The Manor
I stepped over the threshold and the floorboards creaked a familiar tune, welcoming home the master of the manor. My footsteps echoed as I hung my coat upon the hook on the wall. The fires had been lit, the house aired, but the rooms were now empty.

Almost empty. I knew that there were voices that would play upon my fancy as I made my way through the hallways, and faces that would stare back at me when I looked for them with an open mind. My house is haunted by the persistent lingering of my own memories.

This time, however, I would not be alone with them, with no choice but to dwell upon old ghosts in every waking moment. There would be other voices and other footsteps, tangible and soothing to my lonely state of mind.

I heard the first of them coming up behind me. As I turned to look at the gentleman who approached, I reflected once again that he seemed younger than he was. He scanned the interior with wide eyes, full of exuberance as he took in the lavish decor of the foyer and the great staircase that led to the upper levels. His expression softened into a perfect picture of tenderness when his gaze returned to me. The cold night air coloured his sculpted cheeks and the tip of his nose with an almost unnatural glow, the wind having blown his hair into an alluring disarray of dark tresses.

I moved towards him, meeting him half way, my arms resting loosely round his waist. He whispered a few quiet words of gratitude and kissed me. I smiled and relieved him of his coat. The moment was infinitely surreal, and yet, I cannot help but smile when I think back on it.

So commenced my belated homecoming, and in such bliss I have remained, with my dear companion, a young friend and an impending visit from my maker to keep my spirits high. There will be time to relate further details when I am not otherwise and so pleasantly occupied. Your patience is much appreciated.

Warm regards to you all.