Creative writing, exploring the concept of power.

I began in 1870, the inspiration of a merchant banker and politician. I am a symbol of wealth and power. High on top of the hill, I sit and watch over Dunedin, my harbour, and the wild Pacific Ocean. I have stood here for over 100 years and will stand for hundreds more. I am on top of the world. I am invincible.

My foundation is volcanic rock, solid and strong. Two hundred men, all in my service spent three years creating my formidable shell, secure and strong. The elements try to penetrate my armour but fail. The wind and rain, snow and hail are no match for me. Oh, I am powerful beyond belief.

The most polished European architects and sculptors spent 12 years completing my interior. Only the finest materials were good enough for my insides. Marble from Italy, glass from Venice and France. Mighty kauri has fallen to adorn my ornate ceilings, and rimu my floors. Solid, strong, and stunning. One glance at my interior and visitors know how truly magnificent I am.

Over a hundred years I have witnessed so much joy, and tragedy, but I still stand, solid as if time has stood still. Growing, secure within my walls have been the families that have called me home. The soft pounding of children’s feet on my floors and the echoing of their laughter off my walls was comforting. Lavish gatherings for the wealthy and powerful were held around me, the guests marvelled in my grandeur. These were good times, but not all was well.

Tragedy has also been common. I have witnessed conflict and death and the misery that accompanies them. My master had three wives during his time here. The first two were like prisoners within my walls, isolated and alone. Tragically, they both died at the young age of thirty-eight, leaving him lost and distraught. Then, to his complete despair, his beloved Kate, the favourite daughter died at the youthful age of twenty. Wealth and prestige could not compensate for the grief of losing two wives and a child. Misguided business deals and financial ruin, led to more distress. I saw it all.

Then came the rumours of the love affair with third wife Connie, and Dougie, his eldest son. The scandal was too much to deal with. It was the breaking point leading to the tragic end of my master. Alone and depressed, he died by his own hand. The ghosts of those tragic events still seek shelter in my darkest corners, free to wander my grand halls at night, away from prying eyes.

The bankruptcy and death of my owner left no one to maintain my luxurious fittings, and threatened my existence. For a time, the mentally ill sought refuge within me. Brave soldiers, shell-shocked and weak, and lunatics who society wanted locked away. Their screams of agonising pain and the misery upon their faces, are still fresh within my mind. But Their pleas for help went unanswered, silenced by my fortress-like walls. My interior began to suffer, the damp mould consuming my insides, covering my lavish interior with black. But I am strong and powerful. My walls are rock, and I sit high on the hill, on top of the world.

Now my new tenants have restored me to my finest and I sit proudly high on the hill. I have thousands of visitors who come to witness my majestic stance and lavish interior. My manicured gardens frame my grand silhouette, and visitors take endless pictures that are admired all over the world, cherishing my greatness.

Today however, the days are quiet. The mood has changed. The floating hotels have stopped coming up my harbour. The thousands who photograph me and walk my floors no longer come. The wind and rain have not given up their attack on me, and now a new enemy exists. It is a threat that keeps my admirers away and threatens my upkeep. It is an invisible beast they call COVID. It has infected over one hundred and sixty million people and taken over three million lives.

But I am strong. I sit high on the hill on top of the world. I am Larnach, I am a castle! I will endure!

Thomas Spek