The Strange Burdon of Alder Strauss

Alder finished his story and looked at Ulrich expecting an expression of disbelief or some other means of objection, but received none.

“Alder, that’s quite the story. But why come to me when you seemed so level headed about this? Your skepticism, your determination despite this entity you stated you’ve seen. Why come to me to seek the confirmation that I cannot give you?”

“Well, you see, I wouldn’t have before. However, something that I saw while in that clearing gave me no choice but to confide in someone I could trust.”

“Alder,” Ulrich said, leaning in. “What did you find?”

“This.” Alder replied as he reached his hand inside his pocket.

He pulled out a paper bag and handed it to Ulrich.

Ulrich looked at him, perplexed as to its relevance, then reached inside the bag. He placed a lock of long, black hair hosting bits of moss and bark from the tree branch Alder removed it from on top of the desk in front of him.

“What’s this? Hair,” Ulrich asked, perplexed.

Alder nodded.

“Ulrich, I-I think it’s Caroline’s.”

“Why would you think that, Alder?”

“It could be from an animal. A bear or even a dog or raccoon or squirrel.”

“Smell it.” Alder nodded with heavy expression.

Ulrich hesitantly did so and soon after his facial expression came to match Alder’s.

“Jasmine,” both said in unison. “Jasmine.”

“You knew Caroline too, my dear friend. You knew her too. Maybe not like me, but you two were friends enough for you to recognize that smell as hers and only hers. You know, a great many women can bear that fragrance, but only she could wear it like she did.”

“I know. I know.” Ulrich nodded.

“What does this mean in accordance to this story of yours?”

“Well, call it crazy, but I think that there’s something under that soil. And I think that we ought to find out.”

Ulrich thought for a moment and then answered.

“In the time that I’ve known you, Alder, I’ve known you as a sane and rational man. To see you otherwise would bring me shame and I don’t want you to lose your wits on account of me. I know you value my opinion enough to seek council with me concerning something so irrational sounding,” Ulrich explained.

“So, will you help me?” Alder answered in anticipation.

“Sure, Alder,” Ulrich replied. “Show me the way.”

Within the hour they had obtained a couple of spades and lanterns and were racing the sunset to the clearing. Alder no longer held the fear that had confined him to his quarters before. Ulrich was now another arm and mental bearing should the entity show itself again. However, as they approached the path and proceeded down, it was not there, nor was the breeze or fragrance of jasmine present. As darkness quickly descended upon them, the only light present was that which beamed from their lanterns, seemingly dancing and swinging with each step they took. Alder led the way with Ulrich in close pursuit. It wasn’t before long that Alder quickly halted in his advance.

“What, what is it, Alder,” Ulrich asked.

But before Alder could respond, Ulrich came to understand the reasoning behind his friend’s action. For just in front of Alder was the clearing that he had so frequently spoke of.

Short of breath yet strong of mind both men sat their lanterns down upon a soil as black in the night as in the lanterns’ flames. They looked at each other for a moment then, with one swift motion, broke the earth with their spades. The sound shattered the unearthly still of the forest’s air, which hung as thick as any hot, heavy air could. It brought about the area the profound feeling of an eerie, looming omen. And it motivated them to dig faster. Another strange factor with the soil was that it cradled no rocks of any particular size or classification. Strange was this on account of the abundance of rocks present in the adjacent soil by which they dug. However, it was until they heard a foreign sound at about three feet in that they considered the possibility that their conclusions were wrong.

There was something in that hole.

But it did not sound like a rock. There was no scraping of metal upon stone. What came up from inside that hole was low and dull. It sounded like wood. Upon discovering this they dug frantically. Alder even got inside the hole and pawed at the soil like an animal foraging for food until the palms of his hands were as black as the soles of his feet had been. With the edge revealed, Alder motioned for Ulrich to hand him a spade. In brushing the dirt from the wood, Alder noted that the crate was nailed shut about the corners. He wedged the spade between the lid and its corners and uprooted the nails.

The two men looked at each other in uncertain silence, preparing for whatever dormant horror awaited its discovery. Now, no amount of collaborated skepticism could derail their imaginations, which now bore on full steam ahead. Their silence spoke volumes, yet only would take the initiative to remove the lid and awaken whatever slept inside.

