I Shall Have No More of It.

 

York County, Pennsylvania, Dec 7th 1863. 

We had marched for many days through the near frozen soil in little more than socks to cover our bare feet and little food to fill our bellies. My name is James Lee Earle of Ashland, Virginia, and I had just turned 17 years old. My brother, who was one year my senior, and I were both told that it was our duty to fight for this confederacy, we were told and taught how to kill the Yankees for the sake of our way of life, so we both chose to pick up the musket and fight, this we did willingly. I had been on the march with my fellow soldiers for that past year, and I had with my young eyes, seen many a young man on both sides fallen in the rain and snow drenched soil, as hot musket lead and mortar fire ripped apart their bodies, yes, I had seen many a good man, some blue, some gray, barely past boyhood. I had watched as their blood, soaked the muddy soil where they lye and breathed their last precious breath of life. I had seen the horrors of war up close and personal, and to that point, I had survived the tragedy, and then one week prior, I received word that my older brother Jeremiah had lost his life in a place called Vicksburg.

Still with musket in hand, I like so many others, with a heavy heart, and a terrible sadness troubling my every thought, together, we marched on. the morning before, we were no more than one mile from that place, in a beautiful grassy field, with rich dense thickets of oak and hemlock trees in the distance. We marched in double columns along a muddy road of which I knew not the name of, first came the rain, small droplets at first, and then we were besieged by a torrent, we moved perhaps another twenty yards along a long ditch, and then all hell broke loose, as cannon shot exploded around us tearing through our ranks. I was thrown through the air landing hard on my side in the ditch, I could no longer hear, as the violence swirled around me, the thunderous sounds of musket fire that echoed in my ringing ears became muffled, soft, almost distant cries of pain, brief flashes of light, drifted through the drops of rain and then ever so slowly my vision relented and everything went black. 

I do not know how much time had passed, when my eyes slowly opened once again, it seemed to be a time of early morning. The distant sounds of chirping birds filled my ears, and although the rain had stopped ever so briefly, as I lye on my side in the wet grassy ditch, my uniform soaking wet, I reached for my musket and pulled myself up to the edge of the narrow trench. The sight that awaited my eyes, lifeless bodies of blue and gray stretched out for what seemed like miles, in the rain soaked bloody fields, nothing moved, for what felt like hours, but in reality was only mere minutes. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something moved. I wheeled the musket around, only to find myself looking down the barrel of a Yankee musket. We both froze, our determined stares locked, unmoving, both muskets poised, ready to fire, he stared at me for a time, and we both slowly lowered our weapons our eyes never moving from the sight. He was also quite young, perhaps close to my own age. Finally, I heard my own voice breaking the tension.  

"You alone there, Billy Yank?" I asked.

He slowly nodded.

"I think so. You Johnny Reb?" He returned.

"Well, I don't see anyone else moving, so it would appear so." I answered.

He shouldered his musket and moved up to the top of the ditch, slowly sliding down in beside me. We both stared down at the ground for a time, both of us trying to catch our breath. We sat there, both unsure of what was to follow, were we enemies? or, at best-for a time, cautious allies? he told me his name was Samuel Thomas Geddy, from the small town of Bixby, in the great commonwealth state of Massachusetts, and he too was merely seventeen years of age, older than me by two months. After surveilling the horrifying scene that lay before us, we had determined that we were indeed the only two survivors of that engagement, and tentatively we reached the agreement that we would call a truce, and seek refuge from the storm clouds that were gathering over our heads. We retrieved several haversacks, filled with rations and ammunition for our muskets, before we set out into the woods seeking shelter from the coming storm. We followed a long winding trail through the thick woods, Samuel Geddy concluded that the battlefield we had left behind, was more or less a mile and one half, then to our rear. 

We walked up and over two more small forested hills before the next drops of rain began to fall though the canopy above us. We came to a clearing and there below us were two small buildings, we unshouldered our muskets and approached with caution, slowly making our way up along the side of what looked like the main living quarters. There was no movement inside either building, so we cautiously entered. Whoever had been living there must have heard that we confederates were coming because they had left in quite the hurry, leaving behind much that we could use. Our desperation had gotten the better of us, we had found dry clothes, in an old chest of drawers, many that would fit, there were dry socks and I even found an old pair of shoes to wear. We wasted no time in removing our wet uniforms, and securing them inside our blankets with twine. The dry cloth felt warm against my skin, and I sat with my back against the wall, for the first time in many months it felt good to be alive, but what we found near the door made our bellies rumble, there was a large basket full of fresh fruits. Apples, peaches, plums and apricots, we filled our haversacks, and opened the front door. 

We did what we had to do and then decided that we would wait for the storm to pass in the small barn house beside the main. If the owner came back during the night, we didn't wish to give them a start while being inside the main house upon their return, so we went to the small barn house to wait. Once inside we could see that there were several work benches that lined one wall, beneath those there were bins made for storing fruits or vegetables, we'd guessed, but it was getting too dark to see what was in them. Above the main entrance there was a small hay loft, even in the failing light we could see the pull down ladder, and Samuel pulled it down and one at a time we climbed up and made our way to the back. Darkness settled in around us, and though we were both tired, sleep eluded us both, and through the long dark night we exchanged stories of our lives before the war. We each spoke of our families, our homes, where we had grown into the young men that were too soon forced to become. We spoke of fishing trips with our brothers and fathers, and the love and pride that we held fast in our hearts every time we had stared into the eyes of our loving mothers. 

