Erotomania

By Dhiren S

“The singer, Bella Kingsley, brings an urgent letter to you, My Lord.” A middle-aged man, lean and clean shaven, wearing a spotless pink tunic, necklace made of gold and dark red rubies kneels before King Dhurta. He holds out a letter, tied in a silky purple ribbon. General Lightfoot arises from his seat in court to hand the King the note. Jack remembered an old joke about General Lightfoot as he amusingly watches the stout middle-aged man waddles his way over to the messenger, and then to the king. Apparently, General Lightfoot was a fair and skinny man in his youth, but since coming to court he has proceeded to turn brown from the nose, and incredibly wider.

The king opens the letter, reading it, his face unchanging from his regular unimpressed expression. A few seconds later, he slowly turns toward Jack, who is standing to his left. He looks at him up and down. He sighs softly and hands him the letter.

Jack looks slightly surprised, but promptly reaches for the opened letter and begins reading it.

“My Lord,

                  I speak to you in ill-health, and am in desperate need for your grace. I’ve found myself an affliction that makes me unpresentable to you, My King, and to the people of our great country who have blessed me with riches and love. No doctor, sage or soothsayer has been able to provide me with a cure for my affliction, and thus, must ask for your help. I require your left-hand, the man named Jack who serves as your protector. I have come to hear great tales of his dealings with the unnatural, something that appears to have taken hold of me. Please, give me your blessing and your protection My Lord.

p.s Promises were made, my Dear King.” Jack mutters to himself.

He turns and looks at the King, who nods once and faces the well-dressed messenger.

“The needful shall be done.” He nods slightly, and court proceeds.

Later that evening, Jack finds the Old King Dhurta sitting in the garden, reading a book. The King was well dressed with the finest silk tunic embracing his body, while a rare white lion’s fur sat atop his shoulders. The extravagance of his clothing matched the nobility of the man underneath. The sixty-three-year-old king still had the vigor of a man twenty years younger. His hair was silver, and his wrinkles were plentiful, but was tall, well-built with broad shoulders.

“You will ride tonight.” King Dhurta says, his eyes fixated on the book on his lap.

“As you command, my King. However, I was tasked with finding the bandits terrorizing the Farming Village earlier this week.”

“Lady Bella’s request takes priority now. General Theus will handle the bandits.”

“Very well.” Jack bows his head slightly and turns to leave.

“If I hear another rumor of you striking my son again, I will have your hand.” King Dhurta says, his eyes lifting to leer at Jack.

Jack turns to the King, and nods. 

Almost fifty kilometers east from the capital of Yami, was the small, yet affluent town of Eldertown. The town itself was merely two kilometer in radius, surrounded by walls nearly as high as Yami’s own. The army had no jurisdiction here, and if rumors were to be believed, the laws of this town were loosely based on the laws of Yami, however bent for the ultra-wealthy. They governed themselves, and hired a mercenary group known as the Five-Skulls as their private army. 

Jack rode towards the high gates of Eldertown, a resplendent yet ugly showcase of wealth, the gate made of solid gold, ordained with twelve entire foot-wide rubies, sapphires and emeralds, divided into six on each gate. Each when sold, could probably feed an entire poor village for half a year.

Hundred meters before approaching the gates, Jack hears a horn being blown and he promptly stops in his tracks.

He gets off his trusted horse, and awaits the welcome party approaching him.

Twelve men, all clad in heavy steel armor, carrying spears and shields, blades sheathed at their hips. Leading these twelve men was a rotund man dressed exquisitely, smiling as he approaches.

“Welcome to Eldertown, home of dreams. I take it you are here to deliver a message to one of our esteemed occupants?” the rotund man asks, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Jack removes his hood and produces the message from earlier, crumpled on the sides but still tied with the silk purple ribbon. Just not as exquisitely.

Upon seeing Jack’s face clearly, the man squints his eyes, and takes a long gander of him, head to toe. He takes the crumpled letter and opens it, glancing at him as he reads.

