《Fogwalker》 Chapter 1: Arrival This is the story of this fog-filled town, of murders and secrets, and of my death that''s soon to come. As the lives of various people intersect, the resulting plot is absurd, strange and mystifying. And of course, you yourself are a part of it. Will you help me rip off the covers and unveil the truth? Hmm, What''s that? You think I''m being overly dramatic? Come now, allow a storyteller to have his fun. Now let''s see, I suppose it''s best to start in the beginning, or at least my beginning here, in this town you call home. Like always, the town was drenched in the mysterious silver fog, its gothic buildings and maze-like structure clouded by the dense gas. For the sake of my research, I entered the town. At the entry gate, the forlorn guard asked, ¡°Are you sure you wish to enter? How long do you expect to stay, and what are your reasons for entry?¡± I simply smiled and replied, ¡°Yes, I truly do. As for how long¡­ I expect to stay here for a week at most. As for my reasons, I''m here to get inspiration for my writing.¡± The guard simply sighed and nodded, while wordlessly pushing a firm towards me. It took but a moment to fill out, and I was on my way in when the guard called out to me once more. As I tilted my head back I heard him say, ¡°You are familiar with the visions, correct?¡± I spun around with a flourish and answered, ¡°Why of course, it''s part of why I''m here.¡± As I turned back around and made my way in, I heard him mutter, ¡°What a weirdo.¡± How rude of him, don''t you think? What''s that, you agree with him? Hmph, like I care. Moving on. As I entered the town, I was struck by a vision. My head spun as images, sounds, smells flashed through me. I saw myself dying on the floor, unable to move as my body wracked with pain, a gorgeous, yet deadly large poppy flower bloomed from my stomach. I heard a faint high pitched melodic sound in the background, I smelt the metallic scent of my blood, as my vision went dark. Then the next moment, I found myself back where I was. The whiplash was disorienting, as I fell over, unable to reconcile my upright position with how I was in the vision. I''d known about its existence of course, I''d known that the strange fog brought about visions of one''s death, but rather than a prophecy or oracle, it felt like an experience. It was not from the perspective of some unknown omniscient narrator, looking down on us like a detached spectator. It was like a sneak peak, a preview of the movie that is, or rather will be my death. But I suppose you''d know that far better than I do, given your experience with it. Ah well. At the time, I was more intrigued than anything else. What an interesting phenomenon, is it not? A cryptic and symbolic preview of one''s death, shown as a vivid experience. Did this prove the existence of an unchangeable fate? Or was the future shown in the vision fluid? Or was it some kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy? What''s that? You think my response is strange? No matter, let''s move on. I composed myself with a few deep breaths, and with the help of a few locals, got directions to the inn I was going to stay at. As I walked through the foggy town, I noticed glowing neon strips along the road, and the few vehicles traveling along the roads had glaringly bright headlights. As I arrived at the inn, I noticed that it''s name, Foghaven, was on a bright glowing neon sign. All the neon really took away from the noir-esque aesthetic and the gloomy vibe, but strangely I''ve grown to like it. Given all the various personalities I ended up meeting later on, it seems like a fitting style. But I''m getting ahead of myself. As I entered the inn, a gruff bearded man say at receptionist area. He was grumbling while chewing his nails, but quickly shifted personas at my entrance. With a smile unsuited to his visage, he said, ¡°Hello there, traveler. Will you be staying alone? Do you have an appointment?¡± I nodded and put on a pleasant expression as I answered, ¡°Indeed. You''ll find me under the name, the Pyrite Pirate.¡± The innkeeper frowned and grumbled as he looked at his list, an expression that did seem to suit him much more. But his expression cleared up soon after, as he reached down to pull out a pair of keys. ¡°Here ya go. And here I thought you were taking the piss out of me with that name. My name''s Charles by the way. Charles Bailey.¡± As I leant down to pick up the keys, I smiled and said, ¡°My apologies. It''s a pseudonym I''ve grown fond of and enjoy using. A wee bit of wordplay from a poor wordsmith like myself, that''s all. My actual name is David. David B, uh, Werner.¡± The man nodded absently, clearly not all that interested as he rang the bell multiple times impatiently. A sweet voice yelled out, ¡°I''m coming!¡± And then she showed up, like a vision of beauty. She had short brown hair, with cute bangs framing her face and the rest of her hair tied up in a ponytail. She had dazzling green eyes, a shapely face and a wondrous smile. She was just the right height at a little under six feet, and her bo- Ow! That''s no way to interrupt a storyteller in full flow, but I''ll let it slide, I suppose I got, ah, carried away. Moving on. As she arrived, she smiled and said, ¡°Hello sir. Allow me to show you to your room.¡± I blankly nodded and followed her, doing my best not to stare at her body from behind as we walked up the stairs. Overtly that is. As we arrived, she vowed and said, ¡°Here''s your room sir. Is there any other way I can serve you?¡± I bit back the first response that instinctively came to mind, one that certainly wasn''t appropriate to tell her, and one that I''ll decline to mention here given your expression. I simply smiled graciously and replied, ¡°Thank you dear, that''ll be all for now. May I have your name?¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. She smiled dazzlingly once more as she answered, ¡°Of course sir. It''s Ann Bailey. Ann without an ¡®e¡¯, not with.¡± I smiled as charmingly as I could while opening my door. As I entered I said, ¡°Thank you, Ann without an ''e¡¯. Lovely name. I''ll ask you if I need your assistance¡­ or your company.¡± I closed the door as I relaxed on the bed. It wasn''t very comfortable, but good enough for my needs. I turned my thoughts back to this town. Given my purpose in coming here, I couldn''t dally around with frivolous tasks like flirting, no matter how attractive Ann was. With that thought, I got ready to head out and learn more about this town firsthand. I wasn''t sure where to start, and so I called Ann over and asked for a map, and for her to mark the inn on the map. I put it in my backpack along with a few other things I could use. As I was leaving the Foghaven, Charles called out and said, ¡°So you''re going out are you? A bit of advice, don''t stay out long after dusk. Before then you only get the vision of death the first time, maybe once in a while after if you''re sensitive, more often if you''re particularly so. But at dusk? Practically every other moment you''re plagued with it. The only one who bothers to go out then is the Fogwalker.¡± Fogwalker. Such a curious name, is it not? What do you think of it? Ah, so you don''t mind. Well then, moving on. As I left, I contemplated where to go. What I wanted was information. From my experience, the best source for information are children, since they''re relatively open-minded, naive, and willing to talk, especially if given some cheap chocolate as compensation. Plus they''re far more enjoyable to hang around than adults, don''t you think? As adults we shed and put on personas from one situation to another, we claim responsibility for things we shouldn''t have responsibility for and deflect responsibility for the things we should be held accountable for, and we''re bogged down by the weight of the world and enjoy complaining about it more than anything else. But ah, I get carried away. I''m an adult myself, and can''t claim to be above all that. I might very well be worse in certain ways. As an adult yourself, what do you think? Huh, what an interesting answer. ¡®An adult¡¯s duty is to balance between ideals and reality while walking towards the future steadfastly.¡¯ That certainly sounds nice. But how many can truly live up to that? And how can we walk diligently towards a future that holds our ugly and inevitable end? But we digress. As I said, with that idea I set out to the park, where I expected there to be kids. And I found them, though not as many as I hoped for, and they weren''t alone, as they gathered around a man. The man himself looked young, at least younger than me, and I''m barely in my 30s. He was moving around animatedly as he seemed to be telling them a story. I was still at a bit of a distance, but I could tell he was handsome even through the fog. I moved closer, but just enough that I could hear the man''s words clearly. ¡°So you see, there I stood staring at a man-eating bear dead in the eye. It seemed to be on drugs, cocaine maybe. It''s claws and teeth were dyed red, with bits and pieces of flesh scattered all over. But without any hesitation, I smashed it in the face with a steel shovel incredibly hard and jumped into the river below.¡± It didn''t quite seem like an age appropriate story for his audience, but they were teenagers so it seemed like the sort of thing they''d enjoy. The reaction however was somewhat mixed. Most kids were doubtful, some were scared, some were apathetic, a couple seemed especially interested, particularly a certain pair of twins, and one innocent kid was just confused as he mumbled, ¡°What''s cocaine?