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The Strange Burdon of Alder Strauss

Part 2

By Alder StraussPublished 3 years ago 11 min read
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The following night brought with it an intensity that pulled me from my refuge and the safety of my chambers. I had had the dream again of the woods and of the woman. This time, however, I came closer to her and closer still. And as I drew upon her, her graceful stride became that of a quickened haste so that she would occasionally look behind her to see that I was still within her sights. But I still couldn’t make out her face. That’s what frustrated me the most. It felt like I was supposed to, like I was meant to but had not the capacity in mind or frame. Still, she persisted upon me the urgency of one who is in need of dire assistance. And though her actions did not communicate this, her very presence did. This dream, however, did not end abruptly in soaked sheets and trembling lips, but rather transcended into a void of thoughts or fantasy; a dreamless state. And like it was with the first dream, I again awoke in a most perplexing condition. I was exhausted and more fatigued than that of which I retired in. I had had an easy, uninterrupted sleep as well but when I sat up and removed the covers I froze. With my eyes fixated on the floor before me, my mouth hung loose. The floor was marked with blotchy footprints. Black mud painted fragments of bare toes, pad, and heel that seemed to lead to the door a short distance away.

I followed them.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

What was strange in my observation of them was the fact that the footprints seemed to be coming from outside and did not return. There were no other entrances or exits allowing an intruder a cunning and hasty getaway. Had an intruder come in under my very nose while I slumbered? Quite possible as it was, it was not probable. For the footprints were bare. In keeping with a hasty getaway, an intruder would not see it beneficial to enter one’s quarters with their feet in such a state that would make them susceptible to injury and, inevitably, capture.

Then why would anyone want to come into someone’s quarters bare—?

It was at this moment that I stopped and quickly pulled up my right foot towards me. I let it go and, in a haste to reaffirm my discovery, I examined the left one just as I had with the right.

Black.

The soles of both my feet were black!

I quickly put on my shoes and shot out the door towards the forest much like the one in my dreams as of late. I strode through the grass that licked my legs wet with dew and, not a minute after, reached the perimeter of wood, soil and stone. The forest was indeed lit up like that of the one in my dreams and it was at that time that I felt the need arise to dismiss it as the relative coincidence I had taken confidence in prior. And it was with little trouble that I found a path which directed me in such a way that it had the woman in my dreams. I, however, did not tread upon it with the grace evident in her stride but rather with the reckless lumbering of some heavy-footed beast anxiously stalking its kill. And like that beast, my heart pounded faster and faster still as I continued further down the path. It was then that I stopped in mid-pursuit. Before me stood the patch of darkness that sunlight dare not touch. It was then that that same mixed emotion surged inside of me like the swells and tides of some abyssal lake. And like some alluring beacon lit, the very light appeared before me as it had in my dreams. Only it wasn’t a dream. Not now. It was real and I was there. And I couldn’t wake up now. I could only assume that what came out of there was what appeared before me in my dreams. Only, there was no security now. There was nothing to save me from any otherworldly dangers that this entity may possess. It was at that moment that flight took me over and I ran back to the safety of my quarters.

Inside, my quarters became a prison. I locked everything that could be. And had it not a lock, I barricaded it with whatever I could find. Thus, with the quarters properly secured, I sat frozen in the corner with the lit lantern by my side and waited out the day.

Night came upon me too fast for the length of the day that had preceded it and sleep came upon me just as quickly. Exhausted from fretting an impending doom more horrible than I could imagine, I slumped over and found myself again in the forest. This time, however, my fright in the real world seeped into my dreams and I found myself running yet again from the entity that seemed so enchanting before. Though it hadn’t changed in form, this “woman” had shattered my perceptions, separating the laws of physics that dictated what is reality and what should never should be. And again I found myself seeking to remedy the terror that now enslaved me in both my dreams and reality. For it wasn’t for my finding security in a fully stocked pantry, I fear that I would have had to challenge my agoraphobic state by braving a journey beyond those walls. Still, inside I remained barred up to keep it out and myself in. And though there was no evidence of it having come inside, the proper measures had been taken and there was nothing leaning towards the contrary.

It was mid-week that I came upon a revolution whilst in my agoraphobic state. It was initially terrifying, like most things had recently been, but it harbored within me a comfort that I hadn’t felt for all but a year. Again, it was carried by the wind, but the wind had made its way into my room and again roused me of my slumber. I awoke in a panic to find the door wide open with the furniture that had been used to barricade it pushed aside. My first assumption was that the entity had come inside and had done God knows what. My second assumption was that it had left tracks. Of the latter there were none. Perhaps it had breached the forest walls and had braved a trespass into my quarters. Perhaps it had done something to me in my sleep. Though I felt no pain, my mind was wild with the assumptions that my body was in such a deep slumber that I had felt no infliction of injury. In my dreams in preceding nights I was always in the forest, in fear of the entity and now on the run from some impending doom. I closely examined my body and found no traces of any mark or legion of which I might have unknowingly received. For once again, while in the process of deducing the evidence that lay before me, the wind caught my attention in another peculiar way.

