This choice: It was a historium of the mansion and its inhabitants • Go Back...Chapter #4It was a history of the mansion. by: Mr. George   Blowing the dust off the cover, she looked down from the balcony to tell her friends of the discovery. But they had already scattered driven by their own curiosity.
The wooden floors creaked, as she walked along the upper corridor. The dark made it hard to make out more than the gold embossed title on the cover, "A history of Morstan Mansion.".
Passing one of the doors, she looked through the half-open door, to see a bedroom. A large oaken four-poster bed inside, was caught in moonlight, and drew Emma in. She could read in their with the moon-light allowing her to read.
Entering the bedroom, she saw it's ornate panels that reminded her of Scooby-Doo. Giggling to herself, she thought about hunting for a secret passage. Looking around, she spotted the expensive wardrobe. It looked to be French, and even to her untrained eye, expensive.
It opened to reveal there were still a range of clothes inside. They smelled a little musty. Sniffing again, she couldn't be sure if that was merely the air in the mansion. In any case, it reminded her of the awkward way her T-shirt clung to her body. Being caught in the rain, when the forecast promised a dry night meant she hadn't brought a change of clothes.
Mentally, she tried to estimate how much any of these things were worth. The wardrobe, the four-poster... Hell, even those period clothes would find a buyer, whatever their state.
Pulling her T-shirt off, she allowed the girls to breathe.
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She imagined wearing something from the wardrobe to meet her friends. An amusing way to announce her discovery to them.
"Greedy..." The word seemed to whisper on the wind.
Unsure she'd heard it, she looked out the window, to the trees and their rustling leaves.
"Greedy..." This time, it was clearer, a hint of anger in the breathy voice. Emma looked back to the door. Keeping her eye on it, as she walked, ready for a friend to jump out and scare her.
"Not your friend." The voice clearer, stronger, if still quiet. "Those intruders can't do this..."
Emma squawked, as she felt her bust surge.
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Hands rose, by instinct to cup, cradle, protect her bust. She snatched her hands back, as if afraid of contamination...
"More...?..." the voice now openly taunting.
Emma shook her head, as her bust surged once more.
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Those new nips making her gasp, objecting to the chill air, to their heightened sensitivity.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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