¡± The man wisely ignored the question, but was soon peppered with questions from the others. ¡°Where''d the river come from? You never mentioned that.¡± ¡°I''ve heard that hits to the head like that don''t kill bears. How''d it die then?¡± ¡°What did the bear smell and sound like? Was it terrifying?¡± ¡°Do you think something like that could happen here? I''m scared.¡± ¡°My parents said that you''re a¡­ what was it, a compulsive liar? Is that true?¡± The man smiled nervously as he attempted to navigate through the minefield of questions. He stood tall and answered, ¡°Well aren''t you a curious crowd. Now to answer your questions¡­ the river was there before, I just never mentioned it to, ah, create some tension. But I was far up on a cliff, only a skilled diver such as myself could''ve made it. As for the hit, I never said it died from that, did I? It died from the drugs, very tragic. But my strike contributed greatly, or that''s what I was told. Its stench reeked of blood, and its roar shook the ground. And you need not fear, for I will stand up against it again if the need arises. And while I may have told your parents a few tall tales, almost everything I''ve told you is true. It''s based on a true story, and was even turned into a movie, though not one you kiddos can watch.¡± The sheer confidence and charisma in the way he talked swayed some, though most were still doubtful. It was well done by him. Like most good lies there were elements of truth to it. There was a story of a bear having accidentally consumed drugs and died of an overdose, and it had been made into a movie, but everything else was made up. I decided it was a good time to step in. I did need to ask my questions, and there wasn''t much time before dusk. So I stepped out with a cough. As they turned around, wary of the newcomer, I smiled and said, ¡°Hello there. I happened to overhear your story, fascinating stuff. I''m new to this town, and was hoping all of you would tell me more about it.¡± The man unabashedly jumped in and said, ¡°Why of course! The genius before you will guide you through our mysterious and absurd town. What would you like to know? Perhaps about the deep and dark secrets that lie within?¡± As the man went on and on, I only half paid attention to him. He was clearly a liar, maybe even a compulsive liar from the erratic way he acted. Every lie tends to have a kernel of truth, so I did try to remember what I could, but ultimately there were more useful parties present. I sidestepped him casually, smiled at the kids, and said, ¡°Hey kids, you can tell me what you know as well. I have some chocolate for you.¡± They were initially reluctant, except for the twins who were strangely excited. Like I expected, they quickly rushed over upon hearing the last line. I quickly pulled out the box of chocolates in my bag. As they eagerly took some one by one, a barrage of information came my way. ¡°You know about the visions right? They''re super creepy, and they can come to you randomly.¡± ¡°Yeah, one time I got hit by it when I was about to score a goal. They''re so creepy! That''s why Mom never let us out before dusk.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, you definitely shouldn''t go out at night. The visions are said to be so powerful then that you might get trapped in them till you die. Really you just shouldn''t stay out for long.¡± ¡°Ooh, do you know about the Fogwalker? They say he walks through the fog all day, even at nighttime. He''s the only one out there then. You can hear his melodic whistling sometimes, it''s really creepy.¡± As the kids kept throwing information at me while taking chocolate from the box as they pleased, I took out a notebook to write down everything I could. As I was jotting down my notes, one of the twins suddenly spoke up. I''d noticed that they were strangely silent given their previous excitement. I turned to them as the twins shouted in unison, ¡°What was your vision?¡± The very next moment, a taller boy who''d been leaning against a tree quickly walked over and knocked them on the head. He hadn''t bothered to come over for the chocolates at all. The older boy scowled and said, ¡°Don''t you know it''s rude to ask about that? Sorry, about these two idiots.¡± Then he glanced up with a frown, and said, ¡°It''s getting dark. It''s time to go.¡± As he dragged the twins away, the other kids ran off as well, taking as much chocolate as they could while they left. As I packed my things up with a sigh, one of the twins swung around while still being held by the older boy and yelled, ¡°We''ll be here tomorrow as well, in the afternoon! Talk to you then!¡± Those two really are adorable, aren''t they? With their bright and loud voices, their particular choice of clothing with garish color schemes, they stand out even amongst the varied characters of this town, much like the neon lights. Anyways, with my job down there I decided to head home for the day. As I got ready to leave, I noticed the man who''d been telling tall tales still awkwardly standing there. After a polite cough, he smiled and said, ¡°Well it was nice to meet you stranger. My name is Demara. What''s yours?¡± I held out my hand as I replied, ¡°Yeah nice to meet you as well. I''m David.¡± I didn''t particularly want to spend time with the man, so I quickly excused myself and ran back to the inn. I''d done enough for the day, or so I thought. Chapter 2: The Tea Party I woke up early the next day, eager to get going. There was a lot more for me to learn about this town after all. As I got ready and went down to the dining area of the inn for breakfast, the lovely Ann greeted me in a soft voice, ¡°Well aren''t you up early, Mr Werner. What a surprise.¡± I took a seat and chuckled while leafing through the menu. ¡°Please, just call me David. And why is it surprising?¡± Ann took up her notepad and got ready to take my order as she responded, ¡°Oh it''s nothing, you just seem like the laid back type, that''s all. So, what''ll you have?¡± I yawned as I replied, ¡°How mean, sounds like you''re saying I look like a lazy person. I''ll have whatever you recommend, alongside your company.¡± Ann was taken off guard as she hesitantly replied, ¡°I''m afraid I need to work, but I''ll go ahead and get you our signature pancakes, along with a cup of coffee.¡± With a sigh, I put the menu down and said, ¡°Come now. I can see that there''s no one else around. I''m afraid to say your inn isn''t exactly busy, much less at this time. Please, join me, just for a bit. At least for me, I''m bored without any company.¡± Ann gave me a defeated smile as she nodded and said, ¡°Alright. I''ll be back with your order in about ten more minutes.¡± I then awaited her arrival by briefly going through my notes from yesterday. There wasn''t as much information as I''d hoped for. It seemed like even the townspeople didn''t really know all that much about the fog. Ann arrived soon after with some lovely Scotch pancakes served with blueberry syrup and a cup of coffee. I wasn''t much of a coffee drinker, but I was still half asleep so it was just what I needed. As she sat down, Ann smiled and said, ¡°So, Mr Werner, what would you like to talk about?¡± I sighed and responded, ¡°Like I said, please call me David. Calling me Mr Werner just reminds me of my father, who I''m loath to be reminded of.¡± Ann winced and nodded sympathetically. With a sigh she said, ¡°I understand, and can relate. My, uh, father certainly has¡­ issues as well, though he''s not a bad person per se. I suppose you can''t really choose your family. But I do still care about him, he''s all I''ve got. Was your father your only family?¡± I shook my head and said, ¡°No, I had a sister as well. We were very close. After my dad died, it was just us against the world.¡± Ann nodded, not saying a word. She is someone who understands loss, and understood then that words of sympathy would''ve just been hollow. We went on talking for a while after I finished eating and had washed my hands. We continued our conversation even after I got back. As I learnt, Ann had studied engineering for a few years at college before dropping out to help at her father¡¯s inn, and enjoyed writing. She asked for some advice on the latter. Our conversation was interrupted when her father came down and yelled, ¡°Ann get over here and bring me that medicine!¡± He was clutching his head and muttering to himself as he seated himself. I turned to her and asked, ¡°Is your father sick?¡± As she got up to help her father, she picked up my plate and gave a sad smile as she answered, ¡°No, he''s just asking for his hangover medicine. I apologize, David, but I need to go, it''s time for me to get back to work. Also, I almost forgot but there''s a letter for you, it came this morning. I''ll come and give it to you in a moment.