We had talked long into the cold dark rainy night, we spoke of our little sisters, of teaching them to ride their first horse or tie a shoe. We spoke of walking alone down a country road lined with cherry and apple trees, holding hands with our sweethearts, of stolen sweet kisses, and promises made that we might never get to keep. Finally, we spoke of the fear and unbearable shame that we'd felt for the first time, when forced to take the life of another human being. How would God finally judge us? We both wondered out loud, though finding bitter and cold discomfort in the question, we quickly changed the subject. The night drew colder and even darker than before, and the rain, though it slowed at times, never did quite fully relent. As sleep finally began to tug at my weary mind, I found solace in the fact that I would never again see Samuel Thomas Geddy as my enemy. When I woke the next morning, Samuel was already awake and had retrieved two ripened melons from under the work bench and cut them open, we ate fresh melon and soaked hardtack. With our bellies full and the rain slowing to a slight drizzle, Samuel produced a compass, and told me that his father had given it to him before he'd left home to enlist, "Now son," his father told him. "No matter where you go, you can find your way home."

We walked along the grassy side of the muddy road, leaving the small farm house behind us, we walked almost one hour before the trail had ended in a fork Samuel used the compass to tell him the way north, and he told me the way south, "We should probably stay off the road for a while until we can both be sure we can find ourselves in friendly company." He said. I nodded in agreement, he smiled at me, and for the first time in over a year I smiled back at another human being without suspicion, without any hesitation, without regret. "Be safe James." He said. "You too, Samuel." I replied. He turned, as a look of melancholy crossed his face, and then another small grin pushed his lips up at the ends. "See you around sometime, Johnny Reb." He said, slowly extending his hand. I took his hand and offered my own smile and then replied. "Not if I see you first, Billy Yank." I watched him for a time as he turned and headed north, his figure getting smaller and smaller with every step, until he finally disappeared over the small rise. I walked for a time until I found a hollowed out log, I sat down for a while, lost in thought.

I wondered, why grown men had to do such terrible things to one another, simply because they looked different, or wore different clothes, or waved different flags, or thought different thoughts. My mind briefly returned to Samuel, I wondered, how it was that two young men, were able to find common ground, young men, much younger than those chosen to lead  whole nations into the perils of war, because they simply lost the ability to see first how we are the same instead of how we are different. I suppose talking as such is difficult when some have simply lost the ability not only to reason, but to listen as well. My heart was heavy, the ugliness of war having scarred my soul. War, is an ugly animal, ugly and cruel, a human invention of cruel and ugly men. It destroys, murders the human flesh and spirit, and leaves nothing but death and suffereng in it's wake, it truly is a tool of the devil, and shall be the ruin of all who engage in it's practice. A distant sound pulled me from my thoughts as I rose to my feet, the horse and rider wearing the red and gray uniform rode silently toward me. I shouldered my weapon and stood resolute. My fate was no longer of my own making, for in my heart, in my mind, no matter what they did to me? this war? I shall have no more of it.   

Epilogue. 

Bixby Massachusetts, Tuesday, September, 17th, 1889.

My mind, it has returned to me, my soul though permanently scarred is now at peace, I, through a lot of perseverence and determination survived the destruction of that horrible war, and eventually I returned home, my brothers body was recovered and returned to our parents who laid him to rest in Travis cemetary in Ashland Virginia. I was twice injured, the last time a lead shot went through my right calf and I could no longer walk without a cane, I was able though and  returned home in august of 1864. I became a wine merchant and still own and operate that business to this day. And now I sit here alone in this club car, I can feel the vibration of the train as it lumbers along. Armed with the information the detective agency provided me, I await my final destination, as the train slowly rolls to a stop. I look to my own hands as I write these words, both aged considerably by time and violence, I raise my head and in the mirror I see gray hair that plays at my temples, but the eyes that stare back at me are those of a 17 year old frightened boy, forced to do horrific things that he can never unlive. I rise from my seat and remove the response to the telegram that I had sent two weeks earliar, on the response were three words written, "I'll be there." As the train rolls to its final rest, I step down into the station yard my eye's searching through the small crowd, until I see him there, the face has aged but the smile is unmistakable. Samuel Thomas Geddy and I shake hands, and share a brief embrace, both our shoulders shaking slightly as we openly weep. Two brothers in arms, with a shared experience and a common goal, to live the remainder of our lives in peace... As brothers.

The End.

       

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2024~

Doctor Phillar and The Monster Of Bella Doras... Finale.

The rain had started up again beating softly against the cobblestoned streets of Northwich, Doctor Phillar ushered the young woman inside and called out to Sebastian Mills whom he instructed to saddle up a horse and ride to the police station on Pemberton Row to fetch Inspector Pendergrass and to bring him back to Blackpool Terrace. The girl from the Grimsby Tavern was still alive, but even more importantly, she quite possibly came face to face with the murderer and might give them a proper description. He followed the young woman back to her flat to a waiting Bessie Todd, and with proper introductions made, all three walked all of two blocks back to Blackpool Terrace to await the arrival of Inspector Pendergrass. Doctor Phillar had Annie Greenstreet prepare them a pot of tea while they waited, and there at the kitchen table she related her terrifying experience back to Doctor Phillar. It was almost dark when she had first noticed him following her, he was very tall, a large broad shouldered hulk of a man, bald with deep set eyes with bulging eyebrows, raggedy, his large feet were large as well and horribly disfigured he reminded her of a human monster. It was within the hour when Inspector Pendergrass  arrived with his own coach to take Bessie Todd to the police department to take her into protective custody until morning when he would escort her home. More convinced than ever, he confided in those present that he was convinced that their killer lived in Bela Doras.

The following morning there were low-hanging clouds in the sky, the air was cold, thick and everything was gray when Doctor Phillar was awakened in the early morning hours by yet another knock on the door it was 6:00 am the lack of sunlight made the hour feel much earlier. He opened the door to find a concerned Inspector Nathaniel Pendergrass. He ushered him inside, 

"Gideon we have a problem, Bessie Todd and her husband visited the church of the Reverend Ellery Carroll early this morning I fear that she told everything that we discussed the possibility of the murderer being from Bella Doras to the Reverend Carroll, I believe that with Bessie's description of the suspect it was enough to drive the Reverend to action, he and twelve men left town moments ago on horseback, and they were taking Old Mill Road, if so, that miscalculation would take them five miles out of the way and if we leave here soon we could possibly get there ahead of them." 

