Murder In the Nightshade Garden

Prologue

The moonlight shone exceptionally brightly upon the Earth; its soft eerie glow wrapping the dark world as if it were an omen.

The village was dark. The doors were locked, the windows barred, the lights out. Stray tumbleweed floated by the cobblestone road, a soft summer breeze carrying it past the sleeping village.

Quietness ruled here. Even the animals were all deadly silent.

The cottages and shops were of 17th century fashion with their steeply sided, tiled roofs and being made from materials such as limestone. A sparkling brook ran in the middle of the cobblestone road, parting the village in two. Passing tumbleweed blew into the dark, drifting water.

The tower clock in the square began chiming. A looming clanging echoed through the silent town like a death toll. It chimed twelve – midnight was here.

A figure appeared. Gliding past the closed shops and cottages, it strode through the town, barefoot. A velvet cloak covered the identity of this stranger, although the hem of her pale white dress was visible beneath the dark red fabric.

White feet as cold as marble carried the outsider through the village soundlessly, as if she did not exist. Sharp cobblestone edges cut the perfect white feet, but she kept walking; oblivious to the wounds. As she walked, she sang:

When you sail across the seven seas

Afloat your majestic ship at ease

To cruise to foreign countries and find

Jewels, gems and rubies of a kind

Promise me you’ll bring me back a treasure

One which value cannot measure

A single white moonflower

Back on the midnight hour

To the place where my weary soul sleeps

Is the place where your love do I keep…

If someone were awake and watching, they would have been able to see the pale red lips which spouted this haunting requiem.  They would have heard the sad tone in the beautiful voice, and the regret, torture and betrayal this person had suffered. It would all have been heard in her voice.

She kept singing, as though she were enveloping the town in a poisonous lullaby. The song echoed through the wind, which had suddenly turned from warm and humid to cold and bitter. The harsh breeze carried the song away as the figure kept walking, fading away into the distance.

The tumbleweed blew away, following the figure. The wind returned to normal.

The village slept on.