Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

The Secret of Ellingham Manor

You sigh and watch a raindrop slither down your bedroom window. It’s been raining for days, with no end in sight. “The largest rainstorm in a decade,” as the weatherman said. You stare out at the gray world outside your window. There’s gray cars, gray trees, gray houses, gray streets, smoking bird, gray sky - smoking bird? You run to your closet, searching for the binoculars you got as a birthday present when you were eight. You find them under a pair of jeans that's been too short since last winter and use them to take a closer look at this mysterious bird. It's definitely smoking - a fine trail of bluish smoke is trailing from its head. That's not the only strange thing about it; its skin is brown leather, its claws a shiny silver. There’s a white rectangle - an envelope? - tied to its left leg with brown string.You realize that the bird is mechanical and marvel at how pretty and fragile it is. Then you realize it’s heading straight for you. You don’t want the bird to hit the window and get hurt. The window creaks loudly as you open it. The strange bird swoops in and lands on your bed. It uses its silvery beak to undo the string on its leg and then lies down to have a rest. Everything seems very quiet all of a sudden. The only noises are the deafening rain outside and the plinking and clunking of the tiny gears that make up the bird’s heart. You walk to the bed. You were right - it is an envelope, a beautiful envelope with a red wax seal. The seal depicts an owl with a great many spears behind it. You turn the envelope over. There’s no return address. You open it and a beautiful hand-written letter falls out. You pause what feels like two or three eternities and read it.

Dear CBer,

You are cordially invited to my home, Ellingham Manor, for a Week of Wonder and Whimsy. (Let’s call it the WWW for short.) I’ll be sending Barnaby along with a carriage at noon on October first. Be ready when he arrives, he hates rain.

Warmly,

Flora

(Lady Ellingham)

P. S. Don’t panic if the carrier pigeon’s legs fall off. It’s a design flaw that I’ve yet to find a solution to. Just bring him back to the Manor with you.

P. P. S. Bring layers, it’s cold here.

P. P. P. S. I mean it when I say be ready for Barnaby’s arrival. He’s been known to leave without passengers on several occasions.

P. P. P. P. S. Roxann asks that you fill out the form below; she doesn’t want a repeat of the last time I had guests over.

Name:

Pronouns:

Age:

Itemized list of things you’re bringing:

Personality (described in five words or less):

Any special needs? If so, specify:

No CAPTCHAs or AEs. Never again. Limit of ten people. Starts October first. -Roxann