Post by John Braganza on Jul 25, 2015 4:45:21 GMT -5
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this two years ago on the spur of the moment. At the time, GTH had not yet been released so I had to imagine this since I had no idea how the game would go. I've considered (on and off) of greatly expanding this to a novelization of my take on GTH. Hope you enjoy it!
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There was a tremor in her hands when she placed them on the oaken door. It felt cold to the touch with the slightest film of moisture on it.
Everything about this place felt cold, she thought with vindictive realization. Ever since she returned to the Hall…
No, I can’t think of that! Not here—not now—not ever. She no longer had the luxury to think such thoughts, tragic as they were.
Nevertheless, she attempted to reassure herself, problems will always exist. You can’t run away from them. You have to face them.
Jessalyn Thornton—young, daring, and always turning her back upon tradition for as long as she could remember—was secretly terrified. She stood before the door with a weariness laden on her shoulders.
She shouldn’t have come back. That same elusive "what if" kept running before her, always so close that she could grab it—and then, like the wind, it would disappear again.
I’m chasing shadows, she thought as she turned her head to face the mirror hanging on the wall. The mirror was covered in dust and remnants of cobwebs still danced in the airless room. Some invisible wind was blowing.
“What am I doing here?” Jessalyn asked herself as she approached the mirror. She pulled back a few stray bands of hair and tidied up her general appearance.
She had a guest waiting in the parlor and (wanting to make a good impression to the first guest to the Hall in years) she needed to look her best. There were a couple of white dots on her scattered in random places on her arms. These were little paint splatters resulting from her painting the walls in a restored upstairs bedroom.
“Oh look at me!” she said shamed-facedly. “I’ve been working too hard today.”
Finally giving up at keeping up appearances, Jessalyn Thornton opened the oaken door and entered the parlor-room. It wasn’t much of a room as if yet since most of the furniture were covered in white sheets and the wall furnishings still in storage. There was one small uncovered sofa near the center of the room.
As Jessalyn entered the room, she noticed that her guest had already sat down. She also realized that she knew who it was. A middle-aged woman was sitting down, anxiety clearly written on her face. She had brown hair tied up in a floppy pony-tail and wore black-rimmed glasses. She wore a sharp-looking business suit though; as Jessalyn made her way into the room, there was something of a disheveled look about it.
The woman immediately jumped up from the sofa and began looking even more anxious. Jessalyn’s instincts were growing worried.
Was something wrong? she thought.
“Jessalyn—” the woman began to speak but something made her stop. It was the way that the lady of the Hall was looking at her.
There was silence between the two of them for a brief moment longer.
“When they told me that I had a visitor, never would I have thought it would be you,” Jessalyn spat out.
“I know—I realize I’m not welcomed but—” the woman said timidly as she walked around nervously. She spoke with a clear Southern accent. There was also a predominant drawl that invariably told people she was from Georgia.
”You’re not,” interrupted Jessalyn. “You have some nerve, Savannah, to come back here.”
Again silence reigned in the room. There was a clear electric tension in the air as both women examined the other’s motives. Savannah Woodham thought she knew the woman standing before her but now she wasn’t so sure.
Savannah sat down again. She wasn’t feeling too good. It’s this place, a white-hot terrifying thought surged her brain. The Ryokan Hiei was a mere carnival sideshow compared to Thornton Hall. She clasped her hands together tightly—it was then that she felt them quiver. She felt the coldness sweeping into the parlor-room with such rushing force that to hear it felt like a terrible psychic tsunami.
Her head was pounding, a curse she had placed upon herself back when she first meddled in the affairs of the paranormal, the haunted, and the hunted. Savannah Woodham looked up at Jessalyn Thornton—the paranormally hunted.
“I had to come back, Jessalyn. It was wrong if me to have left—”
Her attempt at apologizing was immediately cast aside by Jessalyn in the form of placing a hand up, signaling a stop.
“Don’t. I’m honestly tired of it all, you know? I—I just don’t care anymore.”
Savannah got up and run to Jessalyn. “But you should! Don’t you see, Jessalyn? I’ve tried and tried so many times to tell you that this place—”
Both grew silent once more. Neither wanted to talk about the nightmares and the bumps in the night as of late. They didn’t know what was there lurking in the shadows…Something was watching them watching it…
Jessalyn, on the other hand, had seen too much—heard too much—and believing in it too much—it was time to end things. She had had enough.
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave,” she said with a stone-cold expression. She gave one last criticizing look at Savannah Woodham and then opened the door to return to her job of painting her bedroom. She was in the doorway when Savannah called out.
“I KNOW ABOUT CHARLOTTE!”
Jessalyn Thornton’s blood froze over as she gave out a shriek of a gasp. She leaned against the door-frame for support. Slowly, she turned her head and looked back at Savannah with her mouth gaped open.
”How—?” she asked on the verge of whimpering. Savannah Woodham’s shoulders sagged as she let out a sigh.
“I’m not sure how exactly—but that’s the reason isn’t it? That’s the reason your family fled this place?”
The air in the parlor-room became decisively chillier. Jessalyn composed herself -and quickly shut the door. She sat next to Savannah still amazed that the secret was discovered.
“Ever since I was a little girl, I was determined to always live here. I didn’t want to move but my parents, the way they always looked over their shoulders—so much so they never stopped looking over their shoulders even though they moved hundreds of miles away…”
Savannah reached out for Jessalyn’s right hand and held it comfortablely in her own. Jessalyn sniffed and wiped away a tear from her eyes. She then looked about her and shuddered.
“This place—I knew it the moment I first unlocked the front door. It has sat empty for too long. Because when a house isn’t lived in, after a period of time—”
“Something else will?” suggested Savannah with crazed eyes. Jessalyn snapped her head and stared at Savannah with wild look.
