Fate

English Countryside 1850’s

It was the fourth time that week that he had had the same nightmare. He was three years old again and he and his sister were in the corner of the old library. His fathers body lay across the room in a distorted position and his mother was standing in front of him in her night gown screaming out, “Kill me, kill me! Don’t harm my children; they have done nothing to deserve this. Kill me!” He didn’t remember too much after that except the trail of ruby red blood from his mother’s throat and the black boots of the man who killed his father and mother.

He awoke in a cold sweat and tumbled out of his bed in a heap of sheets. Quickly he untangled himself and crawled over to the toilet basin and threw up in it. When he felt he was finished he laid his head against the cool tile of the bathroom and tried to clear his mind of painful images. He soon realized that it was no use and stood and walked back into the bedchamber.

Lighting a candle the man searched for his riding boots and an overcoat. Upon finding the items he placed them on and flung open the chamber door. The man strolled down the candle lit hallway to the grand staircase. He quickly stormed down the stairs only pausing at the entrance to the library, painful images flashed before his eyes causing his stomach to churn once again. The man spun on the heels of his boots and took great strides to the heavy oak entrance hall doors. In one fluid motion he took hold of the brass handle and opened the door.

He ran down the steps and out into the field where the stable was held. It was early morning, the sun had not risen only a faint light showed over the horizon. The fields were wet with the early morning dew and the nightfall’s rain. Mud quickly splattered the base of the man’s boots and the hem of his trousers still he stalked onward.

Upon his arrival at the stables he was quick to grab the saddle and reigns for his black stallion Rochester. He threw the saddle onto his muscular shoulders and walked to the keep of his stallion. Rochester was his favorite horse, he was the strongest and fastest and responded well to the hands of his master. In his keep was the stable boy, he was grooming the horse and did not hear the man approach.

“John move aside.” The man directed toward the stable boy.

“I’m so sorry Master Buckland, I didn’t not hear you.” The boy backed away with his head bent down in shame.

“John, I will be away for a few days, make sure you are to tell Mr. Champion and make sure that upon my arrival home that he has found a teacher for my sister’s niece. The girl needs a proper education and I will not stand for her to play with dolls in her chamber any longer.”

‘Master Buckland, I believe that the deed has been done, a man has responded to the ad placed in the village. And Mr. Champion has assured me that he is a man who is of many tongue and intelligence.”

“Very well, make sure that he is to start immediately, I will not tolerate my niece’s daydreams any longer.”

“But of course Master Buckland.” John said as he bowed his head.

The man then mounted his stallion and rode out of the stables into the morning fog. He was unsure where he was riding to but knew that he couldn’t stand to be in Berkshire any longer. He had lost too many he cared dearly for there, his mother, father, recently his sister. He was so lost in thought that he almost trampled a man on the road. He quickly pulled on the reigns and was able to avoid the man who too tried to avoid the horse by falling into the mud. Master Buckland looked back as he rode on and wondered who the devil would be walking out here at the early in the morn. He didn’t stop or turn around to see if the man was okay but just continued riding, he didn’t care about the man he didn’t care much about anyone.

Chapter 2

“Miss. Georgiana the noon day sun is a risin’ and you is in bed? Tut tut tut! If yours Uncle was to finds out, mmmm girl! Yous you be in for a whopin’!”

“Gracie, if that would be true then where is my uncle? I don’t hear the pounding of his feet in the hallway?”

“Miss. Georgiana hes is left. He is gone away. Now Mr. Champion has found yous a teacher. He will be arrivin’ very soon and you besst not bes in that bed when he’s come!”

Grace heard a little sigh and then the tiny feet of the little girl emerge from under the feather down comforter and hit the floor. The tiny feet shuffled across the dark mahogany wooden floors to the bath chamber. Grace smiled and whistled a little tune as she walked over to the overbearing wardrobe and choose an outfit for the Masters niece.

When Georgiana reappeared Grace beckoned her toward her to help tie her into her dress. Grace was lacing up Georgiana’s corset when she heard booming sound of Mr. Champion outside in the drive.

“Its sounds likes yours teachers is heres Miss. Georgiana.”