¡± Even after she left, I could hear a few scattered words exchanged between her and her father. Nothing was particularly clear or helpful, but I could tell her father was not in a good mood. Soon after their conversation ended, Ann came over and handed me a letter. I just barely got in a word of thanks before she left again. With a sigh, I opened up the letter. Within it was an invitation to a tea party from Mrs. Diane Walker. I''d heard of her in my preliminary research of the town. She was a very rich older woman, who was often said to be the most important person in town, having understated yet ubiquitous influence in it. She was also a mysterious figure whom not much was known about, so this was an important opportunity. The timing of this letter also proved that she likely did know a lot about the goings-on in this town. After all, I''d only arrived the evening of the day before, and I hadn''t been particularly ostentatious in my arrival. Nor had I done much. Yet it had arrived at the inn I was staying at, addressed to me with my full name. And so I went back to my room to get ready to meet this Diane Walker. The letter also had a map with directions to her address. Within half an hour, I arrived at her home, a large mansion with Victorian architecture with lush gardens. As soon as I showed the invitation, I was guided through the lush garden to the backyard, where a small yet incredibly elegant tea party was set up, with white china dishes and cups wrapped in gold threads, a round white marble table, and mahogany chairs with soft cushions. The area had somehow been cleared of a lot of the fog with some clever ventilation, and so all the participants of the tea party were clearly visible. At the head of the table sat an old refined woman who wore her wrinkles well, and was dressed in a fine Gothic dress. It was clear that she was Diane Walker, the one who invited me here. To Diane¡¯s left sat a nervous looking man, around the same age as me. He might''ve once been handsome, but stress had eaten away at him, leaving him looking haggard and worn out. To her right sat a woman who had some handsome androgynous features with gorgeous blue eyes. She was pretty, and it was clear that in her heyday would''ve been a head turning beauty the likes of which are rare. Unfortunately, the heavy and clearly visible bags under her eyes took away from her good looks a bit. She was dressed in a well made yet worn out gown that had seen years of use. Something about her appearance seemed vaguely familiar to me. To the handsome woman''s right sat an older man and a boy who looked to be his son. It was a familiar looking boy, the one I''d met in the park the other day, the one who''d dragged the twins away. The boy was busy playing a game of chess with Diane Walker, with a look of deep focus. And the last was a young man to the kid¡¯s right, who was also the man he''d met that day in the park, Demara. They were chatting when I entered the area, but Ms Walker simply raised her hand and they promptly quieted down. She stool up and gave me a quick curtsy accompanied as she said, ¡°Greetings, Mr David Werner. I hope your journey here was fine. I thought about arranging for a carriage for you from the inn to here, but it seemed presumptuous. Please, take a seat.¡± I smiled as I awkwardly vowed in response and took a seat between the nervous wreck and Demara. Hah, presumptuous. Like she hadn''t been presumptuous enough already. Such a bold and mysterious woman, don''t you think? She always has that enigmatic smile on her face, and never gives away a single detail unless she wants to. But I suppose you''d know her better than I do. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. As I took a seat, Ms Walker said, ¡°I believe you''ve met some here already, but allow me to introduce them. The man to my left is Jim Ensor, a brilliant painter, and a dear friend. He can be a bit shy and nervous, but I hope you two get along.¡± Said person on the other hand did not look very interested in the idea. He rubbed his hands nervously, glared at me, and said, ¡°I don''t understand why you invited this¡­ stranger to our gatherings all of a sudden. How do I know he won''t kill me?¡± Diane Walker laughed pleasantly, turned to him, and in a sweet tone tinged with something else replied, ¡°Oh enough, Jim. He won¡¯t be killing you.¡± She then turned to me and said, ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He has intense thanatophobia, due to those visions. It''s not exactly a pleasant experience, and his vision is¡­ particularly scary. Drowning in a sea of blood does sound like a terrifying experience, don''t you think? Plus he''s more sensitive to the visions than most.¡± Jim¡¯s eyes widened as he hissed at her in an angry, terrified voice, ¡°Why are you telling him about my vision? Oh I should''ve never told you about that.¡± Ms Walker calmly ignored him and moved on, pointing to the lady to her right as she said, ¡°And that''s Julie Maupin, an opera singer. Well, an ex-opera singer. It''s a shame really, I loved her performances and it''s a sad story what happened to her there, as well as her husband.¡± Julie Maupin interrupted her and said, ¡°Yes, it is a sad story, one that we needn''t get into here.¡± They looked at each other for a moment, as they had a silent conversation. But finally Diane sighed and said, ¡°Very well, let''s move on. To her right is Mr George Dent, who helped build the clocktower here. And next to him is his son Bobby, whom I''m playing a chess match against.¡± As she turned to the final member of the tea party, her seemingly indelible smile dimmed a bit, as she said in a somewhat annoyed voice, ¡°This is Demara, whom I believe you met the other day, telling stories to children. He''s my grandson, and while he''s certainly a talented young man, he has yet to hold onto any vocation long enough to be worthy of calling it a profession. I hope you can help guide him, as his senior.¡± Demara¡¯s eyes narrowed for a moment, but he laughed and said, ¡°I prefer to be known as a jack of all trades, grandma. Besides, I have a feeling I''m going to be all set for the future soon enough.¡± She hid her scoff with a quick cough as she moved on to say, ¡°Well then, Mr Werner. I hear you''re a writer, aren''t you? How fascinating. I''m quite a fan of the arts, to be honest. All this engineering and science is great, but humanity¡¯s true greatness lies in the pursuit of art. But I digress. I imagine you''re here to do research for your work?¡± I nodded, and began to talk about why I was here. ¡°Yes, I''m simply fascinated by this mysterious fog. Such a unique phenomenon. Is it fate? A self-fulfilling prophecy? If you all wouldn''t mind, I''d love to hear about the visions you all received. I understand it might be rude to ask though, so I won''t mind if you refuse.¡± As I said it, I studied the reactions of those before me. The painter seemed to hate the topic, but also somewhat relieved, likely because Mrs Walker hasn''t already shared his. Julie was indifferent, as though she didn''t care either way. But of course even now I''ve yet to see her in a different state. The kid was waiting for Ms Walker¡¯s next move, who herself was trying to figure it out. Mr Dent looked vaguely annoyed, and Demara had an enigmatic smile on his face, which I suppose was about the one thing he had in common with his grandmother. With a click of the tongue, Ms Walker played a move and said, ¡°I don''t mind. My vision was far more straightforward and clear than most. It showed me getting shot in the head.¡± My eyes widened, and I asked, ¡°Do you know who did it?¡± With an enigmatic smile, she simply said, ¡°I wonder.¡± As if. I''m absolutely sure she does, but we moved on. Julie went next, and said, ¡°My vision was a bit vague on some ways, but somewhat straightforward in other ways. From what I understood, I will be dying in my sleep.¡± She had a vacant look in her eyes as she spoke, and the complete lack of emotion in her voice made me wonder if she really was telling the truth. Demara went next. He looked strangely happy as he described his ridiculously extravagant vision. I don''t remember much of it, but I remember talking monkeys, a loud ringing sound as the wind rushed past him, an adventure in the jungle, a narrow escape from big-lipped alligators, some gorgeous women that fell in love with him, and other strange elements. The whole story ended with him dying from a pineapple allergy. It was a ridiculous and nonsensical story, and a bald-faced lie. But he was a genuinely good storyteller, and managed to make it surprisingly fun to listen to. Mrs Walker was right in that he certainly did have some talent. She chuckled and said, ¡°I see you''re as imaginative as ever with those lies of yours. It really is unfortunate that you don''t sit down and focus on turning it into a career.¡± Demara sneered and replied, ¡°The technical term is a story, granny. Besides, there are parts which are true.¡± Mr Dent scoffed as he said, ¡°The only parts which I imagine are based in reality are the parts about women. Your frivolous dalliances reflect badly on those around you, don''t you realize that? Hmph moving on, I''ll just go ahead and share my vision then. I don''t see the harm, personally I think it''s just nonsense, probably some sort of hallucination caused by the fog. As for my vision, it was being trapped in a small dark place, with the voice of Mr Bennet and Mr Hofmann whispering unintelligibly in my ear. Those two are dead, so iti is obviously ridiculous.¡± Mrs Walker opened her mouth to speak, but then the kid played a move, and muttered, ¡°checkmate in five.¡± She turned her attention to the board briefly as her eyebrows narrowed. She then lifted her head back up and smiled at the boy, while handing him a plate of cake. ¡°Well done Bobby. Keep working on your chess skills, you certainly have the talent.¡± Mr Dent sighed and said, ¡°I still don''t see the benefit in pushing him to play this game. It''d be better for him to just follow in my footsteps and become an engineer.¡± Mrs Walker fixed him with a steely gaze, which looked all the more terrifying when combined with the fact that she was still smiling, and said, ¡°What''s that? Don''t you think your son has the talent to reach the top? Are you disagreeing with me, Mr Dent? How curious. Would you like to discuss it further elsewhere?¡± Mr Dent quickly backtracked with a slight look of panic in his eyes and said, ¡°Oh no, that''s not necessary. I wouldn''t say I disagree. I simply thought it''d be nice to have him succeed me. Plus you know a professional chess career would require a lot of support, and I''m just a humble engineer.