CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4
That night, I found I could not sleep, without reentering the house on the street in my dreams or rather they never nightmares. I can not rightly, decide. I saw the manor house as it was when it was first built. It did not look anything, like it as when I had entered the house. It looked like it was a majestic house. The masonry which was stonework was without a blemish in it. It was built to last forever.

The house towered above the other houses there. It was as if it was a king in a chess game. The four stories were made of wood that was planks on the outside, they looked a foot wide, and twenty feet long. The windows were stain glass, the images dedicated there were of daemons and devils. There were images of deamon on the walls of the house in glass,

The front gate was closed, having an image of a monster that I could not rightly describe. It had thousands of eyes and mouths of an equal number and having no limbs with which to transverse in a form of locomotion. It looked like a blob.

When I looked upon it, it chilled my soul. The veranda I could see from over the fence, which rose to my shoulders in height. The veranda looked inviting.
I
I felt as though I was being drawn to it, it was as if a busker had talked me into entering the yard. I was unable to move anywhere, but towards the house as it stood there. Beckoning me to it. I moved like a moth to a flame. I could not move from where I was drawn as if my very life depend upon me getting there.

I could not hesitate, I was driven as a horse upon feeling the riding crop upon its withers I moved, I tried to slow my pace, but my body would not have it. I was in flight. I was afraid to look behind me. I felt someone was pursuing me. I heard feet falling upon the tarmac, in pursuit of me. Did I peek over my shoulder to see? I saw something with eyes aglow. It looked huge, its gait was long and fast. I knew it was following me. It's hands If that was what I saw there, had a long and sturdy blade in its right hand. It's left was bare, but even that offered me no salvation as the nails were long and sharp as I saw the moonlight glean off of them as they shifted about on its fingers.

I saw a light glimmer from within. I tore through the stone walkway to the stairs, which I flew up. I arrived at the door to the veranda, it was open. I tried the latch and it opened as though it had been waiting just for me to arrive. The swing was in motion, yet no one was on it.
The footfalls beckoned me forward. The veranda was covered in a red hardwood floor. The screen was large enough to keep moths out. The banister was made of oak, it was sturdy and strong. I felt the chill of moisture in the air.

I did not hesitate to wait at the closed front door to the house, As the monster was still in pursuit of me. I reached the front door. I did not hesitate I reached into my pocket to draw out a skeleton key to insert in the lock. I did not know, why I had reached into my pocket, to find this key. As I have never been here before. It was as if I knew it was there.

The door eased open, as I turned the key effortlessly in the lock. There were joyous sounds emanating from within the house. I had grown afraid, what had I entered into. I peered over my shoulder to see if the being still pursued me. It did. I dove for cover inside the house. As soon as the door opened. It was more silent than a grave. My feet arrived inside. The quiet chilled the blood in my veins. It was as if the temperature fell 80 degrees.

I shivered. Saw the light coming from down the hallway to the stained glass double doors The walls were covered in their wallpaper. The trim about the walls were walnut with a shiny gloss to them. There were cloaks hung where I had come in counting six on each side of the foyer hanging on hooks. They looked very new, the style of them escapes me. They were all red in colour.

The other two doors one to my right and left of me were also closed. I was being propelled to the ones at the ones are the end of the hallway. The silence hung there like a noose about one;s neck.

Before I had open the door, to the house it was filled with silence that had crawled across my soul. I still was hearing the sounds of the being who pursued me. I did not dare to look towards the sound behind me.

I ran. Before I had opened the door to the veranda, I was hearing voices speak from within the house. My feet made more noise than a herd of cattle being driven to run across the land. I must have startled them. It was perhaps why it was so quiet here in the hallway. I felt, that I must get in there before it arrived there upon me. I did not hesitate, but I did feel some trepidation before arriving there.

The sounds of its pursuit did not linger here. It still came in earnestly. Without any fear in who it pursued.

Sweat poured down my skin to dampen my clothing. I was dripping wet from it as if I had emerged from a bath. Sweat poured from me as though I was a waterfall to splash and splatter on the rug. It climbed the stairs to the house.

I saw the light play through the windowed glass of the dual doors. Perhaps it was from the fireplace there, Ir maybe it was the tortes that surrounded the chamber. The hallway was ten feet wide, thirty feet long born with a miniature attacking griffon. As I reached the end of the hallway.

