Prologue – Lawrence Blackburn and the Manor

Hi guys,

Ever since I was young and fresh out of school, I’ve had an idea for a novel. It’s been something that I’ve revisited and revised many times over the years and for the first time in about eight years, I’m finally starting it.

Every time I have attempted to write anything longer than a short story, I find myself loosing motivation and ultimately, it gets pushed to the side. With that said, I’ve started writing a few of the chapters and without further ado, here’s the prologue to “The Baron”.

As always I appreciate any feedback or thoughts you may have on the piece.

Cheers,

Jevan Thompson

The thick wooden doors of the manor opened with a pained squeak, the old rusted hinges groaning wearily at the sudden disturbance of their peaceful slumber.

The manor’s interior had been untouched by the grace of the sun for a long time, exposing a layer of dust so thick on every object, it looked like everything had been brushed with a thin coat of grey paint. A figure stood in the sun’s rays, like an angel from the heavens.

Lawrence Blackburn was a self made millionaire from a small town in the middle of England, certainly not an angelic creature from high above. It is true that he had a very kind, loving nature, but he was only a man, albeit a particularly rare peculiar breed. Ever since he was a young boy, owning an old, authentic manor had been an eccentric dream of his. An indescribable need for a building like this had haunted him, a want that snapped at his heels at every turn in his life.

And now, with his fortunes large and stable, his goal had finally arrived.

A childish grin was stretched across his face, with an equally childlike glee glinting in his eyes. He strode forwards into the large foyer, his polished leather shoes leaving clear imprints in the grime. A laugh involuntarily escaped from him, a pure, wonderful sound which echoed throughout the dark, empty house. His shoes squeaked on the wood as he span around slowly, his eyes thirstily drinking in the sight of the building.

It was decrepit. No doubts about it, but to Lawrence, it just added to the charm.

A loud ringing from his pocket rudely interrupted him from his thoughts, but his smile was still there when he pulled out the portable cellular phone.

“Hello, this is Lawrence.” He said, one hand on his hip, his gaze still on the old, battered house. He paused for a second, then his eyes lit up, somehow showing yet more joy.

“Anna! I was just about to call you actually, I’m here at the manor!” He said, a laugh bubbling from his lips at the end of his sentence. He started walking forwards, further into the giant room. He was quiet, listening intently to the voice on the other side of the connection, but it appeared although his mind was focused on the conversation, his body certainly was not, his legs pacing and his eyes still searching.

He had reached one of the twin staircases which ran up the side of the foyer when he spoke again, resting one of his arms on the dull, wooden handrail.

“Anna. It. Is. Incredible! It’s honestly exactly how I pictured it, you’ve done a sterling job finding it. Whereabouts did you hear about it?”

Another pause.

“Alright, forget I asked, you’re speaking swahili as far as I’m concerned!” He chuckled, one of his fingers rubbing absentmindedly on the banister as he spoke.

“I tell you what, I’ve got my work cut out with me for this one, it’s going to be a right bastard…”

He listened to the voice, then gasped in shock, slapping his free hand on the handrail.

“Demolish it?! Are you mental?! No, no, no, Anna. I’m not going to do anything of the sort! Would you burn the original copy of the odyssey just because it’s old and it’s missing a few pages?” He exclaimed in horror dramatically.

An apologetic voice mumbled through the phone.

“Well then! No, I’m going to renovate this place. It’s going to be all prim and proper, but I’m going to be extremely careful about what we do. We’re going to repair and reconstruct, but we’re not going to wreck anything or change anything. It’s going to be exactly how it was.”

The same voice mumbled through the phone, only this time it was distress that coloured it’s words.

“You leave the funds to me Anna, I’ve got it all planned out-”

His sentence was stopped in its tracks as a noise rattled through the house. It was a faint sound, but in the quiet of the abandoned manor, it was clear as day.

It had come from upstairs.

The voice on the phone buzzed again, but Lawrence’s attention was firmly fixed on the noise. “Lawrence!” The phone barked. He snapped back to the phone as he climbed the old steps, his soles rapping sharply on each one.

