Rigmor Manor

HEY Blogging World :) 
Unfortunately there will be no Memoirs of a Mermaid this week as I have been unable to properly formulate my ideas around it. But Fragment 2 of Tragedies of Lorali will be posted tomorrow as promised. To read Fragment 1  click HERE. In Fragment two we will meet Lorali through the first few pages of her journal and gain insight into the mind of a women that Em strives to forget and Jude simply can not. 
As for today I hope you will enjoy this short story.

Rigmor Manor 

The clock ticked almost vigorously in the dark cold night as the wind howled tirelessly. It had been days since her brothers funeral but she could still hear him pacing the room across the hall and humming to himself. Time had no place in the halls of Rigmor Manor; all but the rooms in the west wing were empty of signs of aging. Even Mrs. Rigmor had managed to maintain a youthful glow. It seemed that life went on as per usual for Mr and Mrs Rigmor but their only child left was wilting away at a rapid pace. Constance sat absentmindedly at the tiny desk residing in her room. She was in some sort of a trance most of her waking hours. And if she slept she was haunted by reality still. Their parents had never shown much affection toward them but Constance and Will had always been close. Family was not of much importance at Rigmor Manor; all the money in the world could not buy compassion. Constance played over the day in her head. Her mothers cold features, her fathers busy pace. Nothing had changed as though Will was simply an old fixture in the house. She contemplated writing something. Anything. But it really wouldn't matter.
"Will" she whispered closing her eyes; hoping to resurrect him if only just on the back of her eyelids. She could feel his presence everywhere and wished that the past few weeks had simply been a dream. Constance felt as though the world had teeth and in that very moment they were snapping hungrily at her. Suddenly she felt the wind tugging gently at her hair; throwing it west and south. Something was jolting Constance up out of her seat and forwards; away, to be free. Free of her fears and constant pain.
It wasn't long before she had reached the window and was staring lifelessly at the hard unforgiving ground far bellow.
She felt a hand lightly rest upon her shoulder. She wanted so badly to hurl herself over the windowsill and and drift into the same world her brother now lived. But the hand though light held her in place and Will whispered gently "go find your own home". Constance snapped into a conscious state and looked around the room. Will was no where to be found and the hand that had held her steady was gone. Constance remembered a time when they were young; Will would joke about leaving her one day so she could stand on her own. He would say "go find your own place to play, I wont always be here to hold your hand".
It was time for Constance to live her life for herself. All the walls in Rigmor Manor could not hold her back. The wind tickled her face as she reached up and slammed the window shut. Life would go on as per usual at the Rigmor Manor but Constance would have no part in it.