The being that pursued me had stopped there. It drew back did not enter the veranda, I was safe. Or was I?

I touched the door, it moved effortlessly away from me. To reveal the chairs about the table eight then with seven occupants. I saw a chair without an occupant. To the right and left sat One male who looked remarkably like my father, and a woman dressed in the garments of a noble like my mother. I was looking over the shoulders of four others in the chairs.

“Peter come on in. Take your seat beside Bathmat. And your mother Catherine.” A voice said to my immediate left. I did not see anyone there. As I was to focus on the occupants of the table to look anywhere, but there.

“Something pursues me,” I said,

“We thought as much?”

“What is it?”

“We do not know, but something pursues us all. To be here.” the figure said.

“We may have been set up to be here.” one feminine voice said from the table to my mother's left.

“The fools, do not know of what they have done to do this. It is now, that we are at the strongest we have ever been, Now, that you are with us,” said my father

On the table sat a washbasin beside it was a picture, on the table sat eight fluted glasses. There looked to be blood in the picture and the glasses. I peered into the wash basin and saw a child a baby no less. Not moving, its chest cavity was carved a dagger protruded from the body's chest.

A male I did not recognize got up and approached an oversized chair with a woman occupant. She was dressed as the woman I saw in the house. She was busy writing what she may. The male had a beard and thick mustache, his hair was red as blood. He reached out to pull the book from her. She had clutched the book so, tight her hand was white from the blood loss.

But the male did yank the book from her hands, to fling into the fire that blazed in the fireplace.

She screamed, No!” She was now, weeping. Proceedings.

The man laughed and drew her face to see his. He sneered at her and said<”Did I tell you. You could perhaps write about the Proceedings?”

He stopped and continued on as if this was a whole new, afterthought”Did I?”

“No!”

“Than why are you still writing.”

The woman who had been a tease beside him at the table threw down her long evening glove onto the table with a smack. Said,”Gordon.”

“What do you think, I should do with her?” Gordon continued.

“Yes, what do you think, you should do with her.”

“I do not know, but an idea should come to me>”

“You have already taken her child from her?”

“I did indeed. Didn't I?” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, but do you think that is enough.” the woman who last spoke said.

“maybe she would like to taste the wine.” he said as he chortled and laughed so violently.

A drop of blood fell upon the table.

Over the fireplace's hearth was the being I saw in statue and in a house before I fled from it. The table shuddered and shook, I knew what was going. If they did not. I was not going to tell them. The being in the picture appears here. On it.

The man addressing her drew out his dagger to slit her belly, The hose that makes up her guts spilled out of the cavity. To fall before her feet. She was looking at him as he did this. The look on their faces was the abject terror. He smiled as he turned around and patted her n her shoulder. Her body fell to her left to spill from her chair.

The speaker put her back in the chair, using his dagger to secure her to the chair, where she sat. He smiling at her. He looked at the others in their seats about the table.

He laughed at her as she sat there, but her innards glistened with bodily fluids, The scent of blood filled the air with its aroma. Her eyes closed, at least, she can now sleep I thought.

She has come as I told you, she would!” the woman who spoke drew up her glass from which to drink.

She smiled at the others about the table. She and they did not seem to concerned about its arrival here. I was concerned, yes, sirree. I turned and left the room.

It was upon them, they did not a chance. The being was in the room, I was fortunate that it did not see me, or so I thought.

That morning, I awoke, I was groggy. I felt as though I had been a prize fight. My lungs were heaving to drown in the fluid. My chest was heaving thanks to the fluid, or perhaps from the fear I was experiencing.

I reached for my jacket, a book tumbled out of the jacket. The book was similar to the one I had stolen as a child. It looked remarkably new as if I had just purchased it. I knew, I had not taken the book with me.
If I had it would have had it pages eaten away by insects and whatever likes paper as food. The binding on this book was intact. It was written by the same person, whose book I had found in my
true home.

I lit my pipe as I flipped through its pages. I thought as I looked at the book. I was impressed with the craftsmanship of the binding of the book. It was forty pages of this text. I drew it, up and decided to go out of my room.

I had noticed when I arrived here, a curios shop on the corner of town, I elected to go there. Perhaps they would have the answers I sought. I did not know, but perhaps I would find out about it. There.

