Ghost Story

Letter's

   "U-umm," I tapped the blond woman on her shoulder, "I'm sorry do you know where the, Nadroj mannor is?" Her eye's seemed to widen and her mouth gapped for a moment.

"Are you that couples grandson? Jonathin?"

"Jordan." She smiled deepening the creases around her eyes as she reached out to shake my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jordan Nadroj. I'm lindsy."

"Nice yo meet you."

"Ohh, here I am chatting your ear off. The mannor is a stapple of our small town. If you just fallow this main road up the hill you'll pass a grave yard then keep going and the next thing to come up should be the mannor." She pointed up the hill as she spoke.

"Thank you Lindsy." I picked up my bag and started walking up the rode and taking in the aura of the town. Everything had this old fashioned feel to it and the people were no exeption. I had been able to tell as soon as I entered the strange place, it felt like the hole town was trapped in the past. I had a feeling that the house would be like this as well. 

I remember as a child running through its halls during my summer breaks, running into closets and hidding under tables hopping that my friend, Cristefer wouldn't know where to look.

I distinctly remember one time when we played the game when I dusided to clime up to the top shelf of a guest room closet. Once I had secured my, at the time, ingenues hiding place I could only wait for Cris to eather find me (which I had been confedint he wouldn't) or give up. Once he had entered the room and checked every other T in the room when he locked eyes with he closet doors.  Cris fummbled through the boxes and as he was about to step away a small laugh slipped from my lips.

"Found you," He told me.

"You cheated." I wined and as soon as I had the shelf creaked. The two of us locked knowing eyes before the shelf fell out below me. That was the last time we played hide and seek in the house.

I laughed at the passing memory as my eyes panned out over the grave yard that my grandparents had most likely been added to recently. I made a mental note to come back and leave some flowers for the two of them. And Cris of cores he never did like flowers.

The walk to the mannor had only been a few muinets after that and apon ariving on instinct I rung the door bell of the old stone mannor before remembering that it was now vacent. Or so i thought, you see as soon as I opened the brown dooble doors I heard a ear splitting screach. Not from the doors, no, from the dark grey cat which my grandfather had insisted looked like gun powder leading to his unfortunate name. I wanted to name his ashes, mainly because that was what I wanted him to become. I closed the door behind me while staring at the cat uninthusiasticly. I took one step into the house and he hised batting his paw in the air. I hissed back, stomping on the ground causing him to dart away. In such a large house taking my shoes off seemed strange so I setteled for keeping them. The kitchen had like the rest of the hosue maintained a Victorian like style in its architecture and art work. Once I had reached the master bedroom I looked around at the king seized bed, dressers, and the looming photo of grandfater with grandmother sitting in a chair next to him. I closed the door and walked into my old room which like the rest of the house was exactly as I remembered. Blue with a queen sized bed and two large french doors leading out to a balchony. The walls still had pictures I had drawn as a child and stuffed animals laying on the ground.

My grand parents seemed to have left the room this way for the same reason I would rather sleep here than the master bedroom. Becuase both had been clamed and molded to fit us indivitualy and although I now own the mansion and with it there room, truly it is does in essence belong to them.