Georgiana ran over to the window and looked down into the gravel drive where Mr. Champion was waving his hands about shouting and pointing at the man that stood before him.
The man was exceptionally tall and was wearing a long dark overcoat that reached past his knees. He wore dark pants with the hem tucked deep into his worn boots. All seemed normal about the man except that he was coated from head to toe in a thick layer of mud. It almost looked as if he had laid with the pigs the night before. His hair had a fine layer of dried mud soot, and his face was smeared with dirt. All that stood out from the man that wasn’t brown or black were the crystal blue eyes that seemed to illuminate his very persona.

“Oh Gracie! Look that man there! He is absolutely filthy! And he has no horse? He must be a beggar! I do hope Mr. Champion gives him some scraps and sends him on his way, he is an atrocious sight to behold!”

“Miss. Georgiana, I do believe yous are lookin’ to make some enemy’s with the world. Come here child, I need to finish dressin’ yous and then yous need to head down to Mr. Berrymans in the kitchen. You knows he doesn’t like it whens he has to make yours breakfast afters everyone else.!”

Georgiana rolled her eyes and walked back to Grace for her to finish.


“Good Lord! Just look at you! How do you expect me to talk to you when you look like like the scum of the earth?”

“Sir, I was on my way here, clean as a whistle when a man came charging at me on a horse and nearly killed me. Thanks to my quick thinking I was able to avoid the tragic death and managed to find the only mud hole on the path. That is why I stand here before you covered in what you call the scum of the earth.”

“You may refer to me as Mr. Champion. I am the Masters butler. I am the man who saw to it that you were hired to teach the masters niece. Now if you wish for it to stay so I would recommend you not disrespect me. Now leave your trunk in the hall, I will have John our stable boy bring it to your chamber. If you will please follow me, I will show you to you chamber where upon I would highly recommend you bath.” Mr. Champion gave the man a cold stare and simply turned and walked into the home.

The man with the blue eyes stuck his tongue out and then followed pursuit of Mr. Champion into the estate.

He was lead to his chamber and pointed in the direction of the claw-footed bathtub and then left alone.


“Oy! Champion, come here ole’ man!”

“Ahh Mr. Berryman how are you this morn?” Mr. Champion asked as he gave a warm pat on the back to Mr. Berryman. “Oh and who are calling old? I believe I see some gray hairs on your head.”

“What?” Mr. Berryman reached for a pan and gazed into the reflection quickly searching for the abominable gray strands. Slowly lowering the pan he shot Mr. Champion a dirty look.

“One day Mr. Champion you will be eating my fire roasted apple pig and then you might just not get up from the table, you be warned! Now that man, what come of he?”

“Nothing beside his disgusting appearance. Shows up at the door caked in mud. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Master won’t be pleased to know that his niece is being taught by a dirty commoner and he will only chastise me for it.”

“Geez, what’s the dirty scum bags name?”

“He calls himself a Mr. Martin. Well I say that Mr. Martin best be an excellent tutor or he will be gone by the scruff of his neck upon the arrival of Master.”

Chapter 3

“Excuse me, but have you seen Mr. Champion? I wish to enquire as to where I am to teach Miss. Georgiana.”

“Ah you must be a Mr. Martin then.”

“You are correct my good man, and whom are you?”

“I am Mr. Berryman, the long time cook for Master Buckland. I suspect that Mr. Champion is out dealing with John the stable boy.. I guess I should call him stable man seeing as he a wife and child, but I have known him since he a young lad and can’t seem to break the old habit.”

“I see, well I shall just take up place in the library. It seems a fitting location to teach Master Buckland’s niece. Do you know how she came to reside here? She is not that old, where are her parents?”

“That I do, but it is not my place to say. If you should wish to know I would recommend you ask the Master himself. Not that he would tell you.”

“Well thank you Mr. Berryman, I look forward to your meals and more of these err pleasant encounters.”

There was a loud clang as a knife was swung and sliced through the chunk of meat on the counter. “ I too Mr. Martin.”

Mr. Martin flashed a quick nervous smile in the direction of Mr. Berryman and took off down the hallway. He was unsure of what to think of Mr. Berryman, he seemed pleasant for the first bit and then turned cold and masochistic. A flash of blonde curls disappeared around a corner up ahead and the sound of running succeeding. Mr. Martin smiled and chuckled out loud, he had a good feeling that his pupil was spying on him and had almost been caught doing so.

