Thursday evening, October 15, 1925
"Jules, what is going on here?" Ella B. Cocker had cornered Jules Pollack in the empty kitchen as Jules was looking for yet another bottle of wine. Jules turned to Ella, looked guilty, and yet reached for a fine bottle of Bordeaux. "The birds, falling dead on the roof. The strange giant rodent that you performed an autopsy on just last afternoon, its innards consisting of such dreadful contents. The weird rabbit. Prentice's strange manners. I just wanted to have a fun and interesting week out here in the countryside, but everything seems like it's turning increasingly insane. Why can't we just write and tell stories, hunt a bit, and enjoy each other's good company?" Jules looked at the distraught author for just a bit before pulling out a corkscrew. She had clearly made a few passes at Jules, and he had not really made up his mind on how to proceed with the situation. "Jules, I know you've been around the block and a bit more, but do you have any idea what might be going on?" Jules Pollack had yet to reply to Ella's questions, and this time he decided to hand her a glass of the Bordeaux. He sniffed at the wine, found it most promising, and took a generous gulp before smiling towards Ella. He briefly thought about the information from that French farmer, Pierre Duvall, the one that lived up the road. The grumpy farmer had claimed that there'd been several dozen government men, including armed guards, digging for something up by the Soule Cabin, and whatever it was, was bad. Jules cleared his throat and looked firmly at Ella: "Listen, we - me and my esteemed friends - have had one or two odd experiences throughout recent years, and I can assure you that we have everything under control. There is no cause for concern whatsoever, even if the well-nigh primordial wood in here in Maine might hold a secret or two." Jules was, of course, mostly clueless. What about the crazy man in the cabin, Henri Chartier, that Sheriff Carlton Stears had warned Jules about? And then we had the son, Prentice. To Jules, the young man seemed like a full-blown psychopath, harassing his younger half-brother Tommy and maiming Biscuit the Cat, while talking to his imaginary friends "Dammie Culchon" and "Mr. Daviessss", the name always drawn out into a long, unpleasant hiss. However, Mackie was actually claiming that young Prentice Wilkes was simply a smart and misunderstood child, neglected by his father and never taking to his stepmother.
Then we had the mother, Bridget Duvall, who happens to be Ella's sister. The poor woman was perhaps a victim of her own isolation and boredom. She seemed to be interested in, of all people, Franz Alter. "Alter!" Jules had said the name out loud, but Ella seemed unruffled. She clinked Jules' glass, looking at him seriously, and declaring "here's to all the wonderful freaks in the world!" before emptying her glass. She beckoned towards Jules for a refill, and Jules obliged.
"But Jules, you and your friends may be resolute and determined, just like you, but I worry about my other guests. Well, not Teddy Monroe, he is built for the great outdoors, but think of dear Henry Craig. He is a musician, for God's sake, and definitely not used to the forests of Maine. And poor, dear Jacqueline, my best friend in the world! Oh, Jules, did you see that she made a pass at Mackie last night?" Jules nodded and finished his wine. It was then he noticed that he's poured the wine in a beer glass, but he really didn't care. "Are you going upstairs to retire?" Ella looked at Jules with her head tilted to one side.
Henry Lake was driving up to join his friends up in Maine. He had left early that Friday morning, and he was looking forward to spending time in gorgeous Maine and simply enjoying himself. He had started off with his usual breakfast: a couple of slices of toast with grape jelly, coffee, and a cigarette, all accompanied by the morning edition of the Arkham Advisor. This morning, he had noticed something unusual, yet interesting. Miskatonic University reported that someone had stolen a experimental piece of equipment from the library, namely a so-called C-beam detector, a device invented by Dr. Emmett Brown of the physics department. He was going to pick up Moira Baker on his way to Maine, and they would definitely have to have a chat about this.
No comments:
Post a Comment