At the end of it, the man folds the letter in half crisply and hands it back to Jack.

“Normally, your kind here isn’t welcome. However, due to Lady Kingsley standing in our society, we will allow you to enter and deal with the matters at hand. But we want you to remember that if anything were to go wrong, we will know where to look, demon. GUARDS!” The man says coyly. The gates behind him slowly open, revealing the marvel within.

Jack mockingly smiles and nods at the fat man and heads through the gates.

Lush trees line the wide marble pavements, mansions on each side of the road, each mansion grander than the last, fitted with numerous fountains, dark-green gardens and statues of heroes of yore. Almost every mansion was as wide as the King’s Tower with numerous slaves working inside. Each slave appeared to have a dress code, simple cotton tunic, neck strapped to a collar. Some toiled away at the garden, some fixing the drains, some running around carrying meals and drinks on silver platters. But what really caught Jack’s eye was the masters of these mansions. Every single one of them lined their balconies, watching Jack as he rode his horse slowly. Every single one of their eyes had a look that was all too familiar to him. The look of ‘You don’t belong here.’

About half a kilometer into his venture, Jack finds the mansion of Lady Bella Kingsley. The gates were black, with high walls placed as boundaries. At the gate, was the messenger from earlier. He promptly opens the gate and bows as Jack enters. A gravel path lay before Jack which appeared to stretch on for hundreds of meters, flanked by tall green coniferous trees and gorgeous gardens on each side. At the center of each garden was a pond filled with clean water, a statue of Oma in the middle of pond to his right, a statue of Cleo in the middle of the pond to his left. Each statue was as tall the walls themselves, carved with utmost care and precision. Jack had seldom seen such wealth in his life, perplexing him.

He climbs off his horse and walks it down the gravel path, closely being followed by the messenger at the gate. The two walk in awkward silence for a few minutes, until the messenger decides to break it.

“I pray your ride here was uneventful.”

“Hmm.” Jack grunts.

“I hear these terrible rumors of dacoits lining themselves along the path here. When I rode to the King’s Tower, I was fearful of one of those wretches popping out of the bushes and robbing me, or worse, murdering me!”

“Didn’t stop you from ordaining yourself in gold and rubies, did it?” Jack smiles.

The messenger looks at Jack, surprised, but quickly retains his smile.

“Well, if you are to present yourself before the King, you must be dressed appropriately! However, I can see you must consider such niceties as a foreign concept.” The messenger gives a quick gander at Jack’s clothing. Jack smirks, enjoying the back and forth.

“So, what is this ailment your Lady suffers from?”

“I do not know, Mr. Jack.”

“Well, what have you gathered from her appearance?” Jack frowns.

“I do not know, Mr. Jack. To put it plainly, none of us have even seen Lady Bella for the better part of two years.”

Jack stops in his tracks, puzzled.

“How have none of her servants seen her? You must have caught a glimpse, and she must have seen one of the workers.”

“We are given strict orders to maintain the estate in its pristine condition, however, we are not allowed anywhere near the first floor. She had given us instructions by note that we are to keep food and water at the dining table once a day, and to leave the mansion at that time. Once a week we are to keep clean towels and clothes on the very same dining table, and upon our return, we are to wash and dry her clothes from the previous week, kept in a basket by the staircase.”

“For two years?”

“Yes. As for the matter of one of us catching a glimpse of our Lady, the last two people whose curiosity bested them, were sent away. Far, far away.” The messenger puts on a grim face.

“And yet she seems willing to see someone like me?” 

“I believe, Mr. Jack, that only someone like you should see her.” 