Maxwell knew they would be heading to Bella Doras that very morning, so before dawn, he had already harnessed all four horses to the carriage, and Pendergrass, Doctor Phillar and Sebastian Mills with Maxwell in the coachman's box would all left for Bella Doras ahead of the storm that was brewing. They instructed Maxwell to take the Suffolk River Road it was narrower but straighter with fewer ruts and was a shorter more direct path to Bela Doras, and they could quite possibly be there in as little as three and one half hours. A half a mile from the village the sky turned black as the rain began to pelt the carriage, once inside Bela Doras there was still no sign of the reverend Ellery Carroll so they began to go from shop to shop giving the description of their murderer to patrons and shopkeepers it didn't take them long to put a name to the face, the man they were looking for was a man named Yannick Krausser, and not only was he a butchers apprentice he was also the shop owners nephew, and he hadn't been seen in town in three days time. The more they learned about him the more they came to uncover a possible motive to his crimes, it seemed that Yannick was little more to the local villages than an oddity and his grotesque appearance would earn him scorn from the local women of Bela Doras.

They walked into the Prager butcher shop only to find the butcher lying on the floor badly beaten, but still conscious. They sat him up on a chair and Doctor Phillar told Sebastian to fetch the village MD, he told them that his name was Otto Prager and Yannick Krausser was his nephew, and when he'd heard the news of the women that were murdered in Northwich he knew that they were all from Bela Doras and that somehow his nephew was responsible, when he confronted him with the story Yannick became angry and beat him mercilessly, He had always been a large, brooding, angry young man who carried within him a terrible rage, and the scorn and ridicule for his deformities from the locals had only intensified his anger, and often made him violent. He hadn't been seen in three days time, and Otto Prager informed them that the place that Yannick would often go to was a deserted mill up near the Betholm falls in the hills of Iris Shallows. As they left the butcher shop and rejoined Maxwell at the carriage, he informed that The Reverend Ellery Carroll had arrived and was talking to some of the locals, who began to point up to the hills behind Bela Doras. The good reverend and the members of his flock were already on their way to Iris Shallows, and they were all armed.

They arrived at the base of Iris Shallows slightly behind The Reverend Ellery Carroll's angry mob, the deserted mill stood one hundred yards away as they pressed on through the raging storm, and as they drew closer to the mill they could hear the shouts, and above on a trail leading to the hilltops was what Doctor Phillar assumed to be the fleeing form of the murderer Yannick Krausser. He climbed higher and higher, with the Reverend Carroll's flock beating fast on his heels, yelling and screaming at the top of their lungs. Inspector Pendergrass grew more and more concerned as they slowly gained ground on the angry mob, Yannick would climb up until he reached the end of the trail at the very edge of the cliffs overlooking a large rock quarry at the bottom.  When he could run no farther, he turned to face the men coming up the trail toward him. In desperation, he began to pick up large rocks the size of small boulders and lobbed them down the hillside at the angry mob. The first one struct the man standing next to The Reverend Carroll on the head killing him instantly, several of the men carried with them Flintlock pistols, and took aim from behind the cover of trees and began firing several shots, three of which struck Yannick in the chest causing him to stagger but not fall.

The remainder charged up the hill with clubs in hand and attacked the wounded giant with ferocity, He fought back, and caught The Reverend Carroll off guard and grabbed him by the throat, the frightened giant hoisted him up over his head and another shot rang out striking him in the neck, he staggered once again backwards and finally fell from the top of the cliff taking the reverend with him. Doctor Phillar and Inspector Pendergrass made their way down to the rock quarry as a silent mob began to gather on the cliffs above the quarry, below them Doctor Phillar and Inspector Pendergrass arrived at the bodies that then lye still and lifeless in the quarry, both men looked up at the thinning mob which had begun to disperse and head back down the hillside. Sebastian Mills finally appeared at their side.

"And so it is done." he said, "The mob has murdered the monster."

Doctor Phillar knelt down beside the lifeless body of Yannick Krausser, and removed the hooded cloak from his head. He curiously looked over at the body of The deceased Reverend Ellery Carroll. He rose to his feet, turned slowly toward Inspector Pendergrass and Sebastian Mills.

"But are we with absolutely certainty, young Sebastian, sure of which monster they killed?"

"I don't understand."

"We came here under the banner of the law to arrest a murderer, they came here to root out and murder a man they perceived as a monster, but was in all reality a man nonetheless. A man regardless of guilt or innocence that deserved the same fate as any other protected by the law regardless of what his appearance bore, a fair trial. But what instead was hunted like a rabid animal by a mob who let the emotions of their fanatical leader, allow them to submit all logic and reason to hatred, anger and fear, and now what do we have Young Sebastian? not a dead monster, but two men, not one, who have died on the mantle of mob justice."  

They returned to the carriage, the storm subsided, and howls of angry men no longer carried on the wind, there were still bodies to collect, and understanding achieving, and questions still unanswered would have to wait for another day to be addressed, and so they turned back in the direction of Northwich, leaving all present to ponder the reality of monsters, those who hide and stalk their prey in the shadows of the world, and those who hide behind the malice and fear that dwells in the human heart, and what differences may lie between.      

    ~Scratch A.B.T. copyright© 2022.~  

Doctor Phillar and The Monster Of Bella Doras... (Part Three.)

