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The Investigation of Bayleth Manor’s Master

Bayleth manor has stood atop Crag hill for as long as anyone in Vasco can remember. Legends circulate about the mysterious owner of the manor. They are rarely seen and no one can accurately describe the owner. Most aren’t even sure if it’s a man or a woman. The town would soon find out the truth when a stray firework on the evening of a dry Independence Day drifted into the walls of the manor. Or so they say.

CyclopianVulcan · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
4 Chs

Prologue

I sat in the quiet halls of my manor. The dark shadows that consumed it all were cut away briefly by flashes from fireworks. I was fading away. Dying as those down the hill would say. After all my years being alive I had finally decided to move on. I believe I have done everything I wanted to.

I sat on an oak chair I had commissioned in the forgot past. I leaned on a similar desk and wrote for what I believed to be the last time.

Unlike what most people believed about immortality, it was not a perfect gift. Everyone I have met in my long life had different versions of it. The vampires honestly got the worst gig of all if I'm being honest. So many weaknesses and so many needs just to live in the dark. If you ask me they should have just remained human. A sunrise is one of the few things I never did tire of.

I brought my focus back and continued to write. I could feel my legs had begun to fade into oblivion. I felt no fear of the death that I had prolonged for so so very long. I accepted it. It was my final task on this planet. I had nothing left I wished to accomplish. I only wished to finish what I was writing before I faded away completely.

I tossed an empty pen to my side. Normally I would make sure to take it to a trash bin, but I had little time left and so much to write. I wanted to express everything I had seen and learned in words. Such that maybe one day someone like me may find them and learn what I did.

Immortality makes living meaningless. This is my most crucial understanding through the many many years of life I lived. Without the threat of death why would I care about so much around me. So what if I have to live uncomfortably for twenty or thirty years. What difference does that make in comparison to the millions of perspective years I have left to live.

I furiously scribbled down lessons and experiences into the pages of a slowly filling book. By now my knees were fading. Soon I would only be a torso. I bet that would be comical to look at for some. I snapped back to book and continued writing.

I wanted to leave my knowledge behind at least. Centuries of insights and first hand experience observing culture changes and government changes would be invaluable to those short lived humans. I would be revealing myself to them, but they would most likely write it off as a parable or fiction and then analyze the text anyway to glean something. I had also done my best to wipe my existence from history.

I continued to write. I could feel my body become increasingly difficult to move. My ribs were fading now. Death would take me at last soon.

'This is my suicide. Know I died happy. My final hope is that you can experience the same.'

The final words I penned into the book. My left hand had begun to fade now. I used my right to reach over to a lever. Pulling down with what was left of my weight a loud slam sounded and then the muffled sounds of fireworks exploding.

At this point only a portion of my head remains. I still do not regret my choice but as I understand death for the first time in my life I begin to wonder if my words left behind are correct.

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I sat in a lawn chair next to a blazing pillar of flames and roasted a marshmallow. I like them charred so I moved the poker closer and closer until I saw the white puff catch flame. Quickly bringing it back I blew the flame and out looked out into the night sky. The explosions of color were quite the sight.

Every year for 4th of July me and a few buddies gather on this hill and watch the fireworks next to a campfire. We grill some hotdogs, drink some beer and catch up. We all work long hours and don't have a lot of time to spend together so these precious holidays we decided to spend together.

I constructed my s'more and looked out at the cities fireworks. This year there were more than ever. Probably due to the growing population of the town. As I stared out and ate wordlessly, something caught my eye. The Bayleth manor. To the right of me on an adjacent hill sat the harrowing manor. It was pitch black as usual and normally I would ignore it and continue watching the fireworks, but tonight something dragged my gaze to it.

I stared for a few seconds. It was instinctive. Something primal within in me kept my gaze locked with the manor. At first I thought I was one too many beers deep when a flower of color bloomed above the manor. A vibrant purple firework. Following that were flowers of pink, white, blue and green. They started to appear faster and faster. The originally distinctive shapes became blurred as they overlapped each other with increasing intensity.

"Jared, Conner, Wright. Check that out." I called out to my three friends and our gazes fixed on the manor. The mass propulsion of fireworks continued to increase in intensity until coming to an abrupt halt.

Then came the fire. At first I mistook it for a window light, but then it grew and grew. Like small tendrils of glow the flames streaked up the walls and then reached for the stars. Just like with the fireworks, the manor once again became a glowing beacon of the night.

I couldn't look away. Like a succubus the flames and mystery of that mansion tempted me like no other. When we were kids and the town was smaller the four of us would bike up to gates of Bayleth manor and stare in to the dark windows. We told stories of the manor owner and had theories about if they were a recluse, dead, or a secret murderer.

Obviously we didn't really believe any of the theories, but one time I saw the owner. Or I should say, I saw the silhouette of the owner. One time, while playing late near the manor I saw a light flick on in one of the windows. In that window, illluminated from behind was a thin shadow of a person. I remember staring and squinting for details.

I didn't know how I knew but something inside me let me know that it could see me. I tried to point it out to the others, but they weren't listening. By the time I got them all to look the light was gone.

Sitting here now and staring at the flames I get that same feeling. Like something I shouldn't know about sees and knows that I see it.

We sat on that hill and watched the manor burn to the ground before returning home. We never called the fire department but they came and put it out once the flames had died down.

The next day it was all over the local news. I watched the tv reporters talk about the stray fireworks that had burned it down. Something wasn't right. My three buddies and I clearly saw the massive amount of fireworks, but they said nothing about it on tv. Everything about it was bizarre. Surely others had seen the fireworks.

I pursed my lips, biting down on the bottom one and considered the manor. I wanted to go take a look myself. I'm not entirely sure why I wanted to so badly but I did, and I was going to look into the manor. I wanted to see the corpse of what spawned so many terrorizing stories.

Evening readers. I hope you enjoy the story, please comment or vote if you are enjoying it.

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