Mumbling Nightmares

Chapter 15

So I got a comment about Episode. Yes, that was me. I did upload the story on episode, and I'm so glad that you guys found it! I encourage all of you to go and read it. It's on the app Episode and is listed under the same name as the story. Anyway, let's begin.

So here we were back in the house. It was dark again, and I did not have the chains around my feet this time but slung across my body in a coil. It made moving a bit easier and was an easier defense if the Specter was to suddenly rush at me, as I could just drop them around my feet if I needed. But now was time to look for the diary. If there, in fact, actually was a diary in question. George had found floor plans at the archives and had printed out a copy for myself, him, and Lockwood. I decided to search the most likely places first. Diaries are some of the most common sources, you see. They're a hot spot for emotional connection. A case solved by Tendy's a few months ago on Fleet Street titled "The Shrieking Specter" was one good example. They had found the diary of the murdered woman who's spirit had been terrorizing the residents of the street. You know what the say, "One hath no fury like a woman scorned." After the diary was safely tucked away in a silver net, the spirit had vanished, along with her spectral shrieks.

I smoothed the map on my knee, examining the rooms. I figured that bedrooms on the second floor would be the best place to start. Bedrooms are where personal belongings are usually kept, and I had a sneaking feeling that they may still be there. I decided to start with the master bedroom. I thought that if I tore up the floorboards and found a source, the Cartwrights would be a bit more preoccupied with being ghost free to care about that much. I also figured they would have more than enough money to replace a few floorboards. I slid the map into the pocket of my coat, and drew my rapier. I made my way to the master bedroom.

The bedroom was quite lavish. It had a large king sized four poster bed with an embroidered comforter and pillows that looked as though they were made of silk. Along the bed there were also those smaller unnecessary pillows that rich people seemed to love. There was a red plush carpet on the floor, and a mahogany wardrobe pressed against the wall opposite me. The table in the corner had an array of family photos. There was a large bay window in the wall next to the wardrobe with another array of the small pillows, blankets folded neatly beside them. Night stands were on either side of the the great bed, lamps set on top. On the wall beside that was a vanity, adorned with expensive looking makeup, skin products, and hair products. And finally, behind the bed was a mahogany chest, probably filled with sweaters and blankets. I couldn't hear anything. Not even a buzz in the air. It was just quiet, and soft snowflakes fell outside the bay window, some of them catching on the glass. I needed to find Elizabeth's bedroom if I wanted to find out who J was. I wasn't sure if this was it, but it was worth looking. I started by crouching on the floor, touching my fingers to the floorboards. I heard nothing. The spot under the rug was next. Again, nothing. This room was obviously nothing relating to Elizabeth. I stood up again, leaving the bedroom. The daughter's room was next.

Lily Cartwright's room was lavish as well. There was a queen sized bed pushed against the opposite wall, adorned in stuffed animals and a purple duvet. It had a big white flower stitched into it, the pillowcase matching. A nightstand stood beside the bed, made of wood and painted white. The lamp that sat on top was one of those lamps that has a beaded shade, which in this case was pink. A toy chest sat in the other corner of the room, and there was a table about four feet away from the chest that had drawing utensils and paper with unfinished drawings strewn across it. On the wall that the bed was pressed against, there was also a bay window, though a bit smaller that the one in the master bedroom. It had a flower shaped pillow tucked into the corner, plush blankets with polka dots and other patters printed across them folded beside it. A few other pillows in various shapes were also piled there. The gauzy white curtains were tied back with purple ribbon. On the wood floor was a large carpet in the shape of a star, and a white dresser was pushed against the wall to my left beside the door. The walls were painted a gentle shade of violet. It was nice. However nice it was didn't matter, though. I tightened the grip on my sword. Was the diary here? Or was something else? That wasn't really possible, as nobody else was on record to have died in the house. I walked to stand in the center of the room. I closed my eyes and focused. I couldn't hear anything, but then again, the diary may not be the source. I finally turned my head and noticed the closet in the corner. I stepped forward, opening the door. It had been converted into a book shelf and was adorned with a large array of children's books. I groaned in frustration. How was I ever going to find the diary?