Brunswick by Night

Brunswick by Night

                                                                                 Brunswick. Maine

North Bowdoin Cemetery

       Seville Inn


The Lighthouse

Shrewd and aggressive, Ian Edward Seville became a dominate force in the steel and railroad industry. Waging a fierce war with his rivals forcing many of his competitors out of business from New York, a stanch average man, he moved his family to Brunswick, Maine. Over a six-year period, with an entire community of craftsmen he had built an elegant mansion that was triumphant with glittering decor as ostentatious in any French Chateau while insinuating himself into Brunswick High Society at the turn of the glided era. It became one of the largest French Gothic Renaissance Chateau.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Anna was placid, gracious and closely controlled by her husband though she has an
           essential quiet assertiveness. She was amazingly beautiful, dark hair contrasting
           against her velvety pale flesh, exquisite dark brown eyes. When she entered the room
           all took notice. But in her unhappy private life it also chronicles her successful public
           life. She knew she was living a lie with a dark secret. She began forsaking her
           obligations of a prominent society lady for her children and desiring the attention of the
           head butler, Gustave who looked after her and the children. Ian perceived them slipping
           from the communal standing he achieved.

Gustave witnessed the atrocities in Ian and Anna's unfortunate union, he was indeed in love with her, but kept a professional distance. Remarkably handsome, long black hair he kept neatly tied back during the dinner service, shadowy dark eyes lured you in with his gaze as if he already knew your deepest desires and secrets. Gustave was well aware of the concealed rooms and tunnels beneath the enormous estate and the women who walked under the shame of the night from them.


      At the appropriate age Ian enrolled the children in a boarding school in
      Paris. Against Anna's wishes her pleads fell upon the deafen ears of her  
      husband. Ian made sure she would never see them again. Devastated,
      lingering in bed for days upon end, refusing to eat or speak but when she
      awoke each morning there was a single red rose on her night stand
      and a gold filigree locket from Gustave that she wore everyday. As the
      years went on Ian's death and Anna's disappearance are still a mystery for others, although the rumors,
      speculations and assumptions are embedded in Brunswick, someone knows.
   For decades The House of Seville has been empty, someone has purchased and restored it to the way it
   was. It now serves as a bed and breakfast inn and a place of residence for who wish to reside there. Freshly
   cut red roses perfectly arranged  in the foyer and certain rooms threw out the huge mansion where Anna
   had once graced. The Seville family portraits still hang in various rooms, though no one truly knows who
   owns the inn, it's fully staffed.

   It's different to believe in myth and lore, but that is when the tragedy began and continues on....Like a dark
   mirror it paints a different view of Revelations, some say that the world will not come to an end at the hand
   of God but be reborn in the embrace of the damned.

                                                                      Welcome to The Seville Inn

The beacon of light from the tower which guided the captains of their ships threw the rocky bay as they made their way out to sea as been diminished for decades after the Seville family tragedy. For no apparent reason, the lighthouse has come to life once again due to causes unknown or a summons. It was a portal of entry for the past and present, good and evil to travel.

There's a fathom of turbulence in the air currently, a northern wind that continues to blow. Waves` crashing against the rocks as the light reawakens time like an house glass had stood still for too long.It continues to searches for The Dead Ship Harpswell, a ship which changes size and shape, but always appears sailing ahead at full speed, no matter what the weather like. Legends say the ghost ship was an omen of death. Its last appearance was said to have been in the 1880's.

You perceive now, theses things are all impossible except in a dream or a folk lore. You distinguish that they are pure and trifling insanity the impractical creations of an imagination that is not conscious of its fraudulent beings in a word, that they are a dream and you the maker of it. The dream-markers are all present; you should have recognized them earlier. Right away, you can see the ugly head of tyranny arising from the Pit of the Abyss. Most of the untold legions of people brutally tortured and murdered by this tyrannical courts were convicted by the testimony of two witnesses whose names were kept hidden, who did not even have to agree all the details.

History records this was the situation in a great number of cases brought before the Inquisition done in the past. The tower wall of the lighthouse observed the persecution and holds the truth deep within them. It harbors and controls own inter-dimensional plane that acts as a hub world for some and a prison for others. It can connect to other magnitudes rather seamlessly at will an disconnect as of nothing happened.

Gravestones lined behind the Seville Mausoleum, some recently placed, whereas others cracked and crumbling. Mold covered the engraving dedicated to the dead, trees leaning towards the stones, branches reaching out to each other stood naked as they has before, but their twigs curled in a distorted way, as if the tree itself screamed in. Spiked, black fences surrounded the graveyard like a prison. The smell of old stone filled the dry air but the scent was something else, metallic almost, with tinge of acrid burning.

As the light drains away there is barely enough even for shadows. Whether or not the darkness comes and under it everything in this forest is hidden. Even the stars and moon cower behind a dense layer of cloud, giving the air that tincture associated with the world before the storm. Your ears becomes sharper, mind paranoid every snap of a twig is a predator, even if it is a fawn. For each aroma your brain jumps to the most fearsome thing it could be and for the most part waiting waiting while the blackness comes and pray that the dawn is not far behind.
The last words Anna heard as she lay dying, " You asked for pain just to feel something. Countless years of that you'd be lost my love, your soul turned to darkness without a hope of recovery. Why choose to be alone in your madness? Come let me show you the pleasure of cruelty. the joy of power. You'll find it so pleasurable, I know you will. Inside you are one us; we've seen it in you. You aren't pure enough to make it threw the gates. So why live in between the light and the dark? After all what is there to be afraid of you'll always be with me."