Dark Wishes Designs - A Life in Miniature

Eleanor crept past the study door cursing under her breath at how creaky the floorboards were on the second landing. She liked to make it to bed without waking Angus, knowing that he was probably fast asleep in his chair or slumped across his desk with one of his many books open and a half filled glass of mead.  In the glow of the table lamp the portraits looked down on her mockingly. Some of the ancestors were long gone, some were still around. She knew for instance that Florence Mortifer had been institutionalised in an asylum when she was quite young, it was never clear why, and Eleanor knew she was still alive. All Angus ever said was that she was mad and wouldn't elaborate further than that. He did however, occasionally visit her on what Eleanor assumed was her birthday and also at Christmas and the odd visit in between. She had no idea what age she was but guessed she was fairly old, it was just something never discussed.  She often looked at those faces she passed ...