The Nighte Moorin Chronicles

Chapter Seventeen

Raven's POV--

Jessica and I walked slowly through the rooms. One was a large, dusty waiting room with a huge fireplace an large leather couches. The walls decorated with paintings of horses or people I presume to be the line of owners the mansion has had. The second room was a study of sorts. A large desk with a large leather chair sat in the middle, whilst books lined the shelves. History books, and some mythological books as well as some with unreadable covers. The desk was covered in papers, documents, and trinkets.

We tried the two doors, the wooden one and the silver one, but they were locked. So we headed upstairs. That's where we found a problem. We walked through the corridors, trying doors but most were locked. Save a few that were living chambers. They were interesting, as they bore thick covers on four-post beds, fancy headboards, large wardrobes, and basically everything you see in medieval movies.

We found on that was particularly interesting. The largest, and presumed Master chamber, held a fireplace with a painting of a man. He was handsome, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Something inside me felt like I knew him, but that was impossible right? There was no way that I knew this man. The mansion has been deserted for many years, and the painting looked to be at least a hundred years old.

Shaking off the eerily feeling of recognition, I continued to explore the room. I found a beautiful mahogany desk, with quills and ink bottles. And paper turned yellow with age. A beautiful thing really, it seemed to give value to the idea of the mansions age. The wardrobe was also mahogany, with gold trimmings and fancy handles. Opening it, I found that one door had a mirror on the back, and inside were...clothes. They seemed to be alittle dusty and untouched; save for one hanger that bore emptiness. Just one, as if someone had chosen that particular jacket or shirt and left without adieu.

Shoes were placed on a rack on the bottom. Just a few, which came as a surprise given whoever owned the place at the time must have been rich. There was a pair of tall, black riding boots, which were in amazing shape. One black pair of dress shoes, I'm assuming for formal attire, and an empty spot. Yet again, one item picked out an the rest to be forgotten.

Closing it quietly, I walked over to the window, it overlooked the front yard of the mansion.

Suddenly, I gasped, for there out on the edge, by the gravestone I had felt was familiar was: a man.