Of Secrets, Letters, and Lions

by A.E. Moseley

Abby said, eyes watering. Mama patted her hand and held it for the rest of the conversation.

  “I understand dear. I wanted to know as well. But sometimes we must be content with not knowing.” She wiped her daughter’s eyes. “Your father kept a great many secrets from us in relation to this. I knew that he was keeping in touch with Doctor Walsh, and that he had an interest in this sort of thing, but for the family’s sake he kept it quiet.” She smiled. “Though I suppose that you would have found out sooner or later dear. You did inherit your curiosity from your father.” Mama and Abby embraced for a long time, Abby quietly sobbing while Mama fought back her own tears. Once they felt like they had composed themselves Mama asked Doctor Walsh to continue.

  Ambrose took up the conversation. “It’s logical to assume that the gate was left open by Lord Vandenburg, yet the lion bumped it shutting it on his way out.” He said. “You see, what my father hadn’t mentioned is that during his studies with Doctor Chattawal, they discovered that as time goes on the revived…person let’s call him, looses his memory until all he is, is a walking corpse. The same happens to those who are alive as well if Lord Vandenburg is anything to go by.

  “At this point in time, Lord Vandenburg had lost parts of his memory, because he had been taking it for four or so weeks according to his wife. On the night he was killed by the lion, he most likely forgot to latch the gate behind him, which would allow the lion to escape. Once he died, the potion took full affect.”

  “Thus the reason why people have seen him again!”

  Ambrose nodded and he and my sister exchanged smiles. What had gone on in that hall? “Precisely. Unfortunately there are many things that still need to be discovered. Like how many people have this, what could possibly cure it and how is it transmitted.”

  His father carried on his thought, “What has happened, and what your father was helping us with, was why those who had no access to the liquid display the common signs that mark them for an un-dead. Your father is a brilliant man and has always been interested in my studies during that time and I thought that he could help. Your father took matters into his own hands one night and decided to investigate the darker areas of London. On his journey back he was attacked by the lion. Unfortunately we do not know how far along the animal is in the process but we do know that the lion killed him.”

  “We have the corpse, but regrettably your Father was covered in the potion because the ones in his pocket broke.” Ambrose said. “He had been carrying them in hopes that the people of the area might be able to identify where they received the vials if they recognized it.”

  “Your father helped us round up Lord Vandenburg’s corpse and burn it. I assure you that his soul is long gone and has been ever since the lion killed him. As I’ve said, burning of the un-dead is the only way that I know how to get rid of the problem. Until a cure is found, that is our only solution. Unfortunately, we’ll have to do the same to your father…I’m sorry.”

  We sat in silence for a time after that. There was little to be said. After the silence Mama instructed that a letter be written to our brother, to inform him of the news. The Walsh’s left soon afterwards and we went through the usual rituals that are customary when someone in the family dies.

  As I write this to you, a week after these events, our clocks are stopped, we are all wearing black and we have had pictures taken of Father. There is…a numbness in my heart. Things do not feel the same. Food doesn’t taste right, colors seem duller and the near constant wind seems colder. I have returned all the books and papers to Father’s study and locked it despite Abby’s protests. I have taken to avoiding that area of the house.

  Mama will be moving in with our brother and helping his wife with the children, something I know she’ll enjoy. Abby and I will be going with her as well. The burning of Father’s corpse will take place tomorrow. Do keep us in your nightly prayers.

  Your dear friend, Hanna

  Dear reader,

  You have read this far and for that I congratulate you. It is not an easy task to gather up a person’s letters and to read them.

  As you may guess, my sister and I have grown over the past ten years. Mama still lives with our brother and his family and is quite content for a widow. Hanna’s friend Cecily did come to London when our mourning period was over as requested. She and her brother insisted that Hanna return to America with them for a time. Our brother heartily agreed. During that time Joshua, Cecily’s brother, proposed to Hanna, and of course Hanna accepted. The letters that they had written to each other over the mourning period were quite…intimate from what I’ve read.

  I have stayed in England, traveling with my husband Ambrose. What Hanna did not know at the time was that he and I were exchanging letters. I suppose you could say it’s how we fell in love. Together we work to find the cure that our fathers could not and to eradicate the corpses that threaten to harm the world. We have tried to get the police to join our cause but we are just laughed at and turned away.

  I had hoped to never need to publish these letters, as they are private, but this is the simplest and easiest way to spread word and origins of the illness. Pray, do be careful. Keep an eye out. If anyone shows memory loss, complains of pains in joints and is shades paler than normal, and avoiding sunlight, then you are most likely dealing with the undead. Remember, a death by fire is the most merciful thing that you can do.

  Best of luck dear reader,

  Abigail Walsh