“Mr. Martin! There you are.” Mr. Champion came strolling up the hallway with a bundle of parchment, quills and inkwells in his arms.

“Here you are, supply to teach Miss. Georgiana, I have had the chalkboard brought up from town and Mr. Berryman informs me that you wish to use the err library? If that be I will have the board brought in there, unless you want to use a different room.”

“Yes, Mr. Champion that would be my ideal location. Let me take those from your hands and I will head in there and set up.”

Mr. Champion dropped the pile of supply into the outstretched arms of Mr. Martin, gave him a short smile. “Here you are, good luck with the library.” He replied with a sly grin.

Mr. Martin was left standing in the hallway gawking at the back of Mr. Champion’s frame as he quickly stalked away. What the deuce was that? Why would he have bid me good luck with the library? Was Miss. Georgiana a problem child? Was there something wrong with the library?


“Georgiana pay attention! The snow is nothing you haven’t seen before. I know that your uncle would be very upset at your behavior and lack of attention span!”

“But, we have been here all morning, my hand tires from writing and wait a minuet, you’ve never met my Uncle.” Georgiana stuck her tongue out at Mr. Martin and threw her quill down on the table, splattering ink across her books.

It was true, Mr. Martin had been working for Master Buckland for 6 weeks now and had yet to see the mysterious man. He had been away for quite sometime, but according to Mr. Berryman it was a common occurrence. He didn’t have fond memories of Berkshire and was oft gone.

“Regardless of whether I have meet your Uncle or not, I was hired to teach you and teach you I will.” Mr. Martin took a deep breath and sighed he knew that they had been in here for quite some time. “Alright Georgiana, go get a snack from Mr. Berryman, when you have finished you are to return here, where upon your return we will pick up with your Latin.”

“Oh thank you!” Georgiana bounced out of her seat and ran out of the library, leaving Mr. Martin to shake his head and allow a small smile to emerge from his lips.

Mr. Martin took the time to examine the library while Georgiana was away; he had been teaching in the room for six weeks now and had not taken the time to examine the many books within. On the far side of the room was a grand fireplace with a hearty fire dwelling within. To the right of the fireplace was an old cherry wood desk. It had a fine gold embellish around the edges giving it sophisticated yet classy look. On top lay miscellaneous objects that were of great wealth, a marble globe, a unique pocket watch, delicate quills and an intricate inkwell that held many fine colors. There was the assortment of books and then there were a few portraits in gold frames.

One of the frames caught the attention of Mr. Martin it was a picture of a family. There was a mother and a father and two children. The children were of a very young age. What struck out was that this was drawn in the same room that Mr. Martin was standing in. It was drawn over in the corner by the worn leather chair and the tall bookshelves that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

Mr. Martin walked over to the corner running his hand over the smooth leather. It was a smart chair from the looks of it, probably had been used often but had not seen a person in many a year seeing as there was a fine layer of dust that coated the chair. Mr. Martin paused by the chair and looked up at the shelves to view the books. He started at the top and let his eyes skim downward. When his eyes got to the bottom he noticed a faint stain on the floor by the base of the shelf.

Bending down to examine further he noticed a faint red tint to the stain. He rubbed his hand against the floor and tried to conceive where this stain could have possibly come from. Images of a struggle and screaming erupted in his mind. He pictured a beautiful women like the woman in the portrait, slain and bleeding. He was so fascinated by the stain and the ideas in his mind that he didn’t hear Georgiana come back into the room.

“What are you doing in the corner? Uncle tells me I should never go over there or I would be in dire trouble.”

“What? I umm I dropped the top to the inkwell and I thought I saw it roll over here, I guess not. Now where were we in your lessons? Latin?”

Chapter 4

Mr. Martin had just finished a wonderful dinner prepared by Mr. Berryman. He stood from the grand dinning room table and made his way to the kitchens to thank him and tell him how tasteful and utterly delectable his meal was. He was walking down the stone corridor when he first heard her. Never had his ears heard such a sound that it chilled him to the bones.