 

They arrived in front of the gray stone building that housed The Grimsby Tavern just before eleven in the morning, and even at such an hour for a tavern it was bustling with activity, when they walked through the door, the older gentleman behind the bar immediately took notice of them. He was a short fellow with a round face and bald to thinning hair from the top of his head to the sides, his round spectacles made him look much older, his name was Julius Furlong the owner and proprietor of The Grimsby Tavern, he gave Dr. Gideon Phillar a nervous look, as he approached the bar they exchanged a warm greeting before Julius informed him that one of his barmaids was missing. Her husband came looking for her when she failed to go home last evening, and no one had seen her since the evening previous. He told them that there had been a photographer come through town a couple of months ago, and he paid them to take everyone's picture at the Grimsby tavern, He showed Dr. Phillar the photograph and pointed to a woman in the picture.

"Third one from the end Gideon, her name is Bessie Todd, Bessie's a good girl, everyone likes her, likes her husband, good people. lord help us. I pray she's okay."

He leaned forward up against the bar, looking Julius Furlong in the eye then.

"Julius, have you seen any strangers that may have looked out of place come through here recently?"

"Not as I can recall, anyone in particular?"

"No, but he would be tall, very tall, barefoot, disheveled clothing, perhaps. He would look different, stand out."

"No… No one like that, I would have remembered seeing such a man. do you think this man you are looking for murdered those four women?"

"Nothing as of yet is for certain, we are only in the early stages of making our enqueries."

Julius Furlong leaned forward.

"I heard Inspector Pendergrass himself say that the four women were all murdered in the early to mid-evening, if that tells you anything." He said.

Then it was Dr. Phillar's turn to lean forward.

"Indeed it does Julius, it tells me our fiend hides under the cover of darkness to hunt his prey, probably keeping to the alley's to conceal his identity, waiting for just the right time to strike."

He nodded toward the photograph.

"I will look into Bessie's disappearance as well, Julius, Thank you for your time, my friend."

They returned to the buggy and headed to Pemberton Row, he was going to need to be speaking with Inspector Pendergrass to see if there were any new developments on his end. They arrived at 1411 Pemberton Row just before the one o'clock hour, they both went inside to see if Pendergrass was on the premises, the front desk officer motioned them to Pendergrass's office the three exchanged brief greetings before Doctor Phillar and Sebastian sat down in front of him. The good inspector did not look pleased, he passed the morning newspaper to Gideon.

"Have you read it yet?" He asked.

"Yes Nathaniel, I have, are you aware of the missing girl?"

Nathaniel Pendergrass gave him a surprised look.

"No Gideon, I was not informed, Who is she?" 

Doctor Phillar passed him the photograph.

"The third girl from the left side of the photograph, she's a barmaid at the Grimsby, her name is Bessie Todd, her husband said she never made it home last night."

"I'll keep my ears to the ground, and have someone look about to see what they can dig up. in the meantime I have a new problem all my own, someone in this office is relaying information to the newspaper, I had only dictated this information about increasing patrols of the city watch in an internal memo, we are already terribly undermanned in this department now I have to commit to spreading our resources even thinner. Someone in this office is spying for the newspaper."

Two officers entered, and while they discussed several details with Pendergrass, Doctor Phillar busied himself with reading some more of the stories from the morning newspaper, there were two articles about the church of Ellery Carroll, there were two stories about the county commissions meeting on Thursday, another about the Old Crown road bridge being washed away and when the possible rebuilding could get underway, there were a few personal ads taken out about missing pets, about people needing gardeners, and the Prager Butcher shop had an employment position for a new Butcher's apprentice opening up in the nearby village of Bella Doras. It was then that something odd struck Doctor Gideon Phillar, he patiently listened and waited for the two officers to leave, He calmly placed the newspaper in front of Nathaniel Pendergrass, he gave Doctor Phillar a puzzled look.

"Nathaniel, I believe I may have just happened upon something that we may have overlooked. Were all four of the murder victims from Northwich?"

Inspector Pendergrass removed a stack of papers from his desk drawer, bound together in a paper folder, he opened them up to read, his stare slowly glided up and down each page studying the information carefully. His eyes slowly rose to meet Doctor Phillar's.

"None of the Victims were from Northwich, Three of them brought carriages from the village of Bella Doras, the fourth rode a carriage from Papridge a coach station between here and there. None of them were from here, Gideon." 

"And perhaps neither is our murderer, perhaps all four of our victims were followed here from Bela Doras, and it is becoming increasingly likely that they may have all four crossed paths with him somewhere in the village because he lives and works there. And they may have conducted daily business with him, he may have been studying each of their movements days before following them here and ultimately murdering them." 

It was the first solid lead in the case that Inspector Pendergrass would have, there was still the missing girl to consider, He would have to concentrate further on finding her while Doctor Phillar and Sebastian Mills would take the buggy the following morning and drive to Bella Doras. It was late afternoon when the returned to Blackpool Terrace, it was later in the evening, one hour past nightfall, when Doctor Phillar heard a rapid knock on the side entrance door of the building nearest the kitchen. He rose from his chair and went to investigate when he swung open the door, even in the failing light he could see it was a young woman panic-stricken, she asked him if he was Doctor Gideon Phillar, the one who was helping the police, when he nodded to the affirmative the young woman told him that her friend Bessie was in hiding in her flat and a man who had been following behind her after she left the Grimsby Tavern the previous night tried to grab her, she got loose and ran to her house where once inside they locked the doors and shuttered the windows, Bessie Todd was terrified but still very much alive. 

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright© 2022.~

Doctor Phillar and The Monster Of Bella Doras... ( Part Two.)

 

They returned to the black coach where Gideon Phillar instructed Maxwell to take them to his home and office, he climbed up into the coaches drivers box and released the brake and guided the four horse team into a wide turn away from Pemberton Row and onto Market Street they went two blocks, and then north on Hyde Street to 213 Blackpool Terrace. It was a long three-story blackened brick building at the end of town which even housed a private driveway with a separate coach house, with coachman's quarters. He had come from one of the wealthiest families in the entire region, but as a child he was simply a skinny sickly looking young boy, but as he grew, he became quite tall and muscular before he was sent to Becksford Academy where he would study to become a doctor. Dr. Gideon Phillar fresh out of school was already a wealthy man, and he purchased the building that would become his home and laboratory and office some twenty-four years ago. Now he was  now a bit older and wiser and now, having discovered a curiosity and talent for calculation, deduction and mystery, he had added Detective to his resume. 

