Not Whoth It

Manor, manor here I come. I repeat the phrase in my head, preparing myself for what was ahead. 

The line seemed to be something taken out of a children’s rhymes book, I thought with a chuckle.

I struggled my luggage out of the adorable yellow auto with an “oomph,” and placed my suitcase on the path. 

I opened my mouth to bid the driver farewell, but the young man didn’t seem to care much for formalities. 

Having enough of my tardiness, he pulled the reins and trotted past me on his horse. The next thing I know, there are muddy splatters all over my mint green button-up tailcoat.

And my tie! I gasped, it’s ruined. The once multi-colored tie is now coated with a layer of brown. The horror!

It a futile attempt to avenge my clothes, I turned around and swung one of my hands up “Hey!” I called out. “Watch where you’re riding mister!”

The auto just sped on, showing no signs of having heard my words. I stomped my foot in frustration, which didn’t do me any good. 

The mud puddles - formed due to yesterday’s heavy shower – were most definitely keen on following Newton’s Laws of Motion. The fluid sprung up leaving me with messy, wet socks and a pout on my lips. 

So much for ‘it’s a new day!’ 

Finding the urge to look a lest bit presentable before arriving at my destination, I dug both of my hand into my pockets.

Nope. No convenient handkerchiefs there. 

I took a step forward huffing, with my hands still in my pockets - hoping for a cloth to miraculously appear. 

It was a miracle that I wished for, but what I got was nothing short of a disaster.

The movement of my legs caused a shift in the puddles. The slush of the mud threw my suitcase up. 

I watched sullenly as all my belongings slid down the hill and into the bushes. 

I peered at the freakishly large towers beside me - gray, dusty towers that guarded the doors. I considered telling them that I’m retiring for the day. 

Wait… no. 

Glancing at the horizon, you could see the various shades of sunrise. More like: I’m retiring for the dawn rather than day.

I could claim to be tired from the nights long travel. I frowned at the obvious lie. 

In reality, I had arrived at the nearest hotel yesterday by midday. Waking up early and hauling a auto for a ten-minute drive was all I had done.

Begrudgingly, I strutted down the hill to look for my luggage… for the next few hours.

It will all be worth it.

***

Knock, knock. 

Normally, I wouldn’t prefer to show up in such an attire. Any sane person could tell at first glance that the building was far too intimidating to brave unless you are a notch up from your very best.

I - who looked like I had been driven over by a truck and dragged into various bushes - was not even close to adequate, much less at my best!

The twig tangled into my hair stood as proof.

But I could not give up now. Definitely not!

After all that money and time I spent on my travels, I’d be a fool to let it all go down the drain!

You can do this, I motivated myself. It will all be worth it. 

I rehearsed my plan in a quiet whisper. “You just have to get in there, introduce yourself, and ask permission to be allowed to take a photo. Finally, roam around the place - which is not creepy, at all - for a good measure .” 

Unintentionally, I let my eyes stray across the hefty doors. Just looking at those bulky wooden blocks is enough to make me shudder.

A cold breeze whooshed past me. The howling of the wind which then played in the background, now became louder. “A-an-and then…” I trailed off. A chill rose up my back causing me to shudder again.

Darn it. This place is getting to me. 

There is nothing orthodox about this manor, Nothing! I reminded the small part of myself - which dared to feel ‘fear’! 

I was about to continue when a creak sounded. It came from the entrance, one of its doors was pushed slightly ajar. 

When no one opened it further I knocked it again. 

All that did was widen the gap further. I took a deep breath. It’s time to execute my plan.

Step one: go inside. Check.

Step two: introduce yourself. 

“Hello? My name is Gale. I am so glad to meet you. I-” I stopped talking; letting my mouth hang open.

Seriously?! Was I just talking to thin air? Who opened the door? I looked around for any sign of living organisms.

There; I could spot a - sorry, many - spiders spinning their respective webs. But humans? Not a single hint of those rebellious creatures.

Darn it. There you go, insulting yourself. But who says that I am not rebellious myself? 

