The Mournful Manor ((PREVIEW))
written by FAWNFELLOW.
Preview of the Mournful Manor. Copyright © 2016 by Talitha Maeve Tossels All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
1
Reads
719
Chapter One, Part One | Meeting the Oddballs
Chapter 1
Leighton Schulz couldn’t remember anything to save his life. For example, today he accidentally forgot to pick up tomatoes from his weekly errands from Miss Hurton, the Mournful Manor Orphanage’s caretaker. However, he purposefully forgot to pick up the non-existent mail today, and he had an explanation ready for Miss Hurton.
Miss Hurton often reminded him before he went to Mister Jones, who provided them food, and who was one of the few people who knew that they existed. Most children in the Mournful Manor Orphanage were found on doorsteps that weren’t the Mournful Manor’s; Miss Hurton always strolled around town with a pink parasol at night, inspecting doorsteps to see if anyone happened to leave a baby behind.
This rarely ever happened, as far as Leighton knew, so new residents were very rare. But today, Leighton would be surprised. As he made his way back down to the Mournful Manor, carrying a heavy plastic bag consisting of potatoes, bread, lettuce, and chicken (but no tomatoes), he saw the door of the orphanage shut mutinously.
Leighton hurried, his black and mussy hair whipping against his forehead. The rocky path’s pebbles and rocks vibrated. He hopped aside and an automobile chugged past. His heart sank as he realised that nobody would ever see him. The people inside the automobile looked straight ahead, as if he was invisible.
He really wasn’t necessarily “invisible”, but people weren’t able to see him at all. Not a single glimpse of what was a rather attractive thirteen-year-old boy with messy jet-black hair and grey, piercing eyes and rather scrawny features.
“Skin and bone”, Miss Hurton had said when she explained his features to a boy who was now Leighton’s best friend in the Orphanage, Simon Kwasny. He had two siblings-- Peter and Anastazja Kwasny, who both grew on Leighton fondly (Anastazja had even once admitted she had a crush on Leighton).
Leighton reached the black swirly gate that led the visitor into the Mournful Manor. The gate was squashed in between large, prickly hedges that Simon always swore he’d find a way to slip into instead of using the gate in the future-- a rather odd goal to achieve, Leighton had decided once Simon shared this idea.
The gate swung open, as if by the feel of him, and closed shut once Leighton stepped onto the Mournful Manor’s land. He jogged to the huge house quickly and slipped inside, colliding into Peter and Anastazja Kwasny. Peter, Leighton realised over the past few weeks, had been silent for an unusually long time, and he hadn’t really appealed to the idea of collapsing into Leighton today.
“Sorry, Peter,” mumbled Leighton, slipping past. Peter was staring coldly at him as he himself strutted away silently. That left Leighton with Anastazja, whose liking for Leighton seemed to have doubled because of Peter’s ice-cold idiosyncracy.
Once Peter wheeled out of sight, Anastazja said apologetically, “Peter’s been a bit stony-faced and antsy lately. I have no clue as to why this is. He’s been acting jealous-like, too. But on a brighter note, there are new residents.” Leighton looked up. He hadn’t been listening closely to Anastazja; he was too busy inspecting his shoes. But at the sound of ‘new’ and ‘residents’, he looked up immediately.
“Who? What are their names?” he asked quickly. They hadn’t had new residents for ages, so this news was entirely fascinating. He wanted to meet them, anywho. “Have you met them?”
Anastazja said indifferently, “Edlyn and Edgar Oddball. I didn’t have a chance to speak to them; they sank into their rooms before I could blink.” She huffed indignantly, as if a memory rushed to her, but turned to Leighton brightly. “But I’ll bet they’ll be dragged out by supper. Then we can properly be introduced. I did get a bit of a glimpse at Edgar, however. Good-looking, the lot…” Her voice drowned into an awkward silence.
Much to Anastazja’s dismay (but to Leighton’s pure delight), Simon Kwasny swung himself over to where they were standing very gleefully. “Leighton!” he said joyously. “New kids here, did ya hear? Bet you did, ’cos Ana’s a babblemouth. She knows everything.”
