OC Origins: Curtis

Chapter 8: The manor

Hello beasties! I'm finally getting back to this story, at last! In this chapter, it will take place at the manor, where there will be hints of things yet to come, and an introduction to a character I just introduced in one of my other stories(You probably know the one...) Anyway, hope you like this chapter beasties....

Well, enough of that mushy shit, let's catch up a few days later, in my new home. Sure, it was nice, better than the streets of course , my new father being some type of lord or whatever, but my new home was rather strange, as you'll soon see....

It had been a few days since Curtis had come home to WinterBourne manor. His father had brought him there promptly after he had taken care of a few things.....(He had made Curtis wait in the carriage he had hired to take them back while he "spoke" to some people at the hospital. When he had come back, there were some questionable red stains on his father's white shirt, and something that had looked akin to gristle stuck in his teeth. Curtis knew better than to ask what had happened, and his father didn't press the matter any further.....)

And the manor itself was a wonder to behold. It may have looked warm and inviting from the gaily decorated gardens, bright exterior, and neat pathways, but inside was another story entierely.

First off,  despite the bright exterior, inside was far more dark and gothic with heavy velvet curtains, old furniture, and some very curious items that seemed to be collected in the house.

For example, strange books in other languages,  decorated human skulls, evil-looking daggers, a music box that played a delicate tune but left one feeling rather weak and drained when it was playing, and many other strange and evil-looking implements.

Apparently, my Dad liked to collect weird shit. People said he had some sort of interest in the occult or something like that.  He was always on the outlook for new objects, and was rumored to do deals with the devil in the basement of the manor. But that was only the half of it...

When Curtis had first came to the manor, his father had given him a talk of sorts, explaining that now that Curtis was going to live here, he was his heir to his estate and all of his responsibilities when he came of age, but there were some rules that he would have to remember or else.

1. Never disturb him in his study

2. If you hear strange things during the night, ignore them. It's nothing.

3. A Winterbourne never breaks his word.

4. If someone should harm you, get the necessary revenge. After all, the Winterbourne motto is: nos laeti vescuntur qui nequeas.

"Or else what?" Curtis had asked, instantly regretting having done so when he saw the look that darkened his father's face.

"Let's just say nothing good." But then his expression changed and he smiled. "But no matter. You don't need to worry about it anyway...."

Hey remember those rules? You might want to keep them in mind, they're kind of like the ones from that movie Gremlins, but more important. And the last one? That was Latin, and it loosely translates to: We gladly eat those who subdue us.    Nice.

Curtis had unfortunately discovered the consequences of breaking those rules by accident one morning, where he was heading to a lesson prescribed by his father to get him caught up on his school work.

The study door was open ever so slightly, and Curtis could hear his father and another man talking. Curious, he peered in, green eyes taking in the room before him.