The Ghost of Doran Hall 2023

The rain was streaking down the small window of the shared bedroom in Alice’s dormitory. She lay on her bed wondering how long it would take for the headmistress of the orphanage to realize that Alice was not doing her daily chores. When the sound of heavy footsteps falling on the staircase leading up to the room hit Alice’s ears, she knew she had been found out.

“Miss Thompson, what are you doing laying about in the middle of the day when there is work to be done?” Ms. Langley bellowed, “I sure hope the small amount of discipline we have taught you will be enough for you to present respectfully at your Aunt and Uncle’s home.” She added. “I have an Aunt and Uncle?” Alice spoke with no small amount of surprise, “And they want me to visit?” She wondered how after nearly sixteen years of existence her family had just decided they wanted to meet her. 

“You will leave in the morning on the first carriage to Doran Hall, and I expect you to be on your best behavior if you stand any chance of not being immediately returned to my door.” With that, Alice was left alone in the room again, and she began to think of the life she might lead at Doran Hall. As she drifted asleep, she imagined a manor house with green pasture, a room with a window that faced the sea, and the wind swirling her plain dress around her. She dreamt of a friend who showed her around the grounds. 

They explored every hidden passage and upper level, they climbed trees and read in the garden, and Alice felt as though she had finally found someone who understood her.

The stagecoach ride the next morning from London to Winchester was a bleak plight compared to the relaxing events of her dreams the night before. Alice had been squashed between a stout old woman and a surly sailor who both had the appearance of disdain for children. After several hours, the driver pulled the carriage to its final stop and Alice descended the steps. “Sir, would you be able to tell me how to get to Doran Hall?” She asked the driver. “Yer family not coming to get ye, are they? It is quite a walk, about three miles down that path,” he said. Alice looked down at her thin walking shoes; old and worn and made for the streets of London, not the rough and muddy terrain of the English countryside. “Yer better gets a move on I reckon it’s about to start pourin’.” 

With a quick nod of thanks to the driver Alice took off down the path. Sure enough, halfway through her trek thunder cracked in the sky above her and the downpour began. It was all Alice could do to not slip in her haste. When she reached the drive of the manor house she sprinted to the gate and shoved through, desperate to get underneath the awning of the front porch. She hadn’t the presence of mind to take in the stately Victorian architecture of the manor house when she pounded her fist on the door. 

Alice stood there as her Aunt opened the door and stared at her, soaking wet and shivering, her Aunt let out a scared strangled noise and stepped back. “Edward, come quick!” She shouted into the house. A short round man came hurtling to the door, “What is it, Petunia?” When his eyes moved to Alice, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “My word,” he muttered, and then as he tilted his head an expression of understanding dawned on his face. “My dear, this is our niece we sent for from the orphanage, Miss Thompson, my late sister’s daughter.” 

Alice watched as her aunt’s gaze narrowed on her as she looked Alice up and down. “I see her father has passed on his measly status, come inside girl before you bring death to our door.” As Alice crossed the threshold, still shivering, she took notice of the interior of the house. 

The dark wood spanned the across floors to the ceiling in intricate paneling, and the foyer was accented by an enormous crystal chandelier. Arching staircases lined either side of the room leading up to the second, third, and fourth floors. From what Alice could see there were several dark hallways leading to rooms and wings off the main room, and she thought to be excited later to explore them all. 

“Let’s warm you up by the fire, Alice,” her uncle said, leading her into a sitting room, “and we will send the maid to see if there are some dry clothes that will fit.”

Three Weeks Later

 Alice had now been living at Doran Hall for a grand total of three weeks and it had come with an entirely new way of life. She had met all the staff: Mr. Bolton the groundskeeper, Ms. Farley the cook and housekeeper, and Anna the maid who was not much older than Alice and so thin her apron strings were tied tightly around her three times. Alice had attempted to become friends with Anna, but she had quickly found that between all of Anna's daily chores and all of Anna's worrying about her daily chores there was simply no time for friendship.

On Alice’s fourth day, she continued her explorations of the manor house and was delighted to find a library. She had always loved to read and thus spent most of her long days at Doran Hall piling up books and finding unique locations to sit and read. 

One day, whilst exploring she found a door through the kitchen leading out to the gardens that opened to a new path she had not discovered yet. The long winding path was blocked in by hedges taller than Alice and led to an arch with a small courtyard. There was a stone fountain in the center with a wide enough wall to lay on and allowed Alice to dangle her arm in the cool water. The wind came and whispered past her ears in a voice that almost sounded human. This startled Alice greatly because she could just make out her own name among the words. 

“Who's there?” She asked and when there was a reply she nearly fell into the fountain. “Alex” Alice could swear she heard the name carried on the wind through her hair. 

Shivering and thoroughly scared Alice began to head inside when she felt a cold exhale on her cheek, and a swift wave of apprehension took hold of her. She sprinted towards the house and slammed the kitchen door behind her.

