Shadow of a Doubt part 2

Ok here is the latest chapter sorry its a bit short but ive been a bit rushed for time thanks to my new job. Hopefully something eventful will actually happen soon but i needed to set the scene for the next chapter. Who will survive? Will Aly find the secret of the black haired beauty? Will her friends be drawn into the web of intrege? What about her boss? Is he apart of the conspirisy or just an innocent bystander? Is anything really as it seems? Just a few questions for you to think about untill the new chapter comes out....
~~Shaddowdove~~


Sleep pulled and beckoned me, my will to pay attention to the lecturer slowly eroding. I was unwillingly being rocked to sleep by the droning of his voice and the quiet scratching of pens made by fellow classmates who were actually paying attention to what was being said. On any other day I would be the same as them, listening attentively and taking down notes for late revision. But today was different. I felt like the sleepy, half drunk guy that usually sat in the back row when he bothered to turn up at all. Suddenly chairs were scraping as everyone stood up and chattered about today’s class while packing up their things and slowly making their way to the door. Great. A whole lesson was gone and I hadn’t learned a single thing.

I stumbled out the university’s front doors bumping into several worried looking classmates along the way. Ignoring them I wandered down the steps and into the rain. It felt like heaven was washing away my sins as the water rolled down my skin and soaked into my clothes. I stood there alone in my moment of bliss until someone collided with my side and almost sent me sprawling to the ground. I stared and nodded dumbly as the person apologised and raced off seeking shelter from the rain. Sighing softly I turned to do the same.

The walkway was full of people pushing and shoving, trying to get quickly to where they needed to go. I was in a daze blindly following the same path I always took. Then I saw her. The same long black hair and clear blue eyes, the same teasingly smug look on her face that dared me to follow her. I watched her, ignoring the swarm of people around me, crook a finger at me, giggle and walk away down the street. I tore after her stumbling and half falling over people as I followed her without knowing why and feeling only the need to find her. It was as if all the energy I had stored up during my time of sloth had been concentrated and focused into this one moment in time. Time lost all meaning to me as I fought to find her. Each time I saw her I raced off only to find she disappeared from view.

Whenever I went the wrong way she appeared to me and corrected my path. She was testing me to see how long it would be before I gave up. In the back of my mind I knew it was true, but all I knew was that I had to find her and be with her. It was a game of cat and mouse and unfortunately I was the mouse and she was the cat. She led me to where she wanted me and I had no choice but to follow her into the dusk. I felt like Alice who had unknowingly gone down the rabbit hole in search of the white rabbit of whom she only saw glimpses. But for some reason I didn’t care that I was chasing an illusion. I just wanted answers to my own dreams.

Late afternoon turned to early evening, the rain had finally stopped and still I was trying to find her in the maze of streets. Still she led me in this dance I was compelled to follow. The stars came out in all their twinkling brilliance only to be dulled by the continuous steady glow from the electric lights. I was exhausted from following the mere glimpses of her and began to break free from whatever spell she had put on me. Why was I following her? There was no logic to me following her and I began to doubt my sanity and myself. I lost her for a while and I stood shivering in the middle of a dirty laneway.

I looked around one last time and sure enough she appeared before me. She smiled at me. I knew she was pleased that I had followed her this long even though no words passed between us. She wordlessly beckoned me closer as friends often do. I sighed, relieved that the game was finally over so I could rest. I walked closer to her and reached out my hand but just as I reached her she walked backwards into a doorway that I hadn’t even noticed was there until now. I rubbed my eyes wearily and figured what the hell as I followed her into the dark doorway. How more messed up could my life get? I was wrong as per usual. The game was only just beginning but who would come out the victor?

Jacob of Sheppards Grove

Ok iv'e finally got around to editing this story so it actually makes sense... well as much sense as my stories make. Thanks to Matt for helping me edit it and giving me handy hints though it was so long ago you have probably forgotten. Oh and thanks to tara as well for kicking me in the ass to get me writing again. Hope you all like the changes and if you dont send me a message and i'll see what i can do to fix it up.
~ Shaddowdove

I’m the last one left now. The mill wheel lies silent as the graves I have dug for my fellow villagers. The animals are slowly dieing of starvation, there’s no one to feed them now, only me and my old bones that ache with the cold. I’m going to release them into the forest tomorrow, perhaps they’ll survive longer if they are free to forage for themselves.

As the last remaining villager I feel that it is my duty to record the truth of what happened to our village and not leave the fate of our reputations to the unreliable prattle and gossip of the near by towns. There are some things in this letter of mine that I will not go into detail about in order to retain some dignity for us all, including, naturally, what I may or may not have done when the village was cursed by one woman named Marnie the Candlemaker.

Marnie was an innocent women never a witch. She was guilty of nothing more than healing our hurts and selling her wears to us as her mother and her mother before her. We spurned the generations of help her family has given to us, and now I fear we are all paying the price. She was driven to her curse by my own lack of forgiveness, understanding and pity and by extension, that of the villagers as well. This is why she saved me until last. To force me to watch the deaths of the young, the old, and the strong. To bury those I loved and guided in the ground.

I thought about leaving with the remnants of the last surviving family, the Smiths’. They decided to try and escape the curse by fleeing to Dunthorpe, 2 days ride away. I knew that they would never make it that far; the curse was too strong for them to escape so easily. I know that they are dead even though no messenger would dare ride here to proclaim their deaths. The towns all around here know that we are a cursed people, and refuse to shelter us in case they anger the spirit that haunts us and drives us to our graves. So much for the generosity of Christians I guess. I see now that we are no longer any better than the heathens who blame what cannot be explained or that which people do not wish to explain on witches, sprites and evil beings. We are a people poor in individuality and rich in following the weak and pitiful. How could this happen? How did I let this happen? I am supposed to guide and protect these people as a gardener tends to his plants but I thought that I had long ago weeded out this … this hysteria and united the town in order to defeat all evil. I was wrong. I did untie the town but instead of defeating evil we created it by murdering innocent people. People like Marnie the Candle Maker.

I can do this no longer. I cannot bear the weight of all these deaths upon my shoulders. No, I am no longer worthy to be a child of God not with the murder and blood that stains my hands. Confession is good for the soul, as I have told countless people over the years, so this letter becomes mine. I only hope that it shall be enough to redeem the souls of the village and those I have wronged, Marnie especially.

She is coming for me I can feel it. I hope that this final act will release her from the curse she has placed on herself and on us. May God forgive my false accusations against the poor innocent lass. She is not a witch, but merely an angry women wishing for revenge against those who have wronged her.

May God let her rest in peace.

The Last Will and Testament of the no longer reverend Father, Jacob of Shepard’s Grove.