The House of Fear Act 1: Interlude within Garnenhew Manor
The black Rolls Royce stopped in front of the old Manor, as Wesley Dodds peered through the window. He had just arrived in Victoria, after all. The majestic gardens and Victorian style of class had been kept to itself on the isle. "When visiting your friend's home, please do make sure to brush your teeth," Kingston, his butler, would tell him. "Hey, look it's a gargoyle!" Sanderson exclaimed, passing the old Obsidian statue. Wesley had noticed, that the rock must have been brought from a near volcanic island, and forged by the blacksmiths in the isle. Fantastically, it retained a far more mysterious look than any of the other stone gargoyles. Silently they came to a stop, and the driver brought their luggage up to the doorway. Odd, Wesley thought, staring at one of the many windows on the top floor. He could've sworn, he saw someone peering down at them. A lady in velvet red. Wesley shuddered, and banged on the monstrous-looking handle, awaiting to be received. Slowly, the door opened for them, the butler, expressionless, peeked through, startling Sandy. "How may I . . . ?" he said, noting our luggage. "Ahhh . . . .Lord Garnenhew has been expecting your arrival, Master Dodds and.." "Sanderson. Sanderson Hawkins," Sandy said, trying to avoid the butler's eyes. "Yes . . . .Master Hawkins. I am Krull, the sole butler of the house. Edna and Inga are the maidservants who will attend to your needs . . . " Motioning them inside, Wesley dragged Sandy in, who was hesitating to make a step inside the old mansion. Inside, however, it was lit up, with candles all over the lobby alone, and a large crystal chandelier on the ceiling, which depicted a style that transcended Michelangelo. Indeed, Is was bigger than Wesley's in size and glamour alone. "Well, it isn't so bad, eh, Sandy?" Wesley heard steps from the stairway, and waited. Soon the shadow of a young man was shaped in the light of the stained glass, and Lord Joseph Garnenhew traversed down the huge stairways of his ancestral manor. "Well, with his looks alone, Wes, I bet you're glad you didn't bring Marianne or Dian along." "I know," Wesley sighed. Joseph was himself as usual, in a light mood, his dark brown hair well placed, his silk red robes were on him, with a capitalized script golden G on the side. "Wesley Dodds . . . good chap! How are you?" "Light, Joseph. It's been a rough ride. The Royce didn't even have champagne." "Oh, what a joker! I do miss the days we've had back in the Orient . . . say, Who is this?" Joseph patted Sanderson on the head, and laughed. "A ward, Wesley?" he asked. "Pleasure to meet you. I am Joseph Garnenhew, and you are . . . ?" "Sanderson Hawkins. Why does everyone keep asking my name?" Wesley sighed. "Anyway, it's getting late, my friends. I look forward to seeing you all at dinner, once you've unpacked of course." Joseph lit a tobacco, and called for Edna and Inga to carry their luggage to the room.
Already in the hallways on the second floor, Wesley slowly found out that he lost track of Sandy and the maidservants. Alone in the hallway, he turned left and right, but found no one there. "Odd," he muttered, walking down the hallway. He observed that, although the garden wallpaper was well scrubbed, it had contained particles of stains, which weren't really that visible. Suddenly, he thought he heard a voice down the left hallway, and motioned there. Reach the end, he found himself staring at a pale lady, whose velvet red dress was flowing in the air. Wesley motioned near her, to ask where his room was. She arched her head to him, and pointed towards the left end of the hall. He thanked her, and left, trying to wipe away the cold sweat that was developing on his forehead. He saw it. She had no feet. Walking faster down the hallway the lady had pointed out to him, he noticed that, for some reason, the stains were beginning to grow more visible than ever. Next time he blinked, and pressed his hands towards the wall. The stains began to grow red, spilling onto the floor. Wesley backed away, only to find nothing on the walls, but specks of faded stains. Suddenly, someone tapped on his shoulder, startling him. "Wes! Where were you?" It was Sanderson. "The luggage's are in the room already. Come on, let's go and unpacked!" "Er . . . Sandy . . . did you see anything weird going on around here?" Sanderson's eyes grew in terror, upon Wesley's mention. "Yes . . . yes, I did . . . " he turned, and covered his mouth, then burst out in laughter. "Geez, Wes! The only thing weird here is you!"
