Skip to main content

Story A Day--- Cross and Martin, part 20--- "Obscurity", 522 words.....

Obscurity 


                I felt a strong uneasiness in leaving Cross to deal with the police and the deceased suitor on his own. The body was lying in the entranceway of my rooms, after all. But, Cross assured me that he was quite comfortable dealing with the delicate situation on his own. “Besides, dear Martin, you’re most needed elsewhere,” he said, the familiar glint in his eye shining up at me. He leaned back against the couch in my sitting room, there was no pained expression on his face, but his face had no color.

                After I left word with the police that they should make their way to my address, I headed to the Adell estate. Though I’m sure I should have quickened my pace, I could not make myself move any faster. My heart might have been pounding with the increased adrenaline of someone panicked enough to sprint, but, no matter how hard I wished to make my body move faster, it would not.

                I had no earthly idea what I was going to say to Miss Adell. I had no earthly idea what I was looking for when I finally did reach the Adell estate. More than anything, I wished Cross were with me now. Or, at the very least, I wish he had told me what his suspicions were, so that I might prepare myself for what I might be walking into. Other lives were at risk, that’s what he said. Did he mean Miss Adell? Or, her father? Perhaps both?

                One of the most insufferable qualities of Cross’s character was his frugal nature in doling out his information. I don’t know if he was deliberately obtuse and unwilling to share what he knew or if he unfairly expected everyone to automatically understand the same information in the same manner as himself. Either way, all it meant was, Cross had some inkling as to what was going on while the rest of us did not. And, as I am sure that I’m not more dense than my neighbors in intuition and comprehension, it can only mean that Cross had an uncanny ability to see all ends which might be obscured to the rest of us.

                For all the distraction that dwelling on Cross’s character provided, it did nothing to prevent me from finding the Adell estate. And well before I’d like to, I was presently about to deal with a situation that I knew nothing whatsoever about. Yet again, I was soon to be standing in front of Miss Mary Adell, searching, vainly, for a way to impart the seriousness of something that concerned her.
                
                  The last time I struggled, to no avail, to find a way of warning her about her chosen suitor and his dangerous behavior. Last time, all I had were strong convictions and very little proof. This time, all I had were Cross’s strong convictions and even less proof. How was I to make Miss Adell understand that, though her treacherous suitor was not around, her life could still be in danger? How was I to tell Miss Adell that her suitor would never be coming back?

Comments

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…

I is for...

... Iron Maiden


The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? ---Edgar Allan Poe


---and not the English heavy metal band from East London...

Day 2 in the realm of morbid/macabre torture devices finds us back in the Middle Ages (there was definitely a fashionable trend of imaginative torture devices during this time). Though, the Middle Ages isn't really when we should be turning our attention when we discuss the Iron Maiden. In fact, there has been some debate as to the exact appearance of this monstrous creation.

It's probably easiest to relocate such a torturous thing back to a time when it seemed everyone was as skilled at exacting a confession as they were at creating the tools to exact those confessions. It's easier to blame ancestors from several hundred years ago than to accept that anyone of civilized disposition would be capable of doing such horrible things with such terrif…

Scottish Festival and a bit of poetry...

The 38th annual Arkansas Scottish Festival was held at Lyon College in Batesville, Arkansas on April 7th - April 9th. This was the first time I'd ever attended. I'm sad to say I didn't even know the festival existed until last year. On Saturday, April 8th, a group of friends and I made the several-hour trek, determined to enjoy everything we could.
The weather was glorious, all bright, bonnie sunlight and mild temperatures. Seemed mother nature approved of the festivities. The campus was appropriately kitted out, and nearly everyone in attendance was properly *ahem* kilted out. 
Bagpipes playing, we ate meat pies--- well, mine was a 5-cheese mac & cheese pie--- watched clans parade their colors, got sunburned (darn our fair, Celtic skin), and wanted the day to last forever.
There were a host of competitions, everything from Scottish/Irish dance-offs, sheep dog trials, Tartan races, a Celtic poetry competition, piping and drum trials, even a bonniest knees competition (…