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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1) - EPILOGUE - TAKE MY HAND

Submitted: June 25, 2016

Reads: 245

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Submitted: June 25, 2016






As I sat in my lonely cell, shivering against the cold and the onset of shock, I actually smiled at the mess that I had created. From the moment I had lost my faith and had sought such unearthly and evil solace, I started this chain of events that had caused some much grief and pain to all those around me. As my mind drifted on a sea of pity and tears there came the sound of heels on concrete – faint at first but growing louder as the wearer came closer, until stopping outside my cell.

  “Could it be that I misjudged you parson?”

I looked up, and once again I was faced with Inspector Josie Freeman, although this time she looked far more glamorous than the last time we met. Her low cut dress hugged a figure that many women half her age would envy, and the heels that so effectively pierced my thoughts and bringing me back to this terrible reality, gave her height that was so absent at our last meeting. The make-up she wore hid the tiredness that had etched itself on her face like some tattoo that marked the years.

  “Good evening Inspector” I smiled resolutely, “Maybe we both did”

She nodded towards the custodial police officer who stepped forward and unlocked the door to my cell. Inspector Freeman walked in and sat on the small chair.

  “You look beautiful,” I said, because she did. She crossed her legs causing her dress to fall away revealing the top of her stockings.

I looked away to save her modesty, and my embarrassment.

  “Thank you, I was at the opera when I got the call - attempted rape?” she said as she consulted her notes, “I find that hard to believe from a man that doesn’t take advantage of a sneak peek when a woman shows him a flash of her underwear” Her smile was as warm as it had been on that awful night so many years ago, when she had reassured me against any accusations of guilt. This time however was different; as it was now not up to her to prove anything.

Her killer was caught and trapped.

Witnesses had come forward and the victim had made her statement – all was lost. I sighed and shrugged. The fight had left me and I had nothing left to give. My destiny awaited and all that there was left to do was to wait. The clock on the wall outside my cell said 10pm – two hours to go before grief would ride.

  “Parson?” The inspectors voice seemed distant and wraith-like, with no substance or meaning. I raised my eyes to look at her.

  “Yes Miss Freeman” I said.

  “Tell me a story”

I looked deep into her eyes and saw only trust and sadness.

“What one would you like to hear?” I asked.

She kept my gaze fixed with her own and leant forward. She took my hands and pulled me gently towards her.

  “I want to hear the one where a man does a deal with the underworld, and having gone back on the deal, they try to frame him for a murder and an attempted rape – do you know that one parson?”

I smiled at how close she was from the truth.

  “I am sorry to say that I do not know that particular story,” I said.

  “Then let me tell it to you”

At this she referred back to her notes.

  “Do you know a Mr. Damon Deville?”

I shook my head, as I had never heard of him.

  “Well he knows you parson”

  “Okay” I said, “So what does this man have to do with me”

  “I’m glad you asked – it seems that you entered into a contract with this man some fifteen years ago, a contract that would secure a new liver for your daughter in exchange for services that you would provide for him and his ‘organization’, namely the harvesting of body parts from the dead. Specifically, the dead from your village, the dead that you were to bury. Does this ring a bell with you parson?”

I proclaimed my ignorance to these facts, as I had never had dealings with this Deville person. The inspector did not seem fazed by my reaction.

  “Can you tell me what colour the walls are parson?”

I looked around at my cell.

  “White” I said, “I am sorry, I do not understand your question”

The look of sadness remained in her eyes.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit clinical – a bit like a hospital room?”

I shook my head, more out of confusion rather than to disagree.

  “The home of Mr. Deville was raided last week” she continued, “and amongst the files stored on his computer was your name – do you know why that would be parson?”

  “As I said before inspector”

  “Doctor” she said.

  “I am sorry – have you changed professions since last we met?”

  “No parson, I have always been a doctor – a clinical psychiatrist in fact”

My head felt light and a wave of nausea swam over me.

  “But at my home on the night of the murder”

  “What of it?”

  “You said that you were the investigating officer”

  “I said no such thing I’m afraid. I think you heard what you wanted to hear – in fact, I think that you have been hearing, and seeing a lot more than has actually happened to you since the death of your wife”

Images of the past fifteen years slammed into my mind making me recoil at the ferocity of their implications. The possession of my parishioners by the demon that I had made my bargain with so long ago, could all of those times been mere interaction with the employees of this Deville person? The name itself cast doubt on what I had perceived to be the truth.

  “Mrs. Lewis?” I said, almost with pleading in my voice.

  “A message from your new employer – something to remind you that they were willing to take what you were unwilling to provide”

  “The deal was for my daughter soul” I whispered, “How could I have got it all so wrong?”

  “It’s not unreasonable, given your religious background that you would transfer your dealings with these men to something akin to demonic, and given your state of mind I would say that this was very likely”

Her words tore at me and a tear ran down my cheek as I began to sob uncontrollably at this weakness of mind, something that had destroyed all that I held dear.

  “The girl in the carpark” I said, “Did I attack her?”

There was a silence that proclaimed my guilt.

  “That is for a jury to decide,” she said softly, and this was my damnation - for if I were found guilty I would surly never see my Daisy ever again as she would not want to be associated with a convicted rapist and a madman to boot.




As I was led out from the hospital wing of Newgate prison, and towards the waiting ambulance that would take me to my new home, I turned to Miss Freeman.

  “Am I mad? I asked.

  “You’re unwell – it was a lot to cope with. Your mind just found an easier way to cope with it all”

I smiled at her and nodded, but in the distance I could see the horseman of Death waiting by his charge.

  “We shall see,” I said.



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