𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝟏𝟏. 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

The winter was crawling for good in Snowshill. I was holding tightly my bag with Grace's diary inside as I was walking down the street. There was no one around, no other soul walking in the streets. I was very eager to arrive to the center of the village, I was determined to find out more about those strange deaths.

I was walking under the threatening clouds and the silence which was slowly eating me. The silence caressed my skin like a cold winter breeze, making my heart stop every time I heard a noise. My ears had become sharper and my mind paranoid, every noise, every small little noise was danger. My heart was beating fast each time I took another step, with my hands resting inside my warm pockets of my coat.

At some point, the sign of 'Sweet Lavender Cafe' started appearing behind the trees. I had finally arrived to the center of the village but I continued walking in silence through the village's streets.

I passed a small grocery shop with its windows full of apples and oranges. I passed a butcher with its bloody lumps of meat on display, that picture reminded me of my dream. I was still uneasy about that, maybe that was why I left from the house. That house, my house. The house I felt safe in, now made me feel uneasy.

I continued walking down the road until I reached 'Sweet Lavender Cafe'. It was standing among the other shops, washed out under the overcast sky, it hunched in itself, fighting against the strong wind. Before I had a chance to open the door a very cold breeze hit me hard.

Cold licked at my face and crept under my clothes, spreading across my skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. With purple lips tinged with blue and gently chattering teeth I wrapped my thin coat around me tighter. As I reached for the door I felt the doorknob icy upon my hand, it was as if the cold had reached even my heart. The few customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind.

Unlike the outside, the interior of the cafe was old and strange. Half of the chairs were broken and there were buckets under each hole that pierced the ceiling. The customers kept looking at me with their threatening gazes as the door closed behind me. I slowly approached an empty table, as I was walking loud squeaks were ringing in my ears, exactly as if I was stepping on mice. I sat on the best chair I could find, took aunt's Grace's journal out of my bag and slowly placed in on the table in front of me.

I had to find the courage to talk, I had to ask these people if they knew anything about the strange deaths all these years ago. There were no women inside the cafe, only men. An old man caught my attention, he had a fringe of grey white hair around his balding, mottled scalp. He had a wizened face and a back slightly hunched. He was muffled inside a heavy coat. He looked as if he knew a lot.

I knew that I was scared. All of my fears were running through my head all at once. I couldn't bring myself to talk. Words were impossible to come out of my mouth. The old man was wearing a black scarf and as he looked up we locked our gazes, his eyes were as black as his scarf, piercing holes through my body.

"I am sorry, can I ask you some questions?" I asked reluctantly without looking straight into his eyes. The old man slowly gazed up until he looked deep into my eyes.

"Come closer," he whispered. His voice sounded deep, it was almost as if he was talking without opening his mouth. I guess, years of smoking and alcohol abuse had made his voice sound like it had traveled via vocal chords of a dead man. I had no doubt, his deep gravely voice made me wonder which breath would be his last.

I got up and slowly approached this man, I sat next to him to an old wooden chair and he lowered his eyes. "What is it that you are seeking for in a death village like this?" He asked me calmly.

"I wanted to ask you some questions, if I can," I whispered to him. He just nodded waiting for my questions.

"What do you know about the mysterious poisonings?" From what he said next, I could tell that he was thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that was several moves ahead of what I was capable of.

"The deaths were in the past, the past needs to remain in the past. As the dead never come back just like that the past never comes too. Except if the past is somehow repeated," he raised his eyebrow looking directly in my eyes.

"Did you know Grace? She was the woman who was living in the big house at the end of the road."

"Oh...Grace. Yes, I remember her from when I was younger. What I can say about the deaths is that I lost my wife and there's nothing we can do to change the past. I wish we could," he looked down disappointed. I could see the hurt in his eyes growing bigger and bigger as the minutes passed.

"Grace was my aunt. I read in some newspapers that she had kept, about these deaths and I wanted to know more about them."

"Don't try digging into the past, everyone is still hurting, although it happened years ago. These were the darkest times of our little village, life stopped being beautiful, carefree. Everyone was locking themselves in their houses in case they were the next victim," he said while nervously playing with his scarf.

My mind, for the first time was quite, healthy. I could see that he was starting to get tired and disappointed. I couldn't possibly imagine what thoughts might had passed through his mind right at that exact moment. I even felt a little guilty for bringing back to him so dark memories. The death of his own wife.

I couldn't possibly understand how people could suddenly die by being poisoned. Why nobody ever found who was behind it? Even if it wasn't someone behind this, at least find the cause. Someone or something was killing, poisoning all those people and I had to find out soon.

Suddenly, my eyes closed firmly, I couldn't open them, all I could hear was the man asking me if I was alright. Then, what I saw changed everything. The trail of blood grew thicker, paling her skin to a translucent white. With each tick of the clock he wanted her heart to stop, just stop, to watch her eyes become glossy and vacant. The blood of his last victim had begun to dry, more brownish than scarlet. He was no longer human. Every choice had lead him there, to the side of the demons.

That was it. My dreams described exactly what I would read the next day in the diary, it was the answer to everything. I felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in my abdomen. Tension grew in my face and limbs, my mind replaying the vision I had. My breathing became more rapid, more shallow.

"I am okay, I just...I got lost for a minute," I replied.