Tennyson's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the dim glow of candlelight casting eerie shadows across the room. He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but everything seemed unfamiliar. The ornate furnishings, the elaborate draperies, the richly embroidered tapestries—all of it spoke of a time long past.
He felt a weight pressing down on his chest, and as he struggled to sit up, he realized he was not alone. A man and a woman stood at the foot of the bed, their faces etched with concern.
"Good heavens, he's awake," the man exclaimed, his voice tinged with relief.
The woman reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against Tennyson's forehead. "My dear, are you feeling well?" she asked, her voice gentle yet filled with worry.
Tennyson's mind raced as he tried to grasp the situation. How had he ended up here, in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers from another time? He struggled to form coherent words, his confusion evident.
"I... I'm not sure," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where am I? Who are you?"
The man exchanged a worried glance with the woman before speaking again. "You are at Thornwood Manor, dear boy. We found you unconscious in the forest, and we brought you here to tend to your wounds."
Tennyson's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to piece together the fragments of his memory. Thornwood Manor... It sounded familiar, yet distant, like a half-remembered dream. And the faces before him, they seemed to flicker in his mind's eye, as if trying to break through the haze of forgetfulness.
But before he could make sense of it all, a sense of urgency washed over him. "Wait," he exclaimed, his voice gaining strength despite his confusion. "I need to find... something. Something important."
The man and woman exchanged a puzzled glance, but there was a glimmer of recognition in their eyes. "What is it, dear boy?" the woman asked, her voice filled with concern.
Tennyson shook his head, the memory slipping away like sand through his fingers. "I... I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "But I must find it. It's... it's important."
As he spoke, a sense of unease settled over him, as if a dark shadow loomed just beyond the edges of his consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was at play, something far beyond his understanding.
But for now, all he could do was focus on the task at hand: finding whatever it was that had brought him to Thornwood Manor, and unraveling the mystery of his own presence in this strange and distant time.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy Who Knew Too Much
Teen Fiction"In Briarwood, Tennyson's discovery of an abandoned mansion leads him on a journey with a mysterious girl into the Whispering Woods. As they unravel secrets, they confront the peril of truths better left buried. 'A Boy Who Knew Too Much' is a grippi...
