With caution I looked over the balcony and to the first floor entrance way. There was no sign of anyone coming into the house besides me. Doors just don’t open and close by themselves, there must be someone else in the Manor now.
“Hello?” I said as I took one step toward the stairs, “Is anyone here?” I paused before going on any further and turned on my recorder to catch any voices or sounds that could come back that can’t be heard by man. “I said is anyone here?”
“Hello...is an-” I didn't get the words out of my mouth completely as I had to duck when a pen came flying toward my face, someone doesn't want me in this house. I picked up the pen that landed near the wall behind me to see who it belonged to. On the side of it was inscribed the surname Harris. Oliver Harris was a guest in the house who died mysteriously in the night, the only person he was seen with the entire day was Benjamin Holder, maybe it was a slave deal gone ary? Either way this must be a sign, it’s a shame I didn't catch it on camera.
“I am going to ask a few questions if that is alright.” I sat the recorder down on the floor and sat the pen next to it. “Are you Oliver Harris? Did you die here? Were you murdered? Is there anything that doesn't want me here?” I looked around and shut off my flashlight to conserve the battery. “Do you want to hurt me?” I asked.
With a slight sigh I stood up and turned off the recorder and placed it back in my backpack. I need to start exploring the Manor so I can try to get more evidence. Every room was different, one room was just filled with old junk, the sitting room had games and old bottles of alcohol, the bedrooms were all beautiful and cluttered with dust, and the last room I looked into was the kitchen.
By the rumors told around the town, many people were poisoned by the soup, including Gertrude and Adeline Bellefontaine, and a guest that was invited to a dinner party, a young man by the name of Shawn Ravenswood.
In the kitchen an old stove sat at the end of the room accompanied by a large fireplace with an iron pot hanging over the ashes. Wine Glasses hung from one of the shelves, and the fine china was displayed with great pride in a shelf. Forks, knives, and spoons were found rusty and brown from age, the silver now a ugly and copper color.
I started up my camera and panned the room, I looked through the viewfinder and stopped once I pointed it at the stove, small flames were being emitted from the bottom, or what looked like flames. “What the f*** is that?” I said.
CRASH! One by one the wine glasses fell to the ground smashing into small pieces. I cant believe this! I have never seen so many things happen in one setting, maybe it was just a faulty lenze, a slight breeze that caused the glasses to fall. I had enough of the kitchen and decided it would be best to not go in that room again the rest of the night.
