Strange Occurences

Strange Occurrences

From the pinnacle point high up on the cliff on the edge of town, West Port appeared as if constructed through my own cleverness and was now ripe for my control. On the leftmost side, young and old townsmen could be spotted repenting their sins in my cobble stoned church. Other common folk could be eyed to the right, drinking their beer pints, smoking their pipes and occasionally acting in the most peculiar fashion to my luckily rather innocent eyes. I placed my small abode head on to my pinnacle point of resignation to focus where my not so pleasant, rosy cheeked mother could be spotted in what an outside eye might refer to as an unfortunately terrible case of insanity, though I knew  was only the routine taken in the preparation of dinner. On the extreme left view of my look out, one of my many wooden boats was docking at the west port of town; and many tiny toy soldiers, I saw, were apparently returning from a wild journey which my attentive little mind could only have dreamed of.
  An exceptionally large wave attacked the cliff side, snapping me out of my cozy reverie and drawing me back to the task I was about to undertake. An ominous darkness surrounded me as the dark veil of night retracted the sun from its viewing point. It was only a cloud passing, but a chilled wind chattered my bones as I turned to face the gloomy presence of my grandmother’s great house; and I remembered many fond moments that had been spent in her estate, though none of which included darkness or loneliness of rejection. No, my mother had insisted that she must make a good impression on the parents of a most prominent young gentleman that would most probably be taking my sisters hand; and it was assumed that my presence could bring none but bad; and so there I was viewing my mother’s possibly more frantic then normal performance in the kitchen from my pinnacle perch on the cliff top.
  As I approached the once pleasant, now decaying home of my grandmother, I eyed the details of the building with a rapidly building fear. The once quite pretty, birds in the wall, now presented themselves as terrifying gargoyle  creatures, glaring at me with threatening eyes and hinting that they might swoop down, lift me away and eat me up. I began ferociously tugging at my sleeves as I peered with growing apprehension at the grand oak doors that my little fist would soon be rasping upon. All in all, my state of mind at that precise moment of my life was in no particular shape to be entering a haunted mansion atop a cliff.
  I elicited three decent thuds and then the creak of a grand oak door opening on its own accord with my knuckles on the wood; and I stared into the empty hall, willing my small shaky legs to proceed. As I entered, the door (just as it had opened) shut itself again. There I was, aged seven, standing shakily in the entrance to a pitch black haunted mansion with an extreme lack of direction. I turned to the left and noticed an old oil lamp on its lowest form of presence, resting on the floor. I hurriedly picked it up and turned it up to full light; and to my extreme horror, at the precise moment of the lamp burning to its full brightness; I glimpsed a terrifying dark figure scurry across the other end of the hall. The lamp crashed to the floor as I slipped a small squeak and hurried to hide in the corner. Now, an immense terror swept through me at the surreal horror that I appeared to be facing. Leaning against the wall and quietly crying I found myself on the verge of giving myself up to the lurking creature, as the heavy suspense, hollowing me out, must surely have been worse than what was to come; though after careful consideration I thought it best to wipe my eyes, stand tall and march forth through the hall over to the opposite wall where my grandmother was surely waiting; though this was all a fancy for I found myself in the very same spot, in that very same position against the wall for several more minutes before I took action.
  Detaching myself from the comforting wall at last , I turned and faced into the unknown darkness ahead. I had not heard from the creature I spotted since I had been at the wall, so I thought it safe to perhaps collect my lamp (which I noticed was still burning) and continue on my venture through the vast atrium of my grandmother’s house. I collected my lamp and spun around in two circles, checking twice for any misplaced scary creatures, and continued through the hall. An urge to run quite overcame me as the creaks and groans from the old house pumped excited fear through my body; but my terrified legs would not  move faster then perhaps a casual stroll.
  At last I spotted a light illuminating from behind a door at the end of the hall. I reached the door, turned the handle, pushed forward and sighed with relief at the grinning face of my grandmother. She was quite old, though aged with grace. She had thick, short grey hair and still  pretty green eyes. I was always shy at first around my grandmother so I stood at the doorway staring intently at something that appeared very interesting on my shoelace, until she ushered me in.
  ‘Darcy, darling!  How lovely to see you!’, she exclaimed with a broadening smile.
  ‘Yes grandma’ I replied slightly reproachful, the strange creature filling my mind.
  ‘But what is it, my sweetheart? Why so solemn?’ She read me like a book. I instantly began twirling my hair and fiddling with my waistcoat button
  ‘I … I thought … in the hall … I thought I saw…’, I stammered
  ‘Hush, now.  Such silliness will never do!’, she smiled again.  But her brow was furrowed as she turned from me to the fire.