Summer at Blackwood Mansion: The Kitchen Ghosts
- Little Chewz
- Aug 4
- 2 min read
Melting Meringue Ghosts
Chewz Journal • Blackwood Mansion
I had always wondered what happened at Blackwood Mansion during the summer. Everyone talks about the mansion in October, when lanterns glow in every window and mysterious visitors wander its halls. But no one ever mentions what happens in the summer. No one talks about the quiet months, when the gardens are overgrown and the old gates stand slightly open.
So one warm afternoon, I decided to find out for myself. I followed the winding path up the hill until the mansion appeared through the trees. It was quieter than I expected. No creaking doors. No mysterious laughter. Just birds singing and the gentle rustle of leaves.
As I stepped onto the porch, something caught my eye. A tiny note had been tucked beneath the old brass door knocker.
"The kitchen is expecting you for a Summerween Adventure."
I was NOT expecting that. So, obviously, I went inside.
Inside, the hallway smelled of old books, polished wood, and something sweet drifting through the air. I followed the scent until it led me to a little kitchen hidden behind an old swinging door.
There they were. Tiny pastel ghosts.
They sat quietly on baking trays, watching me with enormous candy eyes as if they'd been waiting all morning.
For a moment, I forgot I was standing inside a mysterious mansion. Instead, I was back in my grandmother's kitchen. Whenever there were extra egg whites after baking, she'd make meringues. She always insisted each ghost had its own personality, and while they slowly baked we'd invent stories about where they lived and who they were trying to scare.
Looking at these little ghosts... I couldn't help wondering if perhaps she'd borrowed the recipe from Evelyn Redwood, the mysterious woman who lived in the Blackwood Mansion. It is said that Evelyn left 4 clues for Summerween, each with a recipe.
Grandma's Meringue Ghosts
As I reached for the door to leave, one of the ghosts gave the tiniest nod toward the hallway. He handed me a book that tells the story of these mysterious kids who celebrate here each year on Halloween night. Then, I looked down and on the floor... someone had left a trail of popcorn.
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