The manor was always a scary place. Its once white walls were now more of a dirty white to a grey. Some of the windows were smashed, and the roof was falling in. The grounds surrounding the estate was a mess. Overgrown weeds, grass which made you feel like you were walking through the forest.
It was Grayson manor.
I first came here on a dare. My older sister dared me to pick up the stone on the porch steps right next to the front door and bring it back to him. She just wanted me to go to the front door, but the stone was proof I did. I remember being no more than the age of ten, the big double doors loomed over me. Lion carved stones was on the stone posts by the sides.
I remember seeing the shadows beneath the door. Grabbing the ridiculous, pointless stone, I ran. When I returned back to the idiots standing at the large iron gates, they called me a ‘scaredy-cat’, that was till I showed them the stone. Gasps of shock and astonishment was heard. We never did go back. Well I did, they didn't.
After time, the grounds were left and over time they decayed even more. It became a favourite place of mine. The house was a feature of art, the quiet surroundings a perfect place to get lost in a book of fine literature.
Only once I saw a shadow move in the upstairs window, but I couldn’t be sure whether it was my imagination or not.
There was stories of Carlisle Greyson, he was a Lord once in his time. That was till rumours skewered the town that he was not human. I never took too much interest in the story… Maybe I should have.