Elm Brook Manor

Whispers of Serenity

With the avalanche of maintenance workers arriving, Coby embarked on a shopping spree, frantically grabbing items off the shelves. The absence of a refrigerator took skilful planning, but the anticipation of his online order arriving soon filled him with excitement. He visited the barber, Niamh, a young woman with a vibrant smile and the scent of freshly cut hair filling the air. There, amidst the buzz of conversation, he gained valuable information about his new town and its influential people. From the barber, he ventured to the liquor shop, the inviting aroma of aged whiskey greeting his senses. Then to the bustling grocery store, where the vibrant colours of fresh produce beckoned him. Finally, he reached the veggie market, its earthy scent mingling with the sounds of haggling and laughter.

To his surprise, nestled within the town, stood a charming little bakery named ‘Sweet Serenity.’ Inside, the warm fragrance of baked goods filled the air, and a friendly, sturdy lady behind the counter greeted him with contagious laughter, especially when money changed hands. Coby couldn’t resist and ordered a mouthwatering chocolate birthday cake.

Returning home, he unloaded his shopping bags, feeling the weight of the items in his hands. The window washer, always reliable, assisted him as usual. His presence brought a sense of calm and reassurance to the task. They carried everything to the oversized kitchen, which had only one appliance – a rusty old kettle sitting on the gas hob.

Wasting no time, Coby hurried to his office, the click of his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. He settled in front of his computer, the blank screen staring back at him, its glow casting a pale light on his face. With a deep sigh, he rested his fingers on the keyboard, feeling the cool touch of the keys beneath them. A moment of hesitation passed before he wrote, the soft tapping of the keys filling the silence. ‘The early days at Serenity Falls,’ he typed, the words forming a visual image on the screen.

His mind kept drifting to Elaine as he wrote, her presence lingering in his thoughts like a vivid memory. He couldn’t help but recall her connection with Misty, her loyal companion. Now, however, Coby couldn’t escape the image of her and Niall Preston, her lover, entangled in his mind. The memory of shaking Niall’s hand after winning a darts game against their opponents sent a pang of bitterness through him. The thought of that very hand caressing Elaine’s body, their passionate moments together, sent a chilling shiver down his spine.

Suddenly, a loud clatter from above startled him, jolting him out of his contemplative state. The sound reverberated through the room, breaking his concentration. A furrow formed on his brow as he assumed it was a maintenance worker dropping a hammer, their presence a constant reminder of the repairs needed in his new home.

The air abruptly grew colder, sending a shiver down Coby’s spine. He knew what was coming and braced himself. His heart raced with anticipation, yet he refused to look away from his screen. Suddenly, an ethereal figure materialised before him, her monochrome image slowly fading into view like a gentle mist. Her lips formed a tight line, and her fingers twitched by her side, aching for connection. The vibrant, dark curls cascaded freely down her exposed shoulders, pulsating with life that mirrored her spirited nature. Each movement of her hair created a graceful symphony of waves, adding a touch of untamed elegance to her persona. Her bangs, perfectly straight and precise, framed her face like a carefully crafted portrait, drawing attention to her delicate features.

Overwhelmed by her captivating allure, Coby’s lips parted in awe, yet he restrained himself, not wanting to startle her. She stood there, her sorrowful gaze fixed on him. The urge to meet her eyes consumed him, but he fought it with all his might. Her attire harmoniously blended elegance with practicality. Clad in a fitted bodice of muted tones, its high collar and long sleeves paid homage to the modest fashion of the era. A wide belt, crafted from dark leather, cinched her waist, contrasting beautifully with the soft hue of her dress. The skirt, a cascade of fabric adorned with a rich tartan pattern, swirled gracefully around her ankles. Her leather boots, worn and weathered, whispered secrets of the countless miles they had journeyed.

Coby’s fingers danced across the keyboard, magnetically drawn to its touch. The rhythmic clacking filled the air, as if composing a symphony of words. With swift precision, he captured the ethereal beauty of the young creature before him, his fingers flying across the keys. He had christened her the ‘dark angel,’ her name still unknown. Pausing, he stole a glance at her, his eyes distant and longing. Her brow furrowed with curiosity, and she rose on her tiptoes, her presence captivating.

The room seemed to buzz with an electric charge, as if the very air around him crackled with energy. A sudden realisation struck him like a crashing wave – she had never seen a computer. The sleek, modern device intrigued her, its silvery form sparking her curiosity. Inspiration surged through him, a powerful force. Tilting the laptop screen, he framed his face in the camera app and took a picture. Sending it to the printer, he watched as it whirred to life, slowly producing a printed image. The apparition darted towards the printer, her eyes fixed on the paper, wide-eyed with awe. Her parted lips revealed her sense of wonder. Unfazed, Coby continued typing, knowing the image would captivate her. Sneaking a glance at her, he saw the amazement lighting up her once sombre face.

