Welcome to the first post of the book me and my husband are writing together!!! (Mostly my husband :D) We are going to post a section of the book once a week on Fridays. It is healthy to unwind and relax, and a good way to do this is read a book. We will provide the book, you do the relaxing! Enjoy and don't forget to send us feedback with what you like!
Prologue
The mist hung eerily on the rolling hills that stretched
out into the distance. The mist hindered anyone’s view of what lie ahead in the
far distance. With the other times I had visited this land, it was clear and
visibility was high. The cold mist spread into my lungs with each breath,
sharpening my focus. The bus drove off from behind me as I stared out to the
pier where a small boat hung in the water, an older man standing over the ties
that kept the small craft to the wood platform. I began the short walk down the
steps to the pier to meet him.
“Hi-ya Master Grey!” said the fisherman and ferryman,
Bruckner was his name, in his heavy Scottish accent, “The Grey Manor is
bustling about with people today. Seems like some family have come to visit.
Got a gatherin’ for the day?”
Puzzled, I asked, “Gathering? Why no, I don’t believe
there is one. I’m just returning from a journey to tend to my Grandfather,”
stepping up to the boat, I continued, “Don’t suppose you know who came to
visit?”
“Aye, I remember a few faces,” said Bruckner, “That ugly
aunt of yours with her loud Chinese man of her’s. Never much liked the Chinese.
Gonna take over the world they are.”
I chuckled, “Right you are good sir, but they’re not all
bad.”
Bruckner eyed me, “Ye cannae ken a snake to show itself
until it strikes do ya?
“I suppose not,” I muttered, unsure of the exact meaning
of that statement, but I think I got the jist of it. My understanding of the
Scottish colloquial was pretty rudimentary.
The water licked up the sides of the small wooden boat
like a frog’s tongue lapping out at the lilies of the lake. The hum of the motor
was hypnotizing with its continual roar. So many summers I had come to visit
the Grey Manor as a small boy. Summers were so different from the mist that
hung over the Loch this time of year. Loch
Ness was such an amazing, beautiful lake. I had often played with my brother,
trying to find the monster that so many spoke of. I can reassure you now, we
never found it. Grandpa Grey had been so welcoming to us, even overjoyed to see
us. Those times faded away with the onset of time and the dementia set in. Our
visits here grew less and less. He aged so quickly and became so angry. He did
not remember us, he did not remember himself. We all knew this time would come
and we would all gather here to celebrate his life.
“Master Grey? We have arrived, Welcome back,” Bruckner said
looking at the shape appearing in the near distance.
I had not noticed when we started to approach the Manor,
lost in my daze. The Scottish har made visibility so poor on the loch. The
Manor emerged out of the har in all its wonder and glory. Grey Manor was almost
more of a castle than a Manor. It had been in the family for many years and had
been passed down from father to son. No battles had been fought here and it had
no historical significance. The construction was indeed after the castles of old,
but it was not as old. It also
carried the impact of every steward that lived in it. Grandpa had remodeled
parts of the Manor and made it his own.
I stepped out of the rocking boat and payed Bruckner his
wages, “Thank y’lad. It was good to see ya once again.”
I nodded to him, “You too as well Mr. Bruckner. May your
day fair well.”
The boat turned away and flitted into the mist and har of
the Loch. Ahead of me expanded the great Grey Manor, alight with activity and
people in the front entrance greeting hall. Darkness had enveloped the
surrounding area around the sides as the island extended out towards the lake.
I walked up to the round-about where some cars had been parked, Must have taken a larger ferry across with
their cars, I thought.
I ascended the stairs and slowly rapped the front door.
After a moment, the large wooden doors swung open to reveal an older gentleman,
Butler Grosky, my grandfather’s personal butler, and the only one willing to
stay after his health had begun to deteriorate.
Grosky slowly began to smile, “Well, Master Grey, what a
pleasant surprise!”
I smiled back, “Hello Grosky, good to see you.”
“Me and the other cook hands made a bet that you would
have broken an arm on those absurd waterslides you said you were going to
visit,” Grosky joked.
I chuckled, “Well, I didn’t break anything. Did you bet
against me Grosky?”
A sly smile crept onto his face, “Why of course my boy!
You could imagine the money I had paid out for it too,” the smile dropped and
he continued, “Please come in Master Grey, the rest of the family has already
arrived.”
“For what?” I asked.
All traces of the joviality in Grosky’s face had withered
out of him, and he looked down, concerned.
He continued, “I am sorry my good comrade, but your
grandfather, Master Grey, has passed as of recently.”
I stiffened, shocked by the news, “How? Did his Alzheimer’s
finally get to him?”
Grosky sighed and continued, “No good sir, it was murder.”
