by John Stone
That’s just how some people are, she told herself.
However, it was not the same for her classmates or a few others in the university. Some people claimed that they saw Mr. Mitchell talking to himself. For someone his age, that wasn’t so hard to imagine. In the past, Emily never paid much heed towards the stories regarding Mr. Mitchell. However, she was forced to admit that he had been in the same profession for all his working life. His occupation often required him to sit in silence, except when dealing with requests from his assistants and students. So, she thought that he was entitled to a few bouts of absurdity and random moments of age-induced insanity.
Emily believed that all human psychology couldn’t be determined by one single behavioral pattern. There were things people did and events that people were subjected to that could only be explained through years of study and research. Forming a judgment or conclusion about a person too hastily was a great disservice to the wide range and depth of human experience.
However, even Emily couldn’t overlook Mr. Mitchell’s strange behavior today. She was sure that he looked nervous, and not entirely because of his old age either. She wanted to ask him more, but the arrival of new teachers took the opportunity away from her. One new teacher, Mr. Roberts, entered in followed by Mr. Paisley. There was a meeting convening soon for all the new staff members at the university. Slowly, the library was being cleared out and it was concluded that Megan must have tripped and fell. Seeing someone was just dismissed as her delusion. After everyone left the library, nobody talked about or discussed the incident on the fourth floor of the infamous Fletcher building. Emily, however, decided to reach the end of it. She refused to believe that the occurrence of a similar event as she experienced her first year could just be a coincidence. It even happened in the same place and in a similar fashion. As Emily walked out of the library, she gave one last glace at the empty benches and Mr. Mitchell. He stood motionless, staring at the old clock on the wall just behind the benches. Emily followed his gaze up to the wall and noticed that the hands of the clock were stuck at 12:00.
After two more classes, the first day of the final year was concluded. The classes for the day were done and most of the students headed over to the campus union to eat and socialize. Grace and Emily were both tired from the long day and agreed to head back to their dorm room. The walk back to the student lodging was long and Emily kept quiet for most of it. In fact, when Grace proposed to go inside, Emily opted to go for a walk alone.
”Emily, just be careful!” Grace called over her shoulder before going upstairs.
Emily simply waved her hands acknowledging her friend’s concern. The evening air was clear and crisp. A light breeze was blowing and the temperature started to fall. Emily fastened her sweater buttons and strode along the cobbled path. The stars were beginning to illuminate the night, and there was a slight hint of moonlight appearing in the cloudless sky. Emily looked up to the heavens and stared blankly at the stars, as if the vastness of the sky held answers to her unsolvable questions.
Emily noticed the university campus was unusually empty that evening. She blamed it on the weather. It was cold outside, but it seemed that she was the only one who had gotten used to the climate. The mornings were sunny and bright and just a light sweater was needed to provide enough warmth to travel from building to building and class to class. The nights grew cold, and when the sun went down, most of the students preferred to stay indoors.
She noticed that she had walked quite a distance from her dorm, almost to the end of the university campus. The park benches on the side looked alluring and she decided to relax before heading back to the confinements of her room. The cool breeze allowed her to unwind. She looked to her right and saw a couple sitting on one of the park benches, and to her left, someone sat alone like her. She strained her eyes towards the individual sitting on the furthest corner of the park bench and noticed it was Andrew Mitchell, Mr. Mitchell’s 26 year old son. He was a little slow, but the administrators allowed him to run small errands for the university campus. His mother took care of him most of the time. The entire family stayed in staff quarters on campus, along with their dog, Keeba. Emily noticed Keeba walking up to his master.
They must have come here for a walk, she said to herself as she sat on the bench.
The cute little dog’s face was illuminated by the soft light of the moon. Keeba was hopping gleefully around her master and occasionally paused to lick at his feet. Emily smiled at the dog’s antics, but didn’t want to disturb them. Keeba barked loudly a few times. Emily caught a glimpse of movement in the distance and found Mrs. Mitchell walking towards the park looking for her son. She saw a slight interaction between mother and son, and then watched them both walk off together.
Emily had noticed Mrs. Mitchell a couple of times on the campus, but today she practically reminded her of her former neighbor, Mrs. Hampton, in her old town of Anacoco, Louisiana. The quaint little town was beautiful. Emily’s house overlooked a small lake, and just beside their family home was Mrs. Hampton’s house. Peaceful and quiet, Emily used to spend most of her time sitting on her neighbor’s porch while her mother did chores.
While sitting down near the lonely cobbled path, Emily’s thoughts traveled back to her childhood. She was a curious child, but at the time, she had no idea what she wanted out of life. Then, something happened when she was twelve years old that influenced her decision to come to this university and pursue criminology as her major. As she watched the swaying branches of the trees, she remembered the face of her old neighbor, Mrs. Hampton. They were quite close, and Emily was here at the university because of her.
