Sleep, when it finally came to Valentine, was a fitful thing, plagued by vivid dreams and a chorus of whispers that seemed to emanate from the very walls of her room. The doll, nestled beside her on the pillow, seemed to pulse with a faint, ethereal light, its single blue eye staring into the darkness with an unnerving intensity.
She woke with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs, the remnants of a dream clinging to her like cobwebs. A name, whispered on the edge of hearing, a name that sent a shiver down her spine: *Eleanor*.
Downstairs, the manor was already stirring. Chloe, her usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a brittle tension, was attempting to prepare breakfast, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Liam, his face pale and drawn, nursed a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. Even Maya, usually a beacon of boundless energy, seemed subdued, her usual exuberance replaced by a nervous energy that manifested in a constant, grating humming.
"Did any of you…hear anything last night?" Valentine asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The others exchanged uneasy glances. Javier, his usual bravado faltering, cleared his throat, his voice rough with sleeplessness. "Just the usual creaks and groans of an old house settling," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
But Valentine knew they were lying. The atmosphere in the manor had shifted, grown heavier, as if the very air thrummed with unseen energy. The whispers that had haunted her dreams lingered in the shadows, a chorus of disembodied voices, each vying for attention.
Later that day, as Valentine wandered the manor's sprawling grounds, seeking solace from the oppressive atmosphere within, she stumbled upon a hidden garden, tucked away behind a towering hedge of ancient yew trees. The air here vibrated with a different kind of energy, a palpable sense of peace that stood in stark contrast to the oppressive gloom of the manor. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, dappling the overgrown paths with patches of light and shadow. A small fountain, its water green with algae, gurgled softly in the center of the garden, its monotonous rhythm strangely soothing.
As Valentine approached the fountain, she heard a voice, soft and melodic, like a singsong carried on the breeze. It seemed to emanate from the very air itself, a disembodied presence that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Eleanor," the voice whispered, its tone honeyed, yet laced with an underlying current of sadness. "Poor, lost Eleanor."
Valentine spun around, searching for the source of the voice, but the garden was empty. Only the rustling leaves and the gurgling fountain answered her unspoken question. She was about to dismiss it as a trick of her imagination, a manifestation of her own growing unease, when she heard it again. This time, the voice was closer, clearer, a husky whisper that seemed to brush against her ear.
"She waits for you, you know," the voice murmured. "She waits…and she remembers."
YOU ARE READING
the Blackwood Manor
ParanormalI just wanted to get rid of this old story, so post here it's also on a03 account name Etherealmeadow , story same name .
