If you click through to Flickr, you’ll be able to read the story of this photo and the house. There are some very dramatic points in its history. When I look at it I think of novels like Rebecca, told by a somewhat mysterious narrator.
“I dreamed last night of Manderly.” — the right kind of atmospheric beginning.
However. If I wanted to write a story built around this house, I’d have to banish Manderlay from my mind and find the thread of a story of my own. If I gave it some time I have this sense I could come up with a dozen ideas.
If I had the time.