25 views
The Unspoken Chronicles of the Golescu Mansion
"The scariest moment is always just before you start."
Stephen King
⚔️ 🐺⚔️
A #WRITCO Horror/Thriller
(thank you Ruth for the inspiration)
🌲 🏰 🌲
NIGHT
TERRORS
🌈 📖
The train chugged along the ancient tracks, the rhythmic clacking lulling Maximillian into a sense of unease. He leaned his head against the window, watching the dark Romanian countryside fly past in a blur of shadows and whispers. A chill wind whipped through the cabin, carrying the scent of rain and something... something less natural.
"Ah, Mr. Holloway," a smooth, almost sing-song voice greeted him as the carriage door slammed shut. "Welcome to the Golescu Mansion, my dear boy."
Max looked up into the eyes of W.W. Or'Leef, a man who defied the very essence of time. His skin was paper thin, a lattice of blue veins pulsating under the candlelight, yet his eyes sparkled with the vitality of a predator. The stranger offered a hand, the grip firm and cold, pulling Max to his feet with surprising strength.
"I've been expecting you," Or'Leef said with a toothy grin that seemed too wide for his face. "You've come to write my story, yes?"
Max nodded, clutching his bag to his chest. "The... the publisher sent me. I'm to write your autobiography, Mr. Or'Leef."
"Call me Winston," the old man said, his voice a mix of mirth and malice. "And I do hope you have a strong stomach for tales of war, young man. The Golescu Mansion has seen more battles than you've had hot meals."
The mansion loomed in the distance, a monolith of gothic grandeur, surrounded by a thick forest that seemed to pulse with a sinister life of its own. The journey from Lower London had been long, but Max's curiosity had never been more insatiable.
Or'Leef led the way, his gait surprisingly spry for his age. They passed through a grand hall adorned with weapons that bore silent witness to countless battles. The walls whispered of ancient secrets and the floorboards...
Stephen King
⚔️ 🐺⚔️
A #WRITCO Horror/Thriller
(thank you Ruth for the inspiration)
🌲 🏰 🌲
NIGHT
TERRORS
🌈 📖
The train chugged along the ancient tracks, the rhythmic clacking lulling Maximillian into a sense of unease. He leaned his head against the window, watching the dark Romanian countryside fly past in a blur of shadows and whispers. A chill wind whipped through the cabin, carrying the scent of rain and something... something less natural.
"Ah, Mr. Holloway," a smooth, almost sing-song voice greeted him as the carriage door slammed shut. "Welcome to the Golescu Mansion, my dear boy."
Max looked up into the eyes of W.W. Or'Leef, a man who defied the very essence of time. His skin was paper thin, a lattice of blue veins pulsating under the candlelight, yet his eyes sparkled with the vitality of a predator. The stranger offered a hand, the grip firm and cold, pulling Max to his feet with surprising strength.
"I've been expecting you," Or'Leef said with a toothy grin that seemed too wide for his face. "You've come to write my story, yes?"
Max nodded, clutching his bag to his chest. "The... the publisher sent me. I'm to write your autobiography, Mr. Or'Leef."
"Call me Winston," the old man said, his voice a mix of mirth and malice. "And I do hope you have a strong stomach for tales of war, young man. The Golescu Mansion has seen more battles than you've had hot meals."
The mansion loomed in the distance, a monolith of gothic grandeur, surrounded by a thick forest that seemed to pulse with a sinister life of its own. The journey from Lower London had been long, but Max's curiosity had never been more insatiable.
Or'Leef led the way, his gait surprisingly spry for his age. They passed through a grand hall adorned with weapons that bore silent witness to countless battles. The walls whispered of ancient secrets and the floorboards...
