When you have a grand house, but not a grand income, it can come down around you for years without you realizing how bad it’s getting – a body on a bad diet.
Anna glared as she thought about the whiskey decanter in the globe bar in the corner of the parlor, and viciously reminded herself that it would take more than a hole in the roof to drive her to drink again. She wiped her brow and reached for another set of shingles and moved along the variously shaped, many turreted roof that now belonged to her. This DIY monstrosity was exhausting her. By the time she was done, and cleaned up, she was too tired to drink more than water before she fell into her bed.
The house was a fixture in the town, it’s most obvious version of what comes to mind with the word ‘estate.’ It possessed a carriage house along with the main structure. She fell in love with it when she began collecting stories about the place from the old timers in town. The daughter of the home’s original builders condemned her husband to the carriage house to sleep when he’d been too deep into his bottle. Later, the same woman, would decide she needed to go ‘to town’ and would put on her fur coat, over her neglige, and summon her car and driver. Now the Lion House was popularly thought to be haunted by Ms Kate who used to sit with her favorite cat in the rocking chair in the front window and watch the world pass.
The chair is still there if it’s the old one she’d found when she took ownership. She wanted to refinish it and thought it best to leave it in place until she got around to it. Perhaps Ms Kate would see she meant no harm.
Imagecollectors.online 