I entered the house, the owner looked at me, rather curiously. Perhaps it was because I was new to the shop. More accurately, knew to every inch of this city. “How may I help you?” she asked over her spectacles to see me, she smiled, upon seeing the book in my hands,

“I am interested, in the history of the book, maybe you have a few more in stock here,” I suggested.

She reached for the book, which I placed in her delicate hands. She drew her spectacles down her nose to see what it said, and who the author was. She said,”Oh dear.”

Put the book down as though it carried with it some dread disease or affliction. Drew her hand away from it in a hurried fashion. It was as though she had touched a blisteringly hot object. Her fingers became a fist. She walked over to wash her hands of the affliction that upon them “Where did you get the book from. She snarled

“The Whately place, I supplied, where else would I go, as I am a resident of the place.”

“How dare you come here,” she snarled, I felt that I would have gotten a better response if I was a rabid dog than what I said to her. “Leave?”

I looked at her trying to understand her actions, 'They defied my senses. What did I do?All I did was give her my name. What did my family do to the people around here? 'Could not wrap my head around her reaction to me.

“Go. And take that filthy book with you,” she screamed.

“Where was I to go? I did not understand any of this, All I had to do was show her the book. What was in the book, I pondered, as I looked at the book.

The people who were gypsies, it was rumoured that they would have known knowledge about things that the usual people steered away from. I would have to see one of them. From what I knew, they were not usually having a known site with which to do business. I would have to find their community. Either that or the people who practised witchcraft.

When I was talking to a person, this person directed me to a house, on the other side of town, where the person practices tea reading.

The place was with a sign on the door which said,”Have a cup of tea and we will see?”

The house was a wooden affair, it looked remarkably well kept. I opened the door to be admitted inside the owner said, “Take a seat? We shall see what we shall see?” Pulling a chair out for me to sit in. I accepted her help.

She drew up a teapot, steam rose from the sprout, saucer and a tea cup with which to fill. The vessel was well designed, having flowers in the pot. I looked at her with interest. She smiled easily at me, sat down beside me, Saying,”You are new, here? Where are you from?”

“I have just arrived from America, I was wondering, if I could have you read the tea leaves for me?” I said.

“Of course, kind sir.”

I sipped the hot tea after the tea had steeped for a while. It was maybe even better than that of my original home. After adding sugar to it, that is. I looked into her gray eyes and awaited the reading of my tea leaves.

“Where in America did you come from?”

“Dunwich. It is Masseuses.” I suggested, warily. I did not venture forth any other data until she told me what she had found in them.

She still smiled at me. I felt good about that fact. She looked at the tea, her mouth turned into a frown, Saying,”It says here, that you are on a voyage to learn about your roots.”

“It does, Does it?” I asked.

“Come to and sit with me, please.” She offered as she looked at me with the interest in her eyes. She did not run away or tell me to go away.

“If I may, can I ask you a question?” I asked guardedly, wincing as did this. I looked into her face and saw no fear or anger there in her eyes. Her eyes spoke of acceptance. She did not move away from me. She sat there with her hands resting upon each other.

“I would not mind, I take it, you are seeking some help.”

“Yes, I am!” I said relieved.

“What would you like?” she said

“I have come across a book, that was in my house. Which I have been trying to read, it is this book.” I said as I withdrew the book to put on the table.

Her eyes looked at the book, she smiled, easily.”I take it, you are a Whateley?”

“Yes, I am. How did you know?”

“Only they would have had any such books as this.” she said, she looked into my face as if she was expecting me to react differently or as if I would have done something other than that.

“I looked at her, incredulously. “How did you know?”

“There was someone, who mentioned, that someone had come to the house, that was there.”
the lady said,”Does that I explain to you how I knew.”

“Yes.”

“It is a small community, here. There is no place to hide?” she said and laughed easily.

“I was not intending to hide.”

“I know, that. Which is why you are here?” she happily

“I want to know, what this book is?” I asked.

“Your family was here, summoning something, that we do not know. It is a book of summoning,” she told.

I trembled with fear, it was a book of summoning. What had my family been doing, this? I was unable to believe it. I did not believe, what she was saying. How could I believe this? I knew, that there was no such thing as this? Yet I saw it there in the room in my ancestors house.

“Could you explain this to me,” I asked.

“From what I know, but I am not an authority on your family, of course. But I can supply you with what I know about them,” she supplied to me.

