Priceless Treasure.

TRAIN STATIONS...Magnificent Cathedrals, aren't they? Everyone gathered together in anticipation of some magnificent event? The acoustics of such structures are ghostly sounding, with smells of diesel and smoke, coffee; and of fairground doughnuts and hotdogs. That's as it should be...a magnificent shelter for a magnificent population awaiting transport, and adventure! People moving from place to place. Body language of conversations far from one's hearing spectrum...happy laughing ones, obvious to anyone. Arguments, the same. The joy of of seeing children filling their waiting time with playful imaginations. Mr.J, sat patiently awaiting his train. Announcements of arrivals came and went, as did people...."THtEhe TRtraAinIN NOnWow ARRarIVrivINgG ATat PLpAT...", that's the announcement J was waiting for.

He boarded the giant, hissing Anaconda of steel and power. And, after making his way down the narrow corridor, amidst tides of others all going in opposing poles, he eventually found an almost empty compartment. He slided the door SHUT, "At last!", and sat down staring at the ceiling with both hands behind his head, arched his back, and gave himself a massive stretch, took a deep breath in, breathed out, and relaxed for just a moment with his eyes closed. These compartments are always rather dingy looking, no matter what the colour scheme. Who's he?. Opposite, sat an elderly gentleman. Slim build. A thin faced looking gentleman, but not unpleasant to one's eye. And wearing tweed...how many different variations of this type of clothing could there be? A Traditional Tweed suit. Really quite smart, if one likes this type of fashion.

PHWEEEE!. All aboard!. Carriage doors slammed shut...Then a loud, like a raging bull, came HUFFS...one, and then another, getting stronger, quicker. The giant Serpent angrily awakes and jerks the belly of it's contents toward it's Bowel's, then slowly ventures from it's peaceful resting......eventually, it calms. Becomes a beautiful, rhythmic flow, like a baby rocking to and throw (transverse the countryside, whatever the weather, in a bubble of pure relaxation).

THE ELDERLY gentleman glanced over the top of his newspaper. "Good afternoon young sir", lowered it opon his knee, "your presents is indeed a much welcomed one". "Thank you", replied J, "we are most fortunate to have acquired an apartment with just the two of us, well for now at least". "Where are you heading?", inquired the elderly gentleman (let's name him Mr. E). "I'm partaking in a weekend retreat at Grey Manor Hotel. Looking forward to it. Not only that, but as far as one can gather, there's hidden treasure somewhere within one of it's guest room walls...woh! Wouldn't it be great if I was to stumble opon it...Oh, the care free lifestyle I could lead, because you see, it would be ALL mine, entirely!! There's a small clause in the hotel brochure, hardly visible, that states: Grey Manor Hotel, has no claims (as worded) to this probably fictitious treasure. If found or not, ALL damages TO said property WILL be accountable TO the perpetrator(s).

"Take Heed of Greed, young sir", remarked, Mr E,...."

GREY MANOR, was built and owned by a wealthy landlord by the name of Lord Grey. Despite the somewhat dreary house name, he was a cheerful person, a good person, a fair person; and was truly admired and respected by all his employees and land tenants alike. A good, honest person, yes, but he was no fool. Indeed, had no patience with those who tried to...such was the philosophy Grey adopted. Afforded an almost trouble free life for himself and his wife.

HIS HOUSE: A flat no thrills front elevation, with an "almost impressive" front entrance at the apex of wide, semi circular stairs. Windows, all the same shape and size size: height/width 2:1, lined symmetrically, vertically and horizontally. It's architecture reflected the character of it's owner: efficient, not extravagant. Set on a high point of a rolling countryside hill. Woodland to rear, and to the front, a panoramic hillside view of the lush, fertile land he owns; and of farmer's dwellings, with their own businesses and families, enabled a good life, a meaningful loving life for all....

BUT LIFE ISN'T always kind, everyone will experience this at some point no matter WHO they are. We can but try to face such tragic episodes. Never give up! Such was the person, Lord Grey.

Tragically, his wife had died giving birth to their first and only child, their daughter (one need not describe the emotional state at that time). A super wealthy cartel protected by guardian devils he was not, nor did he ever wish to be. But he vowed to his deceased wife he would always love and protect their beautiful daughter. Kept steadfast to his word. Raised her lovingly. Instilled her with memories of her mother, and how wonderful and beautiful she was. And now, how wonderful, and beautiful a young woman their daughter had become. Often with a tear in his eye, he would think, 'the day will soon be here to have to give his daughter's hand away in marriage', not necessarily to a young man of equal status, but hopefully, to one of equal moral standing.