She’s right, she thought. Something else will—something else has.
-------------------------
There was a tremor in her hands when she placed them on the oaken door. It felt cold to the touch with the slightest film of moisture on it.
Everything about this place felt cold, she thought with vindictive realization. Ever since she returned to the Hall…
No, I can’t think of that! Not here—not now—not ever. She no longer had the luxury to think such thoughts, tragic as they were.
Nevertheless, she attempted to reassure herself, problems will always exist. You can’t run away from them. You have to face them.
Jessalyn Thornton—young, daring, and always turning her back upon tradition for as long as she could remember—was secretly terrified. She stood before the door with a weariness laden on her shoulders.
She shouldn’t have come back. That same elusive "what if" kept running before her, always so close that she could grab it—and then, like the wind, it would disappear again.
I’m chasing shadows, she thought as she turned her head to face the mirror hanging on the wall. The mirror was covered in dust and remnants of cobwebs still danced in the airless room. Some invisible wind was blowing.
“What am I doing here?” Jessalyn asked herself as she approached the mirror. She pulled back a few stray bands of hair and tidied up her general appearance.
She had a guest waiting in the parlor and (wanting to make a good impression to the first guest to the Hall in years) she needed to look her best. There were a couple of white dots on her scattered in random places on her arms. These were little paint splatters resulting from her painting the walls in a restored upstairs bedroom.
“Oh look at me!” she said shamed-facedly. “I’ve been working too hard today.”
Finally giving up at keeping up appearances, Jessalyn Thornton opened the oaken door and entered the parlor-room. It wasn’t much of a room as if yet since most of the furniture were covered in white sheets and the wall furnishings still in storage. There was one small uncovered sofa near the center of the room.
As Jessalyn entered the room, she noticed that her guest had already sat down. She also realized that she knew who it was. A middle-aged woman was sitting down, anxiety clearly written on her face. She had brown hair tied up in a floppy pony-tail and wore black-rimmed glasses. She wore a sharp-looking business suit though; as Jessalyn made her way into the room, there was something of a disheveled look about it.
The woman immediately jumped up from the sofa and began looking even more anxious. Jessalyn’s instincts were growing worried.
Was something wrong? she thought.
“Jessalyn—” the woman began to speak but something made her stop. It was the way that the lady of the Hall was looking at her.
There was silence between the two of them for a brief moment longer.
“When they told me that I had a visitor, never would I have thought it would be you,” Jessalyn spat out.
“I know—I realize I’m not welcomed but—” the woman said timidly as she walked around nervously. She spoke with a clear Southern accent. There was also a predominant drawl that invariably told people she was from Georgia.
”You’re not,” interrupted Jessalyn. “You have some nerve, Savannah, to come back here.”
Again silence reigned in the room. There was a clear electric tension in the air as both women examined the other’s motives. Savannah Woodham thought she knew the woman standing before her but now she wasn’t so sure.
Savannah sat down again. She wasn’t feeling too good. It’s this place, a white-hot terrifying thought surged her brain. The Ryokan Hiei was a mere carnival sideshow compared to Thornton Hall. She clasped her hands together tightly—it was then that she felt them quiver. She felt the coldness sweeping into the parlor-room with such rushing force that to hear it felt like a terrible psychic tsunami.
Her head was pounding, a curse she had placed upon herself back when she first meddled in the affairs of the paranormal, the haunted, and the hunted. Savannah Woodham looked up at Jessalyn Thornton—the paranormally hunted.
“I had to come back, Jessalyn. It was wrong if me to have left—”
Her attempt at apologizing was immediately cast aside by Jessalyn in the form of placing a hand up, signaling a stop.
“Don’t. I’m honestly tired of it all, you know? I—I just don’t care anymore.”
Savannah got up and run to Jessalyn. “But you should! Don’t you see, Jessalyn? I’ve tried and tried so many times to tell you that this place—”
Both grew silent once more. Neither wanted to talk about the nightmares and the bumps in the night as of late. They didn’t know what was there lurking in the shadows…Something was watching them watching it…
Jessalyn, on the other hand, had seen too much—heard too much—and believing in it too much—it was time to end things. She had had enough.
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave,” she said with a stone-cold expression. She gave one last criticizing look at Savannah Woodham and then opened the door to return to her job of painting her bedroom. She was in the doorway when Savannah called out.
“I KNOW ABOUT CHARLOTTE!”
Jessalyn Thornton’s blood froze over as she gave out a shriek of a gasp. She leaned against the door-frame for support. Slowly, she turned her head and looked back at Savannah with her mouth gaped open.
”How—?” she asked on the verge of whimpering. Savannah Woodham’s shoulders sagged as she let out a sigh.
“I’m not sure how exactly—but that’s the reason isn’t it? That’s the reason your family fled this place?”
The air in the parlor-room became decisively chillier. Jessalyn composed herself -and quickly shut the door. She sat next to Savannah still amazed that the secret was discovered.
“Ever since I was a little girl, I was determined to always live here. I didn’t want to move but my parents, the way they always looked over their shoulders—so much so they never stopped looking over their shoulders even though they moved hundreds of miles away…”
Savannah reached out for Jessalyn’s right hand and held it comfortablely in her own. Jessalyn sniffed and wiped away a tear from her eyes. She then looked about her and shuddered.
“This place—I knew it the moment I first unlocked the front door. It has sat empty for too long. Because when a house isn’t lived in, after a period of time—”
“Something else will?” suggested Savannah with crazed eyes. Jessalyn snapped her head and stared at Savannah with wild look.
She’s right, she thought. Something else will—something else has.