But amidst the fervour of his creative surge, a sudden thump shattered the atmosphere, jolting Coby from his trance. His head snapped towards the sound, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the fallen candlestick. A knowing smile tugged at his lips, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. He had sensed her presence all along, an invisible force observing his every move. With unwavering confidence, Coby met the apparition’s gaze, his voice filled with conviction. “I know you’re there,” he declared, the words carrying a weight of certainty.

The apparition’s jaw dropped, and a gasp escaped her lips, whispering like a hiss. She retreated into the shadows, fading away like a wisp of smoke. Coby’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with a sinister twinkle. He knew she had only slipped away from the view of people, leaving behind an empty space.

“See you later,” he sang, his voice taking on a high, lilting tone. He rubbed his hands together, relishing in the anticipation of what was to come. Silence filled the room as the air grew still, interrupted only by the rhythmic tapping of his keyboard. The words flowed effortlessly from his mind to the screen, each keystroke resonating with a sense of purpose. His fingertips held a newfound power, a testament to his abilities. His heart raced in sync with his thoughts, the adrenaline surging through his veins. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, a testament to the intensity of his inspiration.

Without hesitation, Coby swiftly poured himself a generous serving of smooth, amber-hued whisky. The rich aroma of the golden elixir wafted up, enticing his senses. It was a moment of triumph, the culmination of his investment in this place finally paying off.

With his vast experience and a track record of success in dealing with apparitions, Coby pondered his encounter with the enigmatic ‘dark angel.’ As contemplation filled his mind, he cast a thoughtful gaze outside. And there, once again, he caught sight of the chubby ginger-haired boy who had been surreptitiously observing him through the windows ever since his arrival.

Startled, the boy emerged from his hiding place behind the thick, overgrown thicket and swiftly darted into the safety of the surrounding woods. Coby furrowed his brow in deep concentration and resolved to inquire about the enigmatic boy.

A sudden chill permeated the air, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Even after all these years in the trade, the mere presence of these apparitions never failed to give him goosebumps.

From the ethereal shroud of shadows, the dark angel materialised before him, accompanied by two equally captivating, otherworldly beings. Their monochrome appearances took Coby’s breath away, the absence of vibrant colours only adding to their mystique. As his fingers hovered over the keyboard, he felt an unexplainable pull, as if he was being drawn into an enigmatic trance.

‘A tableau of women,’ he began typing, his words flowing effortlessly as he described them. ‘Each one unique, radiating an allure that is distinctly her own. Amidst the whisper of silk and the gentle rustle of wool, the glimmer of jewellery and the vibrant hues of fabric, their individuality shines through.’

Pausing for a moment to appreciate the awe reflected on their ethereal faces, Coby continued his description. ‘One woman’s dress, adorned with delicate lace, showcases her refined tastes, the intricate patterns a testament to her elegance. The other embraces boldness, her tartan skirt a riot of shades that speak of her vibrant personality. And then there is the dark angel, standing out like their personal Florence Nightingale. Their dresses bear a striking resemblance, hinting at an era between the late nineteenth and early twentieth century.’

Once again, Coby paused to take in the mesmerising sight before him. The ethereal trinity stood poised, their unique hairstyles catching his attention. Coby’s eyes focused on the dark angel’s hair, which cascaded in stunning curls that framed her face with an air of mystery. The second apparition’s preference for extravagant updos, decorated with ribbons and flowers, stood in stark contrast to the third apparition’s neatly braided tresses. The practicality of the latter hinted at an attitude that left no room for frivolity.

Filling the air, the rhythmic clacking of the keyboard created a symphony of sound. The dark angel leaned in close, her delicate hands cupping her companion’s ears as she whispered softly. Even though Coby knew they were watching him, her gestures implied that she thought he could also hear her. In unison, the ethereal trinity rose on their tiptoes, their graceful movements reminiscent of ballerinas preparing for an elegant pirouette.

Understanding the message she had conveyed to them, Coby tilted the screen, framing his face. Their eyes widened in astonishment as the camera flash illuminated his features. He swiftly sent the captured image to the printer, which whirred into action, filling the air with a gentle hum. The ethereal beings hurried to the printer, their whispered gasps creating an ethereal melody. They studied his likeness, their faces filled with a mixture of wide-eyed excitement and reverential awe.

Their swift return to their positions was a display of seamless grace, akin to a synchronised performance. They struck elegant and graceful poses, their bodies poised like works of art waiting to be immortalised. The mere sight of them ignited a fiery desire within Coby. The gleam in his eyes testified to their otherworldly divinity. An impish chuckle escaped his lips, and he felt compelled to explain himself.

“I cannot take your picture,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “A camera works by capturing light, and you, my ethereal friends, do not reflect light.” With their hands still on their hips from their previous poses, they scowled at him, urging him to capture their likenesses. Yielding to their requests, Coby turned his laptop so that the camera faced them and took a picture.

Yet, when he sent the image to the printer, it only displayed the entrance, with the grand hallway behind them, failing to capture their ethereal elegance. Disappointment replaced their once-beautiful expressions, and they retreated into the shadows, disappearing like a wisp of smoke.