Later, Alice is reading in the library when she catches a glimpse of a figure moving through the tall cases that line perpendicular to the walls. “Who’s there?” She calls, and that familiar chill runs down her spine. Her hands shake as she closes the book, she was reading without putting something in to mark her place. A hand reaches from somewhere beyond to stroke her hair, and Alice knows that he is behind her. A soft sigh escapes Alexander as he says, “Hello Alice, are you going to run away again from me this time?” 

“Who are you? How are you here?” She whispers, barely audible but he can hear her.  “I am here for you my dear, I need your help.” As he says these words, Alice works up enough courage to turn and glance at him. 

A boy is standing behind her who appears to be only a couple of years older than herself, with striking features. His tall stature is accented by his slender build and high cheekbones. The black of his long hair and eyes stand out against his almost translucent pale white skin. His arms hung peculiarly by his sides in a way that made Alice think he was floating somehow. He was deathly still as she took him in and restrained herself from dashing from the room.

“If I must ask you again sir, who are you and how are you here?” Alice began to grow impatient with this boy’s seeming indifference to this excitement. “My name is Alexander and I died nearly one year ago. I am confined to these grounds, and I believe you can help me.” There were slight hissing sounds after he spoke as if a snake were caught in his throat. His figure seemed to be very still yet wavering as if he was trying his very best not to fall over. Alice had to finally retreat a few steps because the cold air surrounding him made her feel as though she would never be warm again. She could swear that where his hand had gripped the sofa she had been lying on, there were tiny ice fractals spreading. 

“What could there possibly be that I could help you with?” As the question left her lips, he extended his hand to her and said, “Allow me to show you.”

                                                                                                         January 23rd, 1888 

Dear Lord Hastings, 

It is with my most sincere apologies and deepest sorrow that I inform you that your son, Master Alexander Hastings, died three days ago at Doran Hall. The mysterious circumstances of his passing make it, so we are unable to elaborate on the manner of death. However, his cause of death appears to be an accidental fall from the turret of the east tower. If you would like to come and collect his effects you may do so at any time, or they will remain here in storage. 

The termination of the lease of the grounds in his name will end effective immediately, and we are expecting his final payments for the remainder of the contract to be sorted out upon your arrival. 

                                                         Our deepest apologies,

                                                                     Lord and Lady Doran

When Alice had finished reading the letter, which appeared to have been written by her Aunt and Uncle, she was left with an entirely new set of questions to berate her new friend with. “Do you know how you died?” She allowed herself a quick glance at the alluring Spector. 

“I am unable to remember all the details of what happened that night. It is as if the memories are locked inside me, and someone is withholding the key that will set me free. Free from this stifling existence, I am caged to these walls and there is no end in sight to my suffering. But if someone were to discover the means of my passing it might unlock me from the invisible chain that tethers me here. When I saw you, I felt a pull telling me you would be the one to set me free. Will you help me, Alice?”

One Week Later

The dark gray sky cracked with thunder as Alice searched desperately for any route of escape from the tower. “Release me Alexander, there is nothing that can change what happened that night!” Alice pleaded though she knew it was futile to change his mind. 

“My dear, why do you attempt to escape this fate? It is our destiny, they say the past cannot be changed, but I intend to prove them wrong. Here, this night on the first anniversary of my death day, I am the strongest I have ever been and I intend to regain my life. How, my dear, do you suppose I shall do that if you do not help me? You must help me Alice, and I will reclaim my right to this land and all that I am owed after the disrespect I faced from your family.” 

His voice sounded so inhuman that Alice cowered before him, and that is when she saw the small ladder on the side of the tower that led over to the roof above the library. She recognized that there was a window, that she prayed would be open, just over the edge of the roof. “Your plan will never succeed Alexander. You have been blinded by the pain of half-living, and there is only one fate that you will receive in the afterlife.” With that she stepped back and shoved, with all her might, Alexander right off the turret that killed him one year ago.

Alice scrambled for the ladder not knowing how the fall would affect him. She ran across the roof as the rain fell. When she felt the rush of cold approaching from her back she knew he was close. When she reached the edge of the roof she pulled deep inside her for as much courage as she could find, and swung down dangling with her feet kicking desperately trying to take hold of the window sill. Alice looked to the sky and felt the rain on her face, soft droplets she would have appreciated under different circumstances. 

Standing above her was Alexander, a murderous look of victory contorting his handsome features so much so that she barely recognized the kind boy he had been. “Alice, this futile pursuit of safety is unbecoming. Do the right thing and save me.” He bent down and took her hands in his cold grip. “Alexander, this futile pursuit of life is unbecoming. Do the right thing and go back to the dead.”

With that, she smashed the glass of the window pane with her knee and fell through. Not feeling the pain of glass in her legs from adrenaline, she stood and dashed toward the letter on the desk. She held the letter up to the candle on the desk and watched as it went up in flames. Alice turned just in time to see Alexander fading into the night.

The End. (Although a lot of the middle has yet to be written.)