The Gift of Story
In the late afternoon, when the sun slides through thin clouds streaming along the horizon, Chelsea had always felt a calm settling on her world. She was looking over the grounds of the vast estate left to her by her great uncle. She felt alone and frightened in this gentile world. Her world was a world of horses and dogs. Definitely not welcome in the grand ball rooms of this old castle. As a child, that was what she and her brother called it. Their family lived in the small cottage at the back of the estate so the children were able to play on the lawns. The stories they heard about the grand parties of yesteryear were magical. Horses and carriages bringing fine ladies in silks and feathers, their handsome gentlemen in top hats and tuxedos became the focus of many stories. Chelsea and her brother Eric were the stars in many of the stories. Now that childhood magic seemed so far away. Chelsea took a deep breath and with it her sadness seemed to just vanish. This old house did have so much potential. There really was some magic in the old place. Horse and carriage rides? No. Equestrian stables with lessons? Hmmm.... Bed and breakfast - a big one? Maybe…Uncle Bert had also left some money..not enough really, but if she could make it pay?
“The possible’s slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.”
~ Emily Dickinson
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