The Curse of Sayre Island

Chapter 3: A Gloomy Morning

Chapter 3: A Gloomy Morning

17th of August, 1913.

Monday.

Kia Wolf was Found Dead.

[???]

"I KNOW someone who did bad of me! Please hear thy plead! Kill the girl whose name is Semantha! She sinned as she stole money from me!"

"Oh, hear my plead! A man murdered my husband! Davill, was a good man! Good man, he was! Yet they killed him only because he didn't pay his debt on time! O, no fish can be found in thy sea! Does justice only know punishment and not compassion and humanity? The people of Sayre are starving! God is angry at us! Oh, what have we done! Find the man and kill him for what he has done!"

"Consult of yours is what I need! The girl I loved was liar! She dare cheated on me with another man! Please! I beg, show judgment to those people who have wronged us!"

"Please harken my cries! My husband and child were found dead in The North Forest! Brutally murdered, yes! The Macabre must have killed them! Please, who ever had done this—kill them for me! Seek justice for me!"

At one flicker—the small, flat piece of metal tumbled and twirled across the black marbled table. Gracefully it danced and skipped, suchlike a gallant ballerina on her tippy toes. It kept spinning until someone implored it to stop.

Heads.

"My children! They were murdered! How can God let this be? What did we do wrong? What has become of us? Why, death is spreading like a plague!"

The figure sat alone, facing nothing but the invisible thick air. For they had always been alone and often had been. Yet how odd it was for there were several voices owned by different people. Had it only been the figure's imagination? I'm afraid it was unlikely. The voices never prolonged, though they might had only been there in the same room as the figure, hiding underneath the cloak of shadows, curving their wretched bodies in corners—but it was also unlikely, and only treated as a theory, for the shadows were too deceitful, it was not evident if ever the room had corners.

The figure flicked the silver coin once more, as they tapped my foot, impatiently waiting for someone to come.

To heed the cries of the mass in every heartbeat of mine is a curse. A heavy lift. A burden I bear. A cross I have to carry. The woeful cries and lamentations echoed, bouncing off the infrangible walls of the closed quarter. I reveled within the cave of emptiness, despite the voices lingering—once getting softer and softer and now, louder and louder. There came a piercing wail and a low, graveful grumble. A pattern I became familiar with and so I could predict. And swore I could sense the displeasure within every sound they make, the lividness, the insatiable lust for vengeance. The growls and the whimpers, the moans and whispers. The sinful desire for justice and so they sought one who could do enough bidding for them. As pious as they are, and hypocritical it seemed. They could not bear taint their hands with blood. However, unfortunate it was for them, for as the moment they had conceived such thought—they are destined to rot where they stood when they felt the great throb of rage boiling within their veins.

Heads.

T'was already passed the calling time, yet not one shadow of those lumpens came to meet my eye. Frightened were they, or they had thought of ending their musings with me. And who would not dare fear who I am? I, who holds such great power over men. Then I might be the only person who had taken interest in visiting this lovely, beguiling place or to actually respectfully grant our agreement that we meet this time of day. Those imbeciles really don't stay true to their words. For all they are—craven worms.