“Jasmine.”

The aroma came perceptively from just inside the door and then seemed to permeate from everywhere at once. The only problem is that there is no jasmine around the house, or the neighborhood, for that matter. And even if there were, the wind was not nearly as strong as to cause its scent to make the journey to my quarters. However, the significance of the smell and the unlikelihood of its presence were not important. Rather, its effects on me were. It sent me reeling in an elated state of euphoria. It was the first time since I had felt my dear’s presence.

“Caroline!”

I jumped up and, by pure impulse, ran towards my perceived source of the smell.

I ran outside where it was strongest but to my dismay there was no one there.

I stood facing the forest, outside of my room, outside of the house. And though I became aware of my being out of my quarters and home, I no longer feared it. The forest before me still emanated a power that harbored the fears that held me at bay. Yet, I was compelled to overcome them to see if it would indeed divulge the secret of the where-abouts of my dear Caroline.

Not four years ago, having acquiesced to the invitation my colleague had extended me upon his departure from Manchester, I came to the states to search for means of support and success. That was where I met her. My colleague, Ulrich, had arranged for us a social at one of his clientele’s residence. She was as beautiful as the moon that shone upon us that night. A perfect composure of beauty and grace, she stood among spectators as a work of art. She was a painter who specialized in immortalizing landscapes in Western Europe. Who would only paint that which she had seen with her naked eye. Only that which she could touch by hand would she touch by brush. I had never been so entranced by not only beauty, but by charisma and charm. She indeed commanded the room much as a fighter commands a sword. And with her words and movement she could cut deeper than their swords ever could. What she saw in me, I did not know. And why she accepted my ring, I did not question. Perhaps I hadn’t fanned the flames of flattery upon her as many others that night did. Perhaps I was the only true gentleman there besides Ulrich, of course. All I know is that the two years we spent in each other’s company provided more pleasure than would a thousand years of life without her. It was a year ago the 15th that I came home to find her away with no word.

And it was six-months ago on the 15th that the police closed the case and I lost hope. Until today, that is. Until jasmine came upon the wind.

She always wore it. It was her mark and how those who knew her, truly knew her, would always remember her by. Even as I left the social, my hand carried her with me. And that very scent ceased to leave me until that day she didn’t come home. And on the day she left, jasmine left too.

“Caroline, how I miss you.” I murmured and walked inside the house.

It was then that my heart grew heavy at the awareness of the present.

Caroline was nowhere in sight, yet the fragrance lingered still. Even with the door shut tight a breeze seemed to waft it in as though the door were still wide open. And after much contemplating I came to the same conclusion that I had considered on the doorstep: I would brave the forest as I had in my dream much like I had before inheriting a fear of this thing.

Since the day was still upon me, I set out and stepped upon the path I had treaded but a few days before with a determination I had not yet mustered. I followed along the path and, not long before I had succeeded in progressing beyond the boundary of my fright, did the entity appear. I rubbed my eyes in protest and still it came, gliding in graceful movements, zigzagging like before. I made fists of my hands and periodically wiped the gathering sweat from my palms. Though the woman approached, it soon retreated and, like before, it occasionally looked back as if to beckon me to follow. And though my body was rigid with apprehension and disbelief, I obeyed once again. I picked up pace to again satisfy my curiosity of a face I still could not make out. She kept her distance; her slow and graceful movements somehow factoring in some speed I could not match with my own generous pace. There was a hint of jasmine about the trees, though the wind had not brought it. It was also strange that the sound of the rustling breeze was apparent in the surrounding trees, yet I felt it not like I had when I stood there before.

I pursued her still, until I realized that she had stopped and, in that moment, I too halted. Then but for a moment there came a clear visage upon her face. I stood there and gasped. There, in that moment, it looked as if she were Caroline. She seemed to smile and all I could do was rub my eyes in response. However, when I opened them she was gone. She had vanished.

Was it really her? Was it really Caroline?

It was only when I saw just what was lying before me did I momentarily suspend my disbelief of the reminiscent visage of my dear Caroline. And it was here before me that one could explain many of the preceding events and disturbances that I had come to know: The imprints of bare feet pressed into the same dark soil that marked my chamber’s floor and stained the soles of my feet. And when I discovered this I pinched the strange soil that seemed to have no natural place there. It felt unusually damp and cold between my fingers, unlike the surrounding soil, which was warm and dry. For when I rose to brush it off, I caught the only movement in the stillness of the clearing where wind should be but was not.

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