Story A Day--- Cross and Martin, part 19--- "Surmises", 537 words.....

Surmises

The horror of the suitor’s expression only ceased when Cross pulled the lids over Manuel’s vacant and lifeless eyes. Had I stared into the abyss of those swollen pupils for much longer, I would most probably have gone mad. In fact, even once the suitor’s eyes had been closed, I still found myself staring at his face, envisioning in my mind’s eye the fierce black pupils gaping up at me. It was the sound of Cross, struggling to his feet that finally broke the hold the dead body on the floor had over me.

Pain creased Cross’s brow once more. The effort to stand drained all color from his face, and where his piercing eyes had once been, a glassy, dull expression was set—his penetrating sharpness suddenly swallowed in agony.

I moved to help him stand, placing one hand behind his back and the other around the arm nearest to me. “I’m alright, I’m alright … I can manage.” He squeaked the words at me with as much gruffness as he could muster, though he made no attempt to push me away.

I guided Cross back to the sitting room and lowered him, once more, to the couch. Being in the sitting room, I found, was a most wonderful thing for clearing my mind. With the death of the suitor no longer consuming me and plaguing my thoughts, I was able to finally realize that there were things to be taken care of, though my taxed brain could make no clear plan.

“What do we do now, Cross?” A small bubble of panic was suddenly welling up inside of me.

“Well, first and foremost,” he squeaked through gasping breaths. “You must send for the police. One cannot allow a body to lay in one’s entranceway.”

“Of course.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I’m sure they were glowing with such a redness that they could have lit the sitting room without the aid of fire or candle. Going for the police should have been so obvious, but my struggle to free myself from the thoughts of the suitor’s death had quite emptied my mind of any common reasoning ability.

“And, then, once you’ve secured the police, I’m afraid you’re going to have to return to the Adell estate.” Cross’s breaths were coming easier, but his voice was barely a whisper.

“Return to the Adell estate?” I doubted that I had the strength of stomach or the strength of heart to set foot on that property once more.

“Yes, dear friend, I’m afraid you must.” There was such conviction in his insistence that a knot of fear began to twist in my stomach.

“Do you know what’s going on? Do you know what’s killed Miss Adell’s suitor?” My heart pounded against my chest.

“Not what, but who…and as to knowing what’s going on, I only know as much as the facts suggest.” His face, that had been releasing the tensions of pain suddenly went firm, almost cold. “But, if what I surmise is correct, then you must act!” He locked his penetrating eyes on mine. “Other lives may depend on it!”

A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered...

B is for Banshee.....

Irish bean sidhe and Scottish Gaelic bean sith , literally, woman of fairyland. The mythology and legend surrounding the Banshee is a bit mixed. The most readily accepted story is of a hag-like creature wailing the impending death of someone nearby-- most ancient Gaelic families, especially the more well-to-do families, had their own Banshees that attached themselves to the lineage of the family name. I suppose it was a sign of station for a family to be able to claim their own Banshee--- I mean, who needs an exciting/ tongue-wagging-inciting skeleton in your cupboard when you've got a Banshee wailing in your rafters? The origins of the more familiar Banshee may have stemmed from the ancient Keeners-- women who were employed to sing a lament at a funeral. The best Keeners were in high demand to "wail" and "weep" for the great personage who had fallen. The Great families would boast a bean sidhe or bean sith-- a fairy-woman Keener--and having foresig...

A-Z Reflections, year 4....

A-Z blogging challenge for 2014 has come and gone, seemingly without my realizing it. And, though I fell behind once or twice toward the end, I finished this year's challenge right on time. Really, I can't believe it's already over. I feel like I just finished my post for letter A... Year 4, for this blogger, was a far cry from the tortured state of despondency that was most of Year 3 -- I'll not mention the irony of this year's focus on death being easier to blog about than last year's foray into supernatural creatures, we'll leave that for my therapy sessions *ahem* As always, A-Z brought with it, not only 26 days of unbridled and far-reaching knowledge (disguised as entertaining and thought-provoking blog-posts), but a chance to connect with new faces while reconnecting with familiar faces--who had perhaps drifted away--from A-Z's past. I am always amazed by the ingenuity and inspiration that comes from lumping a couple thousand folk...

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

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