Welcome to Mansion Stories! If you are new to the mansion, read this post first, then go to the archives page at the top of the screen. You will find all the past stories categorized there. If you are confused about characters or places, visit the dictionary page next to the archives. Previous readers will find the most recent story just below this one. As you keep reading, what will you dare to discover?
Every time you slip in, you make sure to close the gate and put the vines around the latch as though no one had been here in the hundred years since the place was closed up. You couldn’t explain why exactly. If anything, it was out of respect for this place.
You walk down a garden path, stopping every now and then to admire a flower or a tree. Though no one cares for it, this garden is far from lifeless, but neither is it entirely vibrant. Even so, this garden still surpasses all others you have seen. As you walk, the quiet crunch of your shoes on old leaves is the only noise to be heard. There is a patient silence in this garden that even the birds respect.
The path leads you to the back door. You never go in the front. Like the vines on the gate, it is an unwritten rule. The back door opens easily, though no one oils its hinges. The entire house is like this. No dust coats the furniture, and no cobwebs hang in the corners. The law of decay does not apply here.
The back door opens right into the spacious kitchen. A lingering scent of freshly baked bread excites your taste buds. You walk over to the sink and push the pump handle down. Water comes out and you wash off some sap from a pine tree you touched. This kitchen has no food in its pantry, but pots, spoons, and the wood stove stand ready to resume sustaining the daily life of the house. Wooden counters, clean and smooth, complete the impression.
You leave the kitchen reluctantly and move through the dining hall to a sitting room. The paintings, furniture, and other décor suggest wealth, but they do not make you uncomfortable. The room invites you to relax, in spite of your faded jeans and sneakers. You would linger, but your favorite room is further on.
A brass knob and a solid oak door lead to the library. It quite surprised you when you first discovered it. Though a decent size, this library did not hold as many volumes as you had expected of a house so grand. Once you started reading at the books, however, you instantly fell in love. Every volume was a treasure carefully chosen.
In a corner of the library there is a sturdy wooden desk. Like everything else in the mansion, it was probably worth a lot of money, but the desk did not flaunt that fact. You open one of the drawers, picking up the notebook inside.
It was the only part of the house that changed. The notebook itself stayed the same. The third page was creased, and the second had a brown stain in the top right corner. The story written in it, now, that was another matter. Every week these pages had something new to say, though they opened with the same warning. Will you read on, or would it be wiser to let the truth stay forgotten?