Tales of the supernatural: Six romantic storiesPlatt, James
Science
Tales of the supernatural: Six romantic stories
Platt, James
Paranormal fiction
"I owe you my story," she replied more gently; "when she died and he
fell into evil courses and went adrift with bad companions, I found I
could not live without him, nor with anyone else, and I determined to
become one of them. I dressed in boy's clothes and sought enlistment
into his company of free lances. He would have driven me from him,
saying it was no work for such as I, yet at last I wheedled it from
him. I think there was something in my face (all undeveloped as it
was and stained with walnut juice) that reminded him of her he had
lost. I followed him faithfully through good and evil, cringing for
a look or word from him. We were at last broken up (as you know) and
I alone of all his sworn riders remained to staunch his wounds. He
brought me hither that he might wager all the soul that was left to
him on the chance of evoking her spirit. I had with me the dress my
sister died in, that I had cherished through all my wanderings, as my
sole reminder of her life and death. I put it on after he had left
me, and followed him as fast as my strength would allow me. My
object was to beguile him with what sorry pleasure I could, while at
the same time saving him from committing the sin of disturbing the
dead. God forgive me if there was mixed with it the wholly selfish
yearning to be kissed by him once, only once, in my true character as
loving woman, rid of my hated disguise! I have had my desire, and it
has turned to apples of Sodom on my lips. You are right. All we can
do now is to preserve his soul alive."
She fell on her knees beside the coffin. The hermit pressed his
crucifix into her hands.
"Pray!" he cried, and at the same moment the distant clock struck
twelve. There came a rush of feet, a thunder at the iron door, the
cave rocked like a ship's cabin abruptly launched into the trough of
a storm. An infernal whooping and hallooing filled the air outside,
mixed with it imprecations that made the strong man blanch. The
banner of Destruction was unfurled. All the horned heads were upon
them. Thrones and Dominions, Virtues, Princes, Powers. All hell was
loose that night, and the outskirts of Hell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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