The Manor house chapter 2

CHAPTER 2
She drew a small kettle containing tea. , she was willing to talk to me, I felt relieved having upon meeting someone who was willing to talk to me.




The place looked deserted. But it looked very cozy. The chairs were high backed chairs there were tables throughout the place that I choose to sit at one of these tables, I looked at the woman. Upon noticing me arrive, She drew up a teapot steam rose from its mouth to suggest it was hot.




“Welcome to the house, Please sit down, and I will read your tea leaves. Who are you?” she asked easily touching my hand with hers as she poured the tea into my tea cup, carefully drew out the leaves. She seemed at ease with me, being there with her.




I smiled invitingly to her and said, “Who I am is Peter Whately,”




“So, you claim to be Peter Whately, why should that concern me?” she intriqued. Peered over her eye glasses to see what I looked like, she decided I was still welcome here.




“I have come here in search or my name. And it's history?” I said, I was afraid of what they have done to the people here. What was the problem that my family created.




“Are you sure, that you wish to know, this?” she warned. When she realized what I had was asking for. From what she understood about my family having done what ever they have done.




'Yes.” I said firmly.




“You are sure. Or say you are?” she inquired as she realized who I had said I was. I did not coward from the information that I was going try and receive. Feeling I had grown a backbone with this question I was raising.




“I am!” as I sipped the tea, it was to my liking. She noted the book, that I still had from my father's home and that room, where I should not have gone. She drew back from the table where it sat. The color drained from her face. Her hand trembled. I rose from my chair to allow her to sit.




“Do you know about my family?” I asked trying to calm her nerves.
I hesitantly asked as I was afraid of what I would find there. She was what going to tell me I do not what she was to tell me, but she did not flee from the room or tell me to leave her place of business.



“Why did you come here?“ she asked, it looked as though she was frightened. what were we. I pondered




“I was told to go here in search of my family. I have been all over the place looking for this place.” I said.'What we were?'




“You have come to the right community to find this out?” she did not react as though truly afraid of who I was. She accepted it as if I was but a spring rain. Yet she decided against telling me more than that.

"Could you tell me, what you know?" I inquired again. I let my hand fall upon her hand, gently not to scare her away from me. It felt to me, that my heart depended on know this or rather my life depended on this.




“I do not know, too much. There have been stories, about your family.” she said, looking at the door.




“There is something, you know.” I said. trying to learn as much as I could from her. In as short a time as this.




“Very little. But I know there were stories about the sacrifices of children for a god called Cthulhu, by your family. That is all, I really know.” she replied. Her skin had grown ashen in fear as she spoke these words, she trembled as if she was a blistering cold instead of here in this cozy room.


"I have heard that name before. You mean it is a god. Where could this god have come from?" , I asked warily, I still had her hand in mine, her skin had grown ashen in color as she also trembled as though she had been out in the blistering cold of the artic instead of being here in this balmy room, she was afraid of what. I poured her a cup tea with which to warm her body as she was sliding into shock.


“You have a family home in this community. It has been a blemish on our society, since your family had come here. I do not know anything other than what the others here have said that they have done here?” she warned.




“Where would I find the house?” I said, I was now gung ho to find the place, where my family had lived. What did they mean we were a blemish in the community and its society, what had we done to have caused this. A god. praying to one. I could see why the Spanish inquisition might have been called into this mix.




“Go to Tiber street.: Your family has a house there, that is all I can or will say.” she said. She folded her hands together and she was afraid of what they had done in the past. As she accepted my tea.


The door to her shop opened, as I flew out the door.




”That did not really help me understand this, the feeling of fear that the others had around me. I still wanted to know. Did I not. I urged myself to do this. I would find out, even if my body's life is to vanish with its discovery. I would relinquish the gauntlet of fear that is about my throat.




I found out the address to the street. It did not tell me, where the house was on that street. I went to that street to find my home. Where my family had begun to come from.







The street looked like it was pristine and clear. Huge trees loomed overhead like a cross over the mount of Calvary. Their darkness shrouded the street in their deep dark shadows. I felt as though I was being watched by the denizens of this street. Fear held them in its blood thirsty maw, I would shake it free from my neck as it held me taunt.




