Leopold Bayard II

Gemma and Frances were curious girls to say the least. To them, the story of the Junteon estate and Leopold Bayard sounded like adventure down the road. Beyond the estate’s gates was an entirely different era.

The girls strolled quietly towards the home of Bayard, their path lit by dim street lamps. But when they they ran out of street and entered the forrest surrounding the old home, the wan moon was all they had to guide them. They heard nothing but the sound of each other slapping themselves free of bugs and leaves crunching under their feet.

In the recent years of their friendship, the two had grown comfortable in each other’s silence. Though, now that they approached the unknown, silence had become a stranger to them. They stayed close to each other, holding hands until they reached the rusted gap in the fence.

The house was a behemoth. Much more daunting up close than the view from the hill on the other side of town. The girls pressed on. The door, swollen with age, fought against them not to open. It gave a lowing moan but the girls only needed a bit of space to squeeze into the house.

Once inside, the girls were more at ease. Ignoring the accumulation of dust and cobwebs, of which there weren’t many, Gemma and Frances were met with a world of grandiosity. A world, 200 years untouched by another person. And in the living room, a body in the chair. A body that moved.