The inside of the mansion was just as exquisite as the rest of the estate. High ceiling, marble floors, paintings and sculptures made from the most refined craftsman. Pictures of the young Lady Bella standing next to the King and other dignitaries. Artist’s depiction of her singing to the masses, in her elegant white dress. Jack had heard of the woman’s beauty since he was a child, a beauty most men and women have described as nothing short of divine. She had long, thick, blonde hair that reached up to her knees. A face ever so gentle, yet appeared carved out of marble by the hands of angel. Her bright pink, plump lips parted, and out came such a mesmerizing voice that lulled the audience into a deep love. As she turned to the crowd, she made every man and woman swoon with her big, deep blue eyes. To accentuate the image, the woman was buxom and healthy, giving confidence to women at the time to not try to lose weight. She exuded confidence and kindness. Though Jack had heard and seen pictures of her, he never had the opportunity to see the woman in the flesh.

 The fire was burning at the fireplace, warming up the entire ground floor, making it exceptionally comfortable. So comfortable in fact, that Jack was fast asleep on the couch inside the living room. He was asked to wait for lady Bella’s summons, and soon found himself asleep here, for the last three hours.

“Mr. Jack, Lady Bella Kingsley is ready to receive you.” The messenger says loudly. Jack quickly opens his eyes and wipes the drool from the side of his mouth. “She awaits your company in the first floor.” 

Up the wide teak stairs Jack went, looking around the house for any anomaly. Besides the first floor being colder than the ground floor, he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. He turned right at the end of the staircase, and was greeted by a large white door a few feet ahead. He approaches the door, and knocks three times.

“Come in!” A soothing, feminine voice emanated from within the doors. Jack turns the knob and enters Lady Bella’s room.

The room was large and filthy. Clothes piled on in different corners of the room, poorly hidden. The carpets had turned dusty and dull, with food stains all over the floor. The curtains were black and shut, with stains of food on them as well. Shards of a broken mirror scattered across the room, and the second large mirror was covered with a veil. But the most noticeable aspect of the room was the stench. The air was thick with the scent rotten food, mustiness from dirty clothes, and tinge of vomit floated in there as well. Jack was initially overpowered by the stench, but quickly composed himself, looking for Lady Bella.

From the clothing closet nearby, Lady Bella presented herself. Her hair was shorter and seemed less luscious. She wore a large white fur coat that covered the entirety of her body from neck to toe. Her makeup was done to perfection. Upon seeing her, Jack saw nothing out of the ordinary besides how she appeared to have lost some weight. ‘a disease of the mind, it appears to be.’ Jack thinks to himself.

“Welcome, Mr. Jack.” Her voice was the definition of femineity, soft, gentle and alluring.

“Please, call me Jack.”

She smiles slightly, and points towards a couch and chair. Jack proceeds to sit down on the couch, while she walks towards the chair. As she sits down, Jack notices her slightly panting.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, quite. I pray your journey here was without incident?”

“Hmm.” Jack grunts. “Your messenger asked me the same question. Quite the wordy man.”

“Ah yes. Rohit has always been known for being… friendly with guests. Please, forgive him on my behalf, he means well.”

“There was no harm done.” Jack nods slightly.

“I pray the King’s health fairs well?”

“Yes. As vigorous as the day I met him.”

“Does he still smile seldom?”

“Seldom would be an overestimation. I must ask, the King had tasked me with a different mission, yet told me to put it on hold for your sake. Why is that?”

“The King and I are old friends. In fact, we were lovers, though briefly. This was very early on in my career, and we ended on good terms. He would request my performances for the people when he felt his love from the public was waning.”

“Hmm.” Jack grunts.

“I see that he still has an eye for talent.” She remarks, smiling. “How did you find yourself in his employ?”

Jack shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “He… figured my life would have more use alive, serving him as opposed to my neck meeting the chopping block for my crimes.”

Lady Bella’s face turns serious. “Oh, I’ve heard of your crimes-”

“Pardon me, Lady Bella-” Jack interrupts her. “I believe you requested my help for your affliction, yet here I am, discussing my life with you.”

“I must apologize, Jack… I merely wanted to gauge who I was dealing with-”

“You had also made me wait three hours. For someone desperate to find a cure for their affliction, you seem to be wasting quite a bit of time.”

“Yes… I-” Lady Bella becomes visibly vexed.

“Stop beating around the bush, Lady Bella.” Jack says sternly. “Tell me why I was summoned here.”

