It’s been a busy and sociable August for me. Pagan Pride was Sunday, August 4, and this weekend is the local Pride event at the same park. I hope it’s not as hot as last weekend.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 46:
https://open.substack.com/pub/whimsicalwords/p/hauntings-of-claverton-castle-chapter-719?r=5m2is&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 47
In the middle of the night, the Montmorencys and Samantha crept into the third-floor hallway. By the staircase on the third floor, Roland and Samantha stood several feet away, whilst Margot gazed at the diamond-paned window over the stairs with her full focus. She focused intensely on her immediate surroundings; a floorboard creaked, and crickets chirped outside an open window.
Margot felt uncertain of the distant open window’s location; except judging by the breeze coming down the corridor, it must be eastern and on this story. Gazing at the window over the stairs, she noted its ornateness, with multiple panes and a trefoil design at the top. It was a casement window, with the latch down the center, splitting the window evenly in half. She observed a spider web in the window’s top corner and wondered why no servant had removed it.
As she gazed at the decorative medieval window, it changed before her eyes. One moment the trefoil remained clear glass, as it had been since she arrived. The next moment, it was bright red glazed glass. Margot stared, and her lips parted. She gasped, unable to breathe. Another spirit was entering her body; Margot emitted a series of harsh gasps. She leaned back with the impact and grabbed onto the stair railing.
Margot felt overwhelming shock and despair. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and her heart ached. The futility of living any longer washed over her consciousness. At the back of her mind, she realized she was Gertrude now, but she was also herself simultaneously. She decided this was no time to dwell on that—she must concentrate on Gertrude.
“I am a disaster,” Gertrude whispered through Margot’s lips. “Nobody loves me. I cannot go on, I must not go on in this world. This world is no place for me.” She whispered slowly, in a slurred manner. Even speaking properly didn’t matter anymore.
Nobody wished to listen to her, anyway, Gertrude thought. Nobody would ever listen to her or believe her. But she didn’t exactly wish anyone to know what happened—it was too shameful. How could she reach out to anyone? Her memory conjured Uncle Jonathan’s hands on her, pulling off her clothing. She shrieked, and the memory faded. She stared at the ornate stairway window.
She felt drawn to the window. The top of the tower. She glanced right and then left before tiptoeing forward. She must not be seen. She must avoid capture.
She stepped to the window and looked out. Three flights up. Hmm, she wasn’t sure that was high enough. Best to climb onto the tower roof. Or perhaps she should be behind the manor house, so she could jump into the moat. She knew not its depth; if it was but two feet deep, that would be of no use. She resolved to jump from the tower roof.
She unfastened the sash and pushed open the casement window. It swung out on both sides and caught in the wind. It was raining slightly, so only a little rain blew into the tower.
Gertrude carefully reached for the stone window frame on each side of the casement window. She grasped each side and stepped onto the frame, a deep one but nothing compared to the depth of a window seat. She stepped up and gasped: she was in the precarious position of standing on the windowsill and stretching her arms to hold both sides of the window frame.
She slowly raised her eyes and tilted back her head to see the pointed tower roof. She had no notion how she might clamber up there. The roof was comprised of dark gray slats. She knew not how she’d climb up that high or how she’d reach the top of the pointed roof.
She heard footsteps ascending the stairs. It wasn’t a normal time of day for someone climbing the stairs. Oh, they might observe her. Her heart pounded at an alarming rate. They knew she was making trouble. She never meant to be a troublemaker. Without glancing back down, she stepped forward. She jumped. Gasping, she heard someone call, “Gertrude!” She was flying.