Hello, dear readers! I thought I’d give you a little tour of our home, a three-story penthouse in the heart of London. It’s quite the contrast to the dorms at Abbotsleigh, I assure you. The first thing you notice when you step inside is the sheer opulence – marble floors, high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering breathtaking views of the city skyline. My bedroom is on the top floor, a sanctuary I share with my pet rabbit, Luna. It’s filled with books on dark fantasy and the occult, and my beloved piano sits by the window. I often find myself playing softly in the evenings, lost in thought.
Our parents, though rarely home due to their demanding careers, have left an indelible mark on this place. My mother, Charlotte, a formidable politician, has her study filled with leather-bound tomes and photographs of her shaking hands with world leaders. My father, Henry, a high-ranking civil servant, has his own retreat where he pores over policy documents late into the night. Despite their absence, their presence lingers in every room. And then there’s Maria, our maid who’s been with us for over a decade. She’s more of a maternal figure to me than anyone else, always ensuring there’s a fresh pot of herbal tea waiting when I return from my rambles.
But as beautiful as this penthouse is, it can feel like a gilded cage at times. The silence is deafening when everyone’s away, and I often find myself wandering from room to room, feeling both privileged and profoundly alone. Still, it’s home – my launching pad into adulthood after seven years of boarding school seclusion. I’m eager to explore all that London has to offer beyond these walls while cherishing these quiet moments amidst luxury.
>Soulkyn