"So," Joseph said, at the long banquet table. "How is your meal, Sanderson?" The boy turned to him, and nodded in eagerness, trying to swallow the load in his mouth. Wesley ate silently, as if eyes were peering at him. "Joseph, could you tell me something," he said on a flat tone, garnering the attention of the other two. "I saw someone . . . a lady in red in the hallway." Joseph coughed, and drank from his cup of wine. " . . . It's All Hallow's Eve tomorrow, isn't it? Trick or treat in your country? We don't get that here in Garnenhew manor. People are scared." "Joseph . . . the lady had no feet," Wesley exclaimed, annoyed by the fact that his friend was changing the subject. "Who was she?" The banquet hall drew silence, as Joseph found that his friend would not stop until he got the answer he was looking for. "Very well, Wes . . . don't say I didn't try." "Cool, are you going to tell us a ghost story?" Sandy said excitedly. Joseph turned to him, and sighed. "Yes . . . yes, I'm about to tell you a ghost story . . . but one that does not linger on the words of others, but the words of the Garnenhew Manor itself." "Words of a house?" Sandy said, puzzled a bit. "Houses themselves have stories to tell Sandy," Wesley uttered, drinking his glass of water. The candles that were lit began to sway its flame to an unnatural wind, and the three found the hair on their skin beginning to rise. Wesley knew that once Joseph told them the story of the manor, there would be a force from within that would silence them all. Wesley coughed from his chair, then called for Joseph's attention. "Best it be a story for another night, Joseph. I do believe we should discuss something else. It is the night before Samhain, after all." Samhain. The Celtic name for All Hallow's Eve. They said that the dead would walk the land on that night, an army of darkness that would beseeched its terror on the living. Clearly, that was the reason why many once dressed up as witches and goblins, to fool those who were dead. Clearly, that was no longer the case. Suddenly, the lights flickered off, as the flames on the candles rapidly disappeared one-by-one. They were all alone in the banquet hall, but not all alone at all. It was still watching them, waiting for them to make a move. Sandy motioned for one of the candles on the table, and lit it with Wesley's lighter. On the other end, Joseph sat calmly, awaiting for something to happen. As Wesley saw from below, the ceiling was littered with lost spirits, wondering across. The chandelier gave way, then crashing onto the table. That was when they all saw the transparent lady in red, silently screaming in rage, at all of them. Wesley nearly swore he heard Sanderson pee in his pants. That was when the candles then burnt a blue flame, and within seconds, back to their normal self. Even the chandelier. Joseph calmly sat on his chair. "Happens all the time," he said, lighting another tobacco to unnerve himself. "That is why Garnenhew Manor is never visited by folks on Hallow's eve, no matter how it seemed to fit the occasion. Garnenhew Manor has another name. A name given by the townsfolk of Victoria. It is the house perched on the hill, like a giant watching in anticipation to strike." He coughed, and blew away the smoke. "It is the house of fear." Silence once again filled the vast hall. "Is it best that you have seen the lady in red. Now I can tell you what I know, and not feel guilty for the deaths of yours that will occur." Sandy shivered at the thought, while Wesley waited quietly for the tale. "Back then, I suppose, there was a man named Atticus Garnenhew, who came to Victoria with discoveries from foreign lands. As a merchant, he made fortune and raised his family among one of the most prominent roofs in Victoria, aside from the Craigdarroch and Hatley Park (which were much more recent, mind you). But like old castles, Garnenhew Manor has its own secret, and spirits do wander through its halls, be it harmless or be it evil. But no one knows the true story of the lady in red. Some say she was a mistress, and was killed for it. Who knows?" Joseph stood from his chair and yawned. "It is getting late, isn't it you two? Might as well go off to bed now." He then smiled grimly. "Good night. And sweet dreams." He then left the two in the banquet hall. "One of those I won't be having," Sanderson said. "Good for you," muttered Wesley. "Guess who doesn't have both?" To be continued . . .