“I looked at her mortified. 'What did she mean? She was the only one willing to talk me at all about my family. What did she mean?' “Sabatino” I did not know, anything about this. Any of this. I put my head on my hands as she began to draw in a breath to begin to speak to me about my family.

“Sabatino was the brother. Who had stayed here? His other brother left this country. I do not know as to where he had gone. However I do know, what I have told about them.”She began/

“So, Sabatini. Stayed here, what was he doing here?” I inquired

“I was lead to believe that he was having an interest in slavery. Having also, been interested in illicit activities. Most the affluent had been interested in him.” she suggested as she stirred her tea.

“This gave me, a problem, none the less,” I suggested.

“The last time, anyone saw them was in the sixteen hundreds, I believe. Do not quote me on this, That is from what I have heard!” she laughed.

Now, I did not know to take her seriously.

“If you want to know more about that book, go to the library of scribes a is in London,” she supplied.

I could now find out about the book. I smiled, Gave her a twenty pence more than she asked, she smiled as she received it from me.

I woke as the alarm clock rang. I looked up from the bed where I lay. To see the book, I had shown the woman on the bureau. I do not know where it had come from I was afraid of what I was looking at. I might have picked it up from the house. Where I was the night?

I walked down the stair. To smell kippers and potatoes with Mason. Tea was being brewed. I took a seat.

The owner of the inn looked at me, he asked,”What would you like?”

A cup of tea.” I suggested.

“Of course sir.”

“Where would I find the asylum.”

He gave me, the address.

I hired a taxi, Was driven there. Having taken the book with me.
THE DREAM Chapter 3 Manor house

THE DREAM of the Manor house

This was written in the journal of the dead man


That night, I found I could not sleep, without reentering the house on the street in my dreams or rather they never nightmares. I can not rightly, decide. I saw the manor house as it was when it was first built. It did not look anything, like it as when I had entered the house. It looked like it was a majestic house. The masonry which was stonework was without a blemish in it. It was built to last forever.

The house towered above the other houses there. It was as if it was a king in a chess game. The four stories were made of wood that was planks on the outside, they looked a foot wide, and twenty feet long. The windows were stain glass, the images dedicated there were of daemons and devils. There were images of deamon on the walls of the house in glass,

The front gate was closed, having an image of a monster that I could not rightly describe. It had thousands of eyes and mouths of an equal number and having no limbs with which to transverse in a form of locomotion. It looked like a blob.

When I looked upon it, it chilled my soul. The veranda I could see from over the fence, which rose to my shoulders in height. The veranda looked inviting.
I
I felt as though I was being drawn to it, it was as if a busker had talked me into entering the yard. I was unable to move anywhere, but towards the house as it stood there. Beckoning me to it. I moved like a moth to a flame. I could not move from where I was drawn as if my very life depend upon me getting there.

I could not hesitate, I was driven as a horse upon feeling the riding crop upon its withers I moved, I tried to slow my pace, but my body would not have it. I was in flight. I was afraid to look behind me. I felt someone was pursuing me. I heard feet falling upon the tarmac, in pursuit of me. Did I peek over my shoulder to see? I saw something with eyes aglow. It looked huge, its gait was long and fast. I knew it was following me. It's hands If that was what I saw there, had a long and sturdy blade in its right hand. It's left was bare, but even that offered me no salvation as the nails were long and sharp as I saw the moonlight glean off of them as they shifted about on its fingers.

I saw a light glimmer from within. I tore through the stone walkway to the stairs, which I flew up. I arrived at the door to the veranda, it was open. I tried the latch and it opened as though it had been waiting just for me to arrive. The swing was in motion, yet no one was on it.
The footfalls beckoned me forward. The veranda was covered in a red hardwood floor. The screen was large enough to keep moths out. The banister was made of oak, it was sturdy and strong. I felt the chill of moisture in the air.

I did not hesitate to wait at the closed front door to the house, As the monster was still in pursuit of me. I reached the front door. I did not hesitate I reached into my pocket to draw out a skeleton key to insert in the lock. I did not know, why I had reached into my pocket, to find this key. As I have never been here before. It was as if I knew it was there.

The door eased open, as I turned the key effortlessly in the lock. There were joyous sounds emanating from within the house. I had grown afraid, what had I entered into. I peered over my shoulder to see if the being still pursued me. It did. I dove for cover inside the house. As soon as the door opened. It was more silent than a grave. My feet arrived inside. The quiet chilled the blood in my veins. It was as if the temperature fell 80 degrees.

