Beloved: Memoir of a Phantom

Epilogue

Epilogue

It has been 44 years since that day in the chapel when I swore my revenge on those around me. Through those years I have ruined many lives that I was once a part of.

For 25 years I haunted the widow Eugenia Peters in my bloodied hospital gown for having me committed to the Lunaville Institution, and after 5 years she ended up there herself. The other 20 years she remained completely out of her mind with the guilt of condemning her childhood friend until she took her own life in 1989. She was unable to bear seeing Isadora’s mangled ghost any further.

 Brynda DeLoup had a litter of pups of her own with Jean-Pierre. All of which has been warned about the dead wanderer in the cemetery. I have no problems with her or her family as long as they leave me alone, which so far has been successful even at their auntie Genie’s funeral which I watched from afar. I have only had one problem with any supernatural being over the last 44 years and that was when I had to destroy one of the errant wolves by flame for attempting to make a meal out of me; since then the pack has seemed to have entirely disappeared.

 The townspeople eventually did suffer a brutal onslaught from the eighth seer, although they did not realize it. It came 2 weeks after the funeral as they celebrated “The Breaking of the curse.” In which they actually sang out ding dong the witch is dead, to celebrate my passing. In a rage I made a white billowing robe and donned a mask to cover my face as I stood in the middle of town to halt their festival in a bloody, fiery massacre of sheer destruction of all that I loathed in the town of Renborough, including the downtown core as well as the people in it.

My parents abandoned their home after seeing my “wandering spirit” in their home a week after my death and they moved permanently to sunny Florida. They labelled the house as condemned; so I continue to live in my family home to this day undisturbed.

Dr. Sean Morrison was eventually promoted to the head of his department and became very interested in the world of the paranormal; writing several very successful books on the topic including one called Letters from beyond the grave, based on our post humus correspondence.  I kept in contact with him for 7 years after my death, just passing letters under his doorstep and he passing some back. He told me in one letter that if it weren’t for my reassurances that I was okay, he wouldn’t have been able to have moved on so easily and probably wouldn’t have been as successful as he became. He eventually found himself a lovely wife and had a beautiful daughter which he named Mary-Beth Isadora Morrison. He passed of a heart attack in 1996, and again I attended the funeral. To this day I still look in on little Mary-Beth and have watched her grow to get married and have children of her own.

As for my dear little vampiric soul thief Gabriel; I have prowled the night many times in search of him and have yet to have seen him again since that fateful afternoon in the chapel. I searched his home, the cemetery, the chapel itself as well as his other regular haunts to no avail. At first I had assumed that possibly he had disappeared again, or possibly went into the sunlight unprotected. But then I felt his presence nearby, quite often, and even to this day I still feel his piercing green eyes follow me around as I attempt seek out my vengeance. I know he still waits for the day when Isadora will return, but that will never be as I am forever trapped as Octavia; the spiteful wraith, doing what she must to attempt to retain her lost soul to finally leave this world.

I know you have just finished reading my story and are probably now looking at my actions in disgust. Please try to understand dear reader that I did not want this path for myself and that until my soul is released I do what is commanded of me; yet by who still remains unknown. Please understand that I did not want Genia to die, I merely wanted to make her aware of what she put me through. Only in the deepest darkest corners of my mind did I want to slaughter the town; although you must admit they deserved it by all rights. And my Gabriel…I am torn over. Deep down I want nothing more than to run into his arms and have him love me again; in spite of my hideous exterior. However there is also the part of me that will never forgive him for his part in removing my soul and handing it over to the unknown to do their bidding.

So tonight as I leave my attic hideaway and put my frantic typing at my typewriter to permanent rest, I try to think where he might be residing tonight, what he is doing, and most of all is he thinking of me. I sit here right now as I reflect about him and wonder what would happen should I ever find him again; as the pull between my love and hate for him is so strong and uncertain. Would I destroy him or would I forgive him; I may never really know for sure. I leave you now, knowing my tale, knowing that I once lived, loved, and felt the pain of heartbreak. You now know that I was once normal (or at least as normal as someone with a prophecy on her head could be); was once mortal, beautiful and carried other emotions than the hate and vengeance I am filled with now.

You also now know that one without a soul can also feel the pull of immortal, irresistible love overwhelm them and take over their senses as much as they try to resist its power.

It is true that even though I think he is a bastard for snatching my soul and making me the horrible twisted freak I am today; I still am as madly in love with him as the day we met. It has been too long that I have spent alone being merely a shell of my former self and I guess that is why I decided to reach out and tell my story to the world. I am tired of being alone, tired of being so full of hate and vengeance and most of all I hate being trapped as Octavia Hume. I miss my beloved, and maybe someday I will find him and we will be together once more. Maybe I will someday find the possessor of my lost soul and I may finally leave this world.

Until then you know where I’ll be. Wandering around, being known as the reaper of Renborough in my hooded shroud; searching for traces of answers until something finally turns around for me.

Thank you for reading my story.

Sincerely,

Octavia Hume

May 1st, 2008