¡± Isn''t that an incredibly quick change? It truly is remarkable how well she had the group wrapped around her fingers. Except for one of them, I suppose. The conversation moved on from there. While the group was eccentric, I must admit they were an interesting, intelligent and eclectic bunch. As the conversation dimmed down while nearing its end, I decided to take the leap and asked, ¡°Could any of you tell me more about the murder of Amy Farrow?¡± The table fell silent. Demara looked nervous, though he tried to hide it. Mr Dent and Jim looked like they were trying to curl inwards in an attempt to make themselves smaller. Bobby looked curious, studying the adults around him intently. Even Julie, who''d seemed unflappable up to this point, shook slightly, as her eyes filled with sorrow. Only Mrs Walker was as calm as ever, as she slowly took a sip of her tea and said, ¡°An interesting question, Mr Werner. Is this supposed to be part of your research as well? I''ll bite. The Amy Farrow I assume you''re referring to did die tragically not too long ago. But I''m afraid she only arrived here not long before she died, and most people here didn''t have a chance to get acquainted with her.¡± My eyes narrowed as I processed her words. I could tell there was more she wasn''t telling me, but I decided to slightly switch lanes. ¡°I see. Well that''s a shame. But I suppose you certainly were familiar with the death of your own daughter and her husband?¡± At that Mr Dent angrily slammed his hands against the table and yelled, ¡°That''s enough. We''ve been more than polite enough when it comes to you and your queries, but that''s enough! I think it''s time for us to leave, Ms Walker.¡± Such an interesting response, don''t you think? I knew I''d crossed a line, that was the goal. I''d expected a more angry response to come from those related to the ones I mentioned. As Mr Dent stormed off while dragging along his son, Ms Walker sighed and said, ¡°I''m afraid he did have a point. You went too far, I''m afraid. As much as I hate to end things on a sour note, I think it''s time to end this tea party. I do hope we''ll be able to have you over again, Mr Werner. Goodbye. I''ll arrange for a carriage to take you back to your inn.¡± On cue, the others got up to leave as well. As I got up and turned to leave, Ms Walker called out and said, ¡°Oh, wait just a second, Mr. Werner. You haven''t said anything about your vision. It''s only fair that you share, don''t you think?¡± I turned around to face her, I noticed the others hovering at the edge of my sight, clearly curious as well. With a sigh, I nodded and shared it. I didn''t observe the reaction of the others, but Ms Walker smiled like it was expected and said, ¡°I understand. That''ll be all, Mr Werner. Your carriage will be here soon enough.¡± As I rode in the carriage back home, I thought back to everything I learnt, and tried to picture my best moves. I of course had the meeting in the afternoon with those twins, which from my pocket watch was only a short while away. I closed by eyes, allowing myself a moment of relaxation. My work here was not over yet, but I could give myself that much. Chapter 3: A Towns History Soon after I got back, I took a quick bath and went down for lunch. Mr Bailey seemed more refreshed and sober compared to earlier that day, as he chatted away with a friend eating there then. Like earlier this morning, Ann sat with me after getting me the food I asked for. As we chatted, I decided to ask her about her vision. Ann however didn''t seem to like the topic as she said, ¡°I''m sorry, but can we talk about something else? I don''t really like the visions, if I''m being honest.¡± Her father happened to hear us, and scoffed as he said, ¡°Bah, don''t talk nonsense. Those visions are balderdash. I''ll tell you mine if you like. I heard some mysterious voice I''ve never heard say ¡®I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on earth.¡¯ I''ve been forced to remember that nonsense by heart after having heard it this much. And then my head burst. A pretty stupid vision, don''t you think?¡± I nodded absently as I thought about it. It did sound familiar to me, but I honestly didn''t care enough to look further into it. I decided to shift topics for a bit since Ann looked uneasy. Once she calmed down, I decided to take another plunge as I asked, ¡°I''ve heard of another case that took place here that I''m curious about, the murder of Amy Farrow.¡± Ann paled while quickly turning back to look at her father. This time however he did not hear me. Ann sighed as she turned around and said in a low, but somehow still sweet voice, ¡°Yeah I knew her. She used to stay at this inn after all. She was a nice woman. I think she had a boyfriend at the time, or at least was seeing someone, going out at odd hours while dressed up.¡± She sighed again, and continued, ¡°She deserved to live, she was such a good person. And the way it happened¡­ was horrible, I can''t imagine what kind of person would do that.¡± I wanted to ask more, but it seemed about time for me to meet the kids, and I wasn''t in the right state of mind to hear more. So I thanked Ann for her time, finished my meal and left. When I reached the park, I met the twins once more. Bobby was also present, hovering near them like a protective sibling. They waved their hands excitedly once they saw me approach and ran over. They ran around me in excitement as they introduced themselves one after the other. The first one twirled and then yelled out, ¡°I''m Nora! Nice to meet you!¡± The other one bowed awkwardly, likely in an attempt to be respectful that didn''t fit them, and then yelled, ¡°And I''m Noah! What¡¯s your name, traveler?¡± I smiled. They were cute. I then realized that one of them had a slightly higher pitched voice, probably Nora, and was likely a girl. They looked very similar, but their hair was styled a bit differently, probably by their parents to tell them apart. I bowed at them with a smile and said, ¡°I''m David Werner, it''s nice to meet you too, Noah and Nora. By the way, forgive me for prying, but Nora, you wouldn''t happen to be a girl, would you? Sorry if it''s strange, but identical twins of opposite genders are rare.¡± They shook their heads. Nora said, ¡°Nah, we get asked that all the time, especially when we were younger.¡± Noah quickly followed up, ¡°Doesn''t that mean we''re super special? That''s what Ms Maupin said. We have, um, Turner something.¡± Bobby suddenly spoke up and said, ¡°Turner Syndrome.¡± Nora nodded energetically and said, ¡°Yeah, that''s right, Turner Syndrome.¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I nodded, and decided to look into that later on. I then asked, ¡°Are you two close to Ms Maupin?¡± Noah and Nora nodded and in unison said, ¡°She gives us free chocolates!¡± It was a bit surprising to me then, but I chalked it up to her liking kids. I smiled and said, ¡°I see. Well then, I guess we''re done with introductions. What would you like to do now?¡± The twins almost immediately yelled, ¡°What was your vision?¡± Bobby sighed and walked over with a scowl on his face as he said, ¡°What are you two doing?¡± The twins pouted adorably as they turned around to him and said, ¡°But Bobby! You got to hear his and the other''s visions at that tea party, and you wouldn''t even tell us any details!¡± Bobby sighed and said, ¡°It''s not for me to tell, and in the first place the visions aren''t things anyone should know. But whatever, go ahead and ask him if he doesn''t mind, it''s not my business.¡± As the two turned to me, pouting cutely while clasping their hands, I chuckled and said, ¡°Well I don''t mind. My vision involved me lying on the floor with a large poppy flower sprouting from my stomach.¡± The twins'' eyes blew up as they gushed over it at each other. They had strange tastes, but were still somehow endearing. They then turned to me with serious expressions, and then Noah said, ¡°In exchange for your vision, we will show you around the town.¡± Nora nodded and added, ¡°Yeah! It''s only, um, good manners befitting mature individuals.¡± They then turned to Bobby, as though seeking his approval. After a brief pause, he sighed and nodded. And so we set off. They showed me through various parts of the town, as I jotted down the things of interest. I saw the houses of those I met at the tea party, and the various other vital aspects of the town. But I don''t think I need to tell you all that though, you''d know it better than me. The second last stop was a shabby little place with a sign that said ¡°Prospects Orphanage¡±. The twins turned to face it, pointed at it and said, ¡°That''s our home.¡± I nodded and simply said, ¡°I see.¡± I suppose it made sense, and it explained aspects of their behavior. The twins didn''t sound happy, angry, or sad as they said it. They were simply apathetic, which didn''t fit them all that well in my opinion. Bobby on the other hand looked a bit sad. After a brief pause, the twins turned and in a faux creepy voice said, ¡°Alright. We left the best for last. It''s time to visit the watchtower of death!¡± They turned to Bobby, who looked up with a frown and said, ¡°Alright, but let''s make it quick.