Mrs. Hampton was in her seventies, and her husband had died a few years ago. Her children lived in the city, which left her alone most of the time. Emily remembered exploring her house and asking all sorts of questions. At that age, she always wondered if the old woman ever got bored living all alone; however, at this age, she realized staying alone was not all that bad. Her neighbor had all sorts of stories to tell, and Emily loved listening to them. There were all kinds of stories, from fairy tales and mysteries, stories about lost lands and victories, about knights in shining armor, brave queens who fought for their land to revenge seeking ghosts and naughty trolls. Emily was intensely intrigued by them all. Sometimes, she wanted to fight one of the bad characters, and at other times, she wanted to be one of them. Emily urged Mrs. Hampton to repeat her stories and out of the kindness of Mrs. Hampton’s heart, she always used to comply with the little girl’s demands.
Mrs. Hampton lovingly treated Emily like her own family. Emily was not just fond of her stories, but of the dear lady herself. Every weekend, Emily used to look forward to Mrs. Hampton’s freshly baked cinnamon apple pies and walnut cookies; they were her favorites. Emily recalled how they used to travel to the town market to buy supplies together and how much fun they had while cooking them. Mrs. Hampton was like the grandmother Emily never had. Of course, she had grandparents of her own, but was never close with them.
Mrs. Hampton was smart, witty and funny. She taught Emily how to be brave and carefree. Then one winter, Emily and her family were out on vacation in Chicago visiting relatives. Emily was sixteen at the time. When she came back home, she ran towards Mrs. Hampton’s house to greet her. However, instead of her welcoming arms right on the porch, she found five policemen standing grimly on the sidewalk. Horrified, she ran up there, but the policemen prevented her from going inside, stating that it was now a crime scene. Emily was young when the incident happened, but somehow she remembers it like it was yesterday.
“You can’t go in there. Someone has been murdered here,” one of the policemen said.
Emily looked back at her father with disbelief in her eyes. She could feel her legs melting. “But it’s not possible, “Emily cried out loud.
“Ma’am, are you related to the victim?” the gruff-looking policeman inquired.
Emily was too petrified to answer. She wanted to say yes, but couldn’t
find her voice. She stood frozen on the ground. Her father walked up to the policemen and said, “She was our neighbor, and my daughter loved her a lot.”
“Sir, it looks like she was murdered last night,” said the policeman. “You need to come with us to the police station for some routine questions,” he added.
Emily was tormented from that day forward, and she became more reserved and depressed. She just couldn’t deal with Mrs. Hampton’s death. Apparently, there was no theft at Mrs. Hampton's house that evening. A suspected murderer was arrested, but the man was never convicted due to lack of conclusive evidence. The ensuing events of his release from jail distressed Emily further and she decided to take up criminology after that. She decided to fight against the violence and misfortunes that fall on innocent lives. Emily and her family left their house and a whole lot of memories behind in order for her to pursue a criminology degree in Chicago.
Moving into a new place and getting settled was hard for Emily. She tried to adapt to her new environment and new people, but her past always came back to haunt her. At times, she wished that she had never gone on that vacation and blamed herself for Mrs. Hampton’s murder. At times, she cried herself to sleep. Taking up criminology at the university provided some consolation, but there was never a time when she didn’t think about the events of that unfortunate day. She tried to figure out why somebody would kill an innocent old woman like Mrs. Hampton; there appeared to be no apparent reason. The policemen chalked it up to a senseless act of violence, but Emily always thought there was more to it than that.
Since Emily began studying criminology, she swore every day to use her knowledge and expertise to catch criminals. She became more focused and determined to read criminal minds and if possible, avenge the death of someone she dearly loved. The incident of her neighbor’s death shook her so badly that she became extremely cautious thereafter. She couldn’t trust anyone, and always felt that people had ulterior motives.
However, she did find some comfort in her best friend, Grace, who also took up criminology for the greater good. The phone in Emily’s sweater buzzed loudly, which jolted her out of her jaded train of thought.
I’ve been thinking too much lately, she told herself, and sighed before taking the phone out.
She saw that it was Grace calling and a wry smile crossed her face. She answered the phone to let her know that she was coming back shortly. However, Grace was excited on the other end of the line.
“There is a huge parcel for you. It arrived shortly after I came in. I tried to call you, but it seems you never received it,” she said.
“Mother must have sent it, look again,” Emily replied reluctantly.
“No, you don’t understand. The packaging is old and frayed at the edges. I can’t describe it to you. I don’t think it’s from your mother though. Can you come right now?” Grace asked in one single breath.
What is it about the parcel that is so important? Emily wondered.
Then, she checked her cell phone to see that there were indeed several missed calls from her friend. Emily walked backed warily without thinking too much about the parcel or her friend’s over the top enthusiasm. She decided to take the longer route back to the dormitory order to shake away those stubborn emotions. As Emily passed the Fletcher building, her eyes involuntarily went up and something made her stop in her tracks. She thought she saw someone at one of the windows.
Who would be up at the library at this hour?
Emily heard another buzz from her phone and she was on her way once again. Now Emily quickened her steps; the temperature was dipping and she decided to head back to her dorm as soon as possible. Grace came rushing out when she heard footsteps outside the door.
“Emily, you’ve got to see the parcel. It’s huge and beautiful!” she exclaimed.