They entered through the side entrance of the building, he lit an oil lamp just inside the door and he with Sebastian Mills in tow made their way down the darkened hallway to the study where he lit three more lanterns around the room, while Sebastian set about building a fire in the fireplace. Maxwell had followed behind with their luggage, Dr. Phillar instructed the driver to go to the kitchen to see the cook and have them set about making dinner, as it was still early on, and he was quite certain that Annie Greenstreet would still be awake. After the fire was lit, he sat down in his chair, putting tobacco in his smoking pipe. He stared into the fire for several minutes watching it dance across the logs, his eyes raised slowly to meet the curious stare of young Sebastian Mills, The cook Annie Greenstreet appeared at his side and announced that she had put a lamb roast in the wood oven in two and a half hours previous and dinner would be ready in an hour or so, he nodded and thanked her. She smiled and turned to leave, Sebastian had lit his own pipe and  had become lost in thought as well.

"What is troubling you, Sebastian?" Dr. Phillar asked.

"What madman kills a woman in an alley, and makes good his escape, barefoot, in the rain?"

"Mmmm, and across a muddy field no less. So tell me, Mr. Mills, when you looked at the decedents body, what did it tell you?" Dr. Phillar asked.

"The tissue on her body seemed to be torn or ripped, rather cut by a surgeon's blade." Sebastian said.

Dr. Phillar took a slow drag on the pipe, his eyes never leaving the flames.

"Mmmmm, and he stabbed her five times, three in the heart, once in the liver and when she spun around and away from him, he stabbed her once more in the kidneys as she fell up against the wall. He stabbed her in three of her major organs in the failing light in a rainy alley with slippery footing."

Sebastian Mills cast him a sideways glance. listening to his every word carefully. Now Dr. Phillar's gaze had raised to his.

"This man, has at the very least a rudimentary understanding of anatomy." He said coldly.

"A medical doctor or surgeon perhaps?"

"Mmmmmm, no my instincts tell me different, we must visit the Grimsby Tavern in the morning Sebastian. I have questions that must be asked, come now, let us get some tea before dinner."

They dined on roasted lamb and potatoes and carrots with red wine and fresh baked bread. they all sat around the table and dined together, and although Annie Greenstreet thought it improper for a house servant to dine with the master of the home, Dr. Phillar thought of the situation differently, as he always had, he insisted that she join them at the table for dinner, to which, as usual she reluctantly agreed, after all, he had known Annie for a long portion of his life and he considered her a dear friend as well. He would instruct Annie Greenstreet to not leave the residence unless in the company of he, Sebastian or Maxwell, and to especially guard against it at night. At least for as long as the murderous fiend was on the loose, it wasn't safe for a woman of any age to be walking the city streets alone at night, even with that being said Pendergrass had vowed the day previous to double the patrols of the city watch, and with an increased presence of the patrolmen, it would make it increasingly difficult to catch the culprit in the act of committing murder. They all retired for the evening, Maxwell went outside and secured the coach house and gates to the driveway closed the shutters on all windows of the house before going to bed for the night.

The next morning they rose to a breakfast of eggs and bacon and fried potatoes with glasses of mixed juice, while Sebastian collected the morning paper, he walked to the breakfast table shaking his head and handed the paper to Dr. Phillar. the sprawling headline read: "Murder most Foul! Chief Inspector vows larger police presence on city streets!" As he read the headline, a growing look of concern came over his face. Sebastian made the observation that they were making the task of finding whoever was responsible much harder, providing their murderer knew how to read. After breakfast, he had Maxwell hook up the two horse buggy and he and Sebastian would be off to the Grimsby Tavern while Maxwell would stay behind with Annie, helping her with whatever she needed as she saw fit. Dr. Phillar and Sebastian climbed up in the seat of the buggy as Sebastian leaned forward and grabbed the reins, he prompted the animals forward, and soon they were through the gates Hyde street heading south toward Grimsby Tavern, All the way there, Gideon Phillar thought of many questions and to whom he would ask them. For a man as large as the one they were looking for, hiding from public view of any sort would be a task worthy of a ghost. 

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright© 2022.~

Doctor Phillar and The Monster of Bela Doras... (Part One)

 

The old mill road would take them through several treacherous twist and turns, up into and through the woods for many miles before they would reach the township of Portshead on the other side of the Wintervale woodlands at the very edge of the sea. But on this cold, dark and rainy autumn afternoon fate would take a fateful turn. The long black coach slowly rolled to a stop on the muddy road, the coachman from beneath his covered perch and stepped out onto his floorboard to see a fallen tree in the middle of the road. He carefully got down from his seat and went to inspect it, but what he saw some thirty feet on the other side made his heart all but stop beating. The bridge that would take them safely across the Pines river had been completely washed away by the torrential rains. He returned to the coach, the six horse team were becoming impatient and began to fidget and snort, The coachman moved to the door and pulled himself up on the side step of the coach to see Doctor Gideon Phillar looking down at him.

“What is the problem, Maxwell?” He asked.

“There’s a fallen tree in the middle of the road Doctor Phillar sir, but beyond that the rain has washed Pine's river bridge completely away, we shall have to turn back to Northwich, we will not be arriving in Portshead in the evening as we had hoped sir!” He yelled.

“Very well then, get us back to Northwich as soon as possible.” He answered.

