The Grim Letter

Professor McDouglass gets a very strange visitor....

     Professor McDouglass sat at the table of his one-room laboratory, looking rather aggravated and distressed. For days, he had been working on what he called his �most promising experiment�, yet despite those claims he was still no closer to any significant progress. He looked down at the table before him, his eyes straining from lack of sleep, and rummaged through all the papers and dusty Library books that sat before him.
Charts, Maps, Calculations�all seemed to be mixed up much as if it were a pile of sodden garbage. Considering that what he called a laboratory was much more fit to be a tool-shed anyway, with its dingy gray walls that looked as if they could fall down with the slightest gust of wind and a large patched up hole in the roof, right above where he was sitting (which was caused a year prior, while testing a rather Explosive and completely unsafe wart-remover that he was inventing).

The Professor got up from his chair, making sure to step over all the books that he had spilled upon the floor, and walked to the window. It was raining lightly outside, the sun managing to crack through the dark and rather misty looking clouds in the distance. It was almost as if he was looking through a strange orange haze. He could see the Country lane on which his shack stood, and the Apple trees that lined it, filled with fresh fruit during the summer months but very much in hibernation now, as it was the middle of October.
He sighed, staring out at his reflection in the glass. He was a rather average looking young man, his hair as dark as coal and his eyes as green as emeralds. His cheeks where rather rosy, but other then that his skin was fairly pale. He always thought he looked like a rather hairless guinea pig, but of course he didn�t tell anyone else that, should they say otherwise. His tan vest and matching slacks glimmered in the rain washed image ahead of him.

Taking a rather weathered and twisty looking pipe from the counter that sat directly under the window, he placed it to his mouth and gave it a couple of puffs, rings of red bursting from it�s other end and slowly fading away, and then walked those few tiny steps back toward his chair. Before he could get there though, he looked around as if looking for something he had momentarily forgotten.
�Chester?� he said looking around. �Chester, where are you?�
Seeing not even the slightest movement, he continued to move, mumbling �bloody rodent, must have went out for an evening snack��
It was only when he took his seat that he noticed a slight rustling against his legs.
Taking a closer look, he soon noticed a light brown tail sticking out from underneath a pile of crumpled up library books and trashed ideas, one pile of many that lined the floor of the room.
�Ahhh, there you are.� he said with a laugh. �I though I�d lost you for a moment there.�

Kneeling under the table, and pushing the papers and such away, the professor soon came to find that Chester, a rather young looking brown and white-spotted weasel, was snoring happily in the little den he had once forced himself into.
�Well, at least he�s happy.� The Professor thought to himself. He stood up, and dusted himself off. But before he could once again return to his seat, return to his numerous calculations, a loud knocking sound rang through the room. The sound of tiny yelping clearly led to the assumption that Chester was woken rather abruptly from his slumber.
�Oh, now who could that be?� he asked, trying not to shout.

He walked to the door and turned the handle with one hand, while rubbing his forehead with the other. The rain had clearly gained strength in the time since the moment he took to look at his reflection, and was trying valiantly to knock his door open on its own. When it was brought as far as its hinges would let it, the professor noticed a rather stout man standing before him, a long black cloak making his face unnoticeable.
�Are you Arthur McDouglass, The Professor?� A rather gruff voice asked. The sound of thunder and a flash of lightning soon hit in the distance, making the professor jump with the combination of the man�s appearance.
�Yes?� He replied. Who are you?
�Messenger.�
�Messenger?� he repeated.
The man simply nodded.
There was a slight and sudden pause between them, the professor not knowing what to think of this.
�May I�have the message then?� he asked with a hint of annoyance and unquestionable fear.
�Huh? Oh, yes. Here you go.�

