The Inkwell Chronicles by J. D. Peabody

Author:J. D. Peabody [PEABODY, J. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worthy
Published: 2022-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

Measuring the passage of time in thick darkness is difficult. Marcus felt like he had been there for years, but it could have been five minutes. He managed to work his hands free again, but he kept them in the straps so his captors wouldn’t notice.

“Not a word, bird,” he warned his unseen companion. The raven did not respond.

There was something unnatural about the pitch-black air. The harder he stared into it, the more fatigued he became.

He tried to recall one of the many psalms he had read on countless occasions to comfort his parishioners, but he couldn’t remember a single verse. Not a one! Fear surged in his chest. The darkness drained his hope.

The door creaked, and the Commander reentered the room. He approached the bird cage first. “A shiny new pebble for my good boy, Grip,” he said in an almost affectionate voice.

“Caw!” The bird squawked and flapped in appreciation. “Shiny!”

Marcus heard the familiar scrape as the Commander pulled up a chair. For a long moment he was silent. Then the blotter gave a painful-sounding cough. When he spoke, the words seemed to grind against one other.

“You don’t look well, Reverend.”

“You don’t sound well,” Marcus retorted.

The Commander cleared his throat and placed a clammy hand on Marcus’s head, palming his scalp like a basketball. Marcus writhed in pain. Poisoned thorns seemed to be raking their way across his thoughts, clouding his brain with confusion.

“I know.” The Commander’s voice was low. “So difficult. This will all stop when you tell me about the well.”

Marcus felt as if his head would explode. “I already told you! I don’t know about any well!”

The pain was unbearable. The Commander continued talking in a calm tone. “The more you resist, the more uncomfortable you become. Start talking and the hurt goes away. It’s very simple. Now then. What about the bottle of that Stink?”

“I don’t have it!”

Marcus winced and sucked in his breath as the scraping sensation intensified.

“Ah, but you did. Who gave it to you?”

“I have no idea. You have to believe me!”

“I will believe you when you start making sense.”

Five words from a psalm finally came back to Marcus: I will not be afraid. Relief flooded his mind. The Commander seemed to sense the change in his mental state and withdrew his hand.

“I’m sure the answers will come to you in time. Your children are worried about you. What are their names again? Everett and Beatrice?”

The mention of the children produced the effect he wanted, with fear clouding the vicar’s face once more.

The Commander stifled another coughing fit. Without another word, he rose and strode out of the room, Grip flapping noisily after him.

Marcus felt badly shaken and covered in sweat. The pain began to subside, but the sensation of thorns in his brain remained. He missed his children more than he could say, and it sickened him to hear the blotter speak their names.

He pulled his glasses case from his pocket and took out the handkerchief. Remarkably, the airtight seal had kept it from drying out completely.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.