ONE FATEFUL NIGHT, thieves broke in with eger intentions of stealing money, gold, silver, and anything else worth taking. The household staff that day had been given the whole weekend off to enjoy traditional celebrations in the town.

It wasn't until around midnight, that Lord Grey (and his daughter too) perceived a muffled commotion emanating from below. Grey, vacated his room, and stood peering down from the middle of the balcony...."Who's there?". OH, IF only he had kept silent.

FROM the landing one might be in awe of it's splendor, the house design. Looking straight down, was the main entrance hall, a functional attribute to the house, and one that should to be kept clean at all times to ensure the unnecessary spread of outside grime. From this, overlooking landing, armed two splendid staircases, designed with a subtle curve towards each other that could only have met at least 50ft below the entrance floor. The landing extended with two identical hallways on either side, like parallel mirrors, both lased with alternating left and right doors. Infact, the house, the guest rooms, the opulent dining room, Grey, saw only as a front for the rich to enjoy. He would have much preferred a more 'Poldark' like style. However, his financial advisors persuaded him otherwise, Grey, had to agree...the overall upkeep of the estate takes money, and improvements costs money....and one can't squeeze duce from a lemon more than it holds....and people, and families, are NOT 'lemons!'.

Pomp and Ceremony?', 'Toffee Nosed B's?', call these people as you wish, that's up to you...the thing is: people who have money, want to make more money..."Impress to get Invest", otherwise, be strangled by those who did.

"SCUM. Bandits! How dare they!". Four scruffy looking 'souls, each clutching a rag-sack, instantly looked up.."Seize him!". Three ascended the stairs. Trapped, no escape. What to do? Run? Hide amongst the other rooms only to be discovered later? NO! Lord Grey, was a proud man, and stood fast. His daughter emerges from the right side corridor, "father, what's going on?". "Emily. No. stay back. Run, hide". But it was too late. She was grabbed tightly by the arm, "Who have we here? Pretty looking thing aren't we?", said with a sneering smirk opon the retched face. "Unhand her you filthy bastard!". Emily, was thrown over to her father, they quickly embraced. "Who are these people?". "I don't know, stay behind me, everything'll be ok, I'll deal with it"

His daughter and he, now both ambushed against the landing railings. The rouges intentions seemed very clear to Grey...to take whatever they wanted, including his daughter. Making himself a barrier Infront of her, Grey, stood defiant. (It's my belief the robbers were only using 'scare' tactics. They didn't want trouble, simply to tie them up, and secure in one of the rooms....but there's always one hot headed psychopath, isn't there?). "Don't try anything stupid, grandad", and pushed him violently in the chest. Grey, flew unbalanced backwards, there was a splintering sound, the railings gave way...screams from Hell could not have sounded worse as Grey and his daughter fell, straight down...Then silence, DEAD silence. No body wanted this to happen. The robbers eyed one another in disbelief, panicked, and fled the house empty handed, leaving the grief stricken Lord Grey, slumped upon his knees before his beloved daughter (only the coldest of hearts could not have been affected by Grey's grief stricken sobs) Emily, had broken her father's fall...Emily, died.

GRIEF stricken indeed. Often times Grey, would be seen even in the dead of night, knelt for ages Infront of his beloved daughter's grave, constantly weeping, intertwined with loud, explosive curses to those who had caused this. But the thieves were never caught.

ONE DAY, It all stopped. Lord Grey, visited his daughter's grave but once a year. Said that he had come to terms with his loss, and needed to try and regain his life again, albeit even more saddened. He stood fast, braved the onslaught of his own emotions. "No!", said often to himself, "No! You don't just get to give up and die, to disappoint ALL those who have truly cared for you? SHAME on you if do!". Such was the person, Lord Grey.

ALL his valuables, items of gold, silver, jewellery, everything of monetary and of personal value, he removed, and hid somewhere within the house. Where? No body knows.

DEATH BED: Just moments before Lord Grey, died, aged 89, he offered out a piece of paper, words written there on: "Who ever finds my treasure eyes blind in greed so beit".

There was no immediate next of kin. No brothers or sisters. No uncles or aunts. And why should a distance relative, who had played no beneficial part In one's life: an obscure cousin? once, twice, three times removed? He removed.

HIS WILL: Land rented to farmers and their families, blacksmiths and the like, was now theirs. The upkeep of the house including a generous amount of land, was to be funded by his personal fortune, until such time the estate was sold. Where did the proceeds of the sale go? To be shared amongst a handful of people he regarded loyal and worthy, which also included members of his staff.

YEARS rolled by, and many decades later, Grey Manor, became a hotel. And, as legend has it, treasure is still concealed somewhere within it's walls.

