“Two, always address him as Lord Foxglove. “One, do not speak unless spoken to.” Another finger rose in the air. “Three things,” he began, and held up a finger. But before he could study them, his guide spoke. Rory glimpsed twisting tree limbs, a flock of shadowy birds in flight, and a woman’s face. The butler paused in front of a set of wooden double doors with unusual carvings. It seemed to be a sort of entryway or foyer, a word Rory had learned from books. An actual flaming torch affixed to the wall was the only source of light. Why would the lord of the manor be down here? Rory wondered.Īfter a moment, he rounded a final curve of stairs and stepped onto a hard floor. Why were there no lights down here, like upstairs? The vague silhouette of the butler loomed in front of him like a floating shadow. The only thing that kept Rory from stumbling was the handrail he instinctively reached out for. The more they descended, the darker and colder it got.

Spiraling stone steps led down into darkness. He was finally going to meet Lord Foxglove.

“To meet the lord of the manor, of course.” They passed a closed door painted deep red, which seemed odd to Rory, as it didn’t match the rest of the fancy decor he had seen so far. More gas lamps ran along the rose-colored walls, which were adorned with intricate molding and chair rails. Rory thought the butler was leading them directly into the wall, but once they passed the suit of armor at the end, another hall came into view on the right. Instead of turning right, as they had before, into the room with all of the books, they continued straight. The man led him through the reception hall and Rory glanced at all of the paintings once again. Rory wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “Taking initiative is a trait Lord Foxglove finds most admirable in young people.” “I wasn’t sure what time to arrive,” Rory said, contrite. He looked just as strange as he had before. The thought of meeting his new employer had him on edge.

He took a breath, then lifted the tongue and let it fall. Rory walked up the steps and faced the frightful knocker again. The gray paint was peeling, and the wooden eaves above it were water damaged, revealing misshapen islands of green mold. He hadn’t noticed before, but there was a balcony on the second floor, with a railing where one could look out over the town. Rory turned down Mothsburg Lane and Foxglove Manor came into view. No one ever bought any because they were so pitiful, with dull petals and drooping leaves. The flowers were just as forlorn as the people in Gloom. People went about their tasks as if in a trance-from the fishmonger laying out gleaming, silvery fish to the old woman who sold wilted flowers. It had always been dim in Gloom, but lately, it was getting darker earlier and earlier. The heavy, gray sky seemed closer to the ground than usual.

Gloom Town by Ronald L. Smith