Ludwig. (chapter 2)

Last edited 9/16/15

word count = 2,431

Chapter 2

Friedrich Klug’s Journal

December 15. About midnight.

I am forced into speech at this late hour because the event that successfully managed to make me question reality has just occurred. I know, I am regarded as a man of science, a sober person with skeptic psyche; but I urge you to follow me on this, even though I imagine you might scarcely fathom the idea of it. Don’t dismiss what I am about to tell you. I would not be writing in such a hurry, had I not substantial evidence. And I assure you, I am completely restrained and self-possessed.

I am writing at night, on the second floor of a wooden house, I was lucky enough to loan. I am seated at the shaky desk, placed perfectly between two corners; in front of me is a window split in four. Moon is full, shines bright and clear. Room is much larger than what I predicted, but not in a way you have come to expect. It makes an illusion of an awfully long train wagon. It is terribly lengthy, but very conservative in width. And equally dark as well; only source of light being moonlight. Since I am seated in one end of the room, looking back, I cannot see another; only looming clouds of darkness. Oh, it is not the desk that is shaking, my hands tremble! Uncomfortableness and chilliness take the better of me, especially after the staggering sound I witnessed.

I do, still, in the very essence of the word, consider myself to be the man of fact. In opposition of irrationality, faith and superstitious beliefs; never fully neglecting those ideas, of course, as one cannot be entirely confident in his understanding of cosmos, but I digress. The point is I trust my own senses, perception included. Let me spare you this foreword and tell you the whole story, in great detail, from the very beginning.

Left Melville city station at 9:00 A.M. December 14; arrived in Lethe at around 12:30 P.M. In regards to transport, prepaid coachman made sure I would arrive in one piece. His carriage was dark, as the man himself. Seats were deep and unusually comfortable, their dark-red paint, striking.

The ride was satisfactory on the technical side, as weather played in our favor. Snow stopped; mist dissolved in the air and unyielding, fresh sunrays pierced the white sky, making piles of snow shine in warm colors. No barricades on the path. Horses were professionally disciplined; never halted the pace or gave out needles neighs. The man however, was very cold; he didn't speak any redundant words, until I asked him to.

Weather gave me an extraordinary chance to revere myself with the royal parade of oddly construct, pointy castles with large windows and long towers. Mostly destruct and long abandoned. Some still had preserved their fragile, crystalline mosaics, ornate facades and uniquely adorn arches and gates.

I like to think of myself as a great admirer of art and architecture, although my skill in their evaluation is not particularly high, I still managed to spot some very complicated designs. Passing by them made me jubilant, as I have never been in less attractive parts of the world. But at the same time, eeriness embraced me. Who knows what secrets these forsaken castles hold?

Upon my arrival, there was no man to greet me. I was not informed whether or not I should even expect one. Thus, I was left to wander. Despite being tired, and having quite a heavy suitcase, filled with personal belongings and unimportant papers, slow me down; I still managed to bring myself to characterize the village.

It was empty to a degree that it fell upon a banner to make me feel welcome; “We are grateful to have you in Lethe”, it said. I rarely caught sight of people outdoors. But when I did, they would evade eye contact and flee from my sight. Or be indifferent and continue whatever it was they were doing. Most of the houses were of wood, although I also spotted some made of block. And occasional, privately owned terrains that in parts, even managed to resemble gardens. Suspiciously enough, there was no trace of animal life. Not even the smell of manure; the smell that ultimately defines tiny villages from big cities.

I composed a shallow plan in my head, which consisted of asking about this Magician to relatively renowned habitants of Lethe. Now, an old, partially ruined temple is not the place I would normally go to seek notable people, but, in that case it was the only viable option available. The temple was outside the populated zone; on my way there I studied my surroundings.

Sun shone without revealing itself. Sudden gusts of frosty wind would bite me directly in the face, as it was only part of my body not concealed. It grew increasingly aggressive with each gust; I had to keep my hat from falling off. Even wind was trying to warn me of forthcoming horrors.

The sounds of my boots battling against masses of snow, and wind rattling spruces to sprinkle snow from their limbs were most prominent. However, my ears would periodically grasp unidentifiable whispers from nearby. “It is an isolated, delusional village,” I would remind myself.

To make matters even more unpleasant, church bells from the temple side boomed rhythmically, with tediously drawn-out pauses in between. Each time the bells whammed, more and more crows would spread their wings and pierce the sky in groups, cursing every living thing along the way. Ringing was followed up with an ominous prayer or chant of hundred voices, on the tongue that sounded completely alien to me. It all made me reluctant to trouble the temple. I didn’t want to interrupt some religious ceremonies or rituals, especially the prayer.

First off, I wanted to outwait the prayer, but when I reconciled with the fact that it was not going to conclude anytime soon, I reached the temple nonetheless.

It looked queerly identical to the castles I discovered during my escort.

I saw three men, (or women for that matter,) carrying a dead elk inside; numerous flies buzzing around it.Its belly was split in half, entrails hanging out and a lifeless tongue, still fresh of spittle, dangling aimlessly in the air. These supposedly hunters were completely covered in white robes; not even revealing their precious little faces, only white sheets with eyeholes. This prodigiously accidental picture made my heartbeat freeze for a good while.

I took a deep breath and approached them hesitantly. Once close, I yanked my CPDN badge from my inner pocket and showed it directly to their ghostly faces. They gave me a cautious glance in return. I asked them about what frightens this village, and tried to explain I was here to help.They gave no answer, like they were incapable of doing so.

They advanced hastily towards the temple. Two of them lifted and moved in the body of a dead animal, and third shut the doors ceremoniously, implying I was not welcome. 'The banner said otherwise,' I thought.