Alder stood there staring at Ulrich, as did he with him, until a decision was reached. Eventually, Ulrich stepped into the hole. He tore the lid from the body of the crate and grabbed his lantern to chase away the cloaking darkness covering the contents confined within.

What the lantern’s light exposed caused both men to fall back upon the surrounding soil with a look of sheer terror upon their faces. Their worst fears lay within that crate. And though it horrified them, it did not disappoint. As their mind resolved and rationalized their discovery, as their wits came about them, and as their courage returned, they grabbed their lanterns and ventured back into the hole where it awaited. Alder planted his lantern by where he kneeled so that he could better see its contents. There inside lay the remains of the skeleton of a young female. What was especially disturbing about the remains was that what first appeared to be soil strategically laid about the skull was actually hair. In fact, Alder was sure it was the same hair that he had pulled from a nearby branch that bore the scent of jasmine.

Could this be his Caroline?

His heart began to pound even louder than was its capacity. So loud and so much in fact that Ulrich took notice and firmly grabbed Alder’s shoulder to settle his colleague down.

However, it was to no avail as Alder immediately noticed a segment of hair significantly shorter than the rest.

And again he considered the possibility. Could this be his Caroline?

Alder pressed his hands against his face and imagined this being all but another dream. But this was no dream. It was a nightmare; one that he could not wake from but wanted so desperately to. And if it wasn’t for his friend and colleague being present with him to share his grim discovery he may never had. It was with some convincing that Ulrich separated Alder’s hands from his face and his mind from madness, but only for a moment. For as they made their way to the edge of the hole the lantern caused something inside the crate to wink at Alder. A sudden reflection of light had caught his attention and lured him back into the hole. There, resting in that skeleton’s hand was a medallion of some type, imprisoned in its bony fingers. Alder pulled out his handkerchief and, with considerable effort, released the medallion of its grim incarceration. Holding it up to the lantern, he discovered a remarkable familiarity and sentiment in its design and, upon a more detailed inspection, realized it was in fact a locket. And when he opened it he stumbled backwards, hitting a tree. He ignored the pain following the thud of his impact and slid down the trunk, all the while staring at what lay within.

There inside that locket were placed the pictures of Alder and Caroline. His search for her was over and his curiosity was satisfied. But his mind was now burdened by not only her loss and tragic end but by the freedom of her murderer.

Ulrich knew Alder was looking at Caroline. His state had communicated such and, in respect of his friend’s condition, Ulrich proceeded to fill in the hole and escort his friend back to his study.

Alder didn’t dream that night nor did he get but a wink of sleep. He just stared at the locket. It wasn’t until dawn that he broke away from this state to pay his respects appropriately. Back in the forest Alder marked her grave with a nearby branch and silently said his goodbyes. With its significance in life, he placed the locket upon the marker and returned to the study of his colleague. As if fearing the reputation of the town’s authorities, they decided, after much debate, to keep the location of Caroline between them. At least, that’s what they thought was the case until the strangest of events came to them one morning in print.

Not a month after their discovery did the local newspaper tell of a story that caused chills to stir amongst the two. The story told of a man who claimed to be driven to madness by visions of a spirit who had appeared amongst the trees and assumed the shape of a woman. He had been so afflicted by this ‘spirit’ that he aroused the concern of the local police who, assuming he was either an addict or posed a danger to society in some other manner, conducted a search of his quarters and found a locket containing the picture of Alder’s Caroline amongst various women’s rings and other jewelry. Faced with this evidence, the man confessed to more than several murders, including Caroline’s.

After reading this, both men were as relieved as they were stunned. A satisfying sense of closure beamed on Alder’s face and excited him so that he went to tell Caroline of the news. Upon reaching her grave, he noticed that same winking of light that had drawn him back into the grave and set his wonder to rest. There upon the marker lay the locket, open-faced with the portraits of both Alder and Caroline together. For not two hours earlier had that very locket been pictured in the paper with but one portrait shown inside; Caroline’s. One then begs these questions: How did it return to the exact position in which Alder had left it and how had Alder’s portrait come back to the locket?

Alder smiled, satisfied in knowing that some things can’t always be explained but will always manage to work themselves out; sometimes, even, in the most peculiar way.

END