¡± As we arrived at the watchtower, the sky began to darken. Bobby''s judgment had been spot on, there were only a few hours left till dusk. As I looked at it, something about it seemed strange. According to the kids, it had a double helix staircase from the bottom to the top, with one side serving as an entrance and the other as an exit. I couldn''t put a finger on what specifically rubbed me wrong about it. I turned my focus to the watchtower. We didn''t have the time to climb up, so we simply looked at it from below. It had a open viewing area like a balcony, which was a bit unusual. Bobby then suddenly spoke up and said, ¡°Allow me to tell you a story Mr Werner. One about the history of this town.¡± I nodded, encouraging him to go ahead. The twins also listened along, even though they''d likely heard it before. ¡°You see, back in the day, when the fog first came to the town, it caused a lot of chaos. There was already a bit of a mafia problem, and it blew up massively. People suspected others based on interpretations of visions, often wrong ones. They acted out of fear and retaliated, unknowingly fulfilling other visions. There were those who pushed for arrests based on visions yet to come. A few came to power during this turbulent time, one of whom was the man who married Mrs Walker¡¯s daughter, Mr Bennet. Mrs Walker herself didn''t carry as much power back then as she does now. The other was Ms Maupin¡¯s then husband, Mr Hofmann. There were a few others, most of whom are dead now. First Mr Bennet and his wife disappeared, the former last seen in this very watchtower. The latter was found hanging in the very same watchtower soon after. Ever since, this place has been regarded as cursed.¡± Bobby paused there, letting his story sink in. He then continued, ¡°You see, that''s why I think of the visions as a curse, one that''s plagued this town. There was also the death of Amy -¡± I interrupted him here and said, ¡°I''m familiar with that case, no need to reiterate it for me.¡± It was a recent one after all, so I knew of it. It was one of the things that influenced my decision to come here. As I was about to speak again, a loud ringing sound began to come from the watchtower. It seemed like there was some sort of bell within that rang out at certain intervals, likely every hour. After it stopped, I said, ¡°Shall we go back? It seems like it''s time.¡± Once I reached back home, I pulled over everything I''d learnt. There was a lot of new information, but what was the path that led to the truth I seek? With these thoughts in mind, I went to sleep. By the time I woke, there had been two murders. Chapter 4: The Fogwalker Arrives After I woke up the next morning and went down for breakfast, I noticed that Ann looked a little worn out, as though she''d aged. After she dropped off my food, she quickly left, and when she returned she looked normal. A little strange, but I figure I was just half-asleep. As I was halfway through my breakfast, an older man walked through the doorway of the inn, which I could see from the dining area. He wore a black top hat, a white jacket with a black shirt, beige pants, and carried a glowing red cane. I couldn''t see his face and body clearly, but upon seeing him Mr Bailey paled as he said, ¡°Hello there, Fogwalker. Strange to see you here. How can I help?¡± When I got closer I noticed that he had grey hair, a handlebar mustache, and a gun holstered to his waist. The man had a bit of a potbelly as well. The so-called Fogwalker sighed and said in a gruff voice, ¡°It''s Detective, Mr Bailey. Detective Oliver. Please don''t use that stupid nickname. I''m here for a certain Mr Werner, I believe.¡± Upon hearing my name, I got up and walked over, curious as to why this mysterious man sought me. I raised my hand awkwardly as I approached, and said, ¡°Yes, I''m Mr Werner. How can I help you?¡± As a side note, I''ll henceforth refer to the man as Fogwalker outside the dialogue, because, well it''s a much better title than something as stale as ¡®the Detective''. What''re you sighing for? There''s nothing childish about it. Hmph. Anyways, the Fogwalker responded, ¡°I''d like to ask you a few questions about a case. Please come with me.¡± I nodded, unsure of what was going on as I walked with him, grabbing my bag on my way out. He had a black carriage waiting outside, and it set off as soon as we got in. As we drove off, the Fogwalker said, ¡°The case is about a certain body found earlier this morning, that seemed to be killed last night. I believe you met them, a certain Demara Walker.¡± I gasped in surprise. I couldn''t say I expected him to die, much less be murdered. I then asked, ¡°So are you taking me in as a suspect?¡± The older man chuckled in a low voice and said, ¡°I''d say you''re pretty low on the suspects list for this one. Rather, I want to seek your help. You see, I suspect Mrs Walker is involved in this, or at least that little group of hers. Problem is, they''re fairly influential. The police department here is very small, and a fair number of them are probably in Mrs Walker¡¯s pocket. Plus it''s not an easy group to look into. They''ll probably clam up before a cop. But you, you can do that more easily.¡± I frowned and said, ¡°I could help, but it seems like I''m the one getting the short straw here. I have my own things to do. What exactly will I be getting out of this?¡± The Fogwalker smiled and said, ¡°I''ll give you information. After all, you''re here to do research, and I hear you''ve been investigating things yourself, even bringing up older cases. If we join hands, we can both gain the information we seek. I''ll give you things to work with, while investigating along separate lines. And once we return, I''ll ask you for a full report on everything you''ve experienced since coming here, and I''ll share what I have.¡± I considered the deal, and then accepted, reaching out for a handshake. And that of course is what later lead to the report I''m currently giving you, isn''t that right, Fogwalker? Well then, moving on. You then gave me the information on the ¡®main cast¡¯, so to speak. You said, ¡°First is Mr Jim Ensor. He''s a paranoid artist with an intense fear of death. He''s the one I suspect the least. Still, he could have some useful information. He was close to the victim in a way. Next is Ms Julie Maupin. There''s nothing linking her to the victim specifically, but there are suspicious aspects to her. Are you aware of her husband and his death?¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I nod and say, ¡°I know some details, but not much.¡± You nodded and said, ¡°Alright, I''ll just tell you what I can. Back then, according to Ms Maupin, her husband stormed off angrily, claiming he was going to kill ¡®him¡¯. Who he was referring to is unknown, but he was seen going in the direction of the watchtower. This seems to indicate that he was angry at Mr Bennet, but strangely he was the only victim. Or rather we only found his body, and never found Mr Bennet or Laura Bennet, nee Walker. She was pregnant back then, but I assume she aborted the birth. There was also a rumor that Ms Maupin had a lover not long ago.¡± I considered the information. Effectively speaking, the main possibilities that appeared were that Mr Bennet killed Mr Hofmann in self defense, and then ran away with his wife out of fear. Though come to think of it, why was Ms Maupin addressed as such? Typically they''re referred to by their last names of their husbands. When I asked you then, you said, ¡°It''s her preference, that''s all I can say about that.¡± Which I found interesting. Perhaps she did have a lover back then. Maybe said lover was Mr Bennet, or someone else. But I stopped myself, there was no need to get carried away by speculation and end up losing sight of the facts. You then moved on to the next person of interest, Mr Dent. ¡°Mr Dent is an interesting individual. He tended to argue quite a bit with the victim. He is also someone who played a major role in the design and construction of the watchtower, and was close to Mr Bennet and his wife. There was a rumor that he was in love with the latter. She was quite an accomplished, well regarded, educated, and good looking woman though, so that trait was common enough.¡± I nodded. I didn''t consider Mr Dent to have been involved at the time, which I suppose was a foolish assumption. After I nodded in acknowledgement, you smiled and said, ¡°Good we''re almost done then. Last is of course the victim themselves. Demara Walker is Mrs Walker¡¯s grandson. He''s a philanderer, with a bit of a reputation, and has never really stuck with a single job. He also has a reputation as a liar, mixing lies with facts to make up stories about himself. He has somehow gotten by over the years, partly due to his grandmother¡¯s support. He was close to Mr Ensor, or at least as close as one can get to that paranoid man. As for the state of his body, it was found in the river. We''re still working on the autopsy. Unfortunately the rice is icy cold, particularly at this time of the year, which might obfuscate the time of death.¡± You took out a tobacco pipe, and began to skillfully pack it while barely looking at as you asked, ¡°Do you have any questions?¡± I didn''t have much to ask at the time, or rather there was so much I didn''t know I wasn''t sure about where to start. Eventually I asked, ¡°You said you suspected Ms Walker was involved, but haven''t really said why. In general you seem pretty suspicious of her. Is there a reason for that?¡± You lit your pipe and took a deep puff from it. As you slowly released it, you replied, ¡°Well there isn''t a very clear answer to that I''m afraid. Let''s just say there''s some bad blood between us that goes back to a while ago. She''s far too sly to give away any clear evidence pointing to her, but every single incident in this town revolves around her, she''s effectively the queen of this place. I don''t know what exactly her plan is, but I know that I have to take her down.