“Sorry Anna, it seems like we’ve another bloody problem to add to the list. I think there’s rats here or something, I’ve just heard something from upstairs.” He explained to the phone, still walking.

He stopped after a few steps and laughed.

“Someone here? Anna, do you realize just how far out this place is from the rest of civilization? It’s in the middle of bum fuck nowhere!” He said with a smile, resuming his ascension up the stairs.

“Anna, I’m telling you, it’s rats or something. Don’t you worry about me, I can handle myself, you know what my middle name is?” He asked.

He’d reached the top of the staircase, when the noise sounded again, although much quieter than before.

“It’s Dan. You know what’s got Dan in it?” He asked again, heading down one of the corridors to his left. A half rotten sign let him know he was heading to the servant’s quarters.

“Dangerous. Do you get it?! Dan-gerous?”

The phone sighed extremely loudly. Lawrence laughed again.

“Look I tell you what, I’ll stay on the phone and if you hear a maniac trying to kill me, just call the police and let them know where I am. If I’m lucky they’ll be here just before christmas.” Another playful smile had sprung into existence as he spoke.

He had stopped walking, trying to remember where the noise had come from. Only a dark corridor greeted him, with a few precious shafts of light shining through the boarded up windows. To some people, this would have been a terrifying situation. Hearing noises from a supposedly empty house, miles and miles away from any form of civilization, let alone any police constables.

But to Lawrence, this was all part of exploring the house. It was his glorious adventure and Lawrence knew from prior experiences that when things seemed bad, the mind had a habit of making them much, much worse.

“I prefer dashing and daring Anna, not stupid and careless-”

It was barely audible this time, but to Lawrence who was hunting for the source, he could make it out. The last door on the right. He strode forwards once again, desire burning brightly within him.

“It’s really quiet, definitely rodents. I’m right next to it now, it’s just through this door. Wish me luck…if I’m not back, avenge my death.”

The door was stubborn, taking a few good pushes to open, but open it did. Unlike the darkness of the corridor, this particular room had no boards on the windows and none of the furnishings were broken. It was old and dusty of course, but nothing was damaged. That in itself was strange, but Lawrence’s attention was completely and utterly focused upon something else entirely.

In the direct centre of the barren room, there was a coat stand. It was made of simple, ordinary metal, but the metal had no signs of rust or wear, despite the long years it had spent alone.

But it wasn’t the coat stand Lawrence was infatuated with.

It was the cane hanging from it.

The small piece of polished black wood shone with a near mirror finish, making it stand out amongst the field of dust like a diamond in coals. Although there were no embellishments to the metal top, no engravings or carvings, it was still breathtakingly beautiful.

Lawrence couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

Something within that inanimate object called to him. Although it made no sound, did nothing special, he knew for a fact that he was supposed to have this cane. His sole purpose in life was to possess this cane. The rest of the room seemed to fade, not turning black or disappearing into oblivion, but it suddenly had become unimportant to Lawrence. For Lawrence, the rest of the room did not exist, the only thing that did…

Was the cane.

The phone clattered to the floor, rattling onto the wood with a dull series of thuds. A voice still buzzed from the phone, but Lawrence was not there to answer it. That noise from the phone was distant, a faraway faint thing that did not matter any more.

Vague absent thoughts flashed through his mind, but he no longer cared what the thoughts were. All that mattered was picking up the cane, feeling it in his hands.

He could hear a voice now, a siren song whispering beautifully in his ears.

It’s yours Lawrence.

It always has been.

Take it and-

It was meant for you-

TAKE IT-

Please…just grab-

TAKE IT.

There was quiet after the voices. Not a single floorboard within the manor house creaked, none of the moth eaten drapes even so much as moved an inch. None of the doors grumbled or groaned, half broken chandeliers remained perfectly still.

Then, a laugh permeated through the confines of the house, reverberating through the corridors and rooms with ease. This was not the same laugh that Lawerence had when he first entered. It was something else entirely. A cold, dark sound, not how any laugh should ever be. A true laugh should be uncontaminated by the swirling vines of situation, it should be free, warm and bright.

This laugh had none of those things.

It was empty, hollow and icy.

Sharp as glass and twice as brittle.