Morrowveil Asterwyck House and the Parlour That Slept in Daylight

Entering the parlour of Morrowveil Asterwyck House, one feels a low hush settle in layers: dust along softened chair arms, stale wool clinging to collapsed cushions, cooled tea scent faintly rising from abandoned saucers. Nothing has shifted outward; everything folds inward, as though daylight itself once entered and chose never to return.

The Soft-Stepped Daily Routines of Linora Faye Asterwyck

Linora Faye Asterwyck, an instructor of household writing and orderly sums, shared these rooms with her niece Rowan, a novice seamstress who worked sporadically for a small tailoring shop.

Linora arranged the lesson quarter with almost ceremonial care: slates sorted into tidy stacks, pencils trimmed to even points, inkpots wiped clean each evening. She was a steady presence, though often fretful—re-creasing her apron twice, counting coins three times, and pacing a soft half-circle around her escritoire whenever news of Rowan’s reduced hours arrived. When Rowan’s stitching jobs grew irregular and Linora’s joints stiffened each winter, their supplies dwindled. Lessons thinned. Blotters went unchanged. Piles of half-corrected pages settled into dust. Her routines sagged under fatigue, and the house mirrored each quiet shift in her resolve.

A Corridor Where Her Steps Lost Their Steadiness

Down the east passage, Linora’s boots rest angled against the wall, their laces stiff. Rowan’s sewing scraps trail near the banister, patterns blurred from damp. A cracked lamp chimney lies beside a dust cloth dropped mid-chore.

The Scullery Where Gravity Claimed the Tasks

Inside the scullery, mismatched mugs carry pale grey residue. A kettle rimmed with chalk sits beside a cooling stone once used to soothe Linora’s aching fingers. A linen apron hangs slack from its peg, its creases long faded from memory.

At the landing’s far end, Linora’s final corrected page—ink faint, strokes trembling—rests beneath a shawl she never retrieved. Rowan’s worn pincushion sits beside it, threads dulled to near-brown. Morrowveil Asterwyck House continues settling inward, its rooms dimming silently, indefinitely abandoned.