The shriving of Miss Esme Stamp…

Episode 47… The Gwyllt (Part Two)

The voice in her head laughed with a sallow pleasure and replied; ‘Of course it’s me. I am Rebecca. You know me well’. Then the voice was gone, cried away to the paucity of the ruins. In that moment and one by one, creamy flower heads burst forth all around her and large purple flowers lifted up to feel a warmth of life. Brick by brick began to replace broken debris and steadily the house and turret rose once more and stood triumphant in their wonderment beneath a summer sky. Now, the warming earth of summer love, of seasons lost, of virgin cackle and barking dogs tripped those lovely lawns of ripe red love and pleasant souls.

It was upon a marble seat at the farthest end of a small enclosed Rose garden that she saw Tobias Westlake. He was watching her and smiled in a somewhat odd way. He then stood up and with a raised arm beckoned her. At once, he walked away and in the direction of the Manor house and headed for the tall turret…

About Patrick

a photographer, writer and blogger, a studio and press photographer since the mid 1960's, first published writings in 1974
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