The man then handed him a white envelope, with black trimmings and a golden seal. The Professor then looked at it for a moment, examining it, and looked back to the deathly looking messenger.
�Well�thanks.� He said as politely as possible, and proceeded to shut the door, only to have the man stick his arm out and stop it. His skin was gray and rather weathered looking.
�Errr�yes?�
�Payment.�
�You expect me to pay you for delivering me a letter?�
�Do you know what I went through to deliver that letter?"
His voice suddenly sounded rather irritable.
He then lifted up his hood. What now stood before the professor was a weathered old man, his face rather scarred and his hair all but gone. One of his eyes seemed to be missing, and all that was left was an empty socket.
�I traveled through snow and ice, fire and wind to deliver that letter. I fought of mountain giants and vicious beasts, off hunger and pain and tiredness. Three months it took me, and for what? Nothing!�
�I-I�m sorry,� The Professor replied. �I�m sure I have a shilling or two around here somewhere or-�
He suddenly stopped in his tracks, turning to the man with a raised eyebrow.
�Did you say three months? Good grief man, where is this letter coming from?�
�Mooresville.� The man replied.
�And you didn�t, say, fly like a normal person traveling such a distance would because�?�
�Poor. No one ever tips the messenger nicely; no one cares about the messengers woes.�
�Uh-huh.� said The Professor. �Well, since you traveled all this way, would you at least like to come in for a moment and have a bit of tea?�
�Can�t. More messages, very little time.�
��and yet it took three months to-�
�Your letter was special exception. Told by writer to get it to you by rain or shine, but ran into difficulties along the way��
�Yes, you mentioned that. Giants and mountain beasts and hunger and-�
"Robbers.�
�Robbers? Good grief!�
A large thump came from the other side of the room. Clearly The Professor�s shouts had startled Chester, causing the little rodent to jump and thump his head on the table above him.
�Why did you not mention that before?�
�Never asked. Don�t ask, not going to tell.�
�Yet, technically, you still just told me.�
There was another slight pause. The rain was slowing down again, and cracks of sunlight were causing the messengers pale face to gleam rather lightly.
�So,� The Professor said, pulling four gold coins from his pocket. �One hundred shillings is more then enough, I suppose?�
The man took them without question, nodded, and left.

The Professor then closed the door, and finally took his seat. Twiddling the letter his hands, he was rather afraid to open it, unsure of what it would say.
Figuring that he couldn�t sleep, and curious of all the commotion, Chester had crawled up on top of the table, sitting on all the professors� work with a curious look on his face.
The Professor looked at him.
�On the count of three old friend,� he said. �1�2��
He paused for a moment, gazing once more into his eyes.
��3!�

He then ripped the top of the envelope and to his shock and surprise, heard and immediate voice ring through his ears.

�I have traveled very far to tell news that�s grim! To make it all seem somewhat clear, I�ll sing it on a whim!�

It was the most annoying voice The Professor had ever heard, made only worse by the fact that it began its song before he could get a word in, and was forced to listen.

�Such dreadful news,
my Arthur dear,
such news to make you cry
for death has knocked on father�s door
for he has suddenly died.

Into the ground we�ll place him soon
a funeral in day�s time
we ask that you�ll come from that room
and say your last good-byes.

Yes, fathers dead!
Yes, fathers dead!
And with it, his good smile!
Now come home soon!
His will�s waiting!
And riches worth your while!�

�Enough!� The Professor shouted, but was instantly drowned out by the fact that the letter simply couldn�t stop singing.

�Yes Fathers dead!
Yes Fathers�

ARGHHHH!�

The letter screamed in pain as The Professor proceeded to tear it into pieces. When it was no more then scraps, the sounds of singing no longer emanating from it�s invisible lips, he tossed them into an already full waste bin and looked to Chester with much weight and sorrow.
�Well, it looks like we�ll have to be heading home again. We�re about 3 months late for the funeral, but the least we can do is still show up and take the oncoming resentment for not being there.�
Chester simply cocked his head and let out a sad little sigh.
�Besides, hopefully, whatever he left us in his will is still there. Hopefully mother hasn�t sold it to fuel her�vices.�
He then got up and began to put things together, things he thought he would need for the long trip home.

Reviews

[Nuits Macabres]

I found this story well written and quite enjoyable, with a believable and personable character. As is the case with all good stories, one would finish reading this particular story and want more.