Irish Bog - Excerpt

A breif Excerpt from Irish Bog (incomplete).


Her eyes were weak but she was sure she had caught a brief glimpse of light in the side of her eyes. Elain moved from her sideways position, sitting straight up, and glanced around the room. Moonlight fell in slats on the rich carpeted floor, reflecting in her vanity mirror. Up on the ceiling came the light again, and she knew she wasn't imagining it. She glanced up to see the light, a tiny orb of blue glow, bouncing on the fan that hung above her. Fear didn't register with Elain, just curiosity. The light seemed to be having fun, diving under the fans light bulb and bouncing against the base. Elain slid back and lay on her pillows, eyes always on the glowing orb. It was amusing and she enjoyed watching it. Soon, she drifted off into a deep slumber.
The market was older then she remembered, the road differed between dirt and cobblestones and the people were dressed in outfits befitting of the late 19th centuary. An old pub was across the street from her, laughing men with bellies protruding from beneath their too-small shirts came in and out, mugs in their hands and alcohol sloshing from the depths of the cup. Gossiping women stood in the shade of the large oak trees in the grass, laughing and chortling with their girlfriends. Babies were pushed in their strollers or at the breast of their mother, and little kids ran the length of the roads, giggling and squealing in their high pitched voices. Elain watched the scene before her, quite aware of the dream she was experiencing. The market was amazing and so lifelike, as if she were actually in it; how could her imagination think up something so clear? So vivid? Then, they caught her eye. A family of three, each dressed in the finest clothes. The man was tall, under his nose grew a thin, brown mustache. He wore a small hat, a black dress shirt and pinstripped dress pants. His shoes were polished and pointed at the tips; he was a man who knew where he stood among his people. The lady, Elain knew to be his wife, wore her dark, brunette hair in a teased mound at the top of her head; her dress was tight around the middle and flowed out slightly, every once and awhile showing the tips of her small shoes. She carried an unbrella to shade herself and her daughter. The daughter. Elain knew her, she saw her everyday in her bedroom, smiling next to the brunette. Lydia was all smiles as she held onto her mothers arm, laughing and telling jokes to amuse her idol. Her hair was worn loose and fell over her shoulders in dark, blonde ringlets. Her face was round, and she proved thicker then her pictures would let known. Elain watched as the family walked past, the two girls happy and chipper and Hugh silently stalking along with them.
"Hugh darling," the wife spoke, glancing up at him with a smile of perfection. When he didn't answer, she spoke again:
"Hugh, I have news for you. I will let you know tonight, after Lydia goes to bed."
"Oh Mother!" Lydia giggled, pushing her mother slightly. "I want to know."
"Your mother spoke, Lydia. You are not to know." Hugh murmered. Elain jumped at his voice; it was rough, brutal, and strange.
Lydia kept her tongue, but glanced up at her mother. "You will know later on, my girl." Her mother murmered.
They turned the corner then, perhaps walking up the path to their mansion, or off to buy cloth or groceries. Elain watched them go, considering the conversation she had heard. Why had she heard it?
"Such an interesting family!"
The comment made her jump, and she spun around to see a stout, elderly woman with a crooked nose and bent back smiling. The old woman stood just a few feet to her left with another woman who looked to be at least twenty years younger. They stood before a vender, picking out colorful material.
"Alice," the older women adressed the younger. "Did you notice the way Hugh glared at Amalia? Such a dreadful stare! Goodness knows how the woman puts up with him."
"Mother," Alice whispered, picking up cloth from the vender and scrutinizing it carefully. "You shouldn't judge. Nor should you comment on the way the family reacts towards one another, it is no more your business than mine."
"Oh hush, Alice! You should take your own advice." Her mother growled, waving a liver-spotted hand at her. "I'm telling you, nothing good will happen. I told Amalia, I told her back when she married the fool, that he was trouble. He glares at her, Alice, and he snaps at Lydia like she is garbage." The old woman shook a finger at her daughter. "Wait, just wait. Something will happen that will jolt Amalia into leaving that dirty man!"
Alice groaned and shook her head. "I would much rather dabble in the concerns of my own family, and not the small troubles of a wealthy man who seems to abuse his wife and daughter."
Her mother shook her head and moved away from the vender, hobbling slightly. "Just wait, Alice, just wait."
The dream was suddenly changing, the air wasn't so open anymore, everything was closing in and growing dark. The floor turned from grassy dirt to dark stone, the open air was no longer there but enclosed in dark walls filled with drawers. Darkness, fear, the smell of decay covered Elain and she suddenly felt claustophobic.
"It's hard to imagine."
She jumped. The voice came from behind her, and she feared to turn around. Using her strength, she pulled her body to face the voice, and stiffled a scream.
The girl! No no no no, no! The girl!
Bloody, mangled, bruised, broken. The girl!
Elain covered her mouth and held back the gagging sensations that ripped at her throat.
The ringlets were no longer fluffy and pretty, but damp and twisted and stained in blood. A dark, black bruise was above her right eye, covering the girls eyebrow. A deep gash was visible on the left side of her head, bloody hair clung to the gash and skin clung to her hair. The girls eyes were still open, her once blue eyes now a perfect grey. Elain noticed her body, laying naked and helpless. Purple and bruised, her limbs splayed and her arm broken. Her ankle looked swollen and was most likely broken, too.
The laughing girl, Lydia, lay dead before her.
Tears prickled at her eyes, she choked on her tongue and began to gag, her stomach retched.
What happened? Who did this? Why?
She glanced around the room, realizing she was in a morgue. On another table lay the wife, Amalia, her eyes were closed in the usual fashion, her clothes were missing and her stomach was crushed, caved in. Her head proved to have been bleeding, also. Hugh was down another table, missing his shirt but still dressed in his night pants, knife wounds were visible in his broad chest and stomach.
"Such a dreadful thing," came the voice again, and Elain noticed it came from the man who hovered over Lydia's body. The man was speaking the girl she had seen in the earlier vision, Alice. Alice must be some type of nurse, a helper, for the man. Alice's eyes were huge, her mouth wide and frightened. "W-w-what hap-hapened, Adam?"
"He killed them," Adam, the man, told her. "Thats what we assume, anyway. Theres no other option. The maids were dead in the courtyard, the butler was stabbed and left in his quaters. Hugh was found in the kitchen, thought to have died by his own hand."
Alice nodded, staring at the young girls body. "And...and the women?"
Adam sighed. "Lydia was found outside the mansion near the garden, just outside her window. We're certain she was...she was pushed, Alice. Her body shows trauma from a fall, and she was bludgened beforehand. Her skull is broken in four places. Amalia..."
"What about Amalia?" Alice whispered, looking at the man.
He sighed. "She was in the sitting room, bludgened. Her stomach crushed. We just found out that she was with-"
It started to fade. The room was growing lighter, everything was fuzzy and white. Elain swarmed and moved, trying to hear the rest of the conversation, fighting off the white. But she didn't succeed, and morning came.