I shivered. Saw the light coming from down the hallway to the stained glass double doors The walls were covered in their wallpaper. The trim about the walls were walnut with a shiny gloss to them. There were cloaks hung where I had come in counting six on each side of the foyer hanging on hooks. They looked very new, the style of them escapes me. They were all red in colour.

The other two doors one to my right and left of me were also closed. I was being propelled to the ones at the ones are the end of the hallway. The silence hung there like a noose about one;s neck.

Before I had open the door, to the house it was filled with silence that had crawled across my soul. I still was hearing the sounds of the being who pursued me. I did not dare to look towards the sound behind me.

I ran. Before I had opened the door to the veranda, I was hearing voices speak from within the house. My feet made more noise than a herd of cattle being driven to run across the land. I must have startled them. It was perhaps why it was so quiet here in the hallway. I felt, that I must get in there before it arrived there upon me. I did not hesitate, but I did feel some trepidation before arriving there.

The sounds of its pursuit did not linger here. It still came in earnestly. Without any fear in who it pursued.

Sweat poured down my skin to dampen my clothing. I was dripping wet from it as if I had emerged from a bath. Sweat poured from me as though I was a waterfall to splash and splatter on the rug. It climbed the stairs to the house.

I saw the light play through the windowed glass of the dual doors. Perhaps it was from the fireplace there, Ir maybe it was the tortes that surrounded the chamber. The hallway was ten feet wide, thirty feet long born with a miniature attacking griffon. As I reached the end of the hallway.

The being that pursued me had stopped there. It drew back did not enter the veranda, I was safe. Or was I?

I touched the door, it moved effortlessly away from me. To reveal the chairs about the table eight then with seven occupants. I saw a chair without an occupant. To the right and left sat One male who looked remarkably like my father, and a woman dressed in the garments of a noble like my mother. I was looking over the shoulders of four others in the chairs.

“Peter come on in. Take your seat beside Bathmat. And your mother Catherine.” A voice said to my immediate left. I did not see anyone there. As I was to focus on the occupants of the table to look anywhere, but there.

“Something pursues me,” I said,

“We thought as much?”

“What is it?”

“We do not know, but something pursues us all. To be here.” the figure said.

“We may have been set up to be here.” one feminine voice said from the table to my mother's left.

“The fools, do not know of what they have done to do this. It is now, that we are at the strongest we have ever been, Now, that you are with us,” said my father.

On the table sat a washbasin beside it was a picture, on the table sat eight fluted glasses. There looked to be blood in the picture and the glasses. I peered into the wash basin and saw a child a baby no less. Not moving, its chest cavity was carved a dagger protruded from the body's chest.

A male I did not recognize got up and approached an oversized chair with a woman occupant. She was dressed as the woman I saw in the house. She was busy writing what she may. The male had a beard and thick mustache, his hair was red as blood. He reached out to pull the book from her. She had clutched the book so, tight her hand was white from the blood loss.

But the male did yank the book from her hands, to fling into the fire that blazed in the fireplace.

She screamed, No!” She was now, weeping. Proceedings.

The man laughed and drew her face to see his. He sneered at her and said<”Did I tell you. You could perhaps write about the Proceedings?”

He stopped and continued on as if this was a whole new, afterthought”Did I?”

“No!”

“Than why are you still writing.”

The woman who had been a tease beside him at the table threw down her long evening glove onto the table with a smack. Said,”Gordon.”

“What do you think, I should do with her?” Gordon continued.

“Yes, what do you think, you should do with her.”

“I do not know, but an idea should come to me>”

“You have already taken her child from her?”

“I did indeed. Didn't I?” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, but do you think that is enough.” the woman who last spoke said.

“maybe she would like to taste the wine.” he said as he chortled and laughed so violently.

A drop of blood fell upon the table.

Over the fireplace's hearth was the being I saw in statue and in a house before I fled from it. The table shuddered and shook, I knew what was going. If they did not. I was not going to tell them. The being in the picture appears here. On it.

The man addressing her drew out his dagger to slit her belly, The hose that makes up her guts spilled out of the cavity. To fall before her feet. She was looking at him as he did this. The look on their faces was the abject terror. He smiled as he turned around and patted her n her shoulder. Her body fell to her left to spill from her chair.

