The Manor

The Manor
By ERLewis

Tiny particles of ice tainted the harsh wind and wrestled the large union jack that flew proudly against the darkening sky.

Though the manor had been designed to look it's best whatever the season, it always looked better in winter. Not because of how the gardens would become sprinkled with snow, or how the stained-glass windows would acquire a slippery silver coat on a frosty day. But because of the rain.

How majestic it looked under a cloud covered sky; streaks of water pounding down against the dark stone walls. It was so grand, so magnificent, that not even the rumbled of thunder or great flashes of lightning could weaken the aura of strength that the building possessed.

Inside the manor, flames danced in the many fireplaces around the house, weaving light shadows onto the walls and bringing the portraits that hung there to life. Servants bustled around in the kitchen, preparing a feast to serve to the aristocratic family who lived in the house. The rich fragrance of hot food wafted through the rooms, tempting even the most well behaved dogs away from their places at their masters' sides.

The family and the manor, combined were enough to intimidate the people of the nearby village. No one dared to approach the front gate in fear of feeling insignificant against the grandness of it.

It was so superior to everything that surrounded it. No one ever dreamed that a place so forbidding could ever become so weak and powerless. No one thought to imagine what amount of strength could bring such an ominous building to the ground. 'For surely,' the villagers would think, 'the amount of strength needed was too large to even consider!'

How wrong they were. Just one small lapse in concentration and it was over. The light shadows on the walls twisted into dark ones and the portraits became lifeless once more. No longer was the air tinted by the fragrance of the feast, instead it was polluted by the vast billows of smoke. All it took was a single spark and the whole place was burning; burning so fiercely that not even the rain could stop it. And as the flames licked at the building's strong wooden frame, the manor was reduced to ashes, removing all the pride and power from the once luxurious rooms.

Nowadays the manor is in ruins and the garden in empty. The once vacant fields surrounding it are filled with sheep and cows. And the house is used as a picnic ground for the families of the village.

Now it is not corseted young women with thin umbrellas who wander around the gardens, but, parents who set up picnics on the empty lawns. Perhaps glancing up at the ruins every now and then to ensure that their children are being safe. And now instead of portraits hanging on the walls, there are teenagers challenging one another to climb the few walls still tall enough to climb. Their younger siblings stumble and trip around corners, squealing and giggling. Their laughter echoes through the rubble, bouncing off the crumbling walls before sailing up into the sky. And there it mingles with the light wind that toys with a child's kite flying happily against the clear blue sky.