The Vancouver Chapel Inquest

By Sonali Kar

Vancouver lingers in surreal fear—

Some poor soul’s blood decreed by a church anear.

“A poised man!” cried a maiden.

A gathering of the mournful,

Ghasted and trodden.

“A vamp? A ghoul? Was it the dark knight—

Or himself, the soul of the Devil?”

No deed of man shall it appear—

’Twas the hound of something far more evil here.

Lest the council had received the letter

To send his kin knight, so revered,

To debunk the face of a gruesome fate

For a flesh too young to bear.

A carnage leashed on white-backed steeds

Staggered near Vancouver's gate.

On the ride, a gentleman in jet-black bore—

A chiseled nose, an even complexion,

Perplexing in sophistication—and more.

As the eerie on a doomsday fell

Beneath the hue of a crescent moon,

His arrival lessened the lingering gloom.

Nothing short of Herculean lore,

His eyes gleamed with victorious valour.

“Come thee forward—the dead’s near and dear!

Answer to the suspicion that weighs on thou—loud and clear!”

---

Testimony I: Father Pier

The clergyman beside the officer

Inked the names with solemn pen.

The hearing began thus—

With the summoning of acclaimed Father Pier.

“The man sought God in lofty chase—

With half a heart, and none the faith.

He was no angel, nor a holy saint;

And Heaven’s doors, you must be warned,

Open not for those who feign.

Alas! Sir, the truth is not for the faint—

Damned was his fate.

For I saw shadows on his face—

Dark, grim omens of evil doom.

And one fateful night,

They claimed his room.”

His pipe grew cold at the madness told,

As he tapped one more ash on grey coal.

---

Testimony II: The Milady

Next was a milady of honour,

Pale in tears—her beauty cursed.

“Too soon hath my beloved gone,”

Her weeps echoed through the chamber.

But more than grief, her name was worn

By whispers of deceit and scorn—

Of bare embraces and stolen kisses

Beneath the shrubs of another’s lawn.

Shattered in grief was he that night

From the scene he saw in hindsight.

---

Testimony III: The Mother and Brother

The mother bespoke of spells once cast:

“The potions the wench used to bind my son fast!”

The brother stood akin,

And spoke of gold—stolen kin-to-kin.

Of inheritance upon which he had claim,

He cried foul in the witch’s name:

“All those bewitched lines he signed—

They made her heir, and left us behind!”

---

Testimony IV: The Postman

To the officer’s dismay,

One last witness came astray.

A mystery postman arrived at the door,

Casting a shadow—grey and coarse—

Scaring the porch cat to flee indoors.

Hollow were his eyes—

Alas! What a dreadful guise.

He claimed he met the man at sea,

But stuttered through his memory.

“A revelation of a cunning mind—

No spirit art be this vile”

He watched from the aisle with wicked delight,

As his mate prepared for his greedy rite.

The fair maiden was but opportunity—

To plunder gold and family jewelry.

And oh, the vows of loyalty he made—

Were gone when greed began to invade.

He offered her silence, a bribe to buy

The secrecy of their untold tie.

‘When the man is off at sea,’ he said,

‘Let me have you in his stead.’

And often he urged, with bold deceit,

To let him taste where love would meet—

A kiss no less than what she knew

From the man who made her woman too.”

The Verdict

The officer hung his head; the case was nearly closed.

He sighed and whispered to the clergyman:

“The killer may soon be sought...

But more than the dead—

It is the living who rot.”

By Sonali Kar