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The Chapel - Part 15
by Theodore K. Nasos
2016-02-10 10:16:43
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I was laying in the dark, eyes wide open and my mind trying to comprehend with everything I had lived the last few days. Sir John had said something about an early night which made both of us, Chief Inspector Bennett and me, find an excuse and go out of the house. Bennett was kind enough to invite me for a pint in the local pub but I knew to well that he also wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

Christopher Bennett is a strange man and even stranger policeman. He is one of those who observe. While he speaks little you can say he’s trying to see everything. Everything that surround him and everything that doesn’t. I think this last part is coming with associating with Sir John for too long.

ohn01_400I tried to do the same but there was always something missing. It was like standing in front of a giant jigzone puzzle and while you are not sure, you have the feeling that there are missing pieces. And that was it. Both. Sir John and Bennett seemed always to know where these pieces were. They just had to look in the right place. Me? Well, I always seemed to look at the wrong direction.

I didn’t feel any kind of envy for the Chief Inspector, he was a clever man, a noble and honourable man and totally deserved what he had. I didn’t feel that there was any kind of discrimination from Sir John’s side. He seemed to enjoy both, mine and Bennett’s, company and he also seemed to manage to take something different from either of us. I just didn’t have a clue what was the thing he was taking from me.

Another half an hour passed with me not able to sleep despite closing my eyes, counting sheep and try to read a favourite book in my mind. I even tried to recreate scenes of my childhood in my mind but bodies of men laying in floors or in the middle of the streets keeps appearing. And then it was this curse business. Why did it have to come in the middle of it?

I consider myself a man of science and superstitions have always been enemies of science therefor my enemies. Now saying that I’m not immune to old sayings and traditions and especially since my grandmother was a master of all those. Bless her soul, the old cat was always on one or another legend. She had spent most of her life in the country side and ghosts for some reason prefer old the green fields and old country-side mansions from city parks. In the last years of her life and after my father’s father departure she retired to my parents’ house sure that her old house was haunted. She kept talking about that lady who cried through the nights and the young lad who constantly run in the attic.

My older brother and I decided one weekend to visit the old mansion and check the old lady’s stories. Despite occasional dispute I enjoy a very good relationship with my older brother especially since in a very young age I accepted that there is a certain order and he was going to enjoy the privileges of the firstborn.

ohn02_400So we did arrive at the mansion to find the place exactly how we were expecting it to be. Dust and dirt everywhere. At first we checked the attic but the only thing that was running in there were a couple of mice and I hate mice. Then we went to the local pub. Brilliant home brewed beer, too bitter for my taste, still brilliant and next thing I remember was getting a room upstairs of the pub, unable both of us to drive back to the mansion.

Next morning after a good country-side breakfast that included a lot of sausages and thick bacon we were back in the mansion. We sat in the room that was supposed to be the dining hall and we were trying to hear the sounds of a haunted house. We definitely heard the mice, or at least I did. Edward, my brother, said later that I was looking around like a scared little girl every time the mice started running in the attic but that was entirely a lie. Actually it was him who jumped out of the house when we heard something upstairs.

It was late noon when our logic dictated us that there was no reason to spend a night in the house and we had better start soon if we wanted to be back home early in the evening. Edward has just bought one of those new automobiles. Very proud of it even though as our father often said, his horse despite ager and all that was faster than the automobile and he could see no future to these machines.

I smiled at the thought of my brother’s automobile. Here we were both of us, leather jackets and leather helmets both of us and so much black smoke on our faces and clothes that it took us a couple of days to get rid of it. And of course Edward didn’t care much, it was I who had to return to the big city. Edward was liked in his small country side world even with a little dirt under his eyes. I, was in serious trouble in the big city where everybody looks so perfect.

With this and that, Edward and sheep sleep never came and by four o’clock in the morning I was absolutely exhausted. I should have asked Sir John for that syrup he occasionally mentions when he cannot sleep but when I left his house I never thought that I would have to face this problem. And then it was nine o’clock in the morning, sun brightly shining through the curtains and my door knocking wildly. I know what time it was because I had the time to check before getting out of the bed.

Putting my night gown over my evening dress I opened the door to find Christopher Bennett looking at me with a smile at his face!

“Later night lad?” I tried to mumble something but nothing wanted to come out of my mouth. “Fine, listen, your landlady was kind enough to make a nice cup of tea for us, so get dress quickly and come downstairs to meet us. Sir John has a plan!”


Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 -Part 14 -Part 15 -

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