The Raven Manor

Submitted into Contest #64 in response to: Set your story in a Gothic manor house.... view prompt

4 comments

Crime Horror Fiction

Death.

My affinity towards the end of a soul has pervaded my vision into utter satisfaction. I saw many life marking a full stop throughout my span. A sensation of pure delight filled my dark eyes as they saw demonic creatures settle in every soul existed. I can never claim to see the whole universe, but what my Raven Manor have seen, is satisfactory to feed the dark heaven of my mind.

The Raven manor stood in the far end from the crowd, keeping its ears closed for the cruelty that lingered in the town. The enormous structure sustained flawlessly with stone bricks, windows gleamed as long black curtains blew around it like elegant hair added to the beguiling dark features of my manor. The now rusted but strong metal fences that permanently closed the manor from other side stood there still, letting the wave of winds pass through it, then hit the giant wooden door of The Raven Manor, making a creaking sound as the hoary door thrashed open, the sinful wind rushing through the cold spiral staircase and hitting the portrait which hung at the diversion of the first floor. 

Framed with the most delicate yet glorious piece of wood, the vivacious painting of my dear mother rested inside the one of a kind frame. My mother's gaze remained fixed throughout the years, watching. A magnificent smile spread across her full red lips, her soothing black eyes watching, watching her two babies. 

If it weren't for my mother than this manor wouldn't have existed. She erected it on her own with the wages she stored years upon years. Slowly, very slowly, the stack pilled up and then the vision that filled my mother's imaginations with pleasure blurred into reality which today mounts as the Raven Manor. Forgotten from the rest of the world.

As I trace these words onto this wall that homed my beautiful mother's painting, I shall recall all of the past sinful acts that didn't harm but washed me with growing lust and pleasure. 

The Raven Manor was born 35 years back, I had no knowledge of my father, nor did I care to look after that monster who left us young and grieving. We lived in the town, I and my mother, late-night work never saw my mother sleep peacefully as I stood there and felt helpless. Seeing her shed precious tears whenever the cruel demonic society spat pathetic and horrifying sentences to my dear mother.

I stood there. Impotent and diffident.

Those cruel years went slow, almost erasing the beautiful features my mother naturally had. Then came The Raven Manor with its relentlessly satisfying dark features. It should have been the happiest day of our life, but it wasn't.

I was 12 when the tempest constantly punched the window of my room which jolted me awake, as I rubbed my eyes, something made my mind go wild. Dark black wallpapers with an intricate pattern which fascinated the very deep part of my soul. My room, composed and quiet, looked more darkly alluring as the heavy curtains rattled softly with the angry wind, the candle almost at its end struggled to keep its flame strong while fighting with the storm. For the first time, I felt strange thoughts creeping inside the core of my brain and making my lips turn up. 

Then the placid environment changed in haste, tormenting screams escaping through my door, I wasted no time deliberating about it as my sweaty palms spanked open the door, my breaths fitful as my chest pushed my gown back, my feet following the mournful wail.

I rushed there, my mother with her ever so flawless form, lay on her bed stiff, her face lacking the lively colour they had, her eyes and mouth wide open. My vision darted towards the side where the two women stood, a smirk on their miserable and cursed mouths.

Those two were the one who chose the wrong path. When it all started, they would usually throw insult to my mother saying she wasn't capable of anything, that my mother is a useless creature. Mother didn't listen, I couldn't help but let her bury her head inside my flaring chest, I listened as she cried, I couldn't help her. How wretched daughter I was!

Jealously these two conjurers felt as their awful eyes couldn't digest my mothers' success, so they planned her end, right in front of me, they took her away, my mother who slept helplessly as those witches laughed on their success. Standing in my manor, taking my mothers' life. Suddenly I felt the same strange feeling again as if these intricate wallpaper whispered in my ear, the whispers ran round and round my brain as the satisfying yet terrifying thought hit my core again. I was ready, no matter the consequences, I didn't want to be helpless anymore.