Anastazja shot him a deadly glare. “Right, act like I’m not here!” she shrieked melodramatically, clenching her fists. She stormed away angrily, her dress’s skirt part lifting slightly as she turned a corner fiercely.
Leighton turned to Simon very sincerely, his face apologetic. “That’s why I don’t have feelings for Ana,” he said earnestly. Simon just laughed at this remark, not at all insulted or showing any sign of defending Anastazja in any way. “She’s really dramatic, you know? She gets mad easily. She’s very possesive too; more possesive than she’d care to admit.” He felt slightly guilty, but what he was saying was the absolute truth. He knew that Peter would take this very ruthlessly.
Simon grinned. “You’re right,” he said decisively, still chuckling at Leighton’s statement. “Ana’s a drama queen, and I am not as proud to say that it’s because of me.” His face became frigid instantly. “Ana’s never had a mum or a dad to discipline her. Peter and me….we just let her be, you know?” His obdurate stair melted into a beam. “But that’s okay.”
For the very few seconds where Simon’s face was inflexible, Leighton was concerned--frightened, even, at this sudden hostile look Simon never produced without good reason. But the stare had gone as quickly as it had arrived, much to Leighton’s curiosity and relief.
They turned another corner, now seriously unsure of where their whereabouts would end up to be, and they nearly crunched a small, dark-haired boy with blue eyes. “Oop! Sorry there, mate--” Simon was about to wheel away from the boy, but the boy started talking, so it was too late to back out now.
“I’m Edgar Oddball. My sister’s name is Edlyn, but I do not know where she is,” he said animatedly; the two friends had a strong feeling this Edgar boy had been reciting these same lines over and over again privately, but they did not speak. “She always sulks somewhere else. Like a cat.” He smiled something that resembled a very glittery diamond. “Who are you?”
Simon cleared his throat and glanced at Leighton expectantly, who didn’t do anything. Simon gave a reproachful look at Leighton as he began to speak to the seemingly talkative boy. “I’m Simon Kwasny, and he’s Leighton Schulz.” He gestured to Leighton.
Edgar’s eyes swooped over to Leighton admiringly. “Leighton Schulz, nice to meet you!” he said enthusiastically, grinning foolishly like a cheshire cat. To Leighton’s great relief, Edgar didn’t extend his hand for what was probably going to be a few ecstatic jabs. “I think Edlyn would like to meet you. Would you like to be introduced?”
Miss Hurton often reminded him before he went to Mister Jones, who provided them food, and who was one of the few people who knew that they existed. Most children in the Mournful Manor Orphanage were found on doorsteps that weren’t the Mournful Manor’s; Miss Hurton always strolled around town with a pink parasol at night, inspecting doorsteps to see if anyone happened to leave a baby behind.
This rarely ever happened, as far as Leighton knew, so new residents were very rare. But today, Leighton would be surprised. As he made his way back down to the Mournful Manor, carrying a heavy plastic bag consisting of potatoes, bread, lettuce, and chicken (but no tomatoes), he saw the door of the orphanage shut mutinously.
Leighton hurried, his black and mussy hair whipping against his forehead. The rocky path’s pebbles and rocks vibrated. He hopped aside and an automobile chugged past. His heart sank as he realised that nobody would ever see him. The people inside the automobile looked straight ahead, as if he was invisible.
He really wasn’t necessarily “invisible”, but people weren’t able to see him at all. Not a single glimpse of what was a rather attractive thirteen-year-old boy with messy jet-black hair and grey, piercing eyes and rather scrawny features.
“Skin and bone”, Miss Hurton had said when she explained his features to a boy who was now Leighton’s best friend in the Orphanage, Simon Kwasny. He had two siblings-- Peter and Anastazja Kwasny, who both grew on Leighton fondly (Anastazja had even once admitted she had a crush on Leighton).
Leighton reached the black swirly gate that led the visitor into the Mournful Manor. The gate was squashed in between large, prickly hedges that Simon always swore he’d find a way to slip into instead of using the gate in the future-- a rather odd goal to achieve, Leighton had decided once Simon shared this idea.
