Mortlea Manor (Lyr #50)

This is Part 50 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.

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I climbed out of the energy stream, hauling myself up on to the statue’s plinth. That’s when I realised this was no statue at all but a gatepost, a carved figure sitting on top.

I let my eyes wander across it. Just above my head was a plaque that read ‘Mortlea Manor’. Then stout ironwork, swirling in intricate designs – reminding me of the door to the Little Folk’s cottage – crossed a carriageway before ending at an identical gatepost. From where I was standing, I could just make out the same iron and stone formed a fence, disappearing in each direction.

My first impression wasn’t a comforting one. This boundary marker was intimidating as it towered in the air above me. It must be at least twice the height of a man, and there was no way through between the railings.

But was it to keep something out or keep something in?

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Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #50 | Word count: 151