Julian smoothed his chestnut hair which clung to his scalp from the heat of his own perspiration.
His stomach boiled.
“Who is there?” Julian croaked.
“Please, Lord Julian, you must let me in.”
On quaking legs, Julian walked to the door and turned the handle. The door would not open. He looked for the key and found that it was gone. He wasn’t aware that Robert had taken the key with him when he locked “Punch” in the cabin.
“The door is locked,” Julian answered in a voice that shook despite his attempts to mask it.
“Can’t you open it?” The woman asked, her familiar voice at once both a lullaby and a sharp slap across the face.
“No.” Julian responded. “I seem to be locked in.”
“Oh.” The woman whispered through the door.
“Will you tell me who you are?”
The woman did not respond.
Julian staggered away from the cabin door. He peered at the crack of light at the threshold, but could not see the shadow of the woman’s feet.
“She’s gone.” Julian sighed.
He sat down at the small wooden desk and cradled his throbbing head in his hands.
“Why am I locked in this cabin?” Julian moaned. “What’s become of me? What have I done?”
Julian thought of Punch and how, for years, he had sat, locked in the curio.
“Am I now just a curiosity? Locked away to be viewed? Displayed and disparaged…”
Where had that man—Robert Halifax—gone? Where was Arthur?
Julian rose and paced the room, and felt as though his frantic strides were making the ship rock more, and, more, and more…
The cabin swayed with the beating of his heart which thumped the rhythm of a song.
"If on your deathbed you do lieLost in the song, Julian was startled by a scratching at the door of the cabin. To his frenzied ears, the sound was the roar of a dragon and Julian, for a second, thought of his childhood make-believe play of St. George. “I raise my sword aloft!” Only there was no sword. There was nothing.
What needs the tale you're tellin'?
I cannot keep you from your death.
Farewell," said Barbara Allen.
Suddenly, a piece of bright white paper slipped quickly between the door and the threshold, shooting toward the middle of the cabin.
Julian gasped as the paper stopped at his feet.
He stared at it for a few moments—expecting the flatness to swell into something horrible, something with hands that could claw and scrape. However, it remained only paper.
Hands trembling, Julian reached for the paper cautiously and unfolded it.
In bright blue ink, a simple message was scrawled in the slanted hand of weariness.
“I am here.” Julian read aloud.
The note was not signed. However, Julian knew the writing. He let the paper drop to the floor and stood as still as a caryatid as if the whole weight of the ship rested upon his head and, if he were to move, the vessel would crack in half.
The air smelled of rose water, and, the scent made Julian’s head hurt. No, it was not the plain throbbing of a headache, it was the sensation of being struck repeatedly.
The scraping of the key in the lock was a surprising comfort to Julian who rushed to the door, ready to give entrance to whomever would free him. Even Arthur would be welcome. At least, Arthur was consistent.
“It’s you.” Julian sighed as the door opened. “Please, help me. She’s come for me.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-19? If so, you can read them here.
1 comment:
WHO is there!!!! I wish there were a book I could grab and read until the end! That makes me sound like a greedy pig but I want more of this!!!
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