He paused and waited to hear the sound again. It came again but much quieter than the first time. Mr. Martin turned in the direction of the sound and ran down the hallway in search for the woman. She sounded desperate and in a great deal of pain.

The sound came once again; it emerged from within the vast library. Mr. Martin slowed down and looked around for a ‘weapon’ of some sort to help protect him and the woman. The only thing he spotted was a medieval sword hung on the great hall walls as a decoration. Grasping the handle with both of his hands he pulled on the sword and prayed that it would come loose. To his amazement it swung free with the lone pull.

Carrying the sword in his hand he crept toward the library door as if he was ready for battle and would be able to actually swing the heavy sword. The only light emerging from within was the flickering light of the fireplace. It was casting long shadows across the old floorboards. Mr. Martin peered his head around the door and gasped at the sight before him. A woman stood in the corner of the room by the old comfortable chair. She was stunningly beautiful, dressed in a flowing white gown that accented all the right curves of her body and she had stunning mahogany curls that fell down her back. The only thing wrong with the woman was the ruby red stain in the front of her dress. The red blood seem to be coming from a deep wound and was filling in the stain on the floor, that he had seen earlier that week.

The lady in white bent down to the pool of blood and dipped her finger into the blood and then walked toward the wall and slowly wrote the letters P.H. Mr. Martin gathered whatever courage he had and walked into the room. He looked around him and saw no one else in the room besides himself and the lady in white.

“Excuse me Madame, I heard screaming and ran here. Are you alright, you seem to be bleeding profusely…” Mr. Martin noticed that the blood seemed to have only pooled into the outlines of stain. It was nowhere else on the floor but there and on the dress.

The lady in white turned toward him and stared at him for a great deal of time as if she was trying to communicate with Mr. Martin through thoughts. Mr. Martin tried again to communicate with her.

“Can you hear me? Are you hurt Madame? Who did this to you?”

The lady in white raised her hand slowly toward the wall where the initials were written. She smiled at Mr. Martin and then turned her head toward the door.

There stood a tall man in heavily worn clothes and riding boots, his eyebrows were in deep concentration and were creating wrinkles across his forehead. He looked at Mr. Martin and then back to the lady in white. He clenched his hands in to fists at his sides and pierced his lips together before walking through the library doors. He stopped only once he was within the doorway and then quickly closed the heavy doors and locked it. He looked up once again at Mr. Martin and the lady in white, but kept his eyes on the lady.

“Can you see her?”

Mr. Martin had no idea who this man was and was quite afraid of what would happen if he did not respond. The door was locked and the only way out of the room would be through the heavily pained windows. He kept his answer short and direct.

“Yes.”

“Do you know who she is?” The tall man asked.

“I do not, I only heard her cries and came to see what was amiss.”

“Sir, that woman over there is the ghost of my mother, she was murdered in this very room in that corner over there. No one else has ever seen her, but I.”

“She’s she’s not real? Then how is she writing on the wall with her blood?”

The tall man stormed over to Mr. Martin and looked him directly in the eyes and then he turned to where the lady in white had been standing. She had vanished as she had many a time before.

“What, did she write upon the wall?” The tall man asked in an overbearing manor.

“She wrote the initials P.H.” Mr. Martin said as he took a step back from the other man.

The tall man closed his eyes and appeared to be in deep concentration. Occasionally his hand would twitch and his eyelids would flutter. Abruptly he opened his extraordinarily green eyes and made his way to the handsome desk. He rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. He sat down at the desk and beckoned Mr. Martin to join him and sit in the chair opposite of the desk.

Mr. Martin hesitated for a bit and then sat down in the chair.

“I have neglected my manors, I am Mr. Buckland, I own this estate and I can gander that you work for me as my nieces teacher.” He stuck his hand out for Mr. Martin to shake.

Mr. Martin looked at the hand then grasped it with his hand. The hand was warm and large. It was a bit rough from the reins of a horses bridle but other than that it was a gracious hand that spoke of warmth and kindness.

“Mr. Buckland..”

