Short Story - Old Manor House by Steven Frank McHugh

In these few years past I have often found myself wandering around this old manor house, lingering from place to place in what has become a rather empty estate. Since the passing of my dear wife who I cared for so, I have become indifferent to the outside world. Friends who have visited have suggested for me to find a new wife or seek condolence in other methods, but I feel they do not understand. Their visits come much less frequent now, in fact, it may have been years since I welcomed any of them into the presence of my path. I don’t blame them though, for I wouldn’t have been much company for them even if I had. Yet as the winter has progressed I have noticed a change in the air outside this, my old manor house. An unsettling wind briskly approaches and with it comes a deep dark fog, to the likes of which I cannot remember such a thing in all my past comprehension.

From my bedroom window I gaze upon it now, trying to fully engage this monstrous presence upon my land. Perhaps to fully impress upon you the image of which I see before me, I would first need to express the land of which my family have resided on for some four hundred years no less. The manor is of an old timber frame built in its original construction during the Tudor reign. Although before this other less exuberant holdings stood of which my family had previously resided. Beyond the Manor house lies the old stonewall, which in recent times has been downscaled and hastened to it a more modern iron fence has been placed. Beyond this lies the clear grassy area of the houses grounds. Upon further distance to the north, lie the farmlands of the peasants who have served my family for generations. Of these people I have very little interaction, and only those who monitor my personal grounds do I come into contact with on any discernible basis. Even this, has become more limited in the past few years as I have gradually began to reside more and more within the Manor house itself.

        

But something was different now, as something had moved me in a way in which I've not felt obliged to do anything for some time now. It was that fog alone. That strange mystical entity that now rested upon my grounds seemed to show no disposition of change in direction. Instead it now rested just beyond my gate in a discerning stationary manor. As though at a halt, the fog lingered in the air. It seemed now as though there was no wind as though nature had been erased and some dark presence had taken its place. It had moved, it had chased, it had formed shape and now it had stopped as though it had found its destination there sitting in wait.

And yet there were no strange signs of anything being out of the ordinary. That is all appeared relatively calm, at least at first gaze one would think so. There were no discernible noises of which to speak. No surreal supernatural howls of the night to speak of. But the thing of which haunted me most was not that of some strange supernatural entity, which had appeared from nowhere, it was that which appeared to have disappeared that most disturbed myself. The noticeable absence of the peasants walking through my fields, the disappearance of the voices of others, who even in recent years I had spoken to little still kept in me a presence of unity to the outside world. Soon more sounds and sights faded from my domain. In time I no longer heard the rustling of trees or the tweeting of birds singing in the morning. It was one of those days not so long ago as I realise the world turned to silence, and I believed it was only at that point that I realised I was truly alone. It is hard to encompass such augmented feelings into words, but never the less I must admit that the absence of others ate away at my entire being as to the likes of which I assume few have ever felt.

It was over these next few days I pondered my situation, nevertheless, a true fear and terror grew inside me on contemplation of leaving this place. A fear of my own safety swept over me like that of a lost child being driven to tears at the thoughts of there own possible fate; the loss of the known and the familiar, and all of the unappreciated features that come with such knowledge. Strange that we rarely consider the normalities that keep us in comfort and peace until they are taken away from us, leaving us stripped to possibilities of the unknown. Yet that is what I was here now, alone. Here now in this place I was unaware of what great catastrophes may have happened to that of the outside world. I felt I needed to leave, search for others in hopes of gaining some semblance of the familiar or at the least, normal. And so it was at these considerations that I left my home. As I made my way out of the door I paced myself slowly as to keep on guard. Making my way along the path the temperature seemed to grow cold as the feeling of a brisk breeze reached me. As I unlocked the padlock the wind grew stronger as I pulled the now free gate open. And it was there that I stood a while before finally allowing myself to continue forward, as I now began to enter the deep density of the fog.