But all in all? I seemed to be the only human insight.

I realized that I should be outside; like a polite guest - waiting for someone to greet me. Even as the sour thought patiently waited for me to consider it, I blandly ignored it.

I decided that the Lord of the manor is at fault in this circumstance, he should have been there to welcome me into his humble abode.

I heard from terrorized gossipers that this manor is most certainly haunted and its Lord is very much jobless. 

And this very statement is the reason for my presence.

As a journalist, I took it as my job to prove that this plot is occupied by a pleasant man who lives in a nice, dandy ‘house’ - cough, cough - I mean manor.

Finally! With the abolition of censorship, I now have the rights to publish whatever I want!

I squinted my eye, straining to capture my vision. And my very first attempt will be on this place.

Oh, and I will will not rest until it is quite remarkable.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anybody here?” The sound resonated through the dark hollow hall. 

The sight of homely decor would have given me comfort and something to write about. Emphasis on would.

But this is certainly not the case. For the most part, the walls were lacking ornamentation. And as for the decorations that were present - they couldn’t possibly be described as… homely.

“Lord Eugene?” If my memory served me right, that would be the name of the Lord of the manor; I heard that he had a title too. My reply came in form of an echo given by the emptiness.

A gust of gale blew; how fitting, I snickered. It lifted a wisp of hair towards the direction of the harsh wind. Oddly, it felt like a warning.

A slight panic rose up form inside me, but I dismissed it. It will all be worth it.

With all the rumors following this building, my article would top the trending. It would give me immense pride to show that there is nothing to be afraid of. Why! I might even get promoted! 

Now that the Declaration of Rights of Men and Citizen proclaimed freedom of speech and expression to be a natural right, journalists like myself are now finally free to write what ever they wanted.

All I need is a picture as proof. Luckily, I didn’t lose my camera with my luggage. All this time it was slung across my shoulder. 

There seems to be no one here. But that is no reason to waste time! 

I assembled my camera and set a timer. I clicked the button at the top and ran to stand in position – which was right in front of the lens.

I smiled as the camera flashed, symbolizing the photo being taken.

After the notable click, I rushed to look at my work. As I gawked at the photo, I was a little less enthusiastic. My emotions rather fell into the horrified category.

There, in the black and white photo, sat a boy right beside me. He looks malnourished, his clothes had fairly large holes in them. The Cheshire grin on his face promised trouble.

I couldn't stomach the fact that... He was missing an eye. Which was frankly gruesome to look at.

I blinked. There was another thing I couldn't digest. Who…? The last I checked I was alone.

When I looked at the camera to double-check, the photo disappeared – as if it were never there.

I was probably a figment of my imagination. And I left it at that, nothing more nothing less. After all, ghosts weren’t real, were they?

Perhaps I hadn’t taken the photo at all.

To mend that, I posed for another photo. When I checked this time, the boy was surely present. 

There he was: in this photo, he stood with his frail hand squeezing my shoulder in a somewhat uncomfortable way. That grin, that grin… Oof. My chest squeezed.

Ghosts aren’t real. It will all be worth it. It will all be worth it.

Within a moment the captured scene disappeared, just like the previous one.

I smacked my head. Am I becoming delusional?

I repeated the procedure, only to get the same results yet again. Are my comprehension skills deficient?

Mad. I am going mad. 

In utter disbelief, I imitated my actions – again and again.

It will all be worth it. Somehow, I don’t believe that anymore. 

An evil crackle reached my ears.

Ghosts aren’t real. Is it? It will all be worth it. Will it?

Then suddenly: “You may turn around,” said a grainy voice from behind me. One which I could imagine would belong to the boy. “I am here, may you not feel any alarm.” 

I felt funny. “Oh, ” I exclaimed with a slight slur in my words. “I may, may I?”

Enthralled and in a daze, I put an effort to turn around. Because it will all be worth it. 

«THE END»

[A/N: thank you so much for reading! It had been a pleasure. I really appreciate this platform _Love, from Serious Sri]