The Fallen Silk

crescendo

The Murchers lived on the same street as the Millhouses, and though Effie hadn't called ahead, Felicia Murcher invited them into her home with a smile. When Effie explained the reason for their visit, Felicia was more than accommodating and handed over the paternity results. What Effie and Vincent read on the paper baffled them.

'How is this possible?' Effie muttered, handing the paper to Vincent.

'We wondered the same thing. At first, we thought that it was just an error – we had the test done multiple times, but each time the results were the same. The only positive dna match in the child was Lettie's. We never could get a court order for the entire town – that seems a bit ridiculous when you think about it, and Lettie couldn't remember the night she conceived.' Felicia said. She sat at the kitchen table and offered Effie and Vincent a seat, but they declined. 'We couldn't explain it, so what could we do? We raised Johnny as if there was nothing wrong. He was our son, and that is all he has ever known. He never knew Lettie, she died moments after his birth. He was the only piece of her that remained after that horrible year. She was not herself. All of the talk of shadows and voices in the trees – it was nonsense!'

Effie and Vincent shared a look before offering their gratitude for the information. Felicia offered food and drink in return for a few more minutes of company, but they declined and left the house in more than a hurry. Each person they spoke to seemed to carry a piece of the puzzle, but with each new bit of information the whole story became more muddled. Once in the car, Vincent let out a breath and stared at the ceiling.

'What in the name of the Gods is going on in this town?'

Effie had no answer. She wanted so badly to have everything figured out, to know what had happened, to know why her mother had killed herself after having seemed so happy. She reached out and grabbed his hand, holding onto it as if letting go would mean letting go of reality. They remained in the car, silent, the key in the ignition but the engine off, for a while before they both admitted that they were exhausted.

***

Alone in the cabin, Effie gathered all of the papers from the table and set them in a box in the living room, near the desk. She felt the need to distance herself from the mystery for a while, before it consumed her entirely. Vincent had left immediately after their return from town, stating that he needed to check on Wyatt – she let him go with minimal fuss, not wanting to seem desperate for company. Besides, she considered, having a few hours of silence seemed like a wonderful idea after being overloaded by the information they had gathered.

Effie stopped in the living room, her back to the kitchen, the sound of the knob rattling in her ears. She was frozen in place and, though she wanted so badly to turn and run to the door to lock it, she couldn't force the movement. The knob clicked and the hinges let out a long, low moan as the door was pushed open. She turned her head to gaze at the door from the corner of her vision, and there, in the doorway, was the shadow of a man. He stood, arms limp at his sides, his face focused on her own – she couldn't make out his much of his features, but his eyes glowed in the dim light of the sunset. They were wide, the whites so clear in the darkness that seemed to flow out of his body, and she opened her mouth to scream but no sound escaped her throat. There was no sound in the house at all – the ticking of the clock had stopped, the pipes made no noise, the nearly inaudible buzzing of electricity from the living room lamp non-existent. There were no songs from the birds, no symphony of crickets from the yard – only silence, and the face of the shadow man standing in the doorway, staring at her.

She blinked, and though it was only a millisecond before she opened her eyes again, he was gone. The doorway was empty and she could see the yard beyond the frame. Had he gone back into the woods, where he seemed to linger on the edge of reality? Or had he simply faded into the shadows of the corners of the kitchen, waiting for her to walk passed him? She was still frozen in place, unable to move, unable to run to the door and close it, just in case; she was rooted to the floor and her heart thundered in her chest and her eyes watered in fear and confusion. There was something wrong with the air in the house, something heavy, something thick – she found it difficult to breathe as she forced herself to turn and face the kitchen, face the doorway.