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    Dear Reader,
    You might know me as E.W. But here I go by many names, in this case, Rebecca. That of which in this case, I have traveled to the Victorian age to solve the mystery of the White House, or The Montagory Mansion.
    It was for sale along with quite the acreage, a pool, and woodland. Since I now live alone, it was another reason to buy such a piece of property at a low price. But this houses secret brought me here to check it out. The townsfolk never come to the house at night, due to a mysterious "thing" that floats about. Alright, so maybe I am going into something I shouldn't, but I think their story needs to be told.
    My new Housekeeper, Mrs. Burgly, stood behind me, holding many of my bags. "Madam," She said in a German accent, "Would you like your belongings put in the suite, or the Master bedroom?"
    Smiling I realized my underwear was about to fall out of one of the boxes so I grabbed a few from her so they would not tumble out onto the ground.
    "I want to be in the room on the third floor, that one up there with the balcony." She nodded, trying to keep her balance. "That is the Master Bedroom."
    "Excellent. Lets us move in." As I held the flower printed moving boxes, I could tell from all the people running about I would not be alone anymore. They decided to stay and work for me for some reason, even when I said they could leave the house. There is a cook from France, he is charming, Mr. Burgly (who is the Butler), Mr. Tuplips (the Gardener), Anne, Marie, Clara, Bertha, Kirsten, and Jesibelle are the house maids, funny part is, they are all cousins, Mr. Mclaw (Carriage driver), Barney and Dillan (Coachmen, sons or Mr. Mclaw, Mrs. Mclaw passed away years ago), Mr. O’Connell (a sweet old man who serves as a doorman), and George Burgly, a 12 year old boy who cares for the stables.
    The mansion, however, has 36 bedrooms in all, a suite in the West Wing over the Music Room, My Master bedroom & bath, 20 bathrooms, a sunroom out back, a Greenhouse connected on the East Wing, the ballroom is directly in the middle of the house on the second floor, a dining hall, the kitchen is on the far left in the back of the house, a living room to the right of the main entrance, a family room on the 3rd floor along with a small schoolroom of some sort, the attic, and cellar.
    The Pool House, Stable/Barn, and Guest House are located beyond the woodland. They all have the same Gothic Victorian styles, with sharp points at the tips of the roof, French windows, and two large black doors surrounded by English ivy among the pillars holding up the stone platform to keep you dry. The mansion itself has three floors, is over 4000 ft wide, and 5000 ft long. The thing I love most is the clock tower above the attic, for as we got inside, it donged a charming tune telling us it was noon.
    The main entrance was decorated with wonderful red and gold wallpaper with pink roses in a border style. There was above me and Mrs. Burgly, a20 pointed chandelier lighting up the stairwell that led you up to the middle of the house to the second floor. Beside it, there were two closed doors, and side tables holding vases full of fresh flowers. Two potted Egyptian palms towered us at the door, and to my left was a small hallway.
    Mrs. Burgly led me to the 3rd floor, and into my new bedroom. I quickly trotted to the bathroom and gazed upon the large tub, counter and draped windows. "Isn't wonderful?" I exclaimed, echoing through the hall. The bedroom was empty, because I have not gotten my furniture in yet, but the French doors leading out to the balcony, showed the moving men were coming up with it. When I opened them, light soared through the room as if the sun was right next to my windows.
    "Whot are these heavy things!" George cried, trying to hold a box full of my collectibles.
    "My dear boy, dolls. Very expensive dolls." I opened the trunk as he placed it on the floor, his hair all sweaty.
    "I don't think dolls are thot special Miz. Lady." He said proudly in his German accent.
    I giggled placing the doll back in its box, and then patted his wheat-colored hair. "That's quite all right, George."
    He fixed his hair and riders coat, running off like Tom Sawyer when he has gotten into something he shouldn't have. After all my furniture was placed about the house, I treated everyone to dinner, and then noticed they were quite depressed. They lived here for years, was I that much of a pain to move in?
    "So," I said merrily, "What do you like to do for fun?" No one answered.
    Clara, the youngest of the maids, said suddenly, "I like music." Her sisters stared at her wide eyed as if she had committed a crime.
    "I love music as well, does anyone play the guitar?" I said excited. Mr. Mclaw smiled.
    "I have been called a pretty good guitar player back in the days." He said.
    "Good! You bring the guitar and everyone else, join me in the Music room, and come on!" I urged sweetly.
    Clara was staring out at the window above us in the dining room.
    "Clara?" I said, startling her. "Come on, let us play music."
    She perked up, her purple ringlets bouncing.
    "Alright Miss." She said happily. I glanced back up towards the window were the moon shined through, but I saw nothing of the sort, she probably was just day-dreaming.
    We lighted the candles on the wall in the music room, and Mr. Mclaw sat on a chair with his guitar. The others except Clara were a bit fidgety; I just thought maybe they were not use to such a young girl jumping to such measures for entertainment. "Let the music begin." I lifted off the cover for the piano in one sweep. There was silence behind me as I sat myself on the bench, lifting the key cover.
    In one quick motion I began to play The Irish Washerwoman and Mr. Mclaw followed along quickly. George took his mothers hands and danced with her, even the cook began to sing. We danced for a good hour, until one of the windows burst open letting in cold air. It blew out all the candles and left us in the darkness.
    Mrs. Burgly said instantly, "I think it is time for bed, goodnight Miss."
    I closed the window and said my goodnights, then made my way up to my room. That was strange, the window was locked, I was sure of it because I saw the latch hooked. It was probably loose. Or... the mystery was beginning around me. My thoughts went wild. Who knows what could happen next.
    I crawled into my French iron bed, and snuggled under the covers. My family was not here anymore, for you to know. The only thing I had was a locket cut in half like the moon my mother gave me. It played a sweet but sorrowful tune that once the chorus was done it started at a note, then stops. As if it needs to be completed. But I had many music boxes to play around me; maybe it was just me to like the sound of them.