¡± After taking another drag of the pipe, you asked, ¡°So, do we have a deal?¡± I didn''t have to think for long. I would''ve been investigating things either way, so this wouldn''t be changing much for me. I smiled and gave a quick but firm handshake. As the carriage came to a stop, I took a look around and realized where we were. We were at Mr Ensor¡¯s house. You dropped me off there and said, ¡°This is the best place to start, so I''ll let you get to work. I''d advise you to be careful, however. Take all precautions.¡± As I picked up my bag, I patted it and said, ¡°You needn''t worry, I came to this town prepared.¡± As the carriage left, I walked over and knocked on Mr Ensor''s door. It was an interesting Victorian gothic house, wrapped in advance garde paintings that were likely drawn by Jim Ensor himself. I am no expert in the field, but there was one clear and unmistakable theme: Death. Upon hearing my knock, in an uncharacteristically angry voice, Mr Ensor asked, ¡°Who is there?¡± In a low voice, I answered, ¡°It''s Mr David Werner, here. We met at the tea party, remember? I just heard about the tragic death of Demara Walker and came over to express my condolences and ask about how this could''ve happened. I heard that you two were close.¡± I heard the click of the door, and then he said, ¡°Come in, the door is open.¡± I swung it open and stepped in. It was dark, and I didn''t see him in front of me as I expected. As my eyes adjusted, I heard the sound of a gun cocking, and before I could turn I felt the cold steel pressed against my head. Chapter 5: Jim Ensor I tilted my head slightly away and said in a soothing voice, ¡°I¡¯m sure you''re just acting this way because you''re scared, Mr Ensor, but I assure you, I mean no harm.¡± In a frantic voice, the paranoid man yelled, ¡°No! I don''t believe you. You''re lying! You come here, and almost immediately after my friend dies. There''s no way that''s a coincidence. Tell me what you''re here for! I can tell if someone''s lying, so don''t you dare lie to me here!¡± I carefully explained why I was here. Of course he''d already heard most of it at the tea party, but he seemed to calm down nevertheless. I did my best to calm him down, until he finally led me to a table we could sit down at, though he still held onto his gun carefully. What, you think that switch was sudden? Well I don''t know what I can do about that. I asked, ¡°Do you know how this could''ve happened? Who would''ve had reason to kill Demara Walker?¡± Jim shivered nervously as he muttered, ¡°I''m not sure. He was a womanizer, but not to the extent that I''d expect someone to kill him over it. He never really let it get serious. He only fought with his grandmother regularly to my knowledge, and even then he said that he''d come to an agreement with her.¡± That was interesting. Perhaps whatever arrangement they came through fell through. I had my suspicions, but just to confirm I asked, ¡°Do you know what exactly they were fighting about?¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Jim nodded and said, ¡°About the inheritance, I believe. She didn''t approve of his behavior and threatened to cut him out. In general she''s pushed him to do more with his talents. She sent him off to a college of her choice, but he dropped out. She''s tried to push him into arranged marriages, but it fell through. Demara, he is¡­ he wasn''t a bad person, he''s just someone who wishes to enjoy life as much as he can . You see, much like myself, he is sensitive to the fog. That was what brought us together early on. Unlike me however, he had a different reaction to the looming specter of death reflected in the fog. It''s not an easy thing, having to live with that. As for his grandmother¡­¡± He looked around nervously, took a deep breath, and continued in a low voice, ¡°She is my patron, and I do respect her in some ways. Her powers of perception are excellent, she''s knowledgeable in various fields and is inquisitive. But the truth is, she also terrifies me. She is controlling, and at least within time confines of this town, she is inevitable, much like the god of death I fear so much. The only one who dared to defy her is Demara. Well the Fogwalker too, I suppose. And Demara could never truly escape her, as much as he pretended otherwise. He never admitted as much, but I do think he truly wanted her to accept him.¡± I considered the information. Mrs Walker truly was looking more and more suspicious. But that then brought up a different question. It seemed likely that if she was responsible, she''d used someone else to carry out the deed. Who would that be? I talked with Mr Ensor for a bit longer, but I didn''t have much else to ask, so I left, leaving him to his thoughts in his colorful yet depressing home. As I left, I noticed the carriage I''d arrived here in, your carriage, standing outside. You stood besides it with a grim look on your face. As I walked over, I asked, ¡°What''s this, Mr Fogwalker. I saw you leave. Did you come back to pick me up? Because that''s not really necessary.¡± You shook your head and with a sigh said, ¡°Mr Dent has been reported missing. I''m afraid he''s likely dead.¡± Chapter 6: Follow-up As I took a seat in the carriage, you filled me in on the details. ¡°Not long after I reached the station after dropping you off, Mr Dent¡¯s kid, lil Bobby, his kid, came over and said his father hadn''t been seen since morning. The boy checked the room, his place of work, and even the local bar, and then came over to report it to me. Considering the timing, it does feel linked to the other case. At least that''s what my instincts say. So I suppose that places a bit more on your plate. I understand that you already met Bobby and got along with him, so please meet him when you can and give him your condolences as well. He''s a good and clever lad. I''ve talked to him myself of course.¡± I sighed. At the time, I was thinking about Bobby as well. Poor kid, I knew what it was like to lose a family member, and he was too young to go through something like that. I nodded and replied, ¡°Yeah, I agree. I''ll meet the kid. From what I understand he hangs out with the twins In the park often, so I''ll see him there later today. I''ll probably meet there. I''ll push back on meeting the others.¡± You nodded and said, ¡°Alright. I''ll drop you off at the inn. You know where the others live, don''t you? You should be fine then. I''ll let you finish your side of things, while I wrap up a few things in my end. Once we''re done, we can report our findings, like I said. Of course we can''t assume Mr Dent is dead right away, so we''ll be organizing a search for him, which will take time.¡± I nodded, and got back in. The ride back was a silent one, and I couldn''t help but wonder if I could find the truth I sought in this mess. I was greeted by Ann upon reaching the inn. She had a somber appearance on her face as she asked, ¡°Did you hear the news? It''s terrible. Demara Walker is dead! That poor boy. Oh, is that why you were called out by the Sheriff?¡± I nodded as I sat down at the dining hall, and answered, ¡°Yes, he wanted to ask me a few questions I suppose, since I met him yesterday. I wonder how the news spread so quickly.¡± I also noticed that she hadn''t mentioned Mr Dent, but I suppose the news wasn''t out yet by then. Ann chuckled sadly and said, ¡°In a small town like this, news spreads quickly. But enough of that. It''s close to lunchtime now, would you like to eat something?¡± I smiled and replied, ¡°Sure Ann, that''d be lovely. Thank you. I''ll have some of your white-sauce pasta.¡± She nodded and walked away. As she did, I studied the expression on her face. It seemed like a complex mix of many emotions. I wondered if she''d known Demara. He did have a reputation as a womanizer, perhaps¡­ But I shook those thoughts out of my head, it wasn''t nice to imagine about these things or make assumptions about her. But once she returned with my food and sat down to join me in conversation, I couldn''t help asking, ¡°Were you close to Demara Walker, Ann?¡± She looked surprised as she answered, ¡°Not particularly. We got along well enough I suppose, but he didn''t come here that often. I just felt badly for him. He''s not far from my age. I suppose I''m a well wisher?¡± This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I nodded, and quickly moved away from the topic. Her words stung a bit despite her denial of their closeness, but I ignored that. Our conversation continued till I finished my meal, and soon after I went back to my room to rest, bathe, and get ready to talk to Bobby. Once I felt rested I headed out to meet Bobby and the twins. When I arrived, the twins seemed to be trying to cheer him up with what appeared to be magic tricks, while he was seated on the park bench. Trying being the key word, since they weren''t particularly good at them, but the boy did crack a smile a couple of times, which was good. As I walked over, I smiled and said, ¡°Hey kids, how''re you doing?¡± The twins circled me adorably and babbled at me like a pair of parrots. ¡°Mr Poppy, how ya doing? Have any chocolates for us? Come help us cheer Bobby up, he''s upset about¡­ um, stuff!¡± Bobby snorted at that last line in amusement. I moved to sit next to him, patted him on the shoulder, and said, ¡°Relax kids. I know about what happened. And I know it feels like a rough situation for you. But you''ve got some good people in this town, and good friends with you. Just keep going kid.