Skip to main content

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


                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!” 


Popular posts from this blog

Y is for Yeth Hound.....

Yeth Hound--- one of the incarnations of the "Black Dog" myth, this one located specifically, in Devon, England.

"Black Dogs" appear in myths across the world, most are associated with death and bad omens... i.e. Hell Hounds.

The Yeth Hound is said to be the spirit of an unbaptised child that takes the form of a headless black dog. The Hound wanders the woods at night making pitiful wailing sounds (though, I'm unclear as to how it makes wailing sounds without having a head).

The Black Dogs were possibly one inspiration from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's ghost dog in The Hound of the Baskervilles-- "an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen."

Heed Not, the Lonesome Cry
Heed not, the lonesome cry, the baleful wail echoing through the woods. Seek not, the black hound's sigh, look not where the headless creature stood.
One sound, your limbs will shake, your heart filled with the deepest dread. One glimpse, your sou…

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 foresight, the Keene…

S is for Siren.....

Sirens--- the beautiful, the terrifying.
Vicious, but, seemingly opportunistic creatures who lured sailors to their deaths by the sound of their captivating songs. Whether the stories of these creatures were a result of surviving sailors attempting to explain their near-miss in an effort to divert the fault of their shipwreck from their hands, or whether as a warning for those leaving to ensure their fidelity to the women they left behind, is unclear...

Considered the daughters of Achelous(river god), and though they have been blamed for the death of many sailors, they were not, however, sea deities. They have sometimes been called Muses of the lower world, their sad song causing the body and soul of those sailors who hear them to fall into a fatal lethargy.

In early myths, Sirens were the combined form of birds and women. Sometimes with a large female head, their bodies covered in bird feathers, their feet...scaled. Later myths show them as female figures with the legs of birds, tho…