I was stunned by their ignorance. Only place that seemed promising was supposedly stuffed with white, sheet ghosts. ‘Of course they are haunted by supernatural, there is a reason these baffling reports only come from deranged places like this.’ I thought mistakenly. I sat down on a boulder, feeling fooled and victimized. My thoughts drifted back to Marianne. ‘At the very least, she should be happy to see me alive and well,’ I was entering a dream just as a massive palm dropped over my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize that, then another to locate to whom it belonged.

It was a large man in red; his blues eyes were so big that eyeholes could not fully cover them. He stared into my eyes for what seemed a long time. I was lost for a moment, but then it struck me, I showed him my badge. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to read. When he supposedly came to the part that said I was working with police, his eyes widened to their previous form. He gave me a handshake. I bluntly asked him to give me as much information as he could, not expecting answers. To my great surprise, he talked, but not in the way I wanted.

‘Meet me at the common dining room, before sunrise’

I wanted to interrogate him in greater details, but he hurried inside the temple as well. By that time, the unending prayer has come to an end. It reassured me about entering the temple; perhaps I won’t be interrupting their spiritual idiocies now. I was wrong.

I opened gently the door and slithered in for no one’s notice. The first thing I sensed was the stench of the dead; second was lack of icons or other religious imagery of any particular god or deity. Temple had no real windows; everyone relied on red candlelight that gave it otherworldly aura. The hall was massive; it enclosed more than two hundred men with ease. Ceiling was so high; the candlelight could not touch it, it was unseeable.

An aged woman, in a glorious black gown stood on the platform and gave out an inspirational speech in almost musical way; her hand gesture was comparable to that of a mad conductor’s. Shadows played on her face, as she was never still. ‘–and then, we shall be cured!’ She finished.

‘La-Lath!’ Sheet ghosts cried out, rising up simultaneously and then falling back on their knees once again, their voices ascended to touch the ceiling and produce monstrous echoes.

Her eyes found mine; I was smart enough to sneak out. She saw me, she remembers.

Without ever thinking twice, I ran back to the populated zone. As I neared the clutter of poorly made houses, I stopped running not to look suspicious. ‘I should seek suspicious people, not be one.’

I came across the common dining room; it was functioning, few tables were already taken. I would have interrogated everyone had I not been so exhausted. I ordered the most expensive meal, without ever realizing what it was. The menu list was miserably scanty anyway.

The waiter brought me a bowl of green stew and a cup of ale to wash it down. I was happy to pay; food has never pleased me more. When I finished my meal, my eyes closed and I just went away for a while.

My nap was short-lived as noisiness grew louder and louder. Dining room was full of clients, outside, people were walking casually, chatting along the way; nothing like when I first came here. Like something breaded new life into this village, and then I knew.

I realized the horrible truth. Village was empty because much of the population was in the temple; those pious fanatics are majority here. Anyone of them, peaceful citizens, can be a sheet ghost in disguise. And they know! They know I might expose them. …But maybe it is not a secret after all; maybe it is just a Stone Age tradition this village lives with.

Either way, I had and still have to send a letter to a city nearby. But it depends on what schedule does the postman work. Does this village even have a postman? I was lost.

I distanced myself from inhabited territory once again. Sun was fading; I was desperate to find shelter. I could pass the night on the chair, in the open air, but I was not accustomed to such wretched conditions. Furthermore, those masked cultists could kill me easily if need be.

As light dimmed from my eyes, a young girl materialized out of blackness. Her eyes were blue, hair golden. She approached shyly, and sat next to me. I knew that much not to be afraid of a single girl; I tried to pay her no heed.

‘Are you stranger, sir?’ She asked with a cunning smile, swinging her legs back and forth as she could not touch the ground. I nodded in response.

‘You see, my family is in dire need of money, and you seem to need a place to stay overnight.’

It was so convenient that it was scary. It could have been a ploy of that preacher woman to assassinate me in my sleep, or worse. But I did not have an alternative, sleeping outside was much more risky. I agreed. How could I have declined to such a radiant face? I followed her through the night.

Her house was larger than most. Inside, meaty cow of a woman lay on a bed that was clearly meant for two. ‘My name is Mona,’ the girl said in her awkwardly cute voice, ‘and please excuse my mother; she doesn’t really feel like living anymore’. I would have thought she was dead, if not her heavy snoring. The girl apologized again, ‘I am sorry for this picture, and please, you will have questions and we can discuss them at supper.’ It was weird; most orderly person in this village was a youngling. ‘And please, try to fall asleep before midnight.’ Oh, I should have listened accurately to that suggestion.

It happened just about midnight. I was putting clues together and laying plans for the other day, as I heard a long and monstrous whistle, followed up with an odious neigh; metal stallion broke into furious gallop, its metal hoofs smashing against other type of metal. The sound was so vivid; I felt it bleeding out from my ear. Gust of wind pushed me away, it sent all my documents flying, and scattered them around the room. I felt frightened.

It was gone in half a minute.

I no longer see the world in the same light as I did before. As in my nature, I try to find answers and justify the existence of this phenomenon, but my subconsciousness exhorts me to accept it in its current state; Incomprehensible.

I confess, the real reason behind me volunteering for this mission was to visit Marianne. But now, I fully acknowledge the enormity of terror this village has to live with. First of all, I need to inquire into the temple and identify their true intentions. And then gather as much information about this haunting as in my power.

One thing I am completely sure about is that I won’t be leaving anytime soon, I swore to solve mysteries. And there is still one suspect I have not talked to. The Magician.