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Marley Manor is that old castle-like Victorian high on the hill.
The one on West Minister? Yes. That’s the one. It gives me a chill.
Seriously, I would love to see; it always gives me a thrill.
I decided to invite along my cousin three-timing-flirty-Jill.

When are you doing this? asked Mr. Pete Mahogany.
It was not any of his business far as I could see.
I looked at the lamp that was backlit in filigree.
Don’t you have somewhere else that you should be?

Mahogany is creepy, crazy, he added a cryptic sinister note.
Don’t pay attention to that weirdo, I said. He’s an old goat.
Isn’t he one of those bluebloods? I thought they were smote
I shrugged as I put on my largest orange overcoat.

Twilight was happening, so it was almost time.
The yellow crimson sky had a sliver of lime.
I am starting to dread this trek to the hill, Jill said.
I have this overwhelming fear of being struck dead.

a dour sour sulky morose caretaker let us in with a frown.
Those are horrible stairs, watch you don’t fall down.
of course, Jill took a tumble, and her bruises were brown.
Stay next to me the rest of the trip, stop being a clown!

Jill hung on my every word. I saw crimson out of her head.
You are bleeding! I told her. And it is such a bright red!
The chandelier began swinging as if it were not well bred.
Jill’s body was at end of stairs, so she was actually dead.

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