¡± Bobby didn''t look surprised that I knew. I supposed that the Sheriff told him about the fact that he''d be telling me? Or maybe it just didn''t register at the time. Either way, Bobby sniffed his nose and asked, ¡°Be honest with me, Mr Werner. Do you really think he''s still alive? This is a small town, not many places he could go missing. And it''s around the same time as a confirmed death. I just don''t understand, and I''m scared. What am I supposed to do?¡± I sighed. There was no easy way to answer that kind of question, but I did the best I could at the time. ¡°I know kid, it''s not an easy position to be in. I also lost my father young. And more recently, I lost my sister whom I loved dearly. Of course, we''re two different people, and I won''t claim that everything will work out for you. Heck, I can''t claim it''s worked out all that well for me. But the key fact is that we aren''t alone in this world. I had my sister pushing me forward all those years. And you of course have those two.¡± I motioned to the twins, who were making a surprisingly elaborate sandcastle while remaining within earshot. Bobby smiled and said, ¡°Thank you. If I''m being honest, while I''m absolutely worried and terrified for my dad, a rare few times I''ve had this thought that it''d be better if he was gone. Maybe then he wouldn''t get so upset about me playing chess, maybe then he wouldn''t¡­ nevermind, I should speak about him like this, I''m sorry.¡± His voice cracked up as he spoke, nearly bursting into tears by the end. I pulled him close, just short of a proper hug, and said, ¡°Hey, it''s alright. You''re not a bad person. Everyone has had those bad days, when these kids of negative thoughts are unavoidable. And you''re not obligated to love and support your family no matter what. I didn''t get along with my father. I suppose in some strange way I still loved him. The bonds of family are hard to break. But still, I certainly did feel a lot like how you feel now, harboring both hate and love for him until he died. Still do, in some ways. Your feelings, no matter what they might be, are never strange, they simply are.¡± Bobby nodded as he leaned against me for a moment, while taking a few deep breaths. Once he calmed down, he walked over and started playing with the twins. Well it was more like he stood over them and made a few sarcastic remarks while they played, but they seemed to be having fun regardless. I took my leave of them, and headed back. By then, news about the disappearance of Mr Dent had spread. Ann talked to me once more about it, but I felt distracted for the rest of the day and wasn''t following her words closely. I couldn''t stay that way however. The next day after breakfast, I left to meet Julie Maupin. As I told Mr Bailey about where I was headed, he said, ¡°I see. It was a shame what happened to her husband. Some people spit on his name, but they got no respect for the dead. Sure he had some problems, but he was a good man.¡± Chapter 7: Julie Maupin Her house was close to where we are now, actually. It looked like a church in terms of its design. Perhaps it was a house that doubled as a church, or maybe it was the other way around. I''m not a particularly religious person, but I''ve always liked the serene atmosphere of places like these, of churches that manage to retain the true essence of faith. I''ve long since lost that, I''m afraid. Julie Maupin was a gracious host, showing me in and treating me with kindness, but by that point I had no interest in wasting time with the niceties. I cut straight to the point as I asked, ¡°I''m sure you''ve heard of what''s happened. As a writer and human being, I''m interested in learning and understanding the truth. As such, I''d like you to answer some questions I have. Why was your husband angry at Mr Bennet all those years ago? Is it true that you had a lover?¡± Looking back on it, I had no reason to be that harsh and uncourteous with her, but I suppose I was starting to get frustrated. Julie Maupin gave me a dark smile as she said, ¡°And why should I be so open with you, of all people? I know of your type. I was a fairly famous opera singer you know, before an accident forced me to step back from the stage. I know your type, reporters and such, lurking like vultures, seeing people as commodities, as stories, to be sold for profit with no regard for their well-being. I have nothing to say, least of all to you.¡± I apologized for my rude manner and said, ¡°I was rude there, but I promise I''m not the kind of person you imagine me to be. I simply seek the truth, to understand what happened then. I seek no profit from this, and swear not to publish anything you wish not to be published. Please, tell me.¡± We looked into each other''s eyes for a while, and then she finally gave in with a sigh. What''s that? You think she gave in too quickly? Well I suppose she could feel my sincerity. Regardless, she began to share her story, as I listened in silence. ¡°I suppose I should begin at the beginning of my life here. As I said, I was forced to retire from the stage, and then my family pushed me into an arranged marriage with my then husband, Hofmann. And I can tell you, he was a terrible man. Cruel, vainglorious, jealous, and constantly under danger of boiling over with anger. And worst of all, he dared to ask for forgiveness after all his outbursts. No, it was not a happy marriage, and certainly is one I''m happy to get away from. His anger then was from another jealous outburst. He was strangely convinced that I''d had an affair with Mr Bennet, which I can tell you is nonsense. Regardless, he stormed off screaming for bloody murder, and that was the last I saw of him.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She took a sip of water and some deep breaths, and continued, ¡°As for the affair¡­ that''s an interesting matter. I find it most curious how none of the various theories spouted by those who think I can''t hear them have mentioned her. Says something about our society, I think. So, I''ll ask you now. Who do you think it was?¡± I considered the question. It seemed like the simple guesses weren''t the answer. But what could it be? It wasn''t as though I knew most people here. But since she was asking me despite that, perhaps I already did know. And then I was struck by the thought I didn''t want to acknowledge. My mouth felt dry as I said, ¡°Was it with Amy Farrow?¡± As she smiled with satisfaction, I felt somewhat frustrated by the truth I hadn''t realized. She then said, ¡°Indeed. In this hetero-centric society however, the thought of a ¡®noble lady¡¯ like myself doing such a thing with a woman was likely never even considered. Yes, I entered a relationship with Amy Farrow. We were in love, but I suppose this dreary world we live in wouldn''t allow me that sliver of hoy she represented in my life. And so she was taken away from me. I''m sure you know the details. To be raped and then murdered is something nobody should go through, much less a wonderful person like her. I nearly took my own life then, and still do consider it every so often. But I have a reason to cling on.¡± I knelt at her feet and clung to her hands, and there we sat in silence. I sought the truth, but what if it was too much to bear? As I got up and began to walk away, I couldn''t help one last question. ¡°I heard that you were pregnant back when your husband died. What happened to those kids?¡± She smiled enigmatically and said, ¡°I wonder.¡± The rest of the day was a blur to me, as I simply went through the motions. Perhaps I''m unwell. As you can see, my condition is not good, and I feel a little worn out. And by the time I woke up the next day, Mr Bailey had been shot dead in the head on his way back from the bar early in the morning. And then of course I met you here to report my findings. And that concludes that. Chapter 8: The Choice I have to admit, everything from that point on caught me off guard. After giving the Fogwalker my report, I asked, ¡°So, why don''t you give your side of things?¡± The gruff older man chuckled and said, ¡°Very well. I''ll begin. First the basic facts you don''t know. I''ve received the autopsy report on Mr Demara Walker''s body, and have discovered where Mr Dent''s body was hidden. Firstly, we found that Demara was struck on the back of his head, and that''s how he died. He was then dumped into the icy river to obfuscate the time and manner of his death, I assume. There were signs of a struggle when his body was found.¡± I interrupted him here as I took it all in and asked, ¡°Wait, hold on. Mr Dent is confirmed dead? And you found his body hidden somewhere?¡± He nodded and answered, ¡°Indeed. You see, I took note of what you said about the watchtower seeming strange to you in a way you couldn''t figure out. It seemed curious to me, and so I investigated the matter. I must say, you are a perceptive man. You see, what struck you as being off was the fact that the two entrances were on opposite sides from the bottom, but were out of sync at the top, and when you view it from above you see that the slope of the exit and entrance at the bottom is misaligned. Somewhere along the way, there is a part with a steeper slope. And as a result, a hidden space is created within. And that was where his body was found. And interestingly enough, Mr Bennet¡¯s body was also found there, also killed. Unfortunately it''s decayed far too much to get much out of it.¡± I nodded and asked, ¡°Alright, but what does that mean? Who killed whom, and why?¡± The Fogwalker tapped his glowing cane against the ground and said in a soft voice, ¡°Indeed. That''s the question isn''t it? But not one you should be concerned with. After all, there''s one death you know the answer to all too well, isn''t that right?