The Cemetery - V
Part 1
Mathias
5th June, 1712
It has been a week since that night. My eyes must have been
playing subtle tricks upon me for when I encountered my wife the following
morning she was normal. Her eyes were their some shade of light blue. It
appears my wits were simply crushed by the insane words of Langley and my own
unwarranted fears. Since that night she has been jovial, renewed and reinstated
in her happiness. I have not asked her what causes this renewal but I’m sure it
is granted by the grace of God.
I
caught her smiling even while tending to her flowers. As she snipped the petals
she showed signs of joviality I hadn’t witnessed in her for years. Though she
still feels a bit distracted. As if the things she used to care about, namely
her work at the inn, hold no sway over her. She moves about the house
mechanically but in good spirits, which settles my own woes. I will not
question this return to amiability in my wife.
9th June,
1712
Its been a month since I’ve visited my daughters grave. I’ve
decided that today, being such at it is with temperance in weather, I will
venture there today.
The
warm air did me well in the shade of my daughter’s statue. Though I do have a
strange occurrence I wish to include. Upon returning to my home I found my wife
once again in my study. This time she was milling about my papers and my books.
Could she have been looking for my journal? I had it in my pocket wishing to
have it with me should the need or inclination arise for me to write in it
while away.
Without
a chance to question her motives she brushed past me in a flurry when she
realized I was standing at the door. I called for her but my voice fell upon
deaf ears as she scurried down the hall and into her own room. I will begin
locking my door to my study from now on. Regardless of her intentions this is
my sanctuary and she best keep herself away.
12th June,
1712
I have been negligent in sharing my dreams to these pages as
I had intended originally in purchasing the leather bound text. When I saw this
in the window I recalled a conversation I had with my daughter about how we wished
to discuss and track our dreams. Before that wish was fulfilled she passed and I
could only draw myself to write about her and the grief but I feel today is a
good as a day to begin with my dreams as last nights was almost inexplicable.
In the
dream I heard the soft voice of my wife echoing around me. It was hollow and
distant but soon came to me in a booming fury of sound. I blinked my eyes and I
was in our home, or at least that’s what my senses told of me. For the images I
beheld were of ruin. The beams destroyed as if by a great fire and dust and
decay all that remained. I saw my wife in the corner of the building kneeling
before a great shadow cast by a fallen beam. Her voice once again returned to
me but I could not discern the words. There was however a great feeling of
dread emanating from her as if she were in terrible pain. I saw my hand reach
for her but the flesh was withered away. The once vibrant color now reduced to
skeletal white as the bones shone through tight skin. My breathing grew rapid
as darkness overcame me. I no longer felt that I inhabited my own flesh but the
flesh of another.
I awoke
with a dreadful cold sweat and could barely breath. In the room around me the
shadows appeared to shimmer then die away.
I’ve
never had such an experience in my life and I pray to God that I never repeat
it. But what could these devilish images mean? Death and decay, terrible whispers.
And my wife, what would she think?
14th June,
1712
I encountered my wife in the kitchen this morning and we
shared what felt like our first amiable words together since my daughter left
us those months ago. I sat at the table and she procured for me a cup of
coffee. She sat across from me and asked me a peculiar question after sharing
words of affection, something I wasn’t sure I missed until they came from her
lips.
“I miss
your presence my love.” She said with an amiable tone.
“I miss
yours. I will not scold you for your indiscretion the other night. I simply ask
that you do not enter my study again. You know that is not your place, but
mine.” I said with a stern tone.
“My
apologies my love. I must have been in a waking sleep. You know how that used
to ail me.”
Such
was the truth. My wife did always suffer from wakeful sleep that caused her to
talk or even walk about the house. It seemed to have been cured a year ago but
perhaps the shock of Genevieve’s death caused it to return.
“Have
you had restless sleep of late? I heard you wake in a start a few nights ago.”
“I’m
fine. Just stress from the work load.” I lied. Work was never a stress. What
did stress me I could not put a finger on, but I felt a pressure building
somewhere in my soul.
“I’ve
made an acquaintance I’d like for you to meet, he is very good at healing
mental distress. I’ve asked him to come by this week for my own purposes, in
regards to my wakeful sleeping. Perhaps you could speak with him as well.”
At this
I was startled. My wife was never one to venture out and make new friends or
acquaintances. Much to shy in her demeanor, except for in my care, she would
never venture far from her normal routines to meet someone. I felt at that
moment it was not an affair but was still wary of the inclusion of a man that I
did not know.
“Is it
Doctor Marvin Starcross?”
“No, he
is from out of town.”
“I see.
I will meet this man if you wish.”
“He
will be here in two days from his last letter. I’ve made a guest room for him,
if that suits you?”
I
nodded acquiescence and with that she stood from the table and left me be. I
planned to keep a closer eye on her in her movements especially when this man
arrived. Until then I would make a correspondence with Dr. Starcross. Perhaps
he could be a second witness to this mental curing.
Next →
Next →
Comments
Post a Comment