Miss Tory and the Gray House

By T. L. Lancaster

A women appears out from a dark forest and find herself in the land of spirits. She does not know who she is or where she is from, a side effect from her time in the forest. She takes shelter in the Gray House, a stop off point between the mortal realm and the "ever after", run by a tall gangly man who knows no color beside black and white. The gray man, as she calls him, treats her kindly but warns her of the danger of reentry to the forest, whose trees moved and scream out of fear. But the forest calls to her, and she knows that beyond the opaque shadow lies the way home.

This version is revised and edited

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. L. Lancaster
• Release date: Sep 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310311895

T. L. Lancaster

Born and raised in the state of Texas of the United States of America, Timothy L. Lancaster was creative from an early age. Dictating his first story to his mother before he could write them himself. Dabbling in poetry and song writing, T. L. Lancaster is rarely not working on some story. He has interests in all form of telling stories, from acting to video games and of course writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

She was not sure where she was. She knew she had been walking for quite some time, but she could not recall where she started. Not knowing where you started makes knowing where you are quite difficult.

All she knew was that before her was a sizable house. The house was tall and gray, with three jutting towers. Not including the towers, the main building was about four stories tall, and it was circled by a tall dark fence. The gate was simply two sections of the fence on hinges. She might never have seen the gate if it were not for an arching road leading up to it. All of this, again, was located in a clearing in the middle of a dense black forest.

She stepped onto the arching road that led off into the forest.  But only a few steps past the tree-line, the thick canopy rendered the way completely without light. The shadow cast looked like a dark hole in the midst of the air.

From a parting in the black, she was startled to see a massive wolf leering at her. He was perfectly still, looking straight at her from just out of the dark with his head low. She jolted back at the sight, almost losing her balance in the process. In haste she took a rock from the gravel and threw it at the canine. It hit its mark and he whimpered as he was struck, then limped away, obviously in pain. She stood in confusion at the whole thing. It was all made even more startling by the fact that the wolf's dark outline made it seem like it was wearing a top hat.

She stood there for some time, looking at the towers and the fence, then back to the forest. Feeling the need to do something with her hands, she rubbed her palms up and down on her cloths, then she turned as she heard the crunch of shoes on moist gravel.

Hello? Asked a man standing at the opened gate. He was tall with long arms and longer legs that protruded from a tiny torso. All of these were draped finely in a light gray suit. He had a kind voice and his face had a look on it of both concern and curiosity. As he approached, his arms did not swing, moving only a few inches in rhythm with the motions of his stringy legs.

Hello. She answered back with caution. She turned slightly to her, in case she felt the need to get away from him.

I have apologize, he began with an awkward smile, I must have missed the carriage that brought you. He placed his hand on his abdomen and leaned ever so slightly down in apology.

No, she said, still dazed and dismissing his remarks. I came through the forest. I walked. This made his awkward look deepen further into one of utter confusion as he straightened.

From the forest? questioning to himself more than to ask her. That is quite impossible. He stated this very emphatically, though she sensed an attitude of dismissal in his tone that was accompanied by an absurd smile painted his face.

I assure you, I walked here from the forest. she said pointing to the mud on her feet, which were bare and quite dusted. Do you wish to see my tracks? She asked him.

No! He dismissed harshly, That won't be necessary. His pale cheeks turned a darker gray and waving his white gloved hands his eyes turned to the dark canopy. He soon turned back to her, Still, It is very unlikely. People are known to visit the forest. However, until now, none have made it so far in as to make it here. He smiled at her and stated, You must have a very strong spirit to have done so.

Thank you. she said, feeling that she had just been paid a great compliment.

Miss, may I ask your name? He inquired. She started to answer but stopped. Her mouth hung open in a silent, screaming gasp. She placed her hand to her face.

I don't know, she cried in panic as her body began to shake. I don't know my own name. Her breath was fast and getting faster. Just as she thought she might faint, a gentle hand was placed on her shoulders. She looked up and saw the man in gray standing tall and comforting over her.

It is alright. he stated in a low calm tone, The forest does things to those who go too far in. Compared to some things I have heard that happen to those who have not gone nearly as far as you, memory loss is rather mild. She collected herself for a moment as he lowered his hands and stepped back to give her room. She was focusing on taking slow, deep breaths, and then had a thought.

I need to go back! she shouted. She started a beeline for the black canopy but he grabbed her arm.

No! You can't. he commanded. The forest is risky! If you go back you might become completely lost.

I made it fine one way. She responded.

Really? Then tell me your name. He insisted, letting go of her and crossing his arms, Where do you shop? When was the last time you had chocolate? He relaxed, How can you get back if you don't know where you came from? He sighed to himself, Come inside, a carriage will be by soon enough. Once it's come along and I'm done with it, I am sure the driver will be able to take you home. He gestured and started to walk to the tall, gray house. She came along until she stopped to ponder at the gate.

Um, She started, if I don't know where home is, how can the driver take me there? The tall man turned. He lifted a white gloved hand into the air.

My dear girl, he scoffed without a pause in stride, the forest is not the only strange thing here.

Chapter 2

The inside of the house was little different in color from the outside. Everything in sight was a dusty gray when it wasn't black or white. The floor tiles were a pattern of milky white boxes of four tiles boxed by lines of onyx black. The wood tables and drawers were even made from a pale gray drift wood that seemed to have been worn into their functions rather than being cut and sawed.

Still, besides the monotone colors, she felt at ease. The entryway was open, with a straight shot to the back though a French-style door. To the right was the rest of the house and to the left were two flights of stairs up to the other floors. To the right was the rest of the house and to the left were two flights of stairs, each leading up through a tower to the other floors.

Thank you. She mumbled as she looked to the ground with her hands folded in front of her, Thank you for letting me stay until the carriage comes. I hope I am not imposing.

No trouble at all. The gray man responded with a back wave of his hand as if she had said something amusingly absurd. The Carriage comes many times a day. I expect I will have no less than three more before the end of the day. He turned with a comforting smile and said, With luck, we will have you on your way home within the hour. He held the smile for a moment then picked up a folder and started up the far stairs, when she thought of a question.

Why do you get so many carriages? She asked. He stopped mid-rung and lifted his head to think. He mumbled a few words and before addressing the question.

I have a lot of visitors. he stated as he looked up and to the right, This house is a halfway point between two locations that are very far apart. People come here so they can ready themselves for the rest of the journey.

So this is a rest station? She suggested with a weak, uncertain voice. The gray man swung his head back and forth a little before turning to her with a kind smile.

Yes. He confirmed with hesitation, but my guests often need more than just rest. The journey is often a difficult one for the traveler. I am here to help them cope and prepare them for the next part. He waved the folder, I'm sorry, but I really do need to see to the longer term guests.

Sorry! she apologized empathetic. I didn't mean to keep you.

No trouble. he laughed with the same tone of pleasant absurdity as he walked up the stairs. To your right is the sitting room. Make yourself comfortable. After he said this, he disappeared up into the ceiling.

She took his advice and went into the sitting room. There she found a long sofa in what she wanted to call Victorian Style, though she was not sure if that was the correct term. She was sure that Victorian was a time period, but was nowhere close to knowing if it was a furniture style. Also, scattered around the room were arm chairs and tables that matched the sofa. All, of course, were made from the gray drift wood and upholstered in a soft gray cloth.

In the room sat a man. She was glad to see that he wore a blue shirt and faded tan pants. Still, he looked ill and extremely tired. All of the color was gone from his face. He