The coachman returned to the front of the four horse team and took the lead horse by the bridle and carefully guided them into a wide turn until the coach was facing in the opposite direction. He climbed back up into his seat as the rain continued to softly rap against the top of the coach, and then it was back to Northwich with them. Inside the coach Doctor Phillar and his young assistant each from their seat would stare out into the cold dark rainy afternoon, their business in Portshead would have to wait for another day, they would be returning home instead. Although the city of Northwich wasn’t a sprawling metropolis in any sense, it was home to over some twenty-two thousand citizens, and completely surrounded by the woodlands which covered most of the small valley beneath the Wintervale. As they arrived at the outskirts of Northwich nightfall was already long set in, and they could hear the sounds of a distant ringing bell, and as the long black coach once again slowly rolled to a stop, Maxwell the coachman, through the fog, could see a lantern approaching them. A tall, thin young man appeared in front of the team of horses, waving his lantern high into the air.

 “Who is in the carriage, sir?” He bellowed in a high-pitched voice.

Maxwell leaned forward in his seat.

“This is the coach of Doctor Gideon Phillar. What is your business here, young sir?” He shouted back.

“There was another body found tonight, a young woman, in the alley behind the Grimsby Tavern! Murder is in the air this night, sir! Murder most foul!” The young man cried.

Doctor Gideon Phillar climbed down from the coach, careful to step on the grass beside of the road rather than be sent sprawling into the mud. A younger man in his company followed suit, He was shorter than six foot, he too was thin, with long black wildly flowing locks, wearing a well tailored suit, rounded spectacles sat on the bridge of his nose. He, too, stepped down onto the wet grass.

“Murder you say young man?” Doctor Phillar asked him. 

“Yes Doctor Phillar. Behind the Grimsby tavern, another young woman with her very flesh torn open, as though she were ravaged by a wild beast, sir! Murder most foul, I say!” He yelled.

Sebastian Mills turned to face Doctor Phillar.

“Another young woman, Gideon. This would be the fourth in as many nights, it would appear as though there IS a murderer in our midst.” He said in a concerned tone.

“Do not say that too loud young Sebastian Inspector Pendergrass often consults with the Reverend Ellery Carroll on such matters, they will no doubt have the entire city in search of monsters and ghoulish abominations of every sort.” He turned to face Maxwell Jasons. “We must go to the Grimsby tavern quickly then, Maxwell, we must be allowed to survey the scene before the Reverend Carroll’s flock destroys valuable evidence.” He told the coachman.

They all returned to the coach, Doctor Phillar and Sebastian Mills both returned to the passenger compartment, while the young man with the lantern sat up front beside of Maxwell. He urged the horse team forward just as the rain began to slow, inside the coach, Doctor Gideon Phillar loaded tobacco into his pipe and lit it as he stared out into the falling night. By the small vibrations coming through the floor boards he could tell that they were now traveling the cobblestoned streets of Northwich, they stopped on Innsbrook avenue just east of Crullfeld street. As anticipated, the good Reverend Ellery Carroll was already addressing a quickly growing crowd. With torches held high, many were calling out for answers, answers that the Northwich police department had not yet discovered. Doctor Phillar stepped down from the coach followed by Sebastian Mills, Standing to the left of and behind the Reverend Carroll was a tall slenderly built, well-dressed man, he had brown hair that traveled to his collar and had dark green piercing eyes, that seemed to see everything around him all at once. As they drew closer, Doctor Phillar could see that it was Inspector Nathaniel Pendergrass. The two exchanged a casual greeting as the Inspector ushered them into the dark alley.

“I’ve been expecting you Gideon, The body has already been transported to the morgue, but I can show you where we found her, a dastardly deed to be certain, there are no footprints, the killer has left nothing behind to betray his identity, the villain once again has left no trace.” He said.

Behind them in the mouth of the alley, the Reverend Ellery Carroll’s voice was raised to a fevered pitch, calling for the head of the monster that had butchered the four women. The crowd was captivated by his tone and began to shout in agreement, Doctor Gideon Phillar however, was not convinced at all that this was the work of an inhuman monster- but that of a calculating, cold-blooded murderer. He and Sebastian Mills walked from the opposite end of the alley, Inspector Nathaniel Pendergrass then carrying a torch also followed along, Gideon motioned for him to bring the light closer and the Inspector handed him the torch, he knelt down at the edge of the street under the window awning of the building across from the now closed Grimsby tavern, slowly he lowered the torch closer to the cobblestone.

“There!” He pointed. “Human blood beneath this awning, not yet washed away by the rain, The murderer must have passed this way.” He raised his finger, pointing across the street. “He would not have passed by any of these buildings during business hours for fear of detection, my guess would be that he crossed over into that vacant lot over there and escaped undetected through those trees on the other side.” He said.

Together he and Sebastian Mills with Inspector Pendergrass in tow walked to the edge of the vacant lot. There was nothing there in the grass and weeds to speak of, but farther out in the lot where the ground became muddy he found what he was looking for. A series of large footprints moving away from the murder scene, very large footprints, fifteen or perhaps even sixteen inches in length. And very wide. He lowered the torch to the ground to afford himself a better look, his eyes rose to scan the darkened forest, it was almost as if he could feel the killer's eye studying their every move. He motioned for Sebastian to move closer and instructed him to make notations by torchlight as he relayed important information to him.

“These footprints are very large, much larger than those of a normal man, they are quite deep and there are severely rounded indentations on the heels and the sides of the foot, suggesting that whoever made these prints may suffer from a severe deformity on both feet.” He stood slowly. “If these were indeed made by our murderer, I can tell you two things positively, Inspector. Whoever committed these heinous acts is very, very large, and at the time that he made good his escape-he was barefoot. I would very much like to inspect that body now.” He told him.