Lady Bella sighs.

“Early on in my career, in a time when I was relatively unknown, I had met the young lyricist Johan, who visited my concert. It was a small affair, only a few hundred small folk attended the event. He took a liking to my voice and lyricism and approached me at the end of the concert. I can still remember the day I met him- shabbily dressed, hair unattended, tall, dark with a scraggly beard. I initially was defensive about meeting him, thinking he was just another peasant who lied his way to come close. But then I heard about the sparkling eyes everyone spoke of so highly, and when I had gazed upon him, realized he was the young lyricist. I was far more welcoming, and invited him to the dressing room for dinner, where I picked his mind on his concepts, his wordplay, and the structure of his lyricism.

 He was equally giving with his advice, and was quite openly trying to gauge who I was. As the night concluded, he gave me flowers and a box of chocolates, which surprised me. Every account of the elusive lyricist claimed he was a rude man, with no time or rather, understanding, of courtesy. So, I had asked him, ‘This is surprising, a gift from you is no small act!’ He looked surprised and corrected the deed, claiming it was a gift from an acquaintance of his, an individual who introduced my music to him. He told me this individual was enamored with my work, and couldn’t stop chewing his ear off about my talent.

I bowed, thanked him for the gift, and said in passing I’d like to thank this admirer for his support. To which he replied, ‘Well, you can say hello to him yourself.’ And proceeded to open the dressing door, revealing a young man, standing at the doorway. He was tall, lanky, clean-shaven and well-dressed. His hair was combed to the side, with a rose tucked into his breast pocket of his suit. But what stood out to me at that moment, was his eyes. As soon as the door opened, I could see a light fill up in those dark windows, and smile automatically covered his face.

I smiled at him from my seat, nodded and mouthed the words ‘thank you’. A few seconds later, Johan left with his friend. Later that very night, my manager at the time asked me if I knew Johan’s friend, to which I replied not very well. He then proceeded to tell me that the young man tried everything under the sun, but violence, to get into the room with Johan and I, including sneaking his way in, lying, disguising himself and such. 

I found it amusing, and laughed it off.

A week later, I was performing at the Great Market in Central Yami, and during my song, I saw him. Standing in the middle of the crowd, smiling giddily. I smiled back, thinking nothing of it.

That very night, in the dead of night, I awoke from my rest, feeling uneasy. Like something was amiss. I fetched myself a glass of water from the nightstand, and I saw outside my window, under the streetlight was Johan’s friend. Unmoving, smiling, holding a bouquet, wearing the same well-maintained suit.

It was three hours past midnight. 

While the entire city slept, dreaming, I sat up on my bed, cold sweat trickling down my face, staring at the man. And he was staring back at me. It felt like an eternity had gone by, until he casually nodded, left the flowers at the ground and left. 

I awoke the next day, after much trouble trying to return to my slumber, telling myself it was all but a dream.

Until the next night, he stood underneath that very streetlight, holding another bouquet.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.”

“I find it hard to believe this man got by the security to Eldertown.” Jack interrupts.

“I lived in the city of Yami many years ago, just a few kilometers away from the King’s Tower.”

“Why didn’t you call the guards?”

“I did. By the third night, I approached the city guard, asking them to stop this man from harassing me. That night, he was apprehended, and considering nothing malicious had been done, he was soon let go. Only to arrive there, staring through my first-floor window the following night. You must understand, Mr. Jack, that someone with my fame deals with smallfolk and their obsessions quite often. But what this man did…” She sighs. “I’ve seen men give up after a while. Except, the world had given up on me, for no one believed me, and some even argued that I was turning paranoid.”

“Why do you say so?” Jack slouches back on the couch.

“Every moment after that, he was watching me. When I’d arise from bed, when I’d eat my meals, when I’d practice my vocals, even when I was within the intimacy of solitude in my own home. He knew when I visited the guards next, and avoided being seen, only to reappear at that infernal streetlight, watching me. While the guards grew increasingly insensitive to my pleas. My very own body guards failed to believe me, my servants and colleagues as well. 

