The Haunted Manor

The old manor had red stone bricks covered in climbing vines, and columns and facades in dazzling swirls; it was classical architecture with intricate lines, a treasure in the middle of no where, I pondered touching my pearls; I knocked on the door, so scared my straight hair curls. It slowly opens, creaking on rusty hinges- and I step inside, seeing grand chandeliers of leaded glass crystal lights; sparkling and shimmering, they had been on, right? I lied, portraits watched me as I walked around looking at the sights; for sure those portraits were of the long dead- hello, I loudly cried. Was this place vacant, maybe even haunted, this I could not ignore, gone to waste and ruin, with no one living here any more; for leaves had blown in under the ornate front door. I had seen a sign "Rooms For Rent" nailed to a tree, just before my car had crashed into a ditch; driving through the rain had been a big mistake I now see, but, I needed shelter for day had turned to pitch; dark and as I walked the road I hoped they had tea. Now, I stood dripping wet in this room from the past, hello, I whispered and jumped when a male voice spoke; from behind me- the man was old with eyes vast; we have been waiting he said, let me show you to a room, his voice a choke, it was a horrible night of weeping and creaking and I could not last. I run down the road from that house- forevermore, forevermore . . . _________________________ January 6, 2019 Poetry/Rhyme/The Manor House Copyright Protected, ID 19-1101-590-02 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Written for the contest, 'One Night In a Haunted Manor' sponsor, Tania Kitchin Fifth Place