Wulfharth Manor was as dismal and gray as the rain pelting the carriage roof. Three children sat squeezed inside the coach---two girls sitting opposite a small boy and his governess---occasionally peeking out the tiny window from beneath bonnets and cap, respectively. Serpentine streams obscured any clear view of the estate. Still, its condition was easily ascertained by the most cursory glance. English Ivy clawed along the massive face in a desperate attempt to secure the withered stone, and oak boards closed the hollowed window-eyes.
"I wish Mamma were here," the boy murmured, clutching something like an amulet at his chest.
"There, there, dearie," the spindly woman at his side rustled in a strong, Yorkshire tone. She promptly placed a bony hand at his cherubic face and drew it to her arm, stretched across his chest, "You have your sisters, and they shall be mother enough now."
"That is right, Orville," the older sister chimed in, leaning forward to place a hand on his lap, "mother said we shall always be well if we love and look after each other." Her skirts rustled as she did so, revealing neatly pinned ankles. Her face was pointed and symmetrical beneath carefully parted hair.
"How can it be so easy for you to say so, Victoria?" The copper-haired younger sister pouted (in the process of doing so, revealed a rosy mouth), "you are NOT Judy in the marionette shows Mamma and Pappa used to take us to see at the seaside every year." Upon this reflection, the little girl's face reddened, and she turned again to the window to hide a tear which fell from the bloomed cheek.
White Hart, chalice, crow-king, fungi and oak tree, yew tree, cursed uncle, mirror shards, changing perception
Just read, Whitney. Your story has potential, though you over-emphasize some of the word choices over a natural development of the characters. In turn, it makes the excerpt not read like real fiction.
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