Every. Night. He. Stood. There. Watching.” Her voice shakes in anger. “And every night since, I’ve expected to see him standing there, terrorizing me more should I not see him. 

I went as far as to hire mercenaries to stop him… and they decided to ‘rough’ him up when they caught sight of him.” She looks to the ground, a profound emotion of shame and regret could be seen despite the thick layer of makeup. “And that’s when it became worse.

A month had gone by since I had met him, and I awoke to glass falling on the ground in the kitchen, on the lower floor. I was too afraid to go snooping around at night, and come morning, found the glass missing altogether, but a shard underneath the dining table. Things began being rearranged in my house as I slept, and it began as arbitrary as they were- a fork placed in the spoons cabinet, the wine being replaced with water, the lights being turned on in some rooms… until it didn’t. This happened six years ago, and I could still distinctly remember someone sniffing my hair as I slept. Someone?” She chuckled lightly. “I knew it was him. I was so afraid to turn… but I could hear it so distinctly. A deep sniff. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, hoping whatever it was in the room would disappear into the darkness, until I heard the soft footsteps slowly make its way out the door. A door, I had locked.

This had been a year into my torment.”

“This… Johan? Had you spoken to him after all of this?”

“I had asked Johan of his friend during that first year… and replied that he hadn’t seen the man since that day, at the concert.”

“Hmmm. Go on.”

“After that night, where he smelt me… I began find letters at different points in the house… the patio, the living room, my balcony, the corridor, my bathroom, my wardrobe where clothes hang, and finally, at the nightstand next to my bed. Each letter far more crazed than the previous.  The first letter began as an expression of gratitude for being the ‘shining light in the darkness of his life’ and how my mere existence prevented him from taking his own. The last letter explained how out of the thousands I see when I perform, why I chose to smile at him. Why I was his darling, how he and I were meant to be together, and the last words was, that if he could not have me, no one should. Even in death, he and I were to be one.

Where would I turn now, I wondered. Those who made an oath to protect their denizens failed me, those worked for me, failed me. And before I could even notice, I realized I had grown gaunt, tired, and my voice grew a flavor of sickness. What would I to do now? I contemplated murder… for the first time in my life… and began a vicious cycle of rising late in the day plotting vicious plans, only to endure my torment come night.” She looks up at Jack, her eyes filled with determination and strength. 

“Until one night, I heard him quietly picking the lock to my bedroom. I could hear the soft footsteps, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood erect. I was sweating myself into a puddle, my heart beating out of its chest. The footsteps stopped, and a minute later, I finally mustered the courage to speak.

‘You are not as important to me as I am to you. You disgust me. And I would never be caught dead even interacting with someone as vile and pathetic as you.’

As the words came out of my mouth, shaking in the air, and found nothing had yet happened to me, I felt powerful. I felt like Bella Kingsley again. I turned to face my tormenter. And there he stood, motionless, in the darkest corner of the room, his features hidden, but his silhouette evident.

My heart felt like it was going to explode.

‘Leave me alone, you pathetic little man.’ I said as loudly as I could.

He just stood there, unmoving. We stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact until suddenly, he quickly walked out the bedroom door, without saying a word. I watched that door the entire night, until dawn.

The next day, an investigator came to my home, asking me questions about the man, all pertaining to when I had seen him and how I’d interacted with him. At the end of the questioning, the investigator informed me that he had taken his own life, and when the guards entered his home, they found several pictures of me, and hundreds upon hundreds of letters he had written, all addressed to me. But I couldn’t care less. I thanked Oma, Cleo and every old God for taking him away. I was happier than I had ever been.

That night, I awoke, and almost ritualistically looked out the window at the streetlight. There was nothing there. I chuckled to myself, and fell asleep. It was the most peaceful slumber I had in years.

I began to feel healthier; my music grew bounds and leaps… and every now and then, I’d look out the window at that very streetlight, and smile. That habit too, began to lose its hold on me.

