Eve & the Whispered World

Chapter 2: The Wooldridge Inn

The old man scurried up one flight of the creaking staircase after another. On any other day, he would have been rather impressed with himself as lately he had noticed the climb required a rest every dozen steps.

'Mr. Lawrence Wooldridge', read the sign on his office door on the fourth floor, 'Innkeep'.

Usually, Lawrence's Inn would be bustling with colourful guests from every corner of anywhere. With no family to speak of, a home full of life lent a degree of comfort to the old man.

How odd it felt, to face the empty hallways and the silent rooms running each side of the corridors. But he reminded himself of how had locked the Wooldridge Inn's doors two days prior to ensure this. It was not safe for anyone to associate with him, not anymore. He dared not to put anyone's life in danger.

A worn out Lawrence staggered toward the corner of his room to where an abnormal looking pigeon twitched obliviously from within it's tiny cage. The scrappy creature looked peculiarly old, yet full of life.

'It seems it is time for us to part, little chap ...' he softly told it.

The overly plump and feathery bird fluttered madly upon noticing him, as it always did. An innumerable amount of fallen feathers fluttered wildly as the jumpy pigeon clattered about the rickety cage.

Quickly grabbing his quill and a roll of parchment from the cupboard below the cage, with a quivering hand, half the ink spilled across his desk as he began scribbling a note.

'Eve,

Forgive the scarcity of this letter. Know only this; Something more sinister than I could begin to explain prowls the darkest corners of our world.

In time I had intended on revealing to you the existence of a multigenerational order.

We are known within our inner circles as;  The Risunā. 

Risunā devote their lives to one endeavour; discovering a means in which to enter the Whispered World. Genuinely. 

Dr. Ned Lockwood, find him. He too is a Risunā and I have reason to believe that he holds answers, as he recently wrote me indicating new revelations. 

I will send Percy, my pigeon, with this note, in what I believe will be my final act.

I pray this reaches you, and they have not yet found you too. 

Take care my dear girl,

Lawrence.

He could hear them; growing thumps followed by horrible shrieks from the floor below. His heart raced as he tied the note to Percy and swiftly swung the cage door open followed by the snow-speckled window.

Wind sent the curtains into a waltz as a burst of snow whirled it's way into the dull room. The approaching thumps grew louder by the second, coming now from the hallway right outside the old man's door.

He watched as the bizarre looking bird flapped and clu-cooed off into the snowstorm. Lawrence's old eyes watered. But there was a glint of hope within them as he watched the letter he had written fly off into the night.

'It was a wonderful run' he whispered, in what would be among his final breaths.

The door knob rattled and the door swung open. Lawrence loaded a pistol and bravely turned to face what had come to destroy him. He would not go quietly.

Men, women and children - lords, ladies, servants and merchants - would awake tomorrow as though it were any other Winter's morning, little did they know.

The snowstorm eventually came to rest as dawn broke, while an unseeing cloud of darkness settled itself upon the world.

All the while, a fluttering old wood-pigeon was en-rout through the amber glow of a morning sky to seek a woman who was far from ready for the responsibilities that were about the fall to her.

The entire faith of the world, of reality as we know it was soon to be in her hands.