“Please Mr. Martin I don’t feel as if you need to call me by my sir name any longer, you can call me Jonathan or Jon for short. I normally don’t allow people to refer to me as that but you.. Well you are quite different from everyone else. Neither Mr. Champion or Mr. Buckland have ever seen my mother and they have been working here for quite some time.”

“Well Jonathan, please feel free to call me by Christopher or Chris. And yes I am your niece, Georgiana’s instructor.”

“Christopher, I need to explain something’s to you. But would you allow me to clean up? I have just arrived home from a long trip and you took me away by the little incident we just had.”

“Yes, yes of course please do.”

“Thank you, while I am gone will you do me a favor and read these pages for me?”

“Um sure Mr. Buckla..I mean Jonathan.”

Jonathan smiled and passed the pages to Chris and strolled over to the door and unlocked it. He paused at the door to look back at Chris. He was a man with something about him. He seemed to almost glow. Jon then left and went to make himself presentable.

Chris looked down at the pages and noticed that it was a journal, he thought to himself how odd it was a journal and not a book. He turned the cover and saw embossed in gold on the bottom right of the front cover the initials P.H.

Chapter 5

Chris had been so engrossed in the journal that he was quite startled when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see emerald green eyes staring back at him. Chris was astonished how vivid Jon’s eyes were. They had this hypnotic power that was vastly taking hold of Chris concentration. All he saw were the incredible eyes, the soft curve of his check, the strong line of his jaw, and the angelic lips. He wanted so badly to reach up and pull his lips to his, but held back.

“Were you able to read the pages I left you?”

“Yes but, I err they weren’t really much of anything to be honest. It was a bunch of random entries of people asking the same questions. They would describe the terrible horrors they were facing and then would plead for help.”

Jon swiftly maneuvered into the large chair next to Chris and folded his arms and closed his eyes in deep concentration. “Chris, if I can be so bold as to ask, but can you tell me of your family lineage and about your childhood as that might be why you were able to read those blank pages.”

“Blank pages? Why Jon they are completely scribbled upon. But if my family is of interest then I guess I must..”

“Yes, yes you must, it is of the utmost importance.”

“I don’t know much as I was an orphan from the age of 6 on, but my family is from the north, they were of high class until the fire. It was dreadful Jon, I remember I was in my bedchamber and was awaked by the servant boy, he dragged me out of bed and then he opened some mysterious door in my wall behind a tapestry. I remember calling out for my parents and he kept telling me that they had died, that a tall black booted man had come in the night and set our home on fire and was after me. The servant boy told me to run and to never return. So I ran and ran and then I fell and blacked out. Next thing I know I awake in an orphanage and that’s all I can recall.”

Jon continued to sit in his chair with his eyes closed for a few minuets after Chris finished. Chris sat back and looked at the pages, flipping them over occasionally. Then Jon jumped out of the chair and crossed the room and closed the heavy library doors. “Chris the servant boy told you the man was tall and had black boots?”

“Uh yes, I recall him saying that.”

“Chris you should know that the man who killed my parents was also tall and wore black boots. How old are you Chris?”

“I will be 29 in March.”
“So were round about the same age and you can read the pages and I can’t.”

“Jon, do you know what the initials P.H. stand for?”

“I believe they belong to a man called Philip Harvey.”

Chapter 6

The clock in the great hall chimed bringing the two men in the library back to their senses. Jonathan quickly stood up from the chair and looked at the time on the clock that was resting on top of the desk. It read 2 in the morning.
“Chris, I think we should head off to bed. Tomorrow my niece will have the day off and I want you to accompany me on horseback to my families’ cemetery. I believe we might be able to find to find more about our mysterious black booted man.”

“But of course Jon, When will you have me ready?”

“I would like to depart around 8, make sure you have Mr. Berryman cook you a hearty breakfast oh and ask him to prepare us a meal to go on our trip as it might take us some time.”

“Very well.” Chris stood tossed the papers onto the desk and turned to walk out of the library, but before he could go 3 steps he had the feeling to bid Jon a goodnight. So he turned around and placed his hand upon Jon’s Shoulder and proceeded to wish him a goodnight and to have pleasant dreams and that he would see him in the morning.

Jon felt a sudden flutter in his stomach upon hearing those calming and sincere words; he turned around and quietly wished Chris a goodnight as well. Chris smiled and slightly nodded his head in Jon’s direction and then left the room.

