every scratch upon her floorboards, each new crack was a memory. For years, she changed and grew, honouring her family. However, like most great dynasties, all must fall. And in the late seventies, as the last heir to her family died, she found herself empty.

            Alone.

            It is ridiculous to stipulate that a manor could mourn. However, one struggles to find another way to describe the coolness that settled over her, resting within the walls. The dust settled on her shelves, and webs decorated themselves in the ceiling’s corners. The endless groaning of the manor into the night and continuing long into the day, a mourning cry that didn’t quiet for years.

            People who could not fathom a house grieving, not knowing the loss that she was suffering, moved on quickly. Soon, the deed to the land was up for sale and with each new person who found themselves within her halls, she found herself falling further into despair. The grounds themselves seemed to also have a disdain for these unwanted tourists. As it turned out, not that many found themselves wishing to stay on the grounds for longer than needed. A mystery to the agency tasked with the manor’s sale, who could not comprehend why the estate lacked offers. They did not know of the large bugs that appeared when the elderly Mrs Williams had mentioned her intention to remodel the greenhouse into her taxidermy display room. Nor could they know about how a draft had locked the claustrophobic Mr Thomas in the cupboard for half an hour, who’d verbalised his disdain for the sage green walls. Perhaps they may not be wise to notice the fast-spreading patches of mould upon the walls of the second-floor bathroom, found by the young Davis couple, who had all too quickly agreed with the realtor’s ideas on modernising the estate. For when the manor and all the estate were reviewed after many rejections, they found it as perfect as ever.  Eventually, the offers dwindled to a stop, much to the house's delight. Now, peace was hers. She would not give it up. This was until they set foot upon her land.

            They were, by her standards, a young couple. Modern but tasteful, well-kept, and loved. A matching pair, who shared a smile on their face as they stared at the manor in awe. They were respectful and kind in their approach, understanding that they were guests on her land. The house held its breath, with hope. She listened as the realtor made suggestions about modernisation. Breaking down her walls, tearing her skin from her bones. She waited for them to agree,  yet it never came. For the first time in a long time, she longed to be filled with laughter again.

            As the realtor walked them through the remainder of her halls, he paused, believing that someone had come unbeknownst to him and reformed the house. Dust that had seemed almost impossible to remove had vanished. The sun shone through the windows. As if someone was drawing back the curtains, welcoming the guests, inviting them to stay. The couple recognised the magic in the estate and acknowledged her presence. So, papers signed, they became one.  This was not like her first family. This time, they were partners, bound beyond life itself.

~*~

            Not long after, she found trucks lining her driveway, men loading boxes into her hallways. An inconvenience she was happy to pardon. Because right at the centre of it all stood her couple. She knew she had chosen correctly. All that was once old and dying had righted itself. The fireplace, despite its years of neglect, roared to life quietly. Pipes dropped crystal clear water. Not one floorboard creaked. As the couple wandered, they couldn't fight the feelings within them. Utter awe. As the sun set, their exploration continued; the rooms seemed larger in the cover of darkness than in the light. Finally, the young couple found themselves in her master bedroom. Sheets gently adorned the mattress. They nestled, soft smiles upon their lips as they slept.

            As the days passed, they often found themselves waking in the morning, curtains slightly drawn, tendrils of light brushing their faces. Still under the spell of sleep, they wandered the grounds. Basking in the great emptiness about them, that called to be explored, that longed to be filled with memories. So, they would walk, hand in hand.  As days turned to weeks, it seemed as if the young couple was becoming in tune with the weather of the manor. As if proximity and time had allowed them to sync body, mind and soul with hers. When they would venture off the garden path, the sun would drift in between the branches, lighting the earth and creating a new path. One could almost swear that each time they had walked past the lake, it would ripple in greeting. It was as if time and nature secretly held their breath, waiting to serve their every wish. It is easy to believe that each night, as the couple held each other within the confines of their bed, they spoke of never wanting to leave.

            It turns out, they never would.