literature

The Story of Bloodstone Manor

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Literature Text

A very very long time ago,
In lands not so far away
Far above the village down below
A great Manor on a hill did lay.

The manor hid behind a veil of secrecy
Or so the locals would say
But in truth, very little did they see
As none dared cast their eyes that way

Master Grimsley was the habitee
Of this grim abode
He with his wife, Lemora Grimsley
Through whom the spirits flowed

Old man Grimsley, once well to do
Fell prey to this dark lass, asking for her hand
And from the day they said “I do”
Darkness spread across the land.

She had him build this great estate
Upon the highest hill.
A monstrosity which took 2 years to create,
And many a life did kill.

Falling ladders, and falling beams.
Just to name a few.
All tragedies, or so it seemed.
That befell the building crew.

With each death, Grimsley grew grimmer,
Lemora grew darker.
And the grounds grew bloodier
This cycle continued there
Till the manor was complete, and only Grimsley breath stilled the air.

And in a turn of dark wit,
Bad taste, and good old fashioned fun
Lemora proposed to call it
Bloodstone Manor, and thus its dark future begun

The spirited young lass made haste
To, populate, her residence with countless ghouls
And to ensure his obedience, froze old grimsley in place
At his organ in a trance, playing there endlessly upon his stool.

Lemora combed through scores of books
Searching for secrets of the dead
But was speeded along by one of her spooks
Whom dropped a chandelier upon her head.

The spirits now ruled the house,
And did as they so pleased
They roamed the village nightly, to rouse
The children, whom they loved to tease.

And then one day it all came to an end
As a fire broke out, near midnight
Somewhere in the east end
To the village twas a welcome sight.

No one knew,
What made the fire brew
Or so they all would say,
But be sure, none were hurt, to see it go this way.

Whispers flowed among the people, of the houses’ dismay
And the rumor, of its reappearance, each Halloween Day
And the haunting music, which still flows down from the hill to this day.
The sad songs from the Organ on which Master Grimsley did play.
story line I put together for our haunt here in afghanistan
© 2006 - 2024 Levarius
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