    I think it was my destiny to be alone so young, well, I am but 16, but still, that is young. I was amazed I was not sent off to an orphanage. You see, my story is a sad one. My parents when I was about 4 years old left for London, but when they were coming back by ship, it got caught in a storm. Everyone was lost at sea. Both my uncles died when they were kids, and my one aunt passed away at 90 when I was a baby. Yes, I am alone, and the only Grandchild. The Court gave up trying to find my relatives that could manage my money, if they were found alive, so they gave it to me instead. So yes, I am filthy rich. My house I was living in caught on fire one night. (Candle, drunken maid, something like that...).
    So I bought this home and started a new life optimistic. And the town is only 9 miles away from where I stand, plus I have made new friends, and hopefully I will be able to find out what happened in this house tomorrow.

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    (Part 2)
    The next morning, I was outside in the garden helping with the new flowers that need to be planted.
    "No, I think the tulips need to be put with the other tulips, not the roses." I said to Mr. Tuplip, who was I know putting up with me getting my hands dirty in his job. At least I could do it without wearing my nice gloves.
    A carriage came through my gates, but I was not expecting anyone. It pulled around the 'round about
    and let out a plump lady in purple. He buttons looked as if they were going to pop right off, and I do not think long sleeves were a good choice for today. She had wrinkles under her eyes, maybe around 50 years old, and a large purple hat with pink and lilac feathers sticking out of it.
    She adjusted it as the wind blew her short, messy blondish-brown hair about.