Until, one night, six months after his suicide, I awoke feeling thirsty, and as I reached to the nightstand for a glass of water, I caught a glimpse of it. There, at that same streetlight, I could see an outline of him. I rubbed my eyes and peered at it as hard as I could, and remained there. I told myself I was dreaming, and that my eyes were playing a trick on me.

Until the next night.

And the next.

And the next.

With each passing day, that outline grew more distinct. More clear. More him. And every night, I would awake to look through the window, watching this outline turn into a silhouette, then slowly turn into his full image. By the end of a year, I could see him as clearly as I could see you.

Yet again, no one believed me. No one could see him. Every doctor, sage and soothsayer I pleaded to refuted me, calling me paranoid, delusional, and obsessed. 

I even moved to this town, the self-proclaimed ‘safest city in all of Uralokh’ hoping for a fresh start, yet I still see him.”

“Do you see him now?” Jack asks, stroking his chin.

“You… you heard all of this and you don’t believe me?” Bella falls back on her chair, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

“Forgive me, if I’ve offended you, Lady Bella. But most people, and I mean, nearly everyone alive do not possess the ability to reanimate themselves after death. It appears to me, after you had ridden yourself of your tormenter, you’ve involuntarily began obsessing over his presence, leading to you believing he is still out there, watching you.”

“Is that it? All of this-” She reaches for handkerchief in rage, dunking it in the glass of water on the desk and begins wiping the makeup on her face. Her skin was pale grey, underneath the thick layer of makeup, and she clearly covered up how thin she really was. Jack raises his hand, tells her to stop. She stops and stares into his eyes, anger boiling over.

“You’ve been vomiting nearly every meal you’ve had, haven’t you?” Jack asks. Lady Bella looks to be caught off-guard, and looks to floor in shame. “I could smell it in the air as I walked into your room. I was waiting downstairs for three hours because you wanted to hide how you actually look, don’t you? Perfecting the makeup?”

“Yes.” She says feebly.

“Everything points to you being sick, Lady Bella. Accepting this fact, might ease this burden you’ve put on yourself.” Jack gets up from the chair, heading towards the door. “I’m sure any doctor can help you, as long as you begin to understand there is no spirits or reanimation bothering you.” Jack reaches for the handle of the door.

“WAIT!” Lady Bella yells. Jack turns, annoyed. “Follow me.” Lady Bella arises from her chair and walks toward the veiled mirror. She takes a deep breath in, turns to face Jack, and sheds her large white fur coat.

All she wore underneath was silky, petticoat, and panties. Jack turns away promptly.

“Look at me.” She says, but Jack doesn’t respond. “Please, look at me.” 

Jack sighs and looks at her, and is surprised by how thin she actually was. Every single rib could be seen, well defined. Her breasts hung slightly from her chest, wrinkled. Her stomach was punched in, legs as thin as celery sticks. Her skin below her neck was pale grey, lacking luster. As she turned, Jack could individually count her vertebrae as it protruded out, her buttocks shriveled.

“I’m so sorry…” Jack whispers as he shakes his head in sadness. Lady Bella closes her eyes and turns towards the mirror.

“What do you see, Jack?” She says.

“I’d rather not say.”

She opens her eyes, staring at her reflection. Tears begin trickling down her cheek.

“Come here, and then tell me what you see in this mirror, Jack.” She says shakily.

Jack slowly makes his way toward her, and stand next to her. He takes a deep breath in and turns toward the mirror, his eyes opening widely in horror to the image.

“That’s… not possible…” Jack takes a step back, barely able to keep balance. “That’s not possible at all…”

Wrapped around Lady Bella’s nearly naked body, was a dried out, barely recognizable human form. A mummified, wiry being, with brown leathery skin. Each limb as thin as a stick, striations of muscle seen, the lower legs coiled around her waist, right arm placed around her neck, its hand grasping at her left breast, constantly squeezing it. The other arm placed over her left shoulder, reaching for her groin. Each finger long as pencils, filthy, with long yellowish white nails. Resting on her left shoulder, peering into the side of Lady Bella’s face, was a brown, waxed leathery head, full of wrinkles, with scarce white hair on its cranium. Its mouth, perennially open. The eyes were opaque, with no facial hair to be seen. 

