Masonic-lodges

Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

Prince Hall was the founder of the first Masonic Lodge for African Americans. He was a Boston tanner, and served in the Revolution. The Lodge is still in existence and dozens of Masonic lodges across the country bear his name. This photo is from around 1880 and is taken at his monument in the Copp’s Hill Cemetery. Boston.

Midnight Reminiscing: ReggiexReader! PART ONE.

hey guys, this is a multi-part mini fic :) please leave feedback in my ask!

Summary: Reggie and (Y/N) reminisce about their sophomore relationship at a senior year house party. 

(GIF not mine, credit to @netflixuniversity. I know its a Zach Dempsey gif btw)

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Uncharted Waters | R.M.

PAIRING: [Reggie Mantle x River Vixen!Reader]


Like just about any other problem that happened over the summer, yours was an extremely shallow issue compared to what happened to Jason Blossom on the fourth of July. The closest person you might have possibly heard the story about the star quarterback came from an unlikely source—from the arrogant douche himself, Reggie Mantle.

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a comprehensive list of daddies and mommies: riverdale edition
  • archie andrews: wildcat daddy
  • jughead jones: homeless daddy
  • betty cooper: sleuth mommy
  • veronica lodge: ice mommy
  • reggie mantle: jock daddy
  • cheryl blossom: bombshell mommy
  • jason blossom: dead daddy
  • dilton doiley: survivalist daddy
  • chuck clayton: maple daddy
  • josie mccoy: cat mommy
  • valerie brown: music mommy
  • melody valentine: "and peggy" mommy
  • kevin keller: thirsty daddy
  • moose mason: closet daddy
  • hermione lodge: real mommy
  • fred andrews: daddy daddy
  • hal cooper: shady daddy
  • alice cooper: batshit mommy
  • penelope blossom: satan mommy
  • clifford blossom: hell daddy
  • forsythe jones II: snake daddy
  • pop tate: burger daddy
  • ethel muggs: upside down mommy
  • geraldine grundy: fuck ass granny

Masonic Lodges (Freemasons) per Country.

A Masonic “Grand Lodge” (also “Grand Orient”) is the governing body that supervises and governs the individual “Lodges” of Freemasons in any particular geographical area or “jurisdiction”, (usually corresponding to a national boundary or other major political unit). Some are large, with thousands of members divided into hundreds of subordinate Lodges. Others are tiny, with only a few members in one or two subordinate Lodges.

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ink-stained memories // reggie mantle soulmate au pt4

Ink-Stained Memories (Part 4 to Ink-Stained Skin)

Ink-Stained Masterlist

Summary: Distance can sometimes be a good thing.

Words: 1.1k

Masterlist

“Dude, can you turn that down? It’s really not helping.” Reggie grumbled, lifting his head from against the car window.

The chords to ‘Only Love’ by Ben Howard rang through his ears as Chuck increased the volume with a smug grin on his face. In that instant, Reggie suddenly regret agreeing on going on the road trip with his idiot friend and his closeted friend.

“What was that? Start the song again? No worries, man. I got ‘chu.” Chuck smirked and as loudly as the duo possibly could, they began singing along to the lyrics. It was a sight Reggie never expected to see. His two best friends shouting the lyrics to a Ben Howard song at each other.

“Reggie, you’re with me, always around me. RE-JEC-TED.” Chuck sung, earning a few looks from the car next to them at the stoplight. With one swift motion, both Moose and Chuck turned around to face Reggie with smirks playing across their faces, lifting their fingers up and pointing it at him.

“RE-JEC-TED.”

The group sat around the breakfast bar in the Andrews kitchen, discussing the events that had lead to the distance between (Y/N) and Reggie. They had spent the entire night prior discussing what they had been currently discussing. Archie’s faced tugged into a smile as he noticed his best friend gazing out, stuck in her daydream.

“(L/N), what are you thinking about?” he asked, gaining her attention immediately.

“I’m pushing away my soulmate, for what reason?” she groaned, taking her friends by surprised. She had stayed silent for most of the time they had been at the Andrews household.

“You’re scared of getting hurt and we all understand and even Reggie will understand. Stop overthinking it, (Y/N), it’s not healthy to overthink.” Veronica sighed, approaching her friend slowly.

“Because I’m scared of getting hurt? But, he’s my soulmate, he can’t hurt me too badly and he possibly couldn’t break my heart because wether we like it or not, we’ve been bound together from birth and we’ll be bound together til death. Anyways, lemme at the food.”

