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Beddington Manor Summary
While
doing a routine story for the ‘Of Interest’ magazine, Tom Benson discovers many secrets at the Beddington Manor
retirement home.
The builder of the Manor, Walter Beddington turned, what was his greatest accomplishment into a refuge
for many of the residents of Beddington. Most of the residents are well over a hundred years old. One of the conditions to
live here was that you could never look into another mirror.
With the help of Emma, a local beauty, Benson not only
discovers the story of the mirrors; he discovers the window into their world. They learn your life is not numbered by the
years. It’s measured by the hours! They learn of the shifters, the roamers, and the entire hierarchy of the mirror world.
Under pressure, the Curator of the manor divulges many of the secrets.
Once Benson obtains proof, it becomes a moral
dilemma. Who will win and who will be hurt by his new knowledge? He’ll need to return to the Manor one more time.
And
so will you.
Welcome back to Beddington Manor!
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Chapter One I had the gift or maybe it was a
curse. I knew things. Things I wasn’t suppose to know. It was simple deductive reasoning. At least that’s how
I justified it in my own mind. However, even I, sometimes thought it was truly remarkable. Sometimes I knew the answer to
questions that were yet to be asked. It was like picking up the phone before it began to ring and know who was calling, or
passing the salt to someone at the table just before they asked for it. Some faces on the street or in a café seemed
to familiar. Familiar enough for me to say hello to people I didn’t know and/or call them by name. Just passing them
on the street I would say ‘good morning’ and say their name and simply walk past them without giving it another
thought. It would generally catch them off guard. Most would just say hi and go on. Every now and then one would stop and
turn around and take a double take. A few have even stopped and engage me in a quick Q and A. “Do I know you?”
they would say. The first time it happened, I surprised myself and told the bystander we must have met somewhere without really
knowing where or when. When it happened over and over, I began to consciously suppress my knowledge on the street. Taking
my ‘problem’ to a professional, they all had suppositions. Psychic was the term they used. That was a catch-all
the big brains used when they couldn’t really explain my strange foresight. I don’t really remember when it all
started, but I do know the how. It seems it all started with my dreams. Dreams I remembered, not the trip so much, but always
the substance. In my dreams, I saw people I haven’t met and places I hadn’t been. Not so strange in itself, except
that I remembered most of the faces and the places. So here I am again, looking through the window, convincing myself this
is normal. To not remember how I got here and not remember why I picked this particular location. Not the deductive reasoning
I was hoping for. Then I wondered, if you think you’re having a dream while you’re having a dream, is it a dream
or is it real? I turned my head to the left to see a hallway of windows that went on as far as I could see and the light shining
in from the other side. People were looking into each one, and then I turned to the right to see the same. I again looked
into the window in front of me to see the arduous scene. My window was smaller than all of the rest. Eye level and barely
large enough to see the goings on. My view was distorted some and yet I could see a building in the rear changing from a mansion
to a dilapidated shell. The woman standing in front of the building began to fade, I watched without saying a word. I tried
to reach out, but couldn’t move. I tried to speak, but was muted. I was riveted to my place. It was no one I knew, it
was somewhere I’d never been, but it was someone. . . and it was somewhere … familiar. I felt a loss, but instead
of the sadness I should have felt, I couldn’t turn away. I saw a shadow now where the woman was standing just seconds
ago. The next view was a hand reaching for and adjusting the window. Only eyes were visible now and they were fixed on me.
We stared at each other for what seemed like hours, his eyes to mine. I began to sink into his stare. His eyes changed into
mirrors, multiple mirrors like at the arcade. I saw myself through a kaleidoscope, moving in triangle forms. I squeezed my
eyes shut to avoid the hypnotic trance of the reflections. When I reopened my eyes I was standing in front of another window,
this time full frame. I saw a beautiful woman brushing her hair, doing her makeup. She looked to be around forty, with long
auburn hair, green eyes and a face, smooth as glass. She wore black slacks, a silk blouse and one of those sweater coats.
Diamond earrings, a Rolex and a classy single diamond floating on a gold necklace. She checked the lipstick on her teeth,
wiped it off. When she moved close to the glass, she stopped and looked right at me. I wasn’t sure if she could see
me, but I looked around me to see if there was something that she was looking at that I had not seen. It could only be me,
as I was alone at the window. She smiled as she looked into me and then simply turned away from me and left my line of vision.
Looking through the window, I was left staring at an empty room. I looked every direction only to see the room. My peripheral
vision caught people moving around me. I turned my head to see the faceless figures moving about, walking and glancing back
at me. This was all done in total silence, no conversations, no noise as they walked past. The silence was eerie. I began
to hear applause, I turned toward the noise and again in a blink, I was back in my shower, back into my morning routine. No
longer in the black hallway. I was home. I glanced across the bathroom to the mirror. Seeing myself in the shower was a surprise.
I didn’t remember waking, turning on the shower or even getting in. I recalled my dream and knew something big was on
the horizon. It always started this way, a vision, a new assignment and me, always trying to figure it out. I remembered some
dreams better than others. Sometimes I came up with the answer or solution without knowing where it came from. Sometimes I
couldn’t make the call. The visions were not of my choosing. They came, not on request but randomly with no set pattern.
I’ve learned to accept the dreams or visions for what they were. Just dreams. The things I saw may not have been set.
I could do nothing to stop the action from happening in my dreams and because of that, I convinced myself these visions were
just maybes. **********************************************************
The Cost for an electronic copy of the whole book is $5.00. No shipping cost, because there is no shipping. Paperbacks
are $6.50 plus $2.00 shipping. Just e-mail me your request at khaglund9975@msn.com. I do take Paypal. That account
number is khaglund9975@msn.com Beddington Manor is now available at
the McCall Drug store in McCall Idaho. 208-634-2433. Thank you! **********************************************************
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