The head was connected to a small, undersized torso, by a long neck.

“Do you see it now?” her voice breaks as she asks.

“This can’t be… how… How long?”

“For almost three years, now.”

“Is that why you’ve been… But how…?”

“Why do you say its not possible?” She asks as she turns toward Jack.

Jack snaps out of the horror, and throws the veil back on the mirror.

“Sit down. Answer my questions truthfully.” Jack says sternly. She nods and follows his orders.

“These letters, where are they?”

“Burnt them all, as they came.”

“Did you ingest anything he had given, as a gift?”

“Of course not.”

“Does this house, or anyone, have anything that pertains to him, or his gifts?!”

“No.”

“That’s why its not possible.”

“Why?!” she cries.

“When I entered your house, I couldn’t feel a spirit in here. Your home was normal. Spirits, though not seen by all, leave a residue. Things distort. I struggle to explain to you why, but there wasn’t any evidence of it. And from speaking with you, its evident you’re not possessed either.” Jack stands up straight and looks down at her. “Tell your servants to leave the house.”

“Why?”

“I need to go through every inch of your house, make sure you don’t possess any cursed object.”

Eight hours have passed, and a panting Jack returns to Lady Bella.

“I’ve sifted through everything. Nothing’s cursed. Nothing reacted to my presence. Which means what we’re dealing with… it’s an anomaly.”

“An anomaly?” 

“Humans don’t have this… At best, humans can place curses, and worst, after death, conjure up a possession. Human almost always provide a weak one, at that. But this… this can’t be done by normal human.”

“So what can you do about this?”

“I… don’t know… I’ll need time.” Jack stammers.

“No!” She cries as she falls to her feet. “Please… do something, anything!”

“You need to understand… this isn’t normal. I’m well-versed in reality conditions, and this… I’ve never heard of this. I’ll need time to research what I can do, and until then-”

“Please…. Please…”

Jack sighs pitifully.

“If I try anything, it could make things worse. Please understand. This isn’t some bandit I can deal with or some curse I can deflect onto something else… this is anomalous. Caution needs to be advised. Please, stay put for a week. I’ll return as soon as I get some answers.” Jack says, and begins to walk out the door, puzzled at what he was dealing with.

He could hear her wails as he made his way out the estate gates.

“OPEN THE GATES, THE KING GRACES US WITH HIS PRESENCE!!” The outer gate to Eldertown opens, and cavalry of a hundred men, all outfitted with the finest steel armor arrive, all bearing the sigil of the coiled snake. At the head of the cavalry, was a tall man with broad shoulders, wearing a silver armor and no helmet, breastplate tinged with green and red cloth, bearing the red coiled snake at its center, riding the finest white horse. It was King Dhutra.

“Welcome, my Lord.” The rotund man kneels before the king’s horse.

“Take me to him.” He says sternly.

“My Lord, this man-”

“Are you refusing an order from your King? Will you be taking us to him, or shall I find someone more capable of pointing a direction?” His green eyes leering into the fat man’s head. The man bows his head, and takes the King to the cells.

The cells were damp, dark, and steel cells were rusty. The occupants were almost entirely composed of slaves, clearly those who did not follow their masters’ orders, or worse, were defiant. However, the one common aspect of the occupants, was that they were all beaten and bruised.

“Where is he.” The King demands, and the jailer bows and points the fourth cell from the door. He promptly opens the cell door, and the King looks at one of his soldiers who stomps his foot and follows the King to the cell.

“Jailor, bring a chair.” The King’s commanding voice echoes throughout the small, damp prison. The Jailor tumbles his way carrying a chair promptly, and places it in from of the inmate.