Pushing herself up and leaning forward, (Y/N) grabbed the pancake from Archie’s plate. She looked around and saw her friends gawking at her with their eyebrows raised “What? Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean I can’t eat pancakes. It actually just gives me extra reason to steal your food.”

The trio sat atop of the hood of Moose’s car, watching the sunset from the distance. Reggie’s mind wandered back to Riverdale and to (Y/N). He wondered if she was seeing the same sunset the same colour that painted the sky her favourite shade of orange and the more he thought the more he longed to return home and see her. The further he was away from her, the stronger the pull towards her felt. He began to think whether the pull had always been there or if it began the moment he realised it was her.

“Dude, she literally calls you Reginald.”

“And?” His voice was laced with confusion.

“You’d punch me if I even attempted to call you Reginald.” Chuck frowned

The memory of his previous conversation with Chuck was enough to fill him with adrenaline. He pushed himself up and rushed towards the passenger’s side of his friends car and frantically searched through the glove box for a pen or a marker.

Before he even pressed the ink to his skin, he noticed the words scribbled on his arm in the tiniest writing he had ever seen.

'reginald, for years people have been searching for a cure for sadness, something that would cure the emptiness they felt on the inside. shamefully, i was one of those people. note the past tense, that’s important. it’s not present tense bcos ive found my own personal cure for the sadness i sometimes feel. everyone is allowed a down day once in awhile but once i looked into ur eyes, the eyes that glow my favourite shade of sunset orange when u smile, the sadness seemed to melt away and im sorry if i pushed u away, im scared, reginald. no im terrified bcos we’re too similar for our own good and im terrified that i’ll do something wrong and push you away and u wont be there anymore.’

Reggie gazed at his arm, rereading the words that she had written in an attempt of saving the words in his memory. His emotion ran high as he fought back the tears, as a way to save getting teased by his two best friends. Reggie knew that (Y/N)’s words was only the beginning of their ink-stained memories.

Moose and Chuck watched from the outside as Reggie ran his fingers through the ink that stained most of his forearm. Despite their tough exterior, the two could sense the sadness that pulsed through their friend and their captain, they had known Reggie for the longest time and he hadn’t truly shown emotion in front of them until he found out (Y/N) was his soulmate. Despite their need to tease, they realised that it wasn’t an appropriate time and looked at each other, in order to confirm their thoughts.

“Do you think our soulmates will affect us as bad as it has with Reg?” Moose asked, his lips pulling into a frown.

For the first time in his life, Chuck’s words seemed to make sense “Soulmates aren’t easy, Moose. It’s harder for Mantle, he can feel everything she feels, her bruises appear on his skin, they are basically one person, whereas with our soulmates, we are each other’s half, we form one whole once found but ever since birth they have always been one.”

“Dude, I didn’t need a deep answer, a yes or no would’ve been fine.”

Archie’s arm flung onto the back of the booth as he slid in, gaining the seat opposite from (Y/N). Her eyes lit up at the sight of  the flamed hair boy opposite her and the rest of her friends approaching. “What’ve you got there?” Kevin’s head nodded towards her right forearm.

“I took Ronnie’s advice and wrote down my thoughts to Reggie. It’s corny and I hate myself for writing it but it’s what I was thinking.” (Y/N) turned to face Veronica who was sat next to her blonde friend “If he teases me for being corny, I’ll forever hate you Veronica Lodge.”

“I’m guessing you two are on good terms now?” Archie raised an eyebrow.

“Mantle’s been whipped for (Y/N) since he first found out. Of course they’re okay.” Kevin rolled his eyes “So tell me, when’s the dick appointment?”

The entire booth burst out into laughter which soon came to a halt as Reggie stood in front of them, soaked through from the rain outside, his breathing hard and heavy. “Did you mean that? Did you mean those words?”

“Reggie, aren’t you meant to be with Moose and Chuck?” Archie raised his eyebrow.

“Did you run here?” (Y/N) asked, her eyes never leaving his.

“Did. You. Mean. Them?” he spoke slowly as he tried to regain his breathing.

“Of course, I did.”

“You’re unbelievably cheesy,” he grinned

“I hate you so, so much, Reginald Mantle.”

