Nicholas Brown
In the summer of 1934, I received a letter from an old friend of mine named Christopher Burton, who, at the time, was an investigating journalist for the city's newspaper. He had figured that the content of the letter would be bait for a person like me who spends his life delving into the darkest corners of crime. The letter contained details on one of the cases he was investigating, down in Westhill, that dealt with the mysterious disappearance of children in the area and implored me to visit him at his house here in Sandei. Setting my glass of whiskey aside, I flipped over the letter to see the list of victims, their ages, and the date of disappearance listed. Apart from my natural curiosity to solve every mystery, there was one thing more than the case itself that caught my attention - the main reason I had to pick up the case. And that was the last name on the list - Veronica Grimm, disappeared less than a week ago in Westhill.
At first, I wasn't sure if it was my Veronica. I pulled open the drawer next to my working table and fetched a box, filled with letters from my once lover. I undid the ribbon and removed the cover of the box, a picture of a smiling Veronica greeted me. Although the picture was black and white, I remembered exactly how she looked that day. She was wearing a white skirt with printed strawberries and a light pink blouse. Her auburn hair was tied up into a ponytail, and her lips were tinted red. She smelled like fresh snow, and her kiss tasted like peaches. Now that I think about it, it felt like the picture was taken many centuries ago, although it was taken just a year ago.
Sighing, I placed the framed picture aside and fish out a bundle of letters, each neatly preserved in their respective envelopes. Untying them, I checked the dates on the letters and smiled softly as I saw her handwriting on the envelopes. She always had a habit of writing me letters twice a week, and somehow, she kept the tradition even after I had broken it off with her, only I stopped replying to her. I paused for a brief minute when I noticed a change in the address on the envelope.
Mary's Manor
St. Sebastian's street, Westhill
Could it be a coincidence? I quickly check the rest of the letters, and they seem to confirm my suspicion. Veronica was in Westhill, and the last letter she had sent me was two weeks before her said disappearance. I thought she had finally moved on, but now, I fear that she might be in some sort of trouble.
"Billy!" I yelled from my room.
"Sir, Yes, sir?" The teen entered hurriedly, his face covered in soot. His blond hair peeked out from under his hat.
"Call me a wagon boy." I instructed him, "I am going to visit an old friend of mine and whilst I am away, pack my bags and telegram Mr Graham to make him available."
"Right now, sir?"
"This very moment. Go on!" The teen nodded and turned to walk away "And Billy!"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Clean up after yourself." I gestured. The boy seemed to flush with embarrassment as he nodded and ran out of the room. I pulled out the letter Veronica has written just before she had left for Westhill, and although reading is the last thing I had in mind, I guessed this was one of the ways I can understand what exactly happened during her stay in Westhill.
Dear Nicholas,
You've ruined my life, but I love you, endlessly with every inch of my soul. I guess I am here to remind you again that I actually did believe you were the love of my life. Up until the weekend when everything went up in flames when you told me not to come, I actually believed that we were going to be alright. And that's all I wanted with all of my heart. You and me against the world, like you, promised me that night after we kissed for the first time.
I still do...
Nick, I don't know why you left me standing at the Alter alone, but I do know that you must have a reason behind it; that you still love me, just as I love you. I refuse to believe, even for a second, anything that points out otherwise. I know that all the reasons you told me were nothing but lies. I would never give up on you, and I would always be ready to forgive when you return to yourself and apologise. I never gave up on you; I never will, and even if you push me away, I will never hate you.
I know that you're a good person underneath all your fears & the protective behaviours that come with those fears. Tell me what burdens your heart, my love, and we'll figure it out together. I have found myself a job as a teacher in this small town called Westhill. I shall be moving there in three weeks' time. I cannot stay in a place where all I see is you. All I am asking you is to try and meet me halfway, whatever it is, we shall overcome it.
Meet me at the station, three weeks from now. Tuesday, 5:00 AM. I will be waiting for you.
With all my love,
Veronica Grimm
Billy came back, just as I folded the letter and replaced it carefully. Panting, he informed me that my wagon was ready to go. I told him I'd be down in a few minutes, replaced the letters and the frame in the box and put it back in the cupboard. Rushing for my coat and my hat, I then head downstairs. When I knocked on the door, it was opened by his wife, who at the time seemed to have been crying at the time. "Nicholas." She seemed a little surprised "I thought you were the doctor."
"Is everything alright?" I asked her as I stepped in, removing my coat, I place it on the coat hanger, followed by my hat.
"It's Christopher..." She sniffled, her eyes tearing up again "He's dying, Nicholas. Ever since he came back from the wretched place, he has been sinking, and I doubt if he will last the day. He would not let me get a doctor and claimed that this is the end for him. But after I saw his face this morning with his bones sticking out, I called for one nevertheless."
"Wretched place?" I ask her.
"There is little I can tell you, my dear boy." The woman's voice shook with the weight of her worry "He has been working at a case down at Westhill, and he came back home, drenched in sweat two days ago on a Tuesday night. He took to his bed almost immediately and has never moved since. For these three days, he has neither had food nor drinks. All he does is whisper. His face has gone so pale, I-" She began sobbing into the handkerchief that she was squeezing. I squeeze her shoulder gently to reassure her as she tries to regain her composure.
"Where is he?"
"In his room, upstairs." She whispered, her voice still drowned in sadness, "But he's not long for this world. You'll see that the moment that you set eyes on him."
When I went to see him, however, he was indeed a deplorable spectacle. He lay there in the dimly lighted room. It wasn't the room itself, but the gaunt, wasted face staring at me from the bed which sent a chill to my heart. His grey eyes had the brightness of fever. His cheeks were flushed, and dark crusts clung to his lips. His now thin hands upon the sheet twitched incessantly. It seemed as if he was whispering something, even in his dire state.
"My dear man." I sat on the chair by his bedside "What has happened to you?"
The old man smiled softly, his grey eyes looking past me "Nicholas, my boy..." He whispered and then coughed.
"Why did you call for me?" I ask him, as his worried wife stood by his bedside, quietly holding back tears. The old man's eyes fixated on me, and it seemed as if he was scared "Where is Veronica?"
"Veronica..." He croaked, his eyes wavering as he tried to recall who exactly I was talking about. "She needs help." He said suddenly, desperation replacing the thoughtful expression he had donned only a second ago. He began wheezing, gasping for breath as he tried to talk, "There's danger in that town. The danger, I tell you! It's cursed. You need to save them, Nicholas. Save them! SAVE THEM!" Suddenly, he seemed to be attacked by a fit as his wife jumped on the bed and tried to restrain him. I held his hands against the bed until he passed out.
Mrs Burton sat on the bed and looked at me "Keeps whispering the same thing." She noted, "Ever since he came back from the God Forsaken place." She got up from the door and went to the desk from which she pulled out a piece of paper "Had this on him" She handed it over to me. On observing it, I realised it was an address of a certain Mr Brighton in Westhill.
"Take care of him." I said, "And of yourself. If you need any help, anything at all, please send a word to Billy. I will inform him to tend to your every need and care."
"Thank you." She nodded as we walked out of the room and down to the front door "And you? What will you do?"
"Find Veronica." I say, putting my hat back on, "and bring her back."