The inmate was bleeding from a few of his wounds, with his face being black and bruised. He was shirtless, wearing only his black pants and no shoes. His hands were chained to the wall, slightly wheezing.

King Dhurta takes a deep breath in, and sighs.

“Explain yourself.”

Jack opens his eyes and looks at the King sitting before him on a small wooden chair. He nods.

“My Lord.”

“Explain.”

“Explain what my Lord?”

“Explain, why you’re here, explain, how Lady Bella was found with a hole in her skull.”

“After I’d left her home-” Jack coughs. “I went looking for answers, regarding her condition… I explained what I saw that day, to you by letter, My Lord.” Jack coughs again. “A week after my departure, I received a personal letter from her, stating how hard it had become for her, and that she couldn’t wait any longer. When I arrived at her home, there were-” Cough. “No male servants to be seen… the mansion was desolate, save for three maids. All the others were dismissed earlier. When I inquired on anything strange, one maid claimed she heard a gun being fired. Her worries were put to rest when soon, they heard their Lady Bella’s voice telling them it was an accident.” Jack coughs louder.

The King turns toward the Jailor, runs and fetches some water for the battered and bruised Jack. After sipping on mouthfuls of water, Jack continues.

“They claimed she finally began showing herself in the ground floor, eating and drinking far more than before… yet there was something strange about her. They pointed me to her room, and I went to greet her.

It was all wrong.

Whatever that stood in front of me… It was Bella Kingsley. Whatever it was… It was doing an impression of Bella Kingsley. It’s mannerisms… it’s speech, its movements… it was all dirty impression of her.

I asked it if it could get me a tissue, and as it turned, I pulled the wig off its head, and I could see the fresh wound that sat on the side of her head. She shot herself in the head, and whatever that latched on her… got into her.

I said, ‘Even in death, you defile her.’ And it smiled at me. So, I threw caution to the wind, and gave her a proper death. A few minutes later, the entire army was at the door, and I figured if I fought back, they’d have my head. So, here I am.” Jack says, and looks into the eyes of the king. The two stare at each other for a few seconds, until the king nods, and turns toward the doctor he brought with him. The doctor runs toward Jack, and begins checking his wounds.

A few minutes later the doctor turns towards the King and bows.

“Will he survive his injuries?”

“He’ll make a full recovery, my Lord.”

“Good.” The King turns toward the Jailor. “Unbound him.” The Jailor bows, unshackling Jack.

“Can you ride?” The king asks, as Jack gets to his feet.

“Yes.”

An hour passes by, and the cavalry, Jack, and the King ride away from a fuming Eldertown, clearly angered by their robbing of justice.

“Killing her was stupid. My men don’t act like fools.” The King says to Jack. Jack turns and takes a deep breath in. “Are you going to say something clever? Go ahead, say something clever.” The king turns back to the road.

A few seconds go by, and Jack finally opens his mouth.

“The man who was obsessed with her… his obsession with her was so deep, he could create a bridge… barely existing in this world, feeding off her paranoia of him. He was a parasite. I saved her the indignity, and gave her an honorable death.”

The king laughs, all the while not breaking his gaze at the road.

“Honorable.” He chuckles. “You spend too much time worrying about what other people think of you.”

“I don’t care what-”

“When you hear people whisper ‘Demon Of The Crow village’, doesn’t it bother you?”

Jack grows silent.

“Need I remind you, how you surrendered yourself for your crimes before me?”

Jack continues to stay silent.

“No matter what deeds you’ve done, what lives you’ve helped, what justified deaths you’ve given, you’ll always be what they know you as. There is no honor for dogs, demons, and even singers.” The king turns toward Jack. “Killing her was stupid. Whatever creature crawled into the gaping wound in her skull, could have proved useful.”

“It wouldn’t have been her.” Jack says, his teeth gritting.

“I didn’t need her personality, or her mind. I needed her image. And if you had relayed that information to me, instead of being an honorable fool, we could have used her. You will remember this, I might not release you from the next cell you find yourself in.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

By Dhiren S