The Room in Chartwell Manor

Atop a quiet mountain stood the humble Chartwell Manor. There was such a strange way about the manor. Quaint it was- oddly charming and familiar. Overgrown bushes and weeds gathered around the manor- as if they were trying to hide something. Spires grew up from the manor’s tallest points and the smell of rusted iron and wet moss hung in the air. Animals, stuck in stone, covered the manor’s grounds- and just like the manor, they too were enveloped in glowing silvery ivy.

A young boy and his father rode up to the house in a coach. The young boy, Oliver, stared at his crude red shoes before looking back out the window. The father, Harrison, though looking out the coach’s window towards the beautifully isolated country, mumbled under his breath “I hate the rain”. His face showed a man well beyond his true age- his round eyes were drained and his wrinkles were carved into his skin.

Oliver roamed the halls of the manor. A stream seemed to be trickling down the halls, though Oliver could not see it, he decided to follow it. As he weaved down hallways the sound became stronger. And finally, the stream led to two heavy black drapes. Oliver searched the drapes. A doorknob. As he opened the door, he stepped through the doorframe.

Harrison confined himself in his quarters- leaving Oliver alone.

Each day the young boy would visit the room, each day longer and longer his visits would become. He would bring food for himself and momma. Momma would tell funny stories, the ones Oliver always laughed at when he was a younger boy. And Oliver felt happy again.

When Harrison finally decided to leave his quarters, he was met with silence. Perplexed, he calmly roamed the halls- searching. After some time, Oliver made himself known.

“Father!” Oliver called out. “Father!” He ran down the hallway towards his father. “Father, I found something! You must see it!”

“What do you mean?” His father questioned. He knelt to Oliver’s height.

Frantically, Oliver spoke, “Down the hall! Fish! A room! I found mother!”

“What? Ollie what are you talking about…” his father took the young boy by his shoulders, “Ollie she is gone.”

“No, I’ve seen her!”

His thread was getting thinner, “Oliver-”

“I really saw her, I swear!”

“Oliver! That’s enough!” The boy stopped- his excitement replaced with disheartened shoulders. Sadness swelled within Harrison’s heart. “She is gone,” he said. He turned away from Oliver, covering his face. And his thoughts became numb as he mumbled, “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

Harrison secluded himself back in his quarters, leaving Oliver alone once again. A week passed when Harrison finally departed from his quarters. And he could not find Oliver. He searched the house calling out for him, but there was no answer. He made his way down the same hallway Oliver would go down every day and met the hallway’s end: two heavy black drapes. He could hear muffled laughter on the other side. He reached through the curtains discovering the door. He opened it.

“Oliver?” He ducked through the small door and stepped into the vast room. An endless lake covered the entire room. The young boy’s spirit filled the room with laughter. And floating in the center, being circled by a white fish and lily pads, was Oliver. His lifeless body.