For the first time in an awful long time Jon slept peacefully. He didn’t toss or turn, nor did he wake in a cold sweat. Instead he dreamed, he dreamed that he was riding his stallion along the beach. It was a wonderful sight, the sun was seating in exhilarating hues of orange red and deep purple. He could almost feel the cool breeze blowing and taste the salt of the ocean. Out of the corner of his eye another stallion appeared and upon it was a man who had golden curls that bounced as the horse ran. He had crystal blue eyes that shimmered in the sunlight. The man was immaculate. Jon soon realized that the man was Chris, he smiled at Chris and Chris smiled back. Together they both rode side by side down the beach into the sunset.

Jon drifted back into reality and awoke with a grin upon his face, he had had the most wonderful dream ever and was looking forward to his day with Chris.

Chris walked into the kitchen to see Mr. Berryman busy with breakfast. “Good Morning Mr. Berryman, the smells in here are delectable!”

Mr. Berryman turned around with a rolling pin in one hand, “You be right to say that Mr. Martin. You wouldn’t want to know what I can do with this here pin.”

Chris sidestepped around Mr. Berryman and backed away slowly, “Quite right you are Mr. Berryman, I wouldn’t.”

Laughter could be heard from behind Chris. Chris turned around to see Jon already sitting at the table enjoying his breakfast and laughing at Chris.

“Good Morning Chris, I see you and Mr. Berryman are the closets of friends.”
“Oh you know it, if the closest means he wants to impale me with kitchen utensils then oh yes!”

“Come now, that’s Mr. Berryman’s standard greeting.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well Chris eat up and I have already asked Mr. Berryman to pack us something, we will leave as soon as you’re done eating.” Jon stood up, thanked Mr. Berryman and made his way to the stables.

“Here you are Mr. Martin, eat up.” Mr. Berryman dropped a bowl of porridge in front of Chris.

Chris thought to himself ‘Oh yum, my favorite, bland porridge.’ He fought back the urge to chuck the goo at the backside of Mr. Berryman, but thought better of it seeing the knives by Mr. Berryman’s side.


“So this is where your family has been buried for centuries?’ The tiny cemetery was located in the midst of a grove of Japanese blossom trees, while the trees weren’t in bloom the trees left a remarkable outline that added to the beauty of the grove.

“Yes, those are my parents graves and my sister’s. There is over 6 generations of Buckland’s buried here.”

Chris was walking around when he noticed a small stone near the edge of the cemetery. He walked over to it and brushed off the dirt and grime, then gasped.

“Jon, JON! Come here I think I might have found something.”

Jon come jogging over to Chris and saw immediately what Chris hand seen. On the stone was engraved the words: Fate befell the Martins and the Buckland’s buried here is the reason why.

“What.. What could this possibly mean Jon?”

“I’m.. I’m not sure, but I think we need to start digging.”

The two men used what they could find to dig under the stone. They dug for many hours until they hit something waste deep. They franticly dug around the object and discovered a box. Jon grasped the handles and heaved the box out of the hole. Carefully the two men opened the box, hands trembling.

What lay within the box was not what either man expected. It was a simple quill. Plain as any other.

“Jon, how is this the reason for the fate of our families?”

Jon was furious he felt he was made fun of and cast the box into the trees. “ How the bloody hell do I know? It’s a God damn quill!” He stormed off to sulk leaving Chris to examine the quill.

He twisted the quill in between his fingers, this way and that, when something caught his eye. Hidden by the feather were tiny initials scratched into the quill. They were the familiar initials P.H. Chris thought about calling out to Jon to tell him of his discovery, but held back. An idea came to him and he wanted to test it out when they arrived back at the manor.

Chapter 7

So Jon grew weary of the cemetery and bid Chris to follow him home. Upon arrival Jon disappeared into his bedchamber leaving Chris time to go the library.

He walked in and closed the doors. Then walked over to the desk and picked up the papers and went over to the corner where the faint red stain was. Chris sat down in the chair and took out the quill. He put the quill to the page and began to write and as he wrote red ink appeared on the page, he looked down at the stain and saw the beginnings of the faint red color to darken and fill in.

