Craven Manor

by Darcy Coates

He lived in a home for desperate people, and desperate people couldn’t be choosy.

For the first time in what felt like months, a spark of hope warmed his insides. Then he stepped closer to the gates, and trepidation returned to extinguish his hope.

Craven Manor was a massive building. Its three stories seemed to have burst out of the ground like an abomination, full of disorderly protrusions and jumbled ledges. More than two dozen black windows overlooked the entryway, which was comprised of three broad stone steps leading up to a wooden-arch double door. Pillars supported an awning that could easily shelter twenty people. The stones were all old, worn down, and speckled with green-and-grey lichen. A tower extended from the building’s side, rising above the roof’s highest peak.

Tp-tp-tp. It was a question, an invitation, and a request all in one.