PROJECT MORTUUS: Killer In Silence

Chapter 13: The Widow's Grief*

Mortuus walked silently along the old path to Crater Hollow, its once prosperous road now less than dirt and gravel. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and from the woods, Mortuus couldn't see it, but he knew it was probably seven or eight o'clock at the latest. The sun's beams lighting up the leaves to make them look like green oil paint on a shiny red canvas.

He walked the path while smoking the weed he had. His hopes of finding Jackson had been shattered, but he still held a shred of it as he walked. The darkness of the woods seemed to match how he felt.

He had not one clue where Jackson was, but something seemed to make him think that 'home' was a place he probably went. He always seemed to have a need to find his old life again, even if he didn't remember what it was like. Unfortunately, if he did manage to, things weren't going to be how they once were, but maybe he was alright with this.

Was it possible he found his way back home? Maybe he could remember what the house looked like, but there's no way Jackson had managed to locate his home, considering he had no memory of the address: one forty-six West Hadley Spur St, Crater Hollow.

Mortuus kept walking, occasionally glancing at the signs above the streets. He'd been walking for a while, but finally, when he glanced at the sign, it read West Hadley Spur. After some walking, he had made it-West Hadley Spur, the street that had Jackson's old house and now widowed wife. Mortuus walked the road, hoping he'd find the home.

"One thirty... one thirty-five... one forty..." Mortuus counted the houses as he walked the lonely road. There it was, the weird house number one forty-six of West Hadley Spur Street. No one quite knew why this cute little house was number one forty-six rather than one forty-five. It was very unusual, but like many things in Crater Hollow, no one really questioned it.

He stood at the mailbox, unsure if he really wanted to go through with this or just turn back and head home. "What if she doesn't know about Jackson?" Mortuus asked Death, who was now standing against the lamppost, fiddling with his scythe.

"You owe it to Mrs. Knight, Mortuus. She should know that her husband is alive." Death answered. As usual, he had a valid point. For being long dead, he sure understood a lot about how the living feel. Probably because he's been around for a long time, and based on how Death often spoke, Mortuus figured he died sometime in the early 1800s, but it is more of a guess considering how strangely Death spoke.

Mortuus sighed and stepped up the cracked sidewalk path to the blue front door with a gold lion's head knocker and half-circle window on the top just above the gold one forty-six. It looked charming with the yellow and red flowers in pots that surrounded it on the front porch, and it blended nicely with the white brick house.

He stood there at the door for a minute, unsure if he wanted to go through with this. With a nervous manner, Mortuus pulled back the knocker and hit it against the door three times. There was no backing out now.

He waited a few minutes before a little boy answered the door, "Uh... Mister Mummy?" The boy asked, confused by Mortuus. He had seen him before and even talked with him, but he never really knew anything about him. Mortuus instantly recognized him as the little boy from the market.

Mortuus chuckled, "Call me Mortuus. Is your mother home?" He asked. The boy shook his head, "This is my friend's house." He responded and then called for Mrs. Knight. A few moments had passed before the woman from his hallucination entered the room. She seemed a little older now, with a few gray hairs sprinkling the wavy locks that fell to her shoulders.

"Oh! Mortuus! Is something wrong?" She asked, leaning on the door frame. She was surprised to see Mortuus standing on her porch. She knew who Mortuus was and what he did, so she was very confused by his presence at her house of all places.

Mortuus shook his head, "No, ma'am. I wanted to ask if you've seen your husband recently." He asked, becoming less confident as her expression changed. It went from a kindly face to one of anger and hurt. It was clearly still a rather touchy subject for her.

"My husband has been dead since 93', Mortuus. And I'd rather you didn't come here asking about him in front of my children." She stated with a stern expression. She clearly was still hurt by his death and definitely didn't want to talk about him, nor did she want her children to remember that their father was dead.

Mortuus nodded slowly. He wasn't sure of his words and seemed to stumble over himself as he spoke, "I... I understand that, but..." He sighed and shook the thought from his head, "... Nevermind. Have a lovely night."

He looked at the boys playing games just behind her; they were so happy. Mortuus realized he couldn't do this to them or Mrs. Knight. "I'm... I'm sorry for disturbing you, Ma'am." Mortuus apologized in a quiet and shame-filled tone.

She nodded and closed the door, leaving Mortuus alone on the porch with nothing but himself and Death, who was sitting on an old rocking chair. Mrs. Knight didn't even bother to see what Mortuus was actually going to say to her, which he was rather thankful for.

Death frowned, "Why did you hide the truth?"

Mortuus sighed and took a drag of his pen, letting the smoke billow before speaking, "Sometimes a person is happier in grief than in knowledge." He said with a sad expression. Mortuus knew that if anyone were going to tell her, it would have to be Jackson himself.