Dark Wishes Designs - A Life in Miniature

  A month passed in the blink of an eye, Eleanor was busy, the children took up so much of her time. Rightly so, as she assuaged her guilt of spending so much time on the journal and being distracted by 'ghosts' who, quite frankly, she refused to accept existed, except in her own mind.  This was only a temporary feeling as she battled hard to keep everything normal, she would not let anything disturb her family. However, the ghosts soon had other ideas.  Rumours swirled around the town, about Florence, about Eleanor's sanity. Tall tales emerged of townsfolk having seen strange lights and once again the name of Stitchy and his mysterious disappearance surfaced.  Not that Eleanor ever heard this first hand, she was well aware that people stood huddled together in the street as she passed by, her head held high. They stopped talking when she walked into the shops and polite society either shunned them or wanted to conduct seances.  It had been very quiet in Mortife...

  For a full minute Eleanor stared up at Angus, his face was contorted with anger. 'Well?' he demanded angrily, still glaring.  Eleanor honestly had no idea what to say or how to cover her tracks, part of her wanted to confess everything, about the journal, about the strange happenings in the house that they had all experienced and what she had discovered about his father. Deep down she wanted to finish the journal, maybe get more answers, have the full facts before she did anything. Unless she saw this through it seemed unlikely they would ever get peace in Mortifer. It was becoming more obvious that the spirits were not going to rest easy any time soon.  The wind was whipping up a storm, the promising sunrise had been replaced by darkening clouds that scudded across the sky . Angus was still towering above her, he looked so incensed that tears sprang to her eyes.  The wind caught a strand of her long hair lifting it briefly and then dropping it so it clung to her ...

  The secrets that Eleanor knew were weighing so very heavily on her. So much so that it kept her awake at night. Early one morning after a night of tossing and turning she crept out of the house and watched the dawn break from the garden. Seated on the thick woollen blanket she had hurriedly snatched from the bed, she watched as the first yellowy strands of light hit Mortifer house. It looked foreboding, neglected and sad. She pulled the remaining blanket around her as she studied its glowering exterior.  That house, it had borne witness to so much, it was no wonder its secrets were spilling out years later.  The journal entries had revealed far more than Eleanor comfortably wanted to know, now that she had virtually finished the decoding. There were just a few pages left to decipher, pages that she was putting off while she dealt with the knowledge she already had gleaned. And of course, there was that final torn out page - what would that hold? As a lone bird broke int...

    De coding the journal had fast become an obsession for Eleanor. She barely slept or ate. Grace knew to keep quiet and amuse Alice although she was deeply concerned about her mothers behaviour and puzzled also.  She knew better than to question her or mention it to her father though, she was sure it had something to do with her mothers desire to end the bizarre events within the house.  One evening when the house was quiet Eleanor once again sat and delved into the pages of the journal.  She noticed that the next entry was not until December 12th.  December 12th.   My dear wife Emma is home. We are preparing for Christmas, albeit an unusual one. There is still much sadness and mourning for the twins of course. We are still in mourning clothes, I feel Elizabeth will never recover from losing the twins but she and Emma seem close and gather comfort from each other.  For this I am truly grateful and relieved. Elizabeth appears to have dropped...