They returned to the black coach where Maxwell was waiting for them, they all boarded after Inspector  Pendergrass had instructed Maxwell on where to take them. They travelled along the cobblestone street down Upchurch Avenue until they reached the six story red brick building at 1411 Pemberton Row that housed the police department. Maxwell stopped the coach and the three men got out and proceeded to the front entrance. The morgue was at the bottom of the side stairwell they entered the double wooden doors as Pendergrass led Phillar and Sebastian to the table where the body was being stored, Pendergrass nodded to the coroner and he pulled back the sheet covering the body. Almost immediately Phillar took notice of something, there were several stab wounds in the chest and lower abdomen, the cuts that were ripped open were actually the result of the murderer using a dull blade rather than a sharpened one, there were strangulation marks on her throat but her neck wasn’t broken, and then he would find the biggest clue of all, underneath her fingernails there were pieces of flesh. Doctor Gideon Phillar slowly looked up at Inspector Pendergrass and then at Sebastian Mills. He stood upright.

“The first women in each of their attacks suffered broken necks.” He returned the cover over the body. “She did not have a broken neck, but our murderer did attempt to strangle her. The flesh under her fingernails tells me that she tried to fight back, but it only served to anger him further and that is when he stabbed her multiple times. The dull blade ripped away her flesh every time he stabbed her, in a severe upward motion. which tells me that he was much taller than her,  well over six foot, maybe even closer to seven.. So Inspector- what we are left with is we have a very, large murdering fiend on our hands, he is a very very large man, with severe deformities on both feet, and perhaps on his body and head as well, and the most dangerous aspect of all involving our killer is he is filled with a terrible rage, and given the opportunity he will kill again, of that I am quite certain.”

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright© 2022.~

Uncle Twisty's Carnival Parts 1 & 2 (Revised)

There is a cold silence followed closely by an awkward feeling of emptiness. His eyes are closed tightly, as he takes another drink of whiskey, and slowly he feels himself falling off of the sofa, catching the bottle before it ever touch’s the floor. The cold icy voice returns, but he doesn’t open his eyes for fear of what he will see.“Ohhhhh Jack?” the voice says mockingly. “Jack Ryder… wake up, wake uuuup.”He slowly opens his eyes to the same vision that he saw before.“It’s a fucking clown.” He thinks to himself “An evil looking clown at that.”It face covered up with thick pancake makeup, made to look like a skeleton of sorts, and it wore a dark colored pen stripe suit, with a black derby perched on top of its head, and the fucker was taunting him.
“So. Tell me Jack, how did you arrive at this place? How in the hell did you get so fucked up aye?”  

He slowly pulls himself up off of the floor momentarily leaving the bottle there, he straightens up and slowly his eyes begin to focus. The clown is staring strait through him.

“How did I arrive at what place?”

It slowly comes forward. Toward him, its arms slowly opening up, its hands, its fingers slowly extending, making that strange little Ta Da gesture.

  “Look around you Jack. Does this look like home to you? You are definitely NOT in Kansas anymore Dorothy!”

He looks around and strange. He don’t remember picking the bottle up, but there it is in his hands, and slowly it slips free from his grasp, he hears it hit the dirt, making a clinking glassy sound as it lands. He looks at his surroundings. He is out of doors now standing in a clearing surrounded by a tent city of sorts, in a heavily wooded area, it is slightly past dusk. He looks at the clown and then at the giant tents that seem to stretch out for miles.

“What in the hell is this supposed to be?”

“This is where you belong Jack. Its going to be your new home soon. And I’m going to give you the grand tour.”

It leads him to the very edge of the closest largest tent, he can vaguely detect the sounds of slightly offbeat carnival music playing in the distance. He closes his eyes, and the smell of cheap whiskey, cigar smoke and the stench of human urine overload his senses, forcing him to open his eyes. The clown throws back the flap of the door of the first tent and the flood of smoke almost consumes him.

“Welcome Jack Ryder!! To Uncle Twisty’s carnival of lost souls!!”

For what Its Worth.

He strains his eyes to peer through the thick canopy of smoke, slowly moving, almost involuntarily forward. Dim lights slowly become brighter through the haze and when he steps into the clear he is standing in a barroom full of People, all drinking and smoking. He feels the clowns cold clammy fingers grasp his elbow, its icy cold breath whispering in his ear.

“Uncle Twisty’s children Jack. They’re home here too.”

He turns to face the voice.

“You're Uncle twisty?”

He smiles. Slowly moving through the room, everything has stopped now, the people look real but are as still as mannequins. Time has stood still. Jack Ryder looks at his surroundings and then at the clown that calls himself Uncle Twisty.

“Who are these people really?” He asks.

“Dregs of the earth Jack. The lowest of the low. The downtrodden. The morally bankrupt. Hopeless, pitiful, street urchins. Victims and predators. All under the same roof, locked inside the same void, in a society that has long since abandoned them. This is the shit Jack. End of the line. Bottom of the well.”

He walks by a young woman sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, his eyes slowly look her up and down and then return their attention to Jack Ryder.

“Look at her Jack. Her name is Elisabeth Johns, Young, beautiful, but sad to say, she’s already damaged goods.”

He smiles slyly at Jack Ryder.

Jack walks around her checking her out carefully.

“Damaged How Twisty?”

He pulls up a stool beside of the young woman.

“It’s the eyes Jack, it always starts in the eyes, the unmistakable vacancy. The emptiness. She’s only 22 and she’s already lost to the only world she has ever known. She was raped by her step father when she was twelve, and was continually molested on a daily basis until she ran away from home the first time at sixteen. Her mother was so fucked up drunk all of the time that she never saw it or didn’t care. So she did the obvious.”

Jack Ryder stares at the young woman.

“The Obvious?”

“Booze. Drugs. Sex… Hell whatever it took to numb the pain, pain that will never likely leave her until she dies. She won’t live to see 30. Most likely not even 28.”

He turns to face Jack Ryder.