    "Excuse me?" She sang to us. She now looked just like the evil lady off of Harry Potter that was kidnapped by Centaurs.
    I had forgotten I was in my work clothes as she said, "Where is the lady of the house?" To us with a roll of her tongue on the "where".
    "That would be I madam...” I said taking off my gloves, squinting in the sun above the woman, though I was wearing a sun hat it still burned my eyes.
    "Good, I have heard word you are Miss. Rebecca Macgregor? I am Mrs. Post." She said shaking my hand.
    "Well, Mrs. Post, what is your business here at my home?" I questioned firmly.
    "I am..." She was distracted by my servants staring at her with that look they gave me when Clara talked of music. "I am here to inspect the house for any flaws, by law, of course." She gave me a smile that made my stomach turn; each tooth was almost rotted of, yet stained white.
    As she handed me a paper from the court, I gave it back in turn saying, "Alright, do as you must, I'll show you the house."
    "Oh no!" Mrs. Post said a bit too loudly, attracting attention even more. Ok... I thought.
    "What I mean is, no, you do not have to. I know the house very well." The ugly smile came back and I shuttered, smiling back uneasily, not really understanding this woman's personality.
    "Fine then, I will be out here if you need me." I said swallowing my real words of snoopy woman... what on earth gives you the idea...
    Mrs. Post went into the house, looking around as if she was doing something wrong, or was she? I hardly knew. I noticed rain clouds overhead, and finished my work outside, then joined Mr. Tuplip for lunch in the Garden House. Mrs. Burgly followed Mrs. Post though, and met her in the hallway on the 3rd floor. "Inspecting are we Mrs. Post, or Abigail Post?"Mrs. Burgly said behind Mrs. Post.
    Startled, Mrs. Post turned to face her. "Why yes, what else would I be doing? It is my job." She said high-pitch and nervously.
    Mrs. Burgly's stern eyes got into her face saying, "one more attempt after another. You will be caught by them soon enough."
    Mrs. Post boasted, "They cannot do anything, and neither can you Mrs. Burgly." Then her words turned cold as ice, "but mark my words and hear them out, I will find that parchment and get all the money and this house, and then, “She laughed in a maniacal giggle, "you will be history." Her evil eyes glared into Mrs. Burgly's, and the Housekeeper walked away with a watch-out expression on.
    Letting out a confident Humph! Mrs. Post walked to the end of the hall, then turning to her left; the hidden stairs to the attic were lit by the window behind her. She lit the candle behind her and took it up the stairs, because daylight ended shortly after you got up them. Cobwebs stuck to her hat's feathers, and she was having a bit of trouble with them sticking to her over-done makeup.
    She got to the top, and it seemed the door was miles away, she saw the doorknob to the old attic. Air rushed in as she opened it, coldness chilled her to the bones. Mrs. Post made her way through the old furniture covered up by sheets, others not. It was so dark, you could only make out so much of the rooms space, and the candle did not help.
    "Here we are." She stood at the end of the attic near the wall. There was a small curved hole in one part of the wood. "And in we go, ha-hA." She pulled out of her pocket the other match to my locket.
    Placing it in the hole, she turned it and there was a click! And the secret door to the Clock Tower was opened. The stairs had rotted, and a bit of light could be seen from the windows above. Each step made some sort of crick or crack when her flat heels stepped on them.
    Lightning flashed from the storm above, revealing disturbing shadows against the stone walls. When Mrs. Post reached the top, she opened a door on the roof of the Clock Tower. Placing the latter beside her on the opening, she climbed up it and spooked bats inside. They flew out of the tower and into the storm. "Stupid flying rodents." She grumbled.
    The room was lit by only a small gothic window she came into. Around her were numerous toys, a Rocking Horse, a Doll House, and dolls sat upon shelves in places. There was a black box sitting on one of them. It had rubies placed in the side panels, and red ribbons sewn into the corners.
    The dust was unbearable, and this place gave her the chills.
    "Finally, the Montagory fortune is mine..." She placed the locket in the box, but it did not unlock. She tried again. Nothing. Not even a click. "I don't understand... It must need the other piece!" She fumbled as lightning flashed behind her, and on the wall to her right, a human’s body shape was shown.
    There was a still coldness in the room that made the hairs on her back stand up. Thunder shook the tower as she said, "Who-who's ther-ere?" The dolls began to make her feel as if they were staring into her eyes. They were watching her...

    "Who is there?" She managed to say, hoarsely demanding to the air, Mrs. Post stumbled over toys to the door, but it shut on its own. "This isn't happening!" She cried.
    It is....... Her heart stopped for a second. "Ca-" A screams was let out, then constant ones after that, then wails, moans, and suddenly, silence. Flashes of lightning revealed the gore that happened, or the blood splattered like gallons of wine-red paint dumped on the floor, the sound of bones cracking, or a shadow of sharp teeth clamping onto what was once her body. Suddenly, Mrs. Post's corpse was being dragged by her hair across the floorboards. Her blood draining into the towers stairs below...
    "Did you hear something?" I said, looking at the rain through my living room cushion covered window seal. I knew I heard a scream. Mrs. Burgly handed me my tea she just made.
    "Not at all Miss." She said calmly, though she did hear it.
    "Where is Mrs. Post?"I said at her. I looked out again at the rain, her carriage was gone.
    "She left earlier. Nothing was wrong with the house. I'm sure she got want she needed." Mrs. Burgly walked away, and then I said, "Nothing?"
    "Nothing." Was her words through the doorway, then she bowed and left me alone.
    I feel something is wrong though, but yet, nothing it. Mr. Burgly came through the front door.
    "Mr. Burgly," I called to him, "do you know anyone that can tell me the story of this house?"
    He was quite for a second then said, "There is a fellow in town named Winston Gertrude He knows just about everything in town, and most, the legend of this house." He left me with those words, and headed to the second floor.
    "Then I will see him tomorrow. Alas, I have not discovered anything today." I sighed and drank my tea in pensive silence watching the rain. But at the same time, I felt someone watching me.