The speaker put her back in the chair, using his dagger to secure her to the chair, where she sat. He smiling at her. He looked at the others in their seats about the table.

He laughed at her as she sat there, but her innards glistened with bodily fluids, The scent of blood filled the air with its aroma. Her eyes closed, at least, she can now sleep I thought.

She has come as I told you, she would!” the woman who spoke drew up her glass from which to drink.

She smiled at the others about the table. She and they did not seem to concerned about its arrival here. I was concerned, yes, sirree. I turned and left the room.

It was upon them, they did not a chance. The being was in the room, I was fortunate that it did not see me, or so I thought.

That morning, I awoke, I was groggy. I felt as though I had been a prize fight. My lungs were heaving to drown in the fluid. My chest was heaving thanks to the fluid, or perhaps from the fear I was experiencing.

I reached for my jacket, a book tumbled out of the jacket. The book was similar to the one I had stolen as a child. It looked remarkably new as if I had just purchased it. I knew, I had not taken the book with me.
If I had it would have had it pages eaten away by insects and whatever likes paper as food. The binding on this book was intact. It was written by the same person, whose book I had found in my
true home.

I lit my pipe as I flipped through its pages. I thought as I looked at the book. I was impressed with the craftsmanship of the binding of the book. It was forty pages of this text. I drew it, up and decided to go out of my room.

I had noticed when I arrived here, a curios shop on the corner of town, I elected to go there. Perhaps they would have the answers I sought. I did not know, but perhaps I would find out about it. There.

I entered the house, the owner looked at me, rather curiously. Perhaps it was because I was new to the shop. More accurately, knew to every inch of this city. “How may I help you?” she asked over her spectacles to see me, she smiled, upon seeing the book in my hands,

“I am interested, in the history of the book, maybe you have a few more in stock here,” I suggested.

She reached for the book, which I placed in her delicate hands. She drew her spectacles down her nose to see what it said, and who the author was. She said,”Oh dear.”

Put the book down as though it carried with it some dread disease or affliction. Drew her hand away from it in a hurried fashion. It was as though she had touched a blisteringly hot object. Her fingers became a fist. She walked over to wash her hands of the affliction that upon them “Where did you get the book from. She snarled

“The Whately place, I supplied, where else would I go, as I am a resident of the place.”

“How dare you come here,” she snarled, I felt that I would have gotten a better response if I was a rabid dog than what I said to her. “Leave?”

I looked at her trying to understand her actions, 'They defied my senses. What did I do?All I did was give her my name. What did my family do to the people around here? 'Could not wrap my head around her reaction to me.

“Go. And take that filthy book with you,” she screamed.

“Where was I to go? I did not understand any of this, All I had to do was show her the book. What was in the book, I pondered, as I looked at the book.

The people who were gypsies, it was rumoured that they would have known knowledge about things that the usual people steered away from. I would have to see one of them. From what I knew, they were not usually having a known site with which to do business. I would have to find their community. Either that or the people who practised witchcraft.

When I was talking to a person, this person directed me to a house, on the other side of town, where the person practices tea reading.

The place was with a sign on the door which said,”Have a cup of tea and we will see?”

The house was a wooden affair, it looked remarkably well kept. I opened the door to be admitted inside the owner said, “Take a seat? We shall see what we shall see?” Pulling a chair out for me to sit in. I accepted her help.

She drew up a teapot, steam rose from the sprout, saucer and a tea cup with which to fill. The vessel was well designed, having flowers in the pot. I looked at her with interest. She smiled easily at me, sat down beside me, Saying,”You are new, here? Where are you from?”

“I have just arrived from America, I was wondering, if I could have you read the tea leaves for me?” I said.

“Of course, kind sir.”

I sipped the hot tea after the tea had steeped for a while. It was maybe even better than that of my original home. After adding sugar to it, that is. I looked into her gray eyes and awaited the reading of my tea leaves.

“Where in America did you come from?”

“Dunwich. It is Masseuses.” I suggested, warily. I did not venture forth any other data until she told me what she had found in them.

She still smiled at me. I felt good about that fact. She looked at the tea, her mouth turned into a frown, Saying,”It says here, that you are on a voyage to learn about your roots.”

“It does, Does it?” I asked.

“Come to and sit with me, please.” She offered as she looked at me with the interest in her eyes. She did not run away or tell me to go away.