I had grown afraid. It was near nightfall. I would have to find someone to talk too. About my home. There had to be an explanation for their hatred of me and my name. I did not know of anything, that we have done here. Other than praying to Chulhu.






“Walking on the street looking for my family's home here, in Ireland. I approached a house with one at the beginning of the street, rapped at the door. The owner was well dressed looked, he was friendly enough smiling at me as though to say welcome. He said,”Yes.”




“I am looking for the Whately estate.” I asked. Smiling back at his face. The wind rose up and tore through the street, the wind was cold with the damp of the water.




As I looked into his eyes, there was a look of shock on his face. As I drew up my jacket's collar to keep the cold off of my face. The wind blew furiously at me as I stood there, storm clouds had rolled in on the city.




“Are you one of them?” he asked as he rubbed his hands to free them from the cold of the day from the water in the air. Blowing on his hands to warm them.




'I am, what has my family done. To get this kind of a reaction.” I said.




“They dabbled in darkness. They prayed to things, we did not wish to come here. They were evil.” he declared with a drawl in his voice. Looked afraid at me. Quickly turned away from me, like he did not like anything about me.




“I need to find my house. I know my house is here. Somewhere?” I suggested.




“Go away. You have come here to summon it again. Have you not. I will have no part in it,” he struggled to shut the door to get me out of his doorway. He slammed the door on me. It was as though I had mentioned the very name of the devil himself, to the god fearing folks here.


Several people ran away from me. Making the sign of the cross, to protect themselves from me, and what I had said. All I said was my name and street upon which it resided. The house, that is. Which we owned.






I decided, to find this house, even without any help. I choose to go into the house of records in the community. It was disheartening, the way the community was treating me. They were horrified by me. What did the public know about me aside from my family name.




The house of records has every detail. Of ownership of the houses here. I walked into the office, a clerk looked at me, there was an appearance of who cares in his eyes. “Yes.”




“I am looking for the Whately house.” I said.




“you are. Are you?” he scepticaly said as he looked at me. He drew back afraid of me,"You do not look like a whitely to me."




“I am Peter Whately. “ I declared, fumbling around for something I could use as proof of this, I remembered I had my documentation with me in a manila envelope. I laid it on the table before him. after removing the documents from it for him to see.




“How should that concern me.” he said before his eyes laid on the documents, than he drew back from me.




“I want to know about the house of Tiber street, that my family owns.” I snarled.




“Can you offer me, some proof of this?” he said, not daring to look at the documents before him.




“I handed him, my birth certificate, it had my family name and my family's crest on it.” From a manila envelope, I had brought with me. I asked,"What would you call this?"







“So, you are. I suppose, you would like to see your family home here.”




“Yes,” so, he gave me the address.




The day I found it. Was late in the day. After pouring over the land's titles building in search of my name. I knew we were nobles, from where I did not know for sure. Looking through the records, there with the help of the gas lantern which to sees. I saw my family's name. .




The night was falling there, the lots were hundred and seventy feet, as that was the size of the lots, in this region. There that I found out about a house here. In this community. It was until I stumbled into a house in Ireland. It was an ancient manor house. I found it, purely by accident. Long ago, I decided to go there. Perhaps I would find out what I am seeking there, about my family history. This house was on a long street beside the Atlantic. The water slammed and burst upon the cliff like edge. .




I found the street. where was it? Secluded, there were houses here on the street, looking as though they were in no way in disrepair. My family home rose up like the offending finger. It appeared in somewhat disrepair. Was the house we had resided in The houses looked to have been of the a fluent, and rich? In the middle of the circle of stone.




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Looking at the manor house, the stairway up to the porch was overridden with weeds and vines. The walkway was covered with moss and grass, it there was one. As I looked about I saw other buildings of a similar nature with the similar design to this house. Their walkways had stones on the front leading to the porch, with their stairs.




The grass grew long and covered the yard like a field of bull rushes that grew there alone. The grass with their stalks looking like a bamboo. They were long and high growing. There was a fence made of masonry. It was covered in moss as if it was a spider's web in thickness, they covered the ground. The weeds flourished there.