Worlds Apart

The night was one of the darker ones. Gnarled vines creep up the walls of the manor, grasping at window sills and faltering bricks like greedy fingers. They climb out of the inky black pond that takes up what was once a courtyard. A tree devoid of life rises as the main attraction, a testament to what lay beyond. Surrounding it is a rusted fence, too low to prevent nature from spreading its roots.

They spread, and they spread far.

The cobbled pavement, the ledges, till the steps of the manor, further still. The only green that can be seen is the mould and the moss where there was once grass.

It is silent.

The wind bears the smell of rotting bodies as they litter the ground, history's debris. Nature thins its vines as its gently wraps around unmoving chests and unseeing eyes. The moonlight seeps through the harsh clouds above and paints fading blonde hair silver. It falls on the grotesque landscape but leaves the looming house in darkness.

There is light from inside. Filtering through windows dusted with time, it grapples with the weighted fog but to no avail. The courtyard remains unlit. Everything is locked and shuttered. The estate extends beyond the manor, a solitary clock tower in the distance.

Smoke curls from distant chimneys, caressing the creaking hands of the long forgotten clock. It wafts over wired walls, dancing over hazardous shards of glass meant to keep out the uninvited. Floating past perched ravens, it hovers above limp fingers and scratched feet, like a shield.

The moon dims and the clouds surge closer. Lightning cracks across the sky, signalling the onset of a storm.

Rain starts its descent, and with it comes the morning.