The scandal of Viscount Dulwich, part ONE
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Around sixty years before the death of an insect at the hands, or more specifically the singular right hand, of a crime scrivener, a story went unrecorded. A story that could have explained the origins of the person who committed the eponymous crimes of Passion City's worst crime wave.
This person was but a young lad at the time of this story. He had just learned a secret; a secret so terrible that it had filled him with rage. Standing now at the entrance of the residence of the 2nd Viscount Dulwich, he smirked. It was a fairly large castle, which had seen better days. The lawns lay untended and the stables were empty. Was this Divine Retribution, he asked himself, looking to the heavens. Divine Retribution wasn't going to be enough though, he decided and scaled the walls of the castle and jumped over into the garden on the other side.
He landed on a patch of petunias, softly. Looking around, he noticed no alarm raised. No dogs, no guards, no movement of any sort. The castle was quiet in the darkness. Crouching, he ran towards the door.
There was a light in the tower facing window, above the gatehouse. Looking up, he could see movement through the translucent curtains. Marking the vague, silhouetted figure as his quarry, he scaled the walls and pried the windows open. He took out his knife and parted the curtains, peeking inside.
The room was brightly lit. Momentarily blinded, the boy blinked a few times and then surveyed the interior. The figure he saw through the curtains was now seated on the bed. It was a young woman, probably in her twenties. Her back was facing him, so he entered the room and walked towards her.
As he reached within stabbing distance, he heard a loud scream. The young woman had heard it too and turned around and found herself looking directly into the eyes of an armed assailant, displaying murderous intent. Another scream, with a different pitch. The source of the first scream, a maid, who was until then invisible to the boy probably because she was bent over trying to retrieve an object that had rolled under the bed, ran out the door screaming for the guards. The boy, visibly shaken by the turn of events, returned to his mission. However, the quarry had escaped.
The young woman was now clutching the arm of the maid in fear, in the doorway, a few feet from where she was previously sitting. Shocked at first, the boy remembered a lesson taught to him once of panic juice, a form of blood that supposedly ran through one's veins in moments of terror and made one accomplish fantastic feats of escape. He had now seen it in action and became wary. A cornered animal was capable of displaying extraordinary courage to ensure its survival. He would have to kill the young woman quickly.
He did not get the opportunity though. The guards came trooping in and disarmed him, losing one of their numbers in the process. The boy wouldn't go down easily, but was relieved of his weapon before he could kill a second. As the guards held him upright, maid and young woman looking on in horror, a strange woman entered the room. The guards bowed.
"We have captured him, Madame", the Adjutant of the Guard said, "He seems to be a wild lad, with nary a regard for his own worthless life."
"But who is he?", she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Our Inquisitors will find that out, once they're done with him", the Adjutant replied, laughing. His men joined him, knowing the fate of a prisoner sent for processing to the Inquisition. Some of the guards even watched the Inquisitors at work, deriving a perverse pleasure from the pain of the captured.
The woman walked towards the boy and studied his face. His eyes were unfocused, full of rage, however presently they were staring right back at the woman. Her clothes and mannerisms indicated nobility, but here she was looking at a boy who wouldn't lower his eyes in her presence. She placed her hand on his chest, the guards holding his hands tighter, and felt his heartbeat. Her cheeks became flushed.
"There is no need for the Inquisition. Have him sent him to my chamber", she said, looking at the young woman and back at the Adjutant.
"Bu-but Madame!", the Adjutant sputtered, in shock, "Surely you don't want this lad. He might be a worshiper of a pagan god. He will kill even women and.."
"I will thank you to never speak of women in that way again. And, have him sent before I repeat the order again. You are of perfect constitution, I hope, Adjutant Mardek. Deafness will not bode well for your career, will it now?"
"No, Madame. All right, men. Have our guest escorted to the Lady's chamber."
"Oh, and one more thing, Adjutant."
"Yes, Madame?"
"Have him cleaned and undressed when you bring him to my chamber."
posted by foogarky @ 9:38 AM,
3 Comments:
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At 10:20 AM,
Mihir Pathare said...
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I can't even begin to imagine where this story is headed... :/
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At 2:20 AM,
Jaguar Paw said...
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"He had just learned a secret; a secret so terrible that it had filled him with rage."
Why do I feel this is the key to the tale....hey and how come you've begun a different story before concluding this one ?? -
At 1:53 AM,
Unknown said...
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Hmmm... Fast paced.. but why? Intentions surrounding the tale and feels like going downhill for a scary ride to the bottomless pit. But the sequel can be made appropriate even when it may contain mature lines. Do try to improvise.. You can do much better.
The Author
foogarky
foogarky is the pseudonym of the fictional construct who battles for supremacy with other constructed personas in the mind of a crazed individual. He describes himself as a man living in a non descript house in Rio De Janiero, Brazil with two dogs and a parakeet.
About This Blog
The Loony Lampoonist serves to parody, spoof and satirize everything that needs to be parodied, spoofed and satirized. Due to the fictional nature of this electronic journal, any anecdotes appearing here ever so often that seem to be personal in nature, would suffer from the effects of conflicting personalities, the creation of fictional events and the inclusion of non existent characters who did not make it to the big league in the author's literary works. Thus, the Loony Lampoonist is also a purgatory for characters and ideas that have missed the limelight.
