Part 1
I held the briefcase close to my breast like a child clinging to their favourite toy. A deep sense of restlessness muddled my brain like a putrid quagmire as the train brought me ever closer to a place I hadn’t seen since I was a young boy.
So restless and frightened was I to slip into sleep that I’d busied myself with chronicling this very journal entry. One I hope will survive long past my meeting with the lawyer waiting for me at the station.
I’m sure you can draw for yourself, dear brother, that I hadn’t wanted to make this journey. Though, I’m glad I’m the one who had to make it. I know nothing of family demands in my cold life of solitude. Perhaps that’s why I received the “visit” in your place despite you being the older of us.
Forgive me, I’m getting ahead of myself. I tend to prattle when nerves transform my fingers into trembling sticks.
Everything started after I received a rather disturbing message someone had slipped through the mail slot in my loft. Were it not for my late arrival home from running the following day’s post, I wouldn’t have seen the letter until the following morning.
The odd parchment crinkled under my foot when I accidentally stepped on it. A sound so shocking that I jumped when it crunched as though covered with wax.
How peculiar, I thought upon noticing the strange thing. After kneeling to pick it up, I looked left and right, puzzled over who might’ve left it.
There was no distinguishing marking other than our family’s last name scrawled on the front. On the back, I discovered the source of the strange sound.
Before my eyes, I beheld a wax seal distorted by the fracturing my weight caused. No amount of squinting helped in deciphering the fractured image, so I proceeded to ease the wax away from the paper.
More scrawling ink written as though by a drunk man met my eyes. I took out my glasses to aid in trying to make sense of what the writer meant to tell me. Each slanted letter bumped into the next forcing me to re-read the same sentence, making for a truly frustrating experience.
So badly distorted was the writing that I only managed to figure out the letter pertained to our estranged uncle and the sender belonged to some Scottish law office. They needed me to board a train and get to Edinburgh.
Something I forgot to mention was the other, less damaged envelope shoved through the post slot. I’d assumed it was something else, but further inspection revealed a train ticket courtesy of the sender.
Edinburgh, I thought with a grimace. Ten hours on a train with nothing to do other than bide my time thinking about stepping onto a platform I barely remember? Preposterous!
I argued with myself for some time before giving in. After all, as estranged as our uncle was, I couldn’t let him rot away into history without anyone bothering to visit him. What loyal man wouldn’t at least check on the situation? Especially when he had none of the responsibilities a married man had.
Through all the packing, brother, I’m surprised to tell you that I swore my body remembered something my mind had blocked long ago. I wouldn’t find out what it was until later. When our uncle’s dark past would haunt me more than the ghosts in Edinburgh cemeteries.
During the carriage ride to the station, I took multiple moments trying to dredge up any memory of our uncle. We’d been so young when we last visited our uncle. How was I expected to remember anything about the man? Shock gripped me when each passing second slowly became more frightening than the one before.
I reached the train and stared at the bulky, iron monster unsure why it looked like it schemed to ferry me to some unknown Underworld. Billows of smoke became images of dark clouds bubbling from some macabre hell-fires. The loud hissing became reminiscent of monstrous snakes ready to coil around and squeeze my soul out of me.
Let me take a second here to collect myself, for my heart pounds like a soldier’s drum. I closed the journal, and let my head fall against the seat behind me. Both eyes tilted toward the frosted pane to my left.
In the scant moonlight offered by parted clouds, thick trees passed obscured by the harsh winter snow. Dark sentinels and harbingers of things to come, I should say. The valley below was the same Underworld I imagined before embarking on this odd adventure.
Fatigue from the long workday and the mental drain I placed on myself posed to lead me into the depths of sleep. The train’s gentle hum and subtle lulling, as it glided along the tracks, eased me like a gentle lullaby.
This seems like a good time to tell you I barely slept anymore. Between busying myself with work and writing, I’ve hardly had the time to nestle into a restful sleep. Something about the thought of dreaming frightened me, raising my already high anxiety.
Yet, for the first time in what seemed forever, I dared to dream. How I wished I hadn’t, for the dream I sank into left me feeling unsettled. My heart throbbed in my ears and head. I wasn’t a man, but rather a boy. Perhaps five or six? I can’t be sure, brother. The details remained obscured.
I heard a ghostly tune that drew me to a table with a large mirror overlooking an otherwise darkened room. Climbing on a stool, I raised myself to see what looked like a distressed music box.
Beneath a glass dome, a ballerina danced to a macabre dirge. She looked eerily familiar with her golden, wavy hair, pale complexion, and drifting dress. One hand, she held aloft. The other was straight beside her. She didn’t stand like the typical ballerina, with one toe on the ground, and the other extended. Instead, one foot stayed flat against the ground, the other on her toes in front.
I watched enthralled by the haunting dancing and tune. So enthralled I didn’t realize how cold the room became. The dream ended with my screaming and falling from the stool.
The dream so startled me I lurched awake and pinched myself to ensure I’d become conscious. What a horrible nightmare!
A loud whistle and the sound of someone shouting jarred me further. I took my handkerchief from my pocket and patted my forehead to free it from beads of sweat on my brow. A deep breath did little to help ease the lingering dizziness.
So lost in thought was I over the dream that I hadn’t noticed when the train attendant came up to me and asked, “Is everything alright, sir? Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps a nightcap to help relax you?”
“Um, uh…” I said as I tripped over fractured thoughts. “No. I’m fine. Just a small bout of nerves. It’s been a while since I’ve visited Edinburgh.”
The older man scratched his grey beard and moustache. He appeared to ponder whether he believed me or not. “Well, I know too well about such things. Once I had to visit my old grandmother in her mansion. Creepy place, that. Isolated in the woods and all. Odd thing, we hadn’t seen the old bat in two decades.”
His smile turned into a bursting laugh. “Queer thing. Turns out we weren’t going to visit at all. The old witch had died in her sleep. Since my wife and I were the only heirs her lawyer could find, they contacted me.” He continued laughing as though the macabre story he’d told me was funny.
I didn’t think so, hoping my situation wasn’t the same. The letter hadn’t been in great shape, so I had no idea why I was needed in Edinburgh so urgently.
“Suppose I should be off,” the man said, adjusting his cap. “Shouldn’t be much longer. Don’t hesitate to call upon me should you need anything, sir.” He dipped a bow and let himself out of the room, sliding the door closed behind him.
Strange fellow, I thought, returning my focus to the landscape.
We’d reached a point on the railing where the trees gave way to the sea and cliffs. I vaguely recalled they reminded me of chalk. The sea was black glass beneath a thickening layer of eerie fog. The snow had gotten stronger, creating a thick cloud to choke out the moon, in the pitch black of night.
Each breath against the frigid glass fogged it and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or some other trickery of an exhausted mind, but I swore I saw the outline of a child. Not but a waif with deep pits of black where their eyes should be.
