The Haunting of Elsinore Manor

▪︎ One ▪︎

That boy was in my room again.

He was playing on the floor with my toys when I came upstairs last night. I turned on the light, and there he was. It scared me, and I jumped in bed and hid under the covers. When I peeked, he was gone.

I have to tell mother.

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13th of October, 1907

Dearest William ~

I awoke this morning with the strangest feeling. A feeling that something - something undefinable - was amiss. Wrong. However, try as I might, I couldn't (and still cannot) put my finger on the reason for it. I immediately checked on the children. The boys were still sound asleep in their beds, their fair hair peeking out from beneath their blankets. Ophelia, the little Charlotte Brontë that she is, was perched on her window seat, writing in her journal. The petite dark-eyed beauty seemed unsurprised that I had felt the need to check on her. She always knows what I'm thinking. It's disconcerting as well as comforting. She is far too grown up for twelve years old.

I found your brother in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. I am sitting with him as I write this letter to you. He had tea, toast, and eggs already prepared for me. The gesture reminded me so much of you that I nearly cried. I find I can no longer recall how long you have been gone. The days blur together as one unending twilight.

The children say that the manor feels different. Darker. I told them I feel the difference too. It's you. Or rather, the lack of you. You were always the light of Elsinore Manor. Your brother tries, and we're grateful to have him during your absence, but he will never fill the void you left.

I know that you are away for us. For our family. Please don't ever think that I am under the impression that you choose to be away. Just know that I miss you terribly and think of you often. The children miss you as well. They ask me every day when you will return.

Please write soon. It seems like forever since your last letter arrived.

All my love,
Trudy

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