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Hengledsbury Hall had been in the Hengledsbury family for over six hundred years.
It was a very imposing mansion and stood in beautiful grounds. Sadly, the place had stood almost derelict for the past seven years since the impromptu death of Maisie, the only daughter of Samuel and Teresa Hengledsbury.
The delightful little girl had died after being ill for a very short period. She had evidently caught a fatal dose of Meningitis and within three days...well!
Her parents, whose marriage had never been exactly strong, had simply left the house and gone their separate ways...their grief too much to bear.
A local historian, Jo Baker had taken it upon herself to look into the history of the said family. Immediately, she had found out that since the beginning of the nineteen hundreds, the family had seemed to be under a terrible curse. Indeed, so much turmoil had struck the women of the family since that time that Jo made it her life's work to find out more.
Around this time, her parents, who themselves were quite wealthy, decided to buy the large hall. Their idea was that in time, they should like to turn it into a first class restaurant with superior accommodation.
Within months they were the rightful owners. Bob Baker had his own building business, and so long overdue work commenced right away.
His wife Miriam was an accomplished machinist and was able to see in an instant what soft furnishings would suit the different rooms.
Jo was in seventh Heaven. Her work as a historian on the local paper meant that she could devote much of her time to her chosen topic...Hengledsbury Hall...and it was her new home!
Jo's bedroom had large double doors leading to a smaller room...too small for a bedroom, but ideal for a study. Many evenings she spent sitting at her computer, studying the genealogy of the
Hengledsburys.
Before too long she found out that in 1903, the newly weds Cynthia and Robert arrived at the hall to begin their married life together.
There were dusty old books wrapped in paper in the attic, and many of them showed a happy and bright abode that seemed to exude happiness.
Robert's mother Glynis had not, however been overjoyed at the union. In fact, one may go as far as to say that she despised her new daughter-in-law with a passion. The only reason appeared to be that Cynthia had stolen her only son away from his mother. Glynis didn't see that her son was idyllically happy, just that he now no longer needed her. This incensed the embittered old woman, and when her rather weak husband died of a sudden stroke, she saw happiness as evil and sought revenge.
Jo went for hours to the library and found out so much information that didn't really hold her interest. One day, however, her fortune changed for the better.
She found out that Glynis Spirito, as she was then, had come from a family of dubious means.
Her mother and three aunts brought her up, and there were many stories about witchcraft and suchlike. Many of the people from the local villages would cross the road to avoid meeting any of them...strange things happened when they were around.
Once, a small child had snipped a wild rose from a bush at the end of 'the witches' garden...days later, her pet cat was found decapitated. An elderly man has spread a rumour around that these women were evil and wrongdoers. Days later, he died a terrifying death. The gossip was that 'the witches' had put a curse on him and all of his family.
It mystified Jo. The more she read about the family, the more sadness she unearthed.
One woman had died in childbirth; another had been killed when her car mysteriously left the road...the car had evidently been in perfect running order at the time.
It seemed that the entire family was indeed cursed...but why?
One night, Jo just couldn't sleep...her computer was glinting in the moonlight in the next room, the temptation proved too much.
She quietly turned it on and checked some old papers that she had saved to disk.
The story about the old man fascinated her. He had indeed died an awful death and had left a young daughter of seventeen alone to fend for herself.
Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. There was something here that she had missed earlier. There was a cutting about Glynis the bereaved daughter. She had evidently married about a year later...and to none other than Ralph
Hengledsbury. It took some time for things to fall in to place, but soon Jo had the whole scenario worked out. With the aid of newspaper cuttings and the invaluable Internet, Jo was able to, bit by bit, piece together the facts.
It turned out that the elderly man had in his youth got a young girl pregnant. That girl was from a strange family and was none other than Glynis's mother. From the time she found out she was expecting a baby, Glynis's evil mother forebode the man to ever make contact with his daughter. He wasn't a bad man, just a little simple, and for the rest of his
days he had to watch his young daughter walk along the local lanes...him knowing who she was but her never knowing him. Unfortunately that dear sweet child inherited her mother's nasty ways, and so it was that when one day the man, her father, tried to talk to her...to enlighten her a little as to her history, she put a curse on him and any of his family...particularly the women. She had little time for the women in her family, although she was more like them than she cared to believe. Because of her disgust for her mother and her aunts, she chose to curse women...why not, it wouldn't hurt her?
Of course though, it would. She had been only too pleased to wed Ralph Hengledsbury. She didn't love him but saw him as a meal ticket. She did, though, adore her only son Robert and was acutely distressed when he married Cynthia. Unfortunately though, the curse was going strong, and when Cynthia gave birth to a stillborn child, Robert could barely stand the pain. When his
wif, after months of trying to cope, hanged herself, Robert couldn't bear the pain and shot himself.
The curse that Glynis had put on the old man's family had inadvertently destroyed her. She never knew this and died a sad and lonely death.
With stark realization, Jo felt the color drain from her face. Her own mother was a cousin of the family and so far there had been no terrible occurrences in her life, but it could happen...to her mother or her!
Jo got no decent sleep all night. Her mind churned and she tossed and turned.
The next morning she was up early and decided to go for a walk around the still overgrown garden.
Along the back of the garden was an unsteady brick wall with a diseased tree stump leaning against it.
Looking closely, Jo noticed an inscription carved in to the tree.
'Tree of death can get no worse
It has to go to break the curse'
So a dead tree was the dreaded curse, but how? Determined to resolve this living nightmare, Jo came closer to the dead stump.
Something brushed against her bare leg, it was an extremely diseased and unruly rose
bush.
The poor little rose buds were trying their up most to peep through to the daylight, but the weeds and the badness from the dead tree were choking it. With an increase of energy, Jo pulled at the weeds to try and give a helping hand to the poor flower. Within two hours she had engaged a tree-feller to get rid of the ugly bad tree stump.
Job completed, he sawed it in to chunks and loaded it on to a truck.
Before he cut it, Jo looked at the stump...the inscription had completely disappeared!
Also, was it her imagination, or was the deep red rose bud opening in front of her very eyes?
Jo had found and dissolved the dreaded Hengledsbury curse. From that day, all women from that family would be able to live out their lives free from terror.
This only goes to show that good will always triumph over evilm and Jo thought this a very comforting thought!
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