Along a Rustic wall lay a golden gate with lions lieing on the tops of tall stone pillars. Sleeping still without one breath of air. Through the gate a wide path ran along though the delicate flowers in the well groomed gardens of the grand manor. The manor itself was a comely place that rose high above the wall just below the elevated pine trees that surounded Shambleton Manor. The primordial but still beautiful stone work, vintage window frames and divinely decorated huge wooden doors made the manor very much out of time with the modern world. Up close to fine details the manor was weather worn and most of the delicate statues had but chipped. The inside sadly a bit the same. Chips on the posh tables and chair legs, stains on the care worn green carpets and the white patterned wall paper peeled and ripped. The largest room in the house was a different story. The library was the pride of the house, an ample room that was positioned corridor opposite the front door. The wooden floor boards sparkled in the light of a large patterned window on the right of the room. the amount of books was astoning; each one categorised by the authors last name. The book case ran along the walls stoping only for the door, a few charming pictures and the window. In the very middle of the graceful room was a wide wooden stair case that spiraled up to a woden platform above that held more perfectly perserved books. What was yet to hapen was totally against tha nature of this glorias place. The lord looked up at the heaven pictured with angel, gods and godesses above. His limbs spred in odd direcions broken and motionless, as blood seeped out of a deep wound in his forehead and his grazed knees. In his hand lay bits of his ripped and ruined will the rest of the puzzle shreds spread around him. His heavy eye lids shut for the last time and he drifted peacefuly into a long sleep the heavy oak doors closed on an era.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 23.05.2011
Alle Rechte vorbehalten
Widmung:
for Kim Johnson