Emily couldn’t comprehend the reason behind Grace’s excitement. After all, it was merely a parcel. Yet nothing could stop Grace from dragging her friend inside to show her the reason behind all the elation.
Emily stood in front of the parcel and looked at it for some time. Grace was right; her mother and father would not have sent her the parcel. It was unlike any present she had ever received. The package was indeed huge, the size of a small end table and wrapped in old brown leather. There were also some writings embossed in gold thread all over the cover. Emily examined the parcel. It didn’t show the name of the sender, but it was addressed to her. Her parents or relatives never sent her anything even closely resembling the wonder before her eyes.
Puzzled, Emily wondered why someone would send her something like this. It was not like she received gifts every day, and it was neither Christmas nor her birthday. Her mistrustful nature kicked in and Emily began examining the package like evidence.
“Emily, just open it!” Grace implored.
Emily still debated with herself, but the urge was too much and finally got the better of her. She sat down and asked Grace to bring her a pair of scissors. While her friend rummaged through the kitchen drawer, Emily started to unravel the gems that lay hidden inside the package.
“Hurry up,” Grace urged from the kitchen.
Emily looked up at her without saying a thing. The package was beautifully wrapped as if some treasure lay protected inside. She thought it could have been delivered to her by mistake so she didn’t want to damage it. Emily inspected the leather wrapping itself, and it was extraordinary. She had never seen anything like it before. Once she removed the binding, she sat the leather cover aside and decided to open the box. Emily didn't know what to find inside and took a deep breath before going any further. She expected nothing and everything at the same time. It was an interesting feeling that at sat for the moment managed to take her mind away from the unsettling dreams and memories that kept her up at night. Emily slowly removed the lid as Grace sat beside her with expectant eyes.
“Books,” Grace exclaimed, breaking the silence. “There are books in the box.” Grace released her breath and went back to organizing her side of the room.
Emily relaxed as well. “Were you expecting something else?” They looked at each other.
“Who would send you these books?” Grace asked.
Emily shrugged. Each book was neatly covered and they had to open one to see what contents were inside. There were books of criminology from authors both old and new. The texts varied from modern writers to vintage editions dating back as far as 1939. Both girls started turning the pages in a rhythmic manner. They carefully checked out every book, not knowing what to expect inside the strange tomes. The collection included books which Emily had only dreamed of holding in her hands since they were too expensive for her student budget. Now all of a sudden, they were all hers. Emily looked at Grace delightfully, still bewildered and not knowing what to say.
“Can you believe this?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know what to say,” Emily replied.
At that very moment, they found something else that astounded them. Along with books of criminology, there were books of necromancy and spiritual evocation. Now that was something the girls did not expect and there was more than just one book on the subject. Several of these dark books were old or worn out and looked as if they were from a time long ago. Each manuscript came with detailed graphic descriptions on how to evoke spirits and souls or how to relate to them on the physical plane.
“This parcel can’t be for you,” Grace logically concluded. “You don’t even believe in ghosts or spirits.”
“But the package had my name on it,” Emily rebuffed.
She was confused, but definitely intrigued by the collection. It was true that she didn’t believe in life after death or ghosts, but apparently someone thought otherwise. She was a pragmatist and skeptic by nature. She deduced everything through scientific investigation and believed there was always a logical reason for the unexplainable mysteries of life. People who knew her were obviously aware of her beliefs. She wasn’t afraid during her first year at the university when the u
pper classmen pulled a scary prank on the freshmen. They dressed up in ski masks and jumped out at everyone on the university terrace. Emily was never afraid to go anywhere alone and wasn’t scared of the dark for that matter. She worked for long hours by herself in the library and went places without anyone’s company. Therefore, this turn of events perplexed her greatly.
Perhaps it’s just another stupid prank, she thought to herself.
Emily was at her wits end and tried to figure out who the sender could be. Both the girls turned the pages of the books to find any clue that would lead them to the identity of the sender, but it was of no avail. Just that quickly, it had become somewhat of an unsolved mystery.
Emily was looking frantically through the pages when she heard Grace say, “Spirits, hear my cry, I summon you from the other side to come to me and cross the great divide.”
“What are you doing?” Emily balked. She was angry.
“I was just reading a line from this book,” Grace said. She continued, “It even says that when you…” Her speech was cut off when Emily snatched the book from her hand and slammed it against the floor. “Grace, not in our room,” she said. “You don’t know how these things work and I don’t believe in them, so stop it.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, but, Emily, are you so sure that you understand everything? There are a lot of things beyond our comprehension, things that can’t be explained by logic alone. So why negate them completely?”
“Grace, you and I have been friends for too long, so don’t tell me this now, and what you said was extremely cliché.” Emily hated being lectured by her friend. “And ghosts and spirits are only good to read in stories,” Emily said to lighten the situation. “Let’s store these away and get a bite to eat. We can ask the dean tomorrow about the books and donate them to the library,” Emily said.
“I’m not hungry,” Grace said with a loud exhalation. “I’ll be off for the night.” She was visibly upset and lost all her patience for Emily’s moody behavior. She grabbed her purse from the nightstand and left the room without looking back.