Feltone, almost faded into insignificance, shadowed by the sky that was thick of storm. There would be no moon this night. A rolling mass of greys and black, folded together like casulaties of a artists palette knife, whilst above the ravens cawed louder as the wind gathered strength beneath them.
The frosty night air bit against the stippled glass window. There was hesitation before opening it, only doing so because of the screams. She shivered as the gush of icy wind cut at her skin, the hair on her arms rose. She peered down to the ground below, shadows of the pets tombstones, crumbling like the bones that lay beneath them. Trees in the distance fought madly against the wind, she quickly bolted it shut once more.
This place had changed, not only did it allow the cold to seep inside her rib cage , but there was a sense of foreboding. It seemed to breathe through the walls, creep out from torn wallpaper, circle through the balustrades. It frightened her.
The cries were heard when the moon rose high, or shadowed by the clouds. Footsteps heard along the oak panelled corridors, or running up the grand staircase.
Who were they, why were they here?
….to be continued.