My vision as I continued forward was discorded as I tried to make reference of my surroundings. I had brought along with me a torch in hope it would help my vision, but with the deep density of the fog it was providing little to no help. The ground appeared to change as I made my way along, with it having upon itself a deep inconsistency. The ground appeared to be uneven as I walked along it; giving the appearance it had been unkempt as I delved upon its differing layers. The grass also had a strange variation to it, seemingly suggesting to both plain grassy playing fields and the arable farmland of the peasants. But still as I continued on I found nothing to indicate anyone else was here. I came into contact with no one as I carried on and the more I kept on the worse I felt going forward.

Although I would of prayed for rain before now, or some other sign of the truest nature in my humble home, I was now being made fully aware of their continued presence. I had dressed for the worse when I left that morning but no clothes I bare could have prepared me for such circumstances. As the torrential rain battered me along, I was hacked and slashed by the ice-cold tips of the torrid winds. The weather it seemed had a mind of its own, ostensibly concerned that I did not move on. My feet now stuck into the ground as my boots continued to dredge forward. Under my feet now appeared to rest only mud. I questioned myself after I had seemingly wandered directionless as to where I might be. The only logical conclusion I could think as to my surroundings was that I must have wandered into the horse’s enclosure. But how was this possible? The enclosure was always locked except for in the time of feedings, and I myself had not heard the gallops of feet along the ground or the sound of anything other than natures raw and footsteps, of which having been my own.

With all this in mind I decided to search for the farmhouse, yet with no point of reference from which to gain my bearings this proved exceedingly difficult. I resolved then that I would be best to continue forward making my way to what hopefully would lead to the surrounding fencing. But as I tried to move forward I was suddenly knocked to the ground. I had it seemed, caught my foot on a piece of hardened ground or rock and lost my orientation. As I sat there exhausted the wind continued to beat down on me. The rain it seemed was penetrating my every fibre of being, as it continued its long process of eroding me. And yet still before my eyes lingered that deepness, that inescapable presence of this eerie fog. I attempted to stand up but I had injured my knee on the way down from the fall. And so I lay there exhausted, with the pain slowly fading as my body gradually became numb. I then felt my breathing begin to slowly grow fainter, my eyes grew heavy and all sense of what was happening withered within my head as I began to pass out.

I knew not what events had passed as I awoke, but upon further inspection I realised my surroundings were now that of my own bedchamber. Of how long I had been here I also knew not, yet these thoughts would have to wait. As the days passed I slowly began to regain my strength. As I began to recover time seemed to have no bearings of it’s own as I drifted from consciousness; remembering only small fragments of which together still do not make up enough information for true comprehension. I remember seeing the sight of strange beings passing through my room. Large dusty shadows lurched over me as I lay in bed but moved at erratic paces. They flew across the room entering and leaving as they pleased. There seemed from what I saw to be no recognition of me from these visitors. The closest I came to contact from any of them was when one of the smaller of the creatures sat at the end of my bed, yet this presence was hushed up and consumed by another larger figure as it left the room.

I questioned then what these things might be, no sane man wouldn’t. Could these things, be the dissenters of earth? Could they be the cause of what had happened and what was going on? If so then it must have been them who rescued me and brought me back. But why if they had disposed of all others, was I still here? Yet like the people who had came before them as my condition improved so lessened the appearances of these unwanted guests. Maybe I had imagined them I thought to myself at the time. Perhaps they were just hallucinations. It was hard to tell.

I was back now to a reasonable condition but from outside it appeared to still be winter. I looked on from my bedroom window to see still outside rested an ever integrant feature as it had become, of that most deep and darkest of fogs resting only slightly away from my manor halls. No mistakes must be made this time if I were to try to escape. I must be ready and have a plan in action. For this I began to gaze through the manor library for the recorded mapping of the area. I decided the safest root to escape was by passing through the private grounds to the south, then from there moving west through a small woodland path leading to the small village of Northwinden. It seemed now to be the safest place to escape. Bagelei had clearly fallen pray to whatever rested to the north but from previous inspection from the south the fog seemed to succeed in density. That and unlike Bagelei, Northwinden was still outlined by its original fortified stone blunderings.

Wanting to travel as light as possible I packed only a few proficiencies however I made sure I was more heavily layered this time in the case of any weather conditions. I wore a few layers of my thickest clothes for the walk and rapped around myself some spare linen from one of the infrequently visited guest rooms. I thought to myself as I began to step out that I were successful then I would finally be able to engage myself with another human being. So small were my dreams now, yet in my situation it seemed still to be a world away from present reality.

