Passing the Flame...

[DarkSister]

This is still a work in progress… there has been some liberties taken with the time frame and characters and the locations


Passing the Flame…


My first sight of the mansion was perhaps made all the more imposing because of the backdrop of lightning that would briefly silhouette it before returning it to the faint glow of the iridescent marsh mist that seemed to leach around the ancient building like a death shroud… the trip had been a long one and the day had weathered into night some while back, I would ordinarily have found the swaying of the carriage and the clattering of the horses hoofs along the way to have been enough to have pulled me into a restful sleep… but this journey was different… my mind hadn’t been able to rest, my thoughts had spent as much time clattering through my head as the horses had through the cobbled streets of London, before finally leaving the smog and clamour behind and heading out.

I drew my gaze from the window and was met with the anxious gaze of two of the other three passengers, like me they had found themselves taking this journey at the promise of something which seemed increasingly unlikely to materialise, but we were too filled with fear and doubt to question the fourth occupant of the carriage, the one who had orchestrated this journey… dressed in comparative finery to us, he sat with his head resting against a bolster propped at the window, spending most of the journey since leaving the city of London in a fitful doze… perhaps content that we wouldn’t try to run once our bearings had been lost in the rain swept countryside.

The rock of the coach and the crunch of gravel underfoot as we started up the long driveway seemed in someway to rouse him and he gazed around at the three of us… for a moment he looked almost as bemused as us, before his thin sneer reasserted itself and he regarded us with his narrow knowing eyes. A chill took to my spine as my mind conjured up all manner of dark thoughts; at first I’d been glad to leave those wet London streets for the assurance of grand company and refined comfort, but the journey had been long enough for the initial doubts that had surfaced in my mind to have grown and taken on a form and a life all their own… by now I was fearful that I would never see my London again. I heard the coachman as he reigned in the horses, his commanding voice bringing them to a slowed halt as he then dropped from his riding position with a heavy crunch in the gravel path. He rounded the carriage, clicked the latch and swung open the door, beckoning the gentleman out first with a smooth sweep of his hand and banal chatter…

“We’ve made fine time of it this evening sir… often times one horse or the other throws a shoe… them roads out of London taint the best… but seems that you have bought Lady Luck riding along with you…” he grinned at the three of us as we sat stilled in the coach, I couldn’t speak for the others but I was secretly wishing I had stayed and chanced my luck in the rain and gin soused streets that I called home.


The gentleman stepped from the coach, then with a doff of his hat he offered his hand to assist us in our departure… we looked around at each other, none of us seemed willing to move… I caught his eye and though outwardly his demeanour carried with it an air of congeniality… his eyes narrowed and betrayed his unwavering insistence that we all comply. Gingerly I rose from my seat and accepted his offer of a hand and stepped from the coach step to the driveway, he proffered a smile that made my blood chill… my eyes flickered closed for a moment and I could hear my heart thump against my chest. The same disingenuous offer was made to the others and before long we all stood naturally lined, our gaze taking in the mansion that stood nestled in the near darkness, the only light was the anaemic glow of the oil lamps that pock marked the driveway and encircled a faux marble statue that had already succumbed to natures reclamation as creepers swarmed around the base… their tendrils creeping across the pitted stonework.

With the gentleman leading the way we hurried across the pathway, the rain clattering against us until we reached the comparative shelter of the overhand above the entrance. He reached for the bell pull and gave it a sharp tug… and we waited, moments rolled by and with each that passed my sense of trepidation spread. There was a clunk from behind the door as the deadbolts were drawn back, the door opened and the room beyond bathed us in a welcoming orange glow. The doorman stepped aside and with a smile ferried us inside out of the rain, but it was I stood there in the grand hall that I heard something that chilled me greater than the leaching effect of the cold London rain….

[TG]

DarkSister,
I liked it. I was dying to find out what happened after the door opened.
I'm a newbie here, and I don't feel qualified to critize. There are two things I'd like to pass on for your information for use in other pieces. When I was a kid my first job was on a ranch in Colorado breaking horses. No horse is going to stop because you "say" something to him. Horses shouldn't be confused with Fido or Spot. They rein in because someone puts a little muscle to the reins. And horse will go the summer and then some on rough, rocky terrain without throwing a shoe. A horse shoe will last a lot longer than you Nikes.
But I had no complaints about how you used those items to build the drama of the scene. When I read those items in the story, I suspended my judgement and thought, "Good way to build the drama." I only included the info for FYI in some other piece.
And PS DarkSister, I'd love to hear the rest of the tale.

[Rhabbi]

DarkSister,
I liked it. I was dying to find out what happened after the door opened.
I'm a newbie here, and I don't feel qualified to critize. There are two things I'd like to pass on for your information for use in other pieces. When I was a kid my first job was on a ranch in Colorado breaking horses. No horse is going to stop because you "say" something to him. Horses shouldn't be confused with Fido or Spot. They rein in because someone puts a little muscle to the reins. And horse will go the summer and then some on rough, rocky terrain without throwing a shoe. A horse shoe will last a lot longer than you Nikes.
But I had no complaints about how you used those items to build the drama of the scene. When I read those items in the story, I suspended my judgement and thought, "Good way to build the drama." I only included the info for FYI in some other piece.
And PS DarkSister, I'd love to hear the rest of the tale.

A horse can be trained to respond to very slight signals, or even a voice. I know this is rare, and would not be the case in a carraige horse in any case, (unless the horse was Black Beauty, of course) but it is not something that no horse will do. besides, human nature is to talk to animals in a effort to get them to obey. I have been known to talk to my car to get it to do something, so it does not detract from the general story. Plus, she did say he reigned in the horses.

As for the story about the horses throwing a shoe, could it be a bit of local color added by the coacman? Something to maybe make the passengers complain less about the rough ride in a cramped coach?

[Rhabbi]

DarkSister,

I like the story, and the way you build the suspense. the use of scenery and description is excellant, took me right into the coach. So much so that I had to step back when I realized the narrator was a female. Great job.

One nit pick: The first two paragraphs are one long sentence. I realize we are gettin into her head, but I think it needs some work. Try to set off the outside descriptions from the inside commmentary.

[Guest91408]

Darling, I want more of this posted soon.

XxX

[DarkSister]

Thanks for the feedback guys, and you make some interesting and valid points which i appreciate... but more than that i'm glad your enjoying it

Dark x

Darling, I want more of this posted soon.

XxX

i shall post more as soon as i can lover... though you are keeping me a little busy this weekend

xXx