He then wrote a question on the papers. Who are you? He waited and then a response was written, You already know who I am. Chris sucked in his breath and bit his lip, then wrote back, Are you Phillip Harvey? He waited for the writing and then it came, No, I was him. Chris’ hand trembled and then he asked one more question. Did you murder my parents?

Chris looked down at the stain and saw that it was now completely filled, with blood. He then glanced back at the papers, but before he could he slumped forward and crashed to the floor.

The door opened and in walked Mr. Champion. “ I knew you were trouble, I knew you would be the one.” Mr. Champion walked over to the desk and took out a key. He unlocked a secret drawer and removed a knife, then walked over to wear Chris lay.

“With you gone Mr. Martin your family will no longer be in the way. You escaped me many years ago, but now you lie here with your blood on the floor. No one to lead you to a secret passageway, or to take you into their orphanage.

You see Mr. Martin while your father was married to your mother he was not an honest man, he cheated on her with my wife, bless her sole, as did Mr. Buckland’s father. Mr. Philip Harvey was the man who covered for them. I was outraged when I discovered what they had done, so I decided to seek revenge and to destroy their families and them both.

I set fire to your home and murdered your parents. I poisoned Mr. Buckland’s sister and slit his parents throats before him. I was about to slit his when I heard a noise. Mr. Harvey knew of my scheme and had been setting clues to help guide some light to someone along the way, it appears it was both you and Mr. Buckland that discovered them. Unfortunately Mr. Harvey appeared that fateful night, he had been creating the papers and pen you were using, I managed to turn the papers into a curse that should a person find the quill it would use their blood to write the messages and fill the stain on the floor just as yours has done and dilute them of any energy.

I murdered Mr. Harvey that night as well and hid his body deep in the woods where the foxes would prey on him and take him deeper into the woods. I was determined to come back and murder Mr. Buckland, but was unable to because the old care taker had discovered the scene. I quickly changed and came rushing in and acted the part of astonished and sadden by the loss of the Master and his wife.

Now I will murder you and Mr. Buckland tonight and the deed will be done. Mr. Champion raised his knife and stalked toward Chris!

The library doors boomed open and in came Mr. Berryman with a butcher knife in his hand. “ I thought you to be a good man Champion, but I guess I was wrong!” Mr. Berryman threw his knife at Mr. Champion. The knife in Mr. Champion’s hand slipped and he fell to the ground.

Mr. Buckland came charging into the room with a pistol in his hand. He stormed over to Mr. Champion and pulled the knife out of his leg. “ GET UP! Get up you fowl man. You are dirt to me, no you are lower than dirt you are lower the dust of the earth. I would love to kill you with my bare hands, but then who would I be? The same low life that is you! No, I will not stand for that, so you are to run, run, run, and run. Run until your shoes fall apart and your souls bleed, run until you can’t run anymore. And then crawl you filthy animal. I never want to see you ever again. Mr. Berryman will watch as you run and he will throw as many knives as he feels appropriate.”

Mr. Champion ran out of the room followed by Mr. Berryman. Jon ran to Chris side. “Chris are you alright?”

“I’m just weak, but Jon how did you know I was in trouble?”

“I just knew something wasn’t right in my heart. And then I had this feeling to come to the library, as I ran here my heart began to beat faster and faster and I knew something was about to happen. But that is in the past and now my heart wont slow down and when my heart is throbbing like it is now I know that I need to do something.” Jon pulled Chris off the ground and leaned forward and brushed his lips against Chris’. Then he whispered in his ear “ I think I’m falling for you and I want you.”

Chris looked into Jon’s eyes and then kissed Jon, he kissed him with passion and desire. “Jon I want the same thing.” Jon smiled and picked Chris off the floor and carried him to his bedchamber and closed the door.

Mr. Champion was never seen again, but tall tales are shared of a man constantly running, the ghost of Jon’s mother never appeared again after the incident, the stain on the floor vanished, and Mr. Berryman continued to threaten Mr. Martin with kitchen utensils. Jon and Chris were lovers until they both grew old and died in each other’s arms while sleeping together on the beach of Jon’s dream under the stars.

The End