As I made my way along the path the fog was quite shallow. I could see along the path to quite some distances and the sound of tweeting birds greeted me as I made my way forward. I took deep breaths of the cold winter air. I was engrossed by my surroundings but I knew I must press on. I must say however that the ever-growing presence of the sights and sounds of nature was bliss to me at that time being. Making my way forward the path was quite clear before me, yet as I dissented further along up the track the fog seemed to increase to my sides until I could see no further than the surfaces of the woodland I was passing. Despite of this the path remained still clear until I exited the private gardens.

Upon leaving through the small Iron Gate I was again consumed by the fogs density. I had however; already studied the mappings of the area so I would not be in need of the notes I had brought along for the journey. As I continued forward I noticed the path was still clear in sight. A brisk wind rattled ever so slightly along my back as I walked on. The weather it seemed, motioned in a way as so the path was clearing around ten feet or so beyond my eyesight. The sound of fallen leaves withered under my boots along the path as the place itself seemed in limbo, in a state of shock all it’s own. Something really didn’t seem quite right as I made my way along the path alone. I turned to look back to the sight of a hidden nothingness. I knew then I must keep on forward and so there was no point in delaying the fact.

Moving on I noticed a sign along the path directing me west to Northwinden. The path itself seemed to brighten on the edge west of the intersection, as the sun blew down its rays into my new path. Here I carried on towards the sun with the heat slowly beating down upon me. Walking along I began to remove layers of excess clothing as the heat began to permeate. I striped myself of the sheets I had rapped over me. Throwing and discarding them in capricious manor as the heat became my main adverse. Far along the path now it had gotten to the point where I had only my vest covering my chest. I had discarded my coats and jackets leaving me only with a thick shirt, which I had now tied around my waist. As I did so I noticed something heavy in my pocket digging lightly into my leg. I placed my hand in to retrieve the mysterious item to discover a locket. I instinctively pulled the item out and opened it to discover in it a small portrait. The portrait was that of my wife, Emily some years ago and me. When youth was blissful and life was full and rich, with hopes and promises and dreams of futures now past.

I closed the locket. You see when she passed I hid it. I could no longer look upon it. All that was good had gone, and all’s that the picture would do was linger as a reminder of what I had lost and what was now gone. Life. And so once again now I hid it. Hid away what had been in an effort to stay strong in my hope for retaining some sense normality. In my effort id distanced myself and now here I was again on my own this time however striving for others. At one point making my way forward the light became blinding. The beams now penetrated my mind, envisioning in me only the majestic magnificence of the white nothingness of the heavens themselves. I put my arms up to try and catch vision of what now lay before me. Approaching from the nothingness I had wandered into and through was an outline of beauty.  Visions flowed through my mind and in the literal sense now before me. The angelic figure continued on wistfully towards myself as all had turned to peace. Through the mists of nature, and the densities of fog rose the young and untroubled beauty of my wife as she had been in the time of our youth. Shock and awe perpetrated my psyche as the sound of chores of young choirboys at mass caressed through my mind. Standing before her tears streamed down my face as my time had come to an end. For only in the majestic harmony of heaven could such magnificence remain.

I had lost her to paradise and yet here she was still waiting for me for her to claim. In all those years I had hidden away in hate of all those that wished to remain. All I wished was for her to be in my presence once again. So much so that I had wished away all conscious understanding and connection with the outside world until all but that what I wished to keep remained. I was dead to the present and so it was dead to me. I lingered unknown to the new world around me in a kind of purgatory all of my own, between the world of the dead and the living. I had waited there and documented my thoughts and experiences as I went along not living, but still experiencing these evanescent things.

And so as I write this to you now I wish you not sully in the memories of those fleeting pasts. Do not linger as I did in that way of nothingness and lack of being. Move forward, embrace those things not always but sometimes we take for granted. The rustling of the trees, the beauty of nature in all its forms, the company of friends and family, and most importantly the presence of those we love, for we neither last for ever in this world nor will we forever remain in the presence of one another.