“If I may, can I ask you a question?” I asked guardedly, wincing as did this. I looked into her face and saw no fear or anger there in her eyes. Her eyes spoke of acceptance. She did not move away from me. She sat there with her hands resting upon each other.

“I would not mind, I take it, you are seeking some help.”

“Yes, I am!” I said relieved.

“What would you like?” she said

“I have come across a book, that was in my house. Which I have been trying to read, it is this book.” I said as I withdrew the book to put on the table.

Her eyes looked at the book, she smiled, easily.”I take it, you are a Whateley?”

“Yes, I am. How did you know?”

“Only they would have had any such books as this.” she said, she looked into my face as if she was expecting me to react differently or as if I would have done something other than that.

“I looked at her, incredulously. “How did you know?”

“There was someone, who mentioned, that someone had come to the house, that was there.”
the lady said,”Does that I explain to you how I knew.”

“Yes.”

“It is a small community, here. There is no place to hide?” she said and laughed easily.

“I was not intending to hide.”

“I know, that. Which is why you are here?” she happily

“I want to know, what this book is?” I asked.

“Your family was here, summoning something, that we do not know. It is a book of summoning,” she told.

I trembled with fear, it was a book of summoning. What had my family been doing, this? I was unable to believe it. I did not believe, what she was saying. How could I believe this? I knew, that there was no such thing as this? Yet I saw it there in the room in my ancestors house.

“Could you explain this to me,” I asked.

“From what I know, but I am not an authority on your family, of course. But I can supply you with what I know about them,” she supplied to me.

“I looked at her mortified. 'What did she mean? She was the only one willing to talk me at all about my family. What did she mean?' “Sabatino” I did not know, anything about this. Any of this. I put my head on my hands as she began to draw in a breath to begin to speak to me about my family.

“Sabatino was the brother. Who had stayed here? His other brother left this country. I do not know as to where he had gone. However I do know, what I have told about them.”She began/

“So, Sabatini. Stayed here, what was he doing here?” I inquired

“I was lead to believe that he was having an interest in slavery. Having also, been interested in illicit activities. Most the affluent had been interested in him.” she suggested as she stirred her tea.

“This gave me, a problem, none the less,” I suggested.

“The last time, anyone saw them was in the sixteen hundreds, I believe. Do not quote me on this, That is from what I have heard!” she laughed.

Now, I did not know to take her seriously.

“If you want to know more about that book, go to the library of scribes a is in London,” she supplied.

I could now find out about the book. I smiled, Gave her a twenty pence more than she asked, she smiled as she received it from me.

I woke as the alarm clock rang. I looked up from the bed where I lay. To see the book, I had shown the woman on the bureau. I do not know where it had come from I was afraid of what I was looking at. I might have picked it up from the house. Where I was the night?

I walked down the stair. To smell kippers and potatoes with Mason. Tea was being brewed. I took a seat.

The owner of the inn looked at me, he asked,”What would you like?”

A cup of tea.” I suggested.

“Of course sir.”

“Where would I find the asylum.”

He gave me, the address.



On the table sat a washbasin beside it was a picture, on the table sat eight fluted glasses. There looked to be blood in the picture and the glasses. I peered into the wash basin and saw a child a baby no less. Not moving, its chest cavity was carved a dagger protruded from the body's chest.

A male I did not recognize got up and approached an oversized chair with a woman occupant. She was dressed as the woman I saw in the house. She was busy writing what she may. The male had a beard and thick mustache, his hair was red as blood. He reached out to pull the book from her. She had clutched the book so, tight her hand was white from the blood loss.

But the male did yank the book from her hands, to fling into the fire that blazed in the fireplace.

She screamed, No!” She was now, weeping. Proceedings.

The man laughed and drew her face to see his. He sneered at her and said<”Did I tell you. You could perhaps write about the Proceedings?”

He stopped and continued on as if this was a whole new, afterthought”Did I?”

“No!”

“Than why are you still writing.”

The woman who had been a tease beside him at the table threw down her long evening glove onto the table with a smack. Said,”Gordon.”

“What do you think, I should do with her?” Gordon continued.

“Yes, what do you think, you should do with her.”

“I do not know, but an idea should come to me>”

“You have already taken her child from her?”

“I did indeed. Didn't I?” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, but do you think that is enough.” the woman who last spoke said.

