The Elizabethan manor was the ultimate tourist attraction. The haunted manor was owned by my great uncle… who I don’t actually know, and I am sure he doesn’t know me ether. My mum even named me Elizabeth, just because of the popularity and success of the manor.

Why is it so popular, you may be asking? Well this manor was built during the Renaissance, and apparently the ghosts of some of the most famous historical figures from that era reside here. William Shakespeare, Hans Holbein and Francis Bacon, just to name a few. People from all over the world come here just to see if they could summon their ghosts and explore a historic manor in hopes of finding inspiration or advice about how they were so successful in their careers.

But then my great uncle died, and for some bizarre reason, I inherited the manor. I wasn’t going to turn in down or sell it, quite frankly I need somewhere to stay so why not live in a haunted manor, right?

When I unlocked the heavy doors for the first time, it was like walking into the Renaissance. I’m greeted with a grand hallway with elegant curved staircases either side. The walls are dark, a lot of the wallpaper ripped and worn. The stair rails are decorated in dust and cobwebs. You could definitely tell this was a haunted manor. The dining room was set out with an extensive table and set neatly as if we were hosting a Renaissance ball. I didn’t know what room the living room was exactly, there’s three or four rooms that could compete for that. But they are displayed gracefully, yet spooky.

As the hours pass a begin to relax and start to feel somewhat comfortable in such a possessed environment. When it’s time for me to sleep I live all the lights on, just for my own peace of mind.

But nothing happens.

Not today, or the next day, or the next week or month. No ghosts in sight. No Shakespeare, Holbein or Bacon. No paranormal activity. Nothing

It wasn’t a haunted manor, it was just embellished, exhibited and advertised as one.