Ghosts of Tsavo
Page 5
It is, I believe, a sensible place for an intermission, during which I shall explain how I became acquainted with Prof. Runal and the Society for Paranormals & Curious Animals. And, in so doing, you will also understand how I came to be with the Steward family. It’s a most convenient arrangement: two stories for the space of one.
From a tender age, I had exhibited a rather robust and socially unacceptable imagination that startled my parents and their numerous visitors. “Harmless delusions,” some would say to cover up the awkward moments.
Initially, my parents tolerated my creative outbursts while I was a child. After all, it wasn’t so unusual for young children to have imaginary friends (albeit mine were considerably more successful in causing mayhem). But when there was no indication that these flights of fantasy would cease, action was taken.
Shortly after my tenth birthday, my father took me to see a learned man renowned for his ability to diagnose and cure difficult cases of mental disturbance. It was, in my father’s opinion, the last opportunity to rid the family of my fantasies.
“If this fails,” he informed me as he pulled me along behind him, “I’m not sure what we shall do. Your mother is far too lenient on you, that’s for certain, but action will need to be taken.”
Even at my youthful age, I had some ideas what that action might entail. I’d overheard my father and his aunt arguing with my mother one evening.
“We have no choice but to send her off to a convent after a good dosing of holy water,” my father huffed, paused, and added, “And maybe an exorcism or two.”
Before my mother could respond, his aunt—a large and bossy lady who smelled of mothballs and liquor—added, “That isn’t nearly sufficient, dear boy. You’re far too soft. She must be permanently institutionalized. You can then tell all who know you that she died of influenza.”
Before either of these alternatives was seriously explored, I was taken to see Prof. Runal.
The good professor, upon reassuring my father that there was really nothing too wrong with his child, requested a private interview with me. While he escorted my father out the room, I glanced about and noticed the corner of a metal frame jutting out from behind a curtain on the wall nearest me. I shifted the curtain aside to reveal a framed piece of fancy writing. I peered closer and read something that made no sense at the time:
~~~
Mandates of the
Society for Paranormals & Curious Animals
To which all its members pledge:
1) Investigate, document and, when appropriate, enroll into the Society new individuals and species;
2) Maintain the secrecy of the Paranormal Realm in general, and the Society and its activities specifically;
3) Ensure all members commit themselves to this mandate and to the directives of the Society’s Council.