“maybe she would like to taste the wine.” he said as he chortled and laughed so violently.

A drop of blood fell upon the table.

Over the fireplace's hearth was the being I saw in statue and in a house before I fled from it. The table shuddered and shook, I knew what was going. If they did not. I was not going to tell them. The being in the picture appears here. On it.

The man addressing her drew out his dagger to slit her belly, The hose that makes up her guts spilled out of the cavity. To fall before her feet. She was looking at him as he did this. The look on their faces was the abject terror. He smiled as he turned around and patted her n her shoulder. Her body fell to her left to spill from her chair.

The speaker put her back in the chair, using his dagger to secure her to the chair, where she sat. He smiling at her. He looked at the others in their seats about the table.

He laughed at her as she sat there, but her innards glistened with bodily fluids, The scent of blood filled the air with its aroma. Her eyes closed, at least, she can now sleep I thought.

She has come as I told you, she would!” the woman who spoke drew up her glass from which to drink.

She smiled at the others about the table. She and they did not seem to concerned about its arrival here. I was concerned, yes, sirree. I turned and left the room.

It was upon them, they did not a chance. The being was in the room, I was fortunate that it did not see me, or so I thought.

That morning, I awoke, I was groggy. I felt as though I had been a prize fight. My lungs were heaving to drown in the fluid. My chest was heaving thanks to the fluid, or perhaps from the fear I was experiencing.

I reached for my jacket, a book tumbled out of the jacket. The book was similar to the one I had stolen as a child. It looked remarkably new as if I had just purchased it. I knew, I had not taken the book with me.
If I had it would have had it pages eaten away by insects and whatever likes paper as food. The binding on this book was intact. It was written by the same person, whose book I had found in my
true home.

I lit my pipe as I flipped through its pages. I thought as I looked at the book. I was impressed with the craftsmanship of the binding of the book. It was forty pages of this text. I drew it, up and decided to go out of my room.

I had noticed when I arrived here, a curios shop on the corner of town, I elected to go there. Perhaps they would have the answers I sought. I did not know, but perhaps I would find out about it. There.

I entered the house, the owner looked at me, rather curiously. Perhaps it was because I was new to the shop. More accurately, knew to every inch of this city. “How may I help you?” she asked over her spectacles to see me, she smiled, upon seeing the book in my hands,

“I am interested, in the history of the book, maybe you have a few more in stock here,” I suggested.

She reached for the book, which I placed in her delicate hands. She drew her spectacles down her nose to see what it said, and who the author was. She said,”Oh dear.”

Put the book down as though it carried with it some dread disease or affliction. Drew her hand away from it in a hurried fashion. It was as though she had touched a blisteringly hot object. Her fingers became a fist. She walked over to wash her hands of the affliction that upon them “Where did you get the book from. She snarled

“The Whately place, I supplied, where else would I go, as I am a resident of the place.”

“How dare you come here,” she snarled, I felt that I would have gotten a better response if I was a rabid dog than what I said to her. “Leave?”

I looked at her trying to understand her actions, 'They defied my senses. What did I do?All I did was give her my name. What did my family do to the people around here? 'Could not wrap my head around her reaction to me.

“Go. And take that filthy book with you,” she screamed.

“Where was I to go? I did not understand any of this, All I had to do was show her the book. What was in the book, I pondered, as I looked at the book.

The people who were gypsies, it was rumoured that they would have known knowledge about things that the usual people steered away from. I would have to see one of them. From what I knew, they were not usually having a known site with which to do business. I would have to find their community. Either that or the people who practised witchcraft.

When I was talking to a person, this person directed me to a house, on the other side of town, where the person practices tea reading.

The place was with a sign on the door which said,”Have a cup of tea and we will see?”

The house was a wooden affair, it looked remarkably well kept. I opened the door to be admitted inside the owner said, “Take a seat? We shall see what we shall see?” Pulling a chair out for me to sit in. I accepted her help.

She drew up a teapot, steam rose from the spout, saucer and a tea cup with which to fill. The vessel was well designed, having flowers in the pot. I looked at her with interest. She smiled easily at me, sat down beside me, Saying,”You are new, here? Where are you from?”

“I have just arrived from America, I was wondering, if I could have you read the tea leaves for me?” I said.

“Of course, kind sir.”

I sipped the hot tea after the tea had steeped for a while. It was maybe even better than