Page 24 of Grotesque Love

Turning right, I follow a narrow, smaller corridor that leads deeper into another unknown part of the house, not towards an exit like I thought it would. Dust motes dance in the shafts of pale evening light that filter through the windows, casting an eerie shadow over everything they touch. The air feels heavier here, thick with age and secrets long forgotten.

As I round a corner, a sudden draft from an open window at the end of the hall sends shivers down my spine. Peering through the glass, the grounds stretch out before me, bathed in the soft light of the evening. The trees sway in the breeze, their long shadows stretching across the lawn like hands reaching for the house.

Like the manor, the gardens surrounding the buildings are invarious states. The lawn out the front and towards the trees is cut and carefully manicured, giving the illusion of order and wealth to anyone travelling down the winding road to the courtyard.

But behind the house, towards the cove and deeper into the forestry, it's an overgrown wilderness. There are ruins, crumbling walls and pillars. There’s even a tower wrapped in vines with half the roof collapsed and no way inside. Flowers grow wild, escaping their beds and claiming their place amongst the rubble.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a movement near the treeline. Squinting against the dying light, I make out a figure standing among the shadows.

It’s not the groundsman.

The figure steps deeper into the trees and vanishes from sight and a chill prickles over my skin.

Who was that? And why are they on our land?

Heart pounding, I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should I investigate or find the groundskeeper? I make a split-second decision to follow the figure into the trees, swallowing my fear as I turn on my heel and retrace my steps back to the main part of the house and towards the front door.

Locked.

Frustration rises within me, but then I have a sudden moment of clarity. Carver would never risk being trapped inside this ‘dusty old tomb’ as he once called it. I search the hallway and find a small stone bowl on the windowsill beside the door, and under it is the key to the door.

I quickly unlock it and step outside. The cool evening air wraps around me, making me shudder and wrap my arms around myself. The figure is nowhere to be seen, but faint rustling comes from deeper within the woods. With cautious steps and painfully aware of my bare, only just healed feet, I navigate through the tangled undergrowth, each snap of a twig underfoot making me flinch.

The trees loom overhead, their branches twisting like gnarled fingers reaching out to grab me. Shadows dancearound me as the light plays tricks on my eyes. I call out, my voice small and insignificant in the vast expanse of the forest.

“Who dares trespass on this land?” The harsh voice hisses, echoing through the trees as if carried by unseen hands.

I freeze in place, heart thundering in my ears.

“I-I meant no harm…” I manage to stammer out, my terrified voice barely above a whisper. Silence follows my words, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind.

And then, out of the darkness steps a figure cloaked in shadows, their features obscured by the dim light filtering through the canopy above. The air grows colder around me as they approach, their presence exuding an aura of power and danger. I take a step back, my instincts screaming at me to run, but something holds me in place.

“Miss?” I blink as the menacing voice sounds confused. “What are you doing out here?”

The figure steps closer. It’s the groundskeeper. And he’s armed with a terrifying-looking shotgun.

“What’s that for?” I squeak, nodding to the gun and ignoring his question.

“Can’t be too careful out here, Miss.”

He lowers the shotgun and studies me with a furrowed brow, as if trying to decide whether I’m friend or foe. I can sense the tension radiating off him, and it makes me nervous. How could he mistake me for a threat?

“I saw something…someone.” I explain quickly, gesturing vaguely toward the direction where I had seen the figure vanish. Darkness has closed in quickly, and in the distance I spot the house, the lights like a dim beacon.

The groundsman’s expression softens slightly as he processes my words.

“No one should be on this land without permission,” he mutters more to himself than to me as he glances around wearily.

“You should go back inside,” he says finally, gesturing for me to follow him. “Not safe out hereafter dark.”

I fall into step behind him in silence, following him back to my crumbling cage. Once we are back inside, he heads towards the kitchen while I settle into one of the plush armchairs in one of the drawing rooms.

Despite the lingering unease from my encounter in the woods, I feel a sense of peace wash over me as I listen to the groundsman pottering around in the kitchen.

He returns with his hands full with two steaming mugs of tea.

“Here, drink this. It’ll calm your nerves,” he says, handing me one of the mugs. I wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth seep into my cold fingers.

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