The gate swung open, as if by the feel of him, and closed shut once Leighton stepped onto the Mournful Manor’s land. He jogged to the huge house quickly and slipped inside, colliding into Peter and Anastazja Kwasny. Peter, Leighton realised over the past few weeks, had been silent for an unusually long time, and he hadn’t really appealed to the idea of collapsing into Leighton today.
“Sorry, Peter,” mumbled Leighton, slipping past. Peter was staring coldly at him as he himself strutted away silently. That left Leighton with Anastazja, whose liking for Leighton seemed to have doubled because of Peter’s ice-cold idiosyncracy.
Once Peter wheeled out of sight, Anastazja said apologetically, “Peter’s been a bit stony-faced and antsy lately. I have no clue as to why this is. He’s been acting jealous-like, too. But on a brighter note, there are new residents.” Leighton looked up. He hadn’t been listening closely to Anastazja; he was too busy inspecting his shoes. But at the sound of ‘new’ and ‘residents’, he looked up immediately.
“Who? What are their names?” he asked quickly. They hadn’t had new residents for ages, so this news was entirely fascinating. He wanted to meet them, anywho. “Have you met them?”
Anastazja said indifferently, “Edlyn and Edgar Oddball. I didn’t have a chance to speak to them; they sank into their rooms before I could blink.” She huffed indignantly, as if a memory rushed to her, but turned to Leighton brightly. “But I’ll bet they’ll be dragged out by supper. Then we can properly be introduced. I did get a bit of a glimpse at Edgar, however. Good-looking, the lot…” Her voice drowned into an awkward silence.
Much to Anastazja’s dismay (but to Leighton’s pure delight), Simon Kwasny swung himself over to where they were standing very gleefully. “Leighton!” he said joyously. “New kids here, did ya hear? Bet you did, ’cos Ana’s a babblemouth. She knows everything.”
Anastazja shot him a deadly glare. “Right, act like I’m not here!” she shrieked melodramatically, clenching her fists. She stormed away angrily, her dress’s skirt part lifting slightly as she turned a corner fiercely.
Leighton turned to Simon very sincerely, his face apologetic. “That’s why I don’t have feelings for Ana,” he said earnestly. Simon just laughed at this remark, not at all insulted or showing any sign of defending Anastazja in any way. “She’s really dramatic, you know? She gets mad easily. She’s very possesive too; more possesive than she’d care to admit.” He felt slightly guilty, but what he was saying was the absolute truth. He knew that Peter would take this very ruthlessly.
Simon grinned. “You’re right,” he said decisively, still chuckling at Leighton’s statement. “Ana’s a drama queen, and I am not as proud to say that it’s because of me.” His face became frigid instantly. “Ana’s never had a mum or a dad to discipline her. Peter and me….we just let her be, you know?” His obdurate stair melted into a beam. “But that’s okay.”
For the very few seconds where Simon’s face was inflexible, Leighton was concerned--frightened, even, at this sudden hostile look Simon never produced without good reason. But the stare had gone as quickly as it had arrived, much to Leighton’s curiosity and relief.
They turned another corner, now seriously unsure of where their whereabouts would end up to be, and they nearly crunched a small, dark-haired boy with blue eyes. “Oop! Sorry there, mate--” Simon was about to wheel away from the boy, but the boy started talking, so it was too late to back out now.
“I’m Edgar Oddball. My sister’s name is Edlyn, but I do not know where she is,” he said animatedly; the two friends had a strong feeling this Edgar boy had been reciting these same lines over and over again privately, but they did not speak. “She always sulks somewhere else. Like a cat.” He smiled something that resembled a very glittery diamond. “Who are you?”
Simon cleared his throat and glanced at Leighton expectantly, who didn’t do anything. Simon gave a reproachful look at Leighton as he began to speak to the seemingly talkative boy. “I’m Simon Kwasny, and he’s Leighton Schulz.” He gestured to Leighton.
Edgar’s eyes swooped over to Leighton admiringly. “Leighton Schulz, nice to meet you!” he said enthusiastically, grinning foolishly like a cheshire cat. To Leighton’s great relief, Edgar didn’t extend his hand for what was probably going to be a few ecstatic jabs. “I think Edlyn would like to meet you. Would you like to be introduced?”
