Ravens Deep (one) Read Online Free PDF

but it seemed functional.
                  I just hope everything still works. 
                  The large kitchen window above the sink made this room feel sunny and bright, and looking out I saw that it commanded fine views down over the moors to the sea in the distance. The whole aspect of this house was enchanting, but my attention came back to the structure of the room that I was standing in. Throughout the rooms I had seen so far, there was a continuity of exposed beams that ran the length of the ceilings and down the walls at intervals.  The walls had some unevenness about them, but the house had definite charm, although it was an odd layout and I would have expected many more rooms in a country house such as this. 
                  As I turned to leave the kitchen, I noticed a door that I had not seen earlier. It was heavy and creaked a little when opened. I stepped across the threshold and found myself in a large walk-in pantry big enough for several people to have stood in there with me. Five deep shelves jutted out from the stonework, and the two lower shelves were stacked with exquisite china and several sets of fine crystal. Everything had not been touched for years, as a film of grime and dust covered everything.  I picked up an old plate, wondering if I had brought enough cleaning supplies with me.
                  “This place is filthy.”  I muttered tersely, becoming aware of the enormity of the task that appeared before me.  The room had a distinct chill to it, probably the reason it had been used as a pantry, but I was glad to shut the door firmly behind me. I left the kitchen and walked up the staircase, mesmerized as I progressed by the decorative details.  A mixture of different wood, panels of oak and elm, formed a continuous rhythmic pattern of curling acanthus leaves that carried my eye upwards and peering out from the leaves were several fox heads, their eyes seemed to watch my progress upstairs. The details were fascinating and I ran my hand lightly over the carved wood and smooth banister. There was something so appealing and addictive about touching wood, perhaps because it had once been a living thing, or the carpenter who once worked upon it had put so much feeling and commitment into the fine details that it still seemed to have a living form.
                  I reached the top of the staircase and stepped onto a small landing with one door, which was the first of two bedrooms. I walked into the dark room and immediately went to the window to open the curtains and allow the light to shine through.  But once I pulled aside the heavy blue and gold damask curtains, I was surprised to find the room still so dark. I saw that the ivy growing outside, practically covered the entire window, I would need to trim it back if this room was ever to see the sunlight again.
                  But despite the gloom, I saw the bedroom suite had covers that matched the blue and gold damask fabric of the curtains, and on closer examination I noticed the furniture was all made from some exotic wood, covered with artistic carvings depicting birds of paradise and butterflies in deep relief on the headboard and legs of the bed.  A scroll design adorned the wardrobe and it was framed by another bird of paradise in deep relief with its wings fanned, with a matching dressing table completing the scene.  I left the room feeling saddened that everything had been allowed to decay, as if someone long ago had walked away and never returned.  These beautiful pieces deserved appreciation, to be used and loved, not just left and forgotten. It was quite a depressing notion and I wondered what had happened. Someone had used them once, someone had carefully selected each piece for each room.
                  The landing on which I stood had an additional four steps which led up to a corridor roughly twelve feet long, containing two doors.  The