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    (Part 3)
    The whole town was filled with fog; each person looked shady, a mysterious aure flowing about them. Mr. Burgly was in front of me, reading the morning paper. At least it made me feel not alone.
    There was a humid feel to the air, and it was making my hands sweaty within my gloves.
    My carriage pulled up to the Old Inn and Bar. Mr. Burgly let me out and we went indoors. There was a few men laughing together, an old woman taking her 5th smoke of the hour, and some other faces throughout the room made it seem a bit more jolly.
    It smelt of tobacco and heavy liquor; a smell you would not understand unless you have delt with it. I was not recognized by these people but at least I was noticed. Mr. Burgly led me to a very old, blind man. "Mr. Winston Gertrude." Mr. Burgly said.
    The man cupped his Jack Daniels shot glass. "I suppose that would be me." He grumbled.
    "I am here to ask for a story," I said sitting in front of the man.
    "What kind of stories?" He asked with a scottish, gurgling sea tone.
    "I want to know the story of the Montagory Mansion." I blurted out.
    His stringy hair bounced as he held back laughter. Then with a hackling cough, he said, "and who might you be Miss, to want to know such a story? To discover such a legend?"
    I turned to see Mr. Burgly having a drink at the bar not far away.
    "My name is Rebecca Macgregor, Sir." I said uneasily.
    He leaned forward and said, "Miss. Macgregor, I do fear you may be disturbed with my story, so beware of it's content." He smiled and began:
    There was a man who built the mansion in 1782 by the name of George Montagory. The Montagory's feuded with everyone over money, until George died. His son, Gregory, who is long dead by now as well, was a judge who played the stocks, and always won for some weird reason. He had only one daughter whose mother died when giving birth to her. She was forced to marry one of her third cousins to keep the family line.
    On June 1894, she married Nathanial Montagory, who was quite the mad man they said. Now, Gregory was already very old by now, and left his fortune all to his daughter, rather than his nephew.
    One night, Nathanial set out one night to the mansion and at gun point he forced the old man to rewrite the will so that he would own everything.
    Psycho as he was, that same night, Mrs. Montagory went missing.
    Now They had two children, a boy of 18 and a little girl of 10. It was said the family always had problems , but the boy loved to play the piano as his mother would sing and dance with the little girl. But after she went missing, the laughter ended.
    It was told by the servants that the boy went out for a late night walk and passed a old Morgue on the property. Curious, he stepped inside, but to his dismay, he found his mother's rotten corpse in it. He was so mad, he rushed back to the house and confronted his father, who was very drunk at the time. After arguing for many minutes, Nathanial admitted he had murdered her.
    There was glass shattering all around the house, and sharp, nasty yells coming from each of the men. I worked as a guard at the front door, and heard the cries of the males. It was then, as I creeped to the window of the music room, where I heard most of the commotion; there stood Mr. Montagory holding a gun towards his son.
    I heard the shot, and as it struck his heart, who was there standing at the door listening to all of this? His sister.
    Her scream startled Nathanial. The boy was half alive, but slowly dying on the floor as his sister stood paralyzed at the doorway in shock from the men. Nathanial's white and black hair was a mess to see, his eyes mad. He shot her in the arm. Her eyes glowed a red. And then I remember her words:
    "Curse those who dwell in this house to never leave, and you, dear father will be as dead as I will be." He took another shot, but it backfired and struck his forehead.
    It was said she died holding her brother there in the music room. But the strange thing is, no one found the bodies. She is the one who protects the fortune and the house, but has turned as psycho about it as her father once was.
    When there is no moon but stars bright, the brother is said to float into the music room. But I have not seen it myself to know if it happens or not. The girl however, is possessed. She will not hesitate to kill, and will not let anyone leave the house till she has finished them off. It is said she is over-protective of her brother as well.

    "Where is the fortune?" I asked him.
    "The fortune is hidden, and cannot be found without having two halves. But I have no idea what that means. Many have tied to find it, but all have failed. In fact, do you know a Mrs. Post?" He questioned.
    "Yes, she visited me yesterday." I said blinking to keep concious.
    "Well.. that would explain her disaperance." He said.
    "What?" I shouted. "My Housekeeper said shs went home after inspecting." I exclaimed nobley, protecting myself.
    The old man took off his hat and scratched a disturbing bald spot with purple spots.
    "Ah... that is what you say, but she has been trying for years to find that fortune, and I think..." He paused and looked in my eyes even if he was blind. "You just said your house?"
    Winston said appauled.
    "Are you telling me you are the Miss. Macgregor who bought that cursive tomb!?" His face was turing a faint pale-red.
    "Why yes, but I did not-"
    "GET OUT OF THERE BEFORE THAT SHE-DEVIL GETS YOU TOO! BECUASE SHE HAS GOTTEN MRS. POST, AND IF YOU EVEN GET CLOSE TO THE FORTUNE OR HER BROTHER SHE WILL MURDER YOU LIKE SHE DID EVER OTHER FEMALE THAT HAS, RUN! RUN AWAY!!!!"
    He shouted, attracting a lot of attention.
    "Thank you sir, I best be on my way now." I walked away wide-eyed and anxious as ever. Mr. Burgly asked me in the carriage, "did you find out what you needed?"
    I looked out the window, "Oh yes," I anwsered, "plently in fact."


    If you wish to read more of my work, visit my quizilla page under the name EvanescentWings.