“But you Jack- You know all about that, don’t you? Numbing the pain. How many times a night do you see her face Jack. Your wife wasn’t she? What was her name? Mab-” He stops. “No… Madelyn, Madelyn Ryder. A car accident wasn’t it Jack? So how did YOU numb your pain the first time?”

He hangs his head slightly remembering his own pain. But he doesn’t answer.

“You see Jack. The thing is- The longer you choose to stay in that bottle, you can only drink yourself in ONE direction, and once you reach the bottom, your done.”

He leans forward and whispers into Jack Ryder’s ear once again.

“Welcome home Jack.”





He fumbles in his pocket searching for the one thing that will calm his frazzled nerves. He lights the cigarette and pulls the smoke into his lungs with a deep breath, all the while watching Uncle Twisty. The people that lined the length of the bar haven’t moved since they entered the room all save the pale white complexioned bar tender, with the deep dark eyes. Uncle Twisty leans towards Jack Ryder.

“Yeah Jack. Even Eddie has issues.”

He lifts the cigarette to his lips and takes in a slow drag.

“Eddie? Do you mean him?” He jerks his thumb toward the bartender.

Twisty motions to the cigarette, and Jack obliges the whim. He gives him a light and watches curiously as the clown seems to savor the first drag with a child like enthusiasm. He exhales the smoke, and rolls his eyes towards Jack.

“Let me tell you about Eddie Jack.. Eddie has been fucked up since day one, childhood obesity, that’s what got him first. Then everybody and their brother has been kicking his ass since, abusive bullies in and out of his family circle. He became withdrawn and sullen, a brooding baby boy. Fat. Lazy. unwilling or unable to ever function with anyone in the outside world in any social capacity. One day his mother flipped out and took to beating him with a coat hanger, because he stole a candy bar from her bedroom vanity, he was only ten.”

He pauses to take a drag off the Marlboro. Jack studies Eddie but says nothing.“He took his first drink ten days after that beating, and from there ventured into hard drugs. Cocaine. Heroin. Crack. You name it, he tried it. Eddie? He became the very demon that murdered his own innocence, from there it was petty crime, stealing to support his heroin habit. Pathetic, he went to juvenile hall and got the shit beat out of him every other day for a year. But here Jack. Here. Eddies home.”

He stiffens up and lets Twisty’s words roll around for a time, as if he were trying to taste them.

“You call this Home? I’d rather burn in hell.”

Twisty’s smile widens.

“Ahh Jack. Poor, poor Jack.. You still don’t get it do you? Eddie belongs here, with people like him, here the playing field is truly level. Here there is no rich. no poor. There are only lost souls. People beaten down in life by the same love and pain that promised to save them, in the end Jack? They all end up here because this is what they have created for themselves as a result of the poor choices that they have made.”

“Bullshit!”

“Oh really? Think about it Jack. Did anyone force you to take that first drink? Or was it something that you did of your own volition? Was it desperation that caused you to look for a way to take the pain away? Or was that just an excuse?” He chuckles coldly.

Jack Ryder lights another cigarette and stares at Twisty.

“You see Jack Its like this, every journey that you take in your life begins with just one step. And when it comes to the pain of battling ones personal demons, it simply boils down to making the right choice Jack.”

He lights himself another.

“You either take that first step towards the cure, or the disease. But no one, and I do mean no one, can make that choice for you.”

Two for The Road

He closes his eyes, and in his mind Jack Ryder reflects on his life’s decisions, what could have been different? Could he have possibly spared her from the accident take took her life? He hears a faint ringing sound at first it is distant, and slowly it draws closer. Its- The telephone? He opens his eyes slowly and he finds himself standing in his own living room. He picks up the phone, lifting to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Jack? Are you there?”

He recognizes the voice it is Madelyn’s best friend Annie Jackson, she is crying.

“Yes Annie I’m here.”

“Jack my god Its Maddy, she’s been in an accident, My god Jack. She didn’t make it. She’s-dead.”

He feels his hands go numb, as the phone slips from his fingers. The room has gone black and now all that he hears is thunder, he looks around and he is standing on the front lawn as the rain begins to fall, soaking his clothes. He looks to the sky and wonders, why is he reliving the most horrible night of his life.

“Choice’s Jack. Its all about the choices.”

His legs give out as he begins to sob, falling down on his knees. The rain stops, and now the terrible cold settles in around him, and now he is lying on a cold marble floor a single light descends from the ceiling, ten feet from him he sees the bottle standing there alone. Beside it on its side there is an empty glass.

“Do you remember how you numbed the pain the first time Jack?”

He slowly moves his body across the floor until his is sitting with the bottle out in front of him. He stares at it for a time.

“Choices Jack. You either walk toward the disease or you walk towards the cure.”

He lifts the empty glass and stares into it, but finds no easy answers. He draws a deep breath and slowly turns the glass upside down and places it on the floor next to the bottle. He rises from the cold marble floor and turns to the door. He sees the face of Twisty smiling at him.

“Ahhh Jack, I see you’ve made yourself another choice.”

He turns to face Twisty.

“I don’t belong here. Madelyn wouldn't want this for me.”

He steps through the smoke and he is back in the bar again, only this bar he knows, it is a dive bar called, "Chesterfields." He has spent many a night here trying to drown his demons. Then he sees her sitting at the end of the bar by herself, so he asks to join her. They engage in small talk and Jack Ryder asks the beautiful young woman to join him for a cup of coffee at the diner down the street, and she reluctantly agrees. As they step outside into the cold night air a soft rain begins to fall.

“By the Way.” he tells her. “I’m Jack. Jack Ryder.”

She smiles, her beautiful blues eyes seem to spark to life.

“Elisabeth. Elisabeth Johns.”

The cab pulls up to the curb beside of them and the thin young man with the pale skin wearing the black derby smiles slyly, and asks them if they would like a ride. They decide to walk.






Scratch.. A.B.T Copyright © 2007.