THE GUEST: Arrogant, selfish; really quite unlikable (Let's name him Mr.C). Imagine the scene: The dinning room, elegant in it's furnishings. Clean white table cloths. Beautifully decorated bowl lamp shades, ambient lighted, emitting a warm, relaxing, fireside like glow to the restaurant room...(no harsh, down lighted spot lights adopted here...one may as well be holding a torch to one's chin in such cold lighted establishments.

Dinner night? Fright night more like).

"WAITRESS!", loud, clicking his fingers, giving rise to stares of annoyance from the other guests quietly enjoying their evening meal. "This wine tastes like vinegar, it's corked...bring me another bottle". "But sir, you tasted the wine, you've almost finished the bottle, why did you not mention this before?". "What! You listen to me, without us, the paying guest, you would not have a job. Go and fetch me another bottle, now! And I do not expect to be charged for it"....And so, as one would imagine, the more he drank, the more, and more he became...obnoxious! Complains about almost everything. The restaurant staff and guests by now had had just about enough. He needed to be asked to leave, right now, when...

FINALLY, much to the relief of everyone, he asked for his bill. And quite drunk on table wine, he decided to retire for the night. So, clutching a freshly opened bottle (of course) he wobbled from the dining room, and gingerly ascended the left side of the staircase to his room.

THE ROOM: In a pitiful attempt at hanging his jacket in the alcove wardrobe, Mr. C, stumbled, non surprisingly so, and struck his head on the back of the wardrobe, it sounded hollow. He regained his ballance and proceeded to rapp his knuckles against the old floor boarding looking structure. It did indeed sound hollow. Although quite drunk, his sights were very clear, "could this be it, just beyond these back boards?". And so, grabbing the fireplace poker, hacked out a small opening. There was definitely a space beyond, and felt sure he could see a sack of some sorts within arms reach....he reached in.

At length, he managed to grabb the item, but it was too large to fit through the opening, and noisily prized the rest of the boards free.....A knock came at his room door, "Sir, SIR? Are you ok? There has been a complaint of disruptive sounds coming from your room". "Oh, no no, it's okay, I..I tripped over the table stand in the dark, silly me". He kept quite still, and quite quiet, oh, so still and quiet, "Go!", he thought to himself, "Be gone already!", could hear his own heart starting to beat faster, louder, and LOUDER, almost unbearable!....................................................................................

"Ok, as long as you are alright sir. Please be more careful, and enjoy the rest of your evening. Good night sir". "Phew!", and dragged the large course sacking into the middle of his room.

"YES! Have I found it? IT'S All MINE!". And trembling with expectations, he pulled at the course strings surrounding the parcel....it fell open. There, presented before him, lay a skeleton, young, delicate looking. His eyes rolled between the empty spaces of the bones in disbelief, "The hell is this? Is this it? Is this the Treasure? Nothing more than a worthless collection of Bones?". Bitterly disappointed, he angrily gathered the whole thing up and threw it back behind the wardrobe, then slumped upon his bed to sleep.

TOO DARK: Mr.C, awoke to the wonderful morning sounds of the countryside, and opened his eyes. But what time was it?...still the night? Just then, a knock on the door. "Good morning sir, your breakfast as requested for you". "Come in, please COME IN!". The maid entered, picked up the breakfast tray from the trolley..."Good morning sir, where would you like me to place your tra....". It slipped from her crumbling fingers, and fell crashing to the floor.

EGGS, scrambled or not, splatter in all directions amid screams of horror from the maid. "Please help me", pleaded Mr.C, but the maid was too petrified to move. What she witnessed, could only be described as, two large boiled eggs protruding from Mr.C's eye sockets, no pupils....completely white, with hideous bloodshot veins staring straight at her.

"MY GOD! Whatever happened to the unfortunate fellow, if indeed I have sympathy for him?". "It's uncertain", replied the elderly gentleman, "The room, to the best of my knowledge, was well inspected. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary. The alcove wardrobe looked fine. And, on closer inspection, the wardrobe back was found to be quite solid, perfectly intact, no hollow sounds were ever detected from beyond....but it was a very long time ago, and the actual room in question? It's long been forgotten".

THE TRAIN, with sounds of screeching steam, came to a halt.

Mr.E, took to his feet, and bade his companion farwell. The End.

This narrative, although fictional, is based on life experiences.

Confused? The time period? it's of no importance...

The story is!

Poke holes in it's timeline if you wish, I say, "Emerson".

Am I happy with it? Hell, no. Could I have spent more time writing, and rewriting it, Hell, yes, to my dying day. Could anyone else have written it much better than I? Of course!

but I wrote it, and hope you enjoyed reading it....

Written in 1859 by: William. E. Double, wearing a tweed suit, the year now: 2024.