“I beg to differ.”

the riverdale theory no one talks about

why is NO ONE talking about the possibility of fred killing jason? first of all he’s pasisonate about archie’s football career and he probably knew that archie was capable of getting on varsity if jason wasn’t on the team. AND when fred confronted archie for going to the sheriff, isn’t it suspicious how angry fred was? maybe because fred doesn’t want his cover blown? hmm

youtube

Mozart - Clarinet Quintet in A Major, K.581

One of my favorite series on youtube is Inside Chamber Music with Bruce Adolphe where Bruce dissects major chamber works in detailed lectures. This morning I was listening to the episode on this quintet and I was again taken aback by just how complex Mozart’s music is. To me, his music has always been deceptive. The melodies seem so simple and have such a natural flow, that we don’t notice when and how those melodies are tightly knit together. For example, in the first movement of this quartet, upon closer listening, you may notice that all of the main melodies are built out of snippets from the opening, like Haydn’s writing but not as obvious. In the lecture, Bruce brings up how Mozart was a freemason, and that this quintet was written for his friend, a clarinet player Anton Stadler, who was also a mason. With that background, it’s fun to think of the first movement as a dialogue between Mozart and the other masons at the lodge. The strings are the masons, sharing ideas with each other, while the clarinet is Mozart coming in with fresh new ideas that the rest of the group either comments on or tries to resist. The second movement is slow and also in sonata form, the highlight of the movement comes near the end when there is more emphasis on chromatics. The minuet uniquely has two trio sections and has a nice contrast between leisurely cheer in the major, and a more “concerned” tone that comes with the shifts into minor keys. The final movement is a set of variations on a bouncy theme that sounds almost like a divertimento movement, with the clarinet switching between supporting role and main star.

Movements:

1. Allegro

2. Larghetto

3. Menuetto - Trio I - Trio II

4. Allegretto con Variazione

7

The Secret Society of the Freemason

Dating to 18th-century London, Freemasonry is one of the oldest of these operating fraternal orders, although the group’s mythology claims it is rooted in the building of King Solomon’s Temple around 966 B.C. Like many similar groups, the Masons were borne out of a British craft guild, wherein stone layers learned the tricks of the trade. A present day member named Lettelier, who is a York Rite Mason, a Scottish Rite Mason, a Shriner, and a Past Master of his Lodge in Havana, provides some insight into the not-so-secret society of the Freemason.

“The concept of freemasonry, which taught architecture and geometry, goes back thousands of years,” Lettelier says. “The Greek temples, the pyramids in Egypt, you name it—none of that could have been built without a knowledge of mathematics. So whenever you see the square and compass with the letter G in the center, that stands for God or sacred Geometry.

Back in the 1500s and 1600s when the great European cathedrals were being built, a ‘freemason’ was a bricklayer or stonemason, who was free to travel and work,” he continues. “This was a big deal, because most men weren’t free. There were kings and knights, but the serfs were owned by the king. Uniquely, Freemasons were people who were allowed to travel, work, and receive master-masons wages wherever they went. They were accomplished tradesmen. Back then, you probably spent 10 years as an apprentice before you received a degree. If you gave up the secrets of geometry to someone who wasn’t worthy or well-qualified, the Freemasons would literally put you to death.”

Modern-day Freemasonry, however, emerged when the stone masonry guilds began to initiate honorary members, armchair architects or intellectuals excited about the new ideas of reason and science that were catching on during the Enlightenment. “Geometry is taught in colleges now,” Lettelier says. “But 200 years ago, geometry was only taught in Masonic Lodges. During the Renaissance, men of social class joined their local Masonic Lodges so that they could learn these things.”

Szymon Konarski (1808-39) was Polish radical democratic politician and revolutionary. As a politician, he supported the radical idea of social and economic equality for all men, as well as the right of political and national liberty and self-governance.
Szymon Konarski was a Calvinist, part of  Masonic lodge, part of the army of the Kingdom of Poland. Many times he crossed the border of occupied Poland under a false name to promote revolutionary ideas.
Imprisoned in the former Basilian monastery, Konarski tried to blame all on himself and portrayed his arrested comrades as either manipulated or insane. Finally, Konarski was sentenced to death by a firing squad and was executed in Vilna on February 27, 1839. His grave was then trampled by horses and was never found.

10

DOLLS (1987)

group of motorists, including young Judy Bower (Carrie Lorraine), her horrible father (Ian Patrick Williams), her evil queen of a stepmother (Carolyn Purdy-Gordon) and a meek businessman named Ralph (Stephen Lee), become stranded at a spooky mansion during a nighttime thunderstorm. The house’s strange owners (Guy Rolfe, Hilary Mason) offer overnight lodgings, but with the dastardly intentions of making their visitors the playthings of their murderous toy dolls.