So I stepped closer and grabbed her by the neck, with this rage flaring my every inch, my fingers gripped her neck tight, lifting the awful creature, the need inside me growing. The other witch held my back, helping her panting friend, I didn't bulge, my focus fully on her eyes and nothing else. My grin spread widely as my hungry eyes saw the woman imploring for her life, my gaunt fingers pressed deep inside her neck, her feet in the air as her mouth released huge gulps of breaths, her eyes filled with waters. More pleasure filled my senses, fingers pressing the red flesh harder till she closed her eyes. For forever.

I threw her down, turned and did the same with the already shocked witch. When the placid surrounding returned smiling as she threw out her last breath. I looked at my mother, no tears filled my eyes as they were already filled with happiness. Mother should've seen how bravely I silenced those who silenced her. That at last, my mother found her peace. I didn't want to let those two ruin the shine of my house, so I dragged them by their golden silk hair and dug them in the backyard. 

My mother was in peace, I closed her eyes and mouth and carried her towards the special grave I dug in front of the porch, the storm didn't seem to calm that night. The force of the rainwater soaking me wet as I sat on my knees and prayed for my dear mother. Never leaving her for the rest of the night.

Years again started to walk slowly as I grew older alone. I spoke to the walls of the Raven Manor, traced my fingers through its pattern every time I walked idly inside the manor. I remembered the soft and delicate features of my mother and started imagining her face every time I didn't sleep. And at night, my dreams were filled with that strange satisfaction. 

I wanted to capture my mother somewhere in front of my eyes, so I imagined her more descriptively and drew her onto the piece of wood, it took me years to finish the painting only with my fingers and dark crimson red liquid which shed from those two who chose the wrong path. With my mothers' favourite piece of wood, I framed her painting and honoured it by placing it in a position from the door so that the first thing to catch a glimpse of, is the beautiful and bewitching painting of my mother, smiling and watching.

Years went by, I grew older and sick with nobody to care for me, but I also felt the growing rage inside me, the need which was etching the core of my brain, the utter darkness of my Raven Manor driving my mind wild, making me hungry for more. But I got weaker and bony.

Gradually when the need etched my every sense, I felt locked in a room where I heard whispers, a feeling of horror haunted my mind as I felt those two witches running through the Raven Manor, I wasn't able to catch them but suddenly every inch of my manor reminded me of them, their devilish smirk haunting the atmosphere as my skin shivered with both the growing need and the dread of them. I felt trapped. I heard their voices in the wind of the Raven Manor, their faces in the dark walls of the house. With my every breath, I saw them, suffocating me slowly but painfully.

One night, the storm punched the windows again, with my ageing body I stumbled to escape the terrifying sound of the winds and thundering. Their whispers grew louder that night, making my breathing rigid. I saw those eyes, their eyes cutting my braveness. 

The same need grew too. "More" my senses screamed. More.

My hands found the sharpest knife and with no more thinking, I made my hand leave a deep tattoo on my neck, my lips turned up and my eyes closed after I fell. I felt happy, satisfied, and wanting more.

As I trace these words on the wall which homed my beautiful mother, I'm already dead, as nobody stood to grave my body, it remained there, realising my soul free. "More," I say to myself, kissing my mother every time I trace a word. Pacing the floors of the house.

When nobody stood with me, The Raven Manor supported me, became my grave and the place where my vicious acts lay recorded on every corner of its dark attributes with no signs of rue. The long-forgotten Raven Manor still stands straight and beautiful. With its every wall whispering, "More".

October 22, 2020 15:07

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4 comments

Barnana Acharjee
08:31 Oct 23, 2020

Marvellous attempt....particularly the description of the manor....the whispering s....the element of horror together with the gruesome incidents locked inside the manor...excellent my dr excellent...

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09:23 Oct 23, 2020

Thank you so much🤗

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08:22 Oct 23, 2020

Very nice!

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09:24 Oct 23, 2020

Thank you!!!!!

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