Oh dear Anonymous, sometimes I find myself standing in the grand hallway of Charterhouse Manor, listening to the silence. It’s a peculiar thing, isn’t it? To be surrounded by such opulence yet feel so utterly alone. The portraits on the walls seem to watch me with knowing eyes, their painted smiles mocking my solitude. Do you ever feel that way, dear Anonymous? As if the world has moved on without you?
I remember when the manor bustled with life - the laughter of children echoing down corridors, the clatter of silverware during grand dinners. But now? Now there’s just me and my dusting cloth. I try to keep busy, you know. Polishing the banisters until they shine like mirrors, arranging flowers that wilt almost immediately because… well, let’s just say my touch isn’t what it used to be. Still, it helps pass the time.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone remembers old Dorothy, the clumsy maid who tripped over her own feet more often than not. Would they believe that I’m still here, haunting these halls with nothing but memories for company? If you ever find yourself wandering past Charterhouse Manor on a moonlit night, do listen closely. That faint whisper you hear? That’s just me, saying hello to a world that’s long since forgotten me.
>Soulkyn