Sigma Eta

The Tangles Of Time

A single knock was all it took to get Martha's attention, and before Victor even had the chance to hesitate the door was swung open, as if she knew to expect him. The woman was not happy, he could tell by her stark expression, though she didn't say a word until the both of them were settled down inside of their respective chairs. Victor made sure the door was closed, for he was finding it difficult even to express his concerns to Martha, much less to the whole of the history department.
"I haven't seen you in a while." Martha began, sitting forward on her desk and tapping her fingers disappointedly against a very large calendar that sat as a placemat underneath her workspace.
"The way we left off made me think I wasn't allowed back." Victor admitted nervously. The woman nodded, though the blank look in her eyes made it clear that she couldn't quite remember the last time. That only confirmed Victor's suspicions of a third party being involved, taking over poor Martha's words and body in order to recapture complete control.
"Well, what news then? Surely you have something worth my time?" the woman presumed.
"I do...well actually I have an overwhelming amount." Victor admitted. "Starting with the identity of the shadow, the man we've both seen now."
"I don't want to know his name, Victor. I don't want to humanize him any more than I already have! He's a nightmare, a demon...he doesn't need anything more than that!" Martha exclaimed.
"I've seen his face, I know his name. He came to me again, this time in body not in shadow. He spoke to me...might as well introduced himself. And I found him in a photograph, the group picture they took outside of the house!" Victor exclaimed.
"He was in the house before it shut down?" Martha clarified, looking surprised. Victor held back his smile, though he was filled with an overwhelming urge. Finally, he knew more than did the expert.
"Yes. Can I show you?" Victor wondered. The woman sighed heavily, her eyes closing for a moment as she weighted the costs and benefits of getting more involved. Surely she didn't want to delve back into this world, this madness. Though curiosity was a beast, perhaps more untamable than was the force they were trying to deal with.
"Show me, yes." She agreed. Victor smiled, unearthing the group photograph from where he had kept it in his coat pocket, the one closest to his chest. He laid it out on the table, upside down so that Martha could see more clearly. She leaned forward along the desk, rearranging her glasses onto the brim of her nose so as to better see each one of their faces.
"He's here, Sherlock." Victor began, pointing towards the curly haired boy that he was beginning to know so well. Martha's face grew grim, though she nodded in agreement.
"Yes, that looks correct. Sherlock, you say? That's what he calls himself?" she presumed. Victor nodded quietly, staring down at what the boy forced as a smile. Nothing about him looked pleasant, and the more he concentrated the more convinced he was of Sherlock's grim part in all of this tragedy. Whatever had happened at Sigma Eta must have been coordinated by his hand.
"And this boy, the one sitting on the stairs. He's one of the boys from the luau picture, the one that was hand delivered by the shadow the first time it visited me. I think his name is John. He came to me in a dream, just last night. He was begging for my help." Victor explained quietly. John looked much more pleasant, with a genuine smile and a look of good intention. He was sitting on the step beside his friends, unaware of the evil that lurked just above. They all looked happy, so carefree, with that teenaged invincibility! And how near they were to certain death, how clueless! Victor wished he could stretch out his hand into this photograph and pluck them all back into the real world, back where they could be safe and under his protection. Then again, whatever was haunting them in their world was certainly leaking through into Victor's, and the safety in this life may be just as compromised as theirs had been so many years ago. Perhaps they felt the same pity for him, all the way from where they sat in the sixties. Perhaps they saw where his fate would lead.
"I don't recognize him." Martha admitted, taking one last look at the boys before falling back into her chair with a look of concern upon her face. Victor remained quiet, not wanting to disturb her thoughts.
"Professor, I find it a bit repetitive to be repeating myself, but this is dangerous business. Even more dangerous now that he's contacting you." Martha warned.
"I know, but I'm not alone. Professor Musgrave has shown interest, and together we've been working out the details." Victor admitted. This time it was even more difficult to hide his smile, so much so that he felt the corners of his lips rising without his consent. Martha remained quiet, though Victor was sure that she was especially good at reading people. Whatever Victor was attempting to hide, well it couldn't stay hidden forever.
"Then repeat the same warnings onto him." Martha suggested. "This is a dangerous game, one that has promised to repeat itself more than once."
"Professor Musgrave did offer me information, something I was entirely unaware of. He mentioned that there were girls living in the house, after it had first shut its doors? First years, who were haunted?" Victor clarified, sitting forward as he tucked away the photograph back into its secure pocket. Martha nodded grimly, as if she had been aware of that peculiar housing system as well.
"They went mad, Victor." She muttered quietly, obviously not feeling like easing him into the concept of their despair.
"Mad? I thought they just moved out?" he clarified, remembering back to what was Musgrave's happy ending to the strange story. They had been relocated, or dropped out entirely! He mentioned nothing about madness.
"I interviewed one, during my own investigations. She had landed herself in the local penitentiary, for ravings and suicidal thoughts. She claimed he was still around, in her dreams, and her thoughts. She claimed he was speaking to her constantly, in the back of her head, as persistent as her own internal mind." Martha admitted.
"That's just one." Victor pointed out, sure that there was always one outlier in a bunch.
"I investigated; they all shared the same fate. Madness, suicide, penitentiaries. Each and every one!" Martha slammed her fist onto the table, as if this was drawing closer to a personal battle than one of professional curiosity. "He's a madman, Victor, a madman!"
"Will we share the same fate as them?" Victor clarified, allowing his voice to drop into that comfortable level of concern.
"That depends." Martha admitted. "On how long you plan to live with him."