¡± I stammered as I processed his words, and then I stood up and yelled, ¡°What in the world are you saying? Are you trying to say I''m responsible for all these deaths? I''m just a writer, and I''ve been helping you all this while, haven''t I?¡± The Fogwalker stayed calm amidst my outburst and replied, ¡°Oh no, you''re not responsible for all of them. Just the one, the death of Mr Bailey.¡± No, he has no evidence for his claims, there was nothing here. Or so I thought. And so I scoffed and responded, ¡° And why would I do that? I have nothing against Mr Bailey, he was the owner of the inn I stayed at. Don''t tell me you''re claiming I killed him for poor service. This is laughable.¡± The man simply sighed and said, ¡°You did it to avenge Amy Farrow, Mr Werner. Or should I say, Mr Farrow? She was your sister. Did you think I simply eliminated you as a suspect completely and let you do what you want? Of course not. While having you do your investigations ¡®freely¡¯, I looked into you. It took some time, but eventually I managed to track down your true identity. I also had someone else follow you discreetly during the day. And guess what? You omitted a visit to Ms Walker. I assume she was the one who told you, or maybe she simply confirmed a suspicion of yours.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I smirked and said, ¡°That''s no evidence. She could''ve called me over for any number of things. And yes, I hid my identity when coming here, and I am indeed here to investigate my sister''s death, but there''s no direct link proving what you''re claiming here.¡± The Fogwalker smiled and said, ¡°Except for the gun you used of course. I told you didn''t I? I''m aware that you had a gun in your bag, and given that you only killed Mr Bailey early in the morning, I doubt you had much time to hide it anywhere. I suppose the existence of the gun was why you were so willing to investigate, and I imagine you thought I believed you''d used Jim Ensor''s gun. But I''m afraid a red herring like that won''t work on me. It''s over.¡± I tried to think of more excuses, but ultimately it didn''t matter, I''d achieved what I wanted, and my ending would be the same regardless, it would only be a difference in reputation and location. I sat down and laughed bitterly as I said, ¡°You''re absolutely right. I must admit you''re a much better investigator than I thought. And it''s impressive that you''re able to go out into the fog at night every single day. I only went out in it for a while as I waited for the best moment to kill that wretched man, and I felt drained the next day. That''s some formidable mental strength you have there. Yes, I shot him, while reciting the same words in his vision, which he told me himself. Hah! Isn''t that ironic? But there is one thing you haven''t talked about, which is his motivation for what he did. Do you know the answer?¡± The clever old man simply sighed and said, ¡°I can guess, but I suppose it''s fine for you to explain it yourself.¡± I nodded and said, ¡°He tried to blackmail her with her relationship with Julie Maupin, to force her to have sex with him. And when she resisted, he killed her. He claimed it was ¡®an accident¡¯. How pathetic. You know, when I came to this town, I was expecting the truth behind my sister''s death to be a part of some conspiracy, to be some deep mystery. But ultimately it was a mere footnote in the larger story here, caused merely by a horny middle-aged man who saw nothing wrong with his actions or beliefs. So, what now?¡± The Fogwalker looked me dead in the eyes and answered, ¡°That''s up to you.¡± But I could tell he more or less knew what my choice would be. I got up and said, ¡°I''ll be going out then. Goodbye, Sheriff.¡± I hadn''t quite decided on a location, but on instinct I found myself near an empty and isolated location near Julie Maupin¡¯s house. I suppose it was the best location I could get. I took a deep breath and brought out the knife I had with me. It wasn''t particularly large or dangerous, but it was enough. I lifted up my shirt. I''d always been morbidly fascinated with the idea of seppuku. It was a fitting punishment for myself, since much like the samurai, I¡¯d failed. I''d failed to protect my dear sister and her honor. Before I could begin however, a voice from behind called out, ¡°So this is what you''ve decided?¡± I turned to see Julie Maupin standing there. Perhaps she''d seen me when I was walking here. I put the knife away and said, ¡°Hello Ms Maupin. Can I help you?¡± She sighed and said, ¡°No need for chatter, Mr Farrow. I know the look of a person who''s given up on life.¡± I threw away the persona I''d been using and asked, ¡°Are you here to stop me?¡± She shook her head and said, ¡°No. I think it''s best to have someone with you in your last moments though. I don''t know if you''re religious, but you might as well allow me to send you off, in my own way.¡± I simply nodded, and turned back around as I picked up the knife. As I placed it against my belly, she launched into an aria. I''m not too familiar with opera, but I recognized it vaguely as ¡®Dido¡¯s Lament¡¯. How fitting, I thought, as I cut my stomach open. As the blood pooled around my stomach as though forming a beautiful red flower, the fog seemed to be clearing away entirely. I could see the stars, despite it not being nighttime, with my sister''s face, which I''d tried to bury away under alcohol, reflected in them, as beautiful as ever. As I reached out, my life gradually faded away. Book 1 Epilogue Hello. I imagine you''re still confused about certain open threads, so allow me to clear them for you, as the Sheriff of this town. For that of course, we must go to the central figure in all the events here. And so I left to meet my former friend, Mrs Walker, along with one other person who I''ll get to shortly. It seemed like she''d anticipated my visit, like always. As always, she flashed that enigmatic smile at me and asked, ¡°What brings you here, Fogwalker?¡± I sighed as I took a seat. ¡°No need for games here, Diane. I''ve simply come to present the truth I know. So without wasting time, I''ll get to it. You manipulate everything in this town to set things to your advantage. So let''s go through everything in chronological order, shall we? First, all those years ago, you manipulated Mr Hofmann to believe that his wife was having an affair with Mr Bennet. Since the man was also his rival in terms of controlling this town, he had enough justification in storming off to kill that man. Around the same time, you informed Mr Dent about what Mr Hofmann planned to do. Mr Dent of course cared for your daughter,, Mr Bennet''s then wife, and when he arrived just too late to stop it, flew into a rage and killed Mr Hofmann. Or perhaps Mr Hofmann tried to also lay hands on your daughter, and then Mr Dent stopped it. Regardless, the end result was that the two main powers in this town died, and you took over. I''m sure your daughter over there can testify to that. Isn''t that right Ann Bailey, or should I say Laura Bennet?¡± The poor woman looked grief-stricken and filled with guilt, as she held her head in her hands. The main culprit however looked as serene as ever as she sipped her tea and said, ¡°It''s Laura Walker. And it wasn''t simply to remove those two wretched men, it was also to free two lovely women from unhappy marriages, one of whom was my own daughter.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I gritted my teeth as I spat out, ¡°And what about Amy Farrow? Did she deserve that cruel fate?¡± My old friend sighed and said, ¡°I had no part in that. That horrid man deserved to die for that. And I did enable that, remember? I told her brother who the culprit was, while giving him time to investigate himself so he''d believe and accept the truth I gave him. I simply used him as a useful pawn while he lived, was that so wrong?¡± I shook my head and said, ¡°You are not god, you have no right to play around with lives like they''re mere tools. And what about Demara Walker, your own son? Did he deserve to die?" She calmly answered, ¡°I didn''t send him to die. I gave him a test, to kill Mr Dent. That man threatened to reveal certain things that needed to stay quiet, and my grandson kept bugging me about the inheritance he craved for the easy life he sought. I simply gave him an opportunity, and left Mr Bailey as a backup option. Unfortunately, my poor grandson failed to kill Mr Dent and was in fact killed by him, and so Mr Bailey had to step in. I do regret my grandson¡¯s end, but I suppose it was his fate. You can''t beat the destined death, after all.¡± I reached the end of my patience as I yelled, ¡°Enough! Don''t use grand words like fate to obfuscate the reality! Death is and absolute reality, but it is not some tool to control and manipulate others. People must be free to live their lives until they reach their end, without any interference, least of all from the likes of you! I will bring you to justice.¡± She sighed and shrugged as she replied, ¡°And this is of course where we disagree like always. My actions are and always been for what I believe best for my loved ones and this town as a whole. If you truly wish to end my rule, then simply kill me. I''ve allowed you a free pass in that respect. Don''t you remember? I told you my vision. In the end, you will kill me, that is my fate. So go on, if you truly wish to stop me.¡± I gritted my teeth, my hand unconsciously moving to my gun holstered at my waist. I had to admit I was tempted, but I controlled myself as I said, ¡°I am an officer of the law. I will bring you to justice, the right way.¡± With that, I walked off into the fog once more.