CHAPTER TWENTY

My mansion is located amidst the ancient woodland, with its outline scarily dreadful. The moon is dressed in its best linen and it pierces its light through my smudged glass windows, igniting supernatural shades across the luxurious aisles.

The fragrance from the cedar wood and muffle soil intoxicated me, as I could sniff it in the atmosphere. Covert paths meander through the serpentine configuration, telling stories of ancient wolves' existence. I walk slowly, once in a while, in my mansion—lost in its horror and beauty.

Due to my love for books, I own a library. I love books on fantasies and ethereal happenings. Sometimes, I read them aloud and giggle consecutively. In my library, there is a turbulent furnace that lit up my line of dusty novels.

My yard reverberates with the memorable tunes of evening animals. They sing harmoniously into the atmosphere and bless my ears with their spooky melody. It all makes me joyful. I cannot contain the beauty it exuded.

I walked through