Hello, everyone! Welcome or welcome back to my blog. I hope you enjoyed my story in the previous post. Today, I am back with another story, which I hope you will like. So, here we go:
The strange thing about this strange journey is that it began with a word. Even as I sit here, recollecting my story and penning it down in my memoirs, I shudder even at the mere thought of my experience that night.
It has been about twenty long years after I went through that and yet I get goose bumps even when I think of it. For you readers it may seem like a flimsy horror story written by some amateur young kid- for the pen is not my strongest weapon- but for me, who has experienced it first hand, it is something else altogether and according to me, a story well worth telling. So, here is how it all began:
I was a striping young man then. I had just finished college with a bachelor’s degree in commerce. I used to live in London then (I had gone there with my parents who had shifted there some thirteen years ago). Now, my parents having gone back to India, I was left alone to fend for myself. All I had left to support me was a small two-room flat on Queen Street and a monthly allowance of about 150 pounds, sent by my parents.
Since my parents were businessmen, I, too, had no interest in doing a job. I took up a small office space in Piccadilly and started my own shipping company. My firm was small, but I did good business and as a result, I soon was able to hire my own personal secretary within a few months.
Money soon started pouring in more than ever. I shifted to a bigger firm in Trafalgar Square and hired two more people: Mr. Vincent Lorry, my security guard (we needed one as we kept lot of valuable shipment in our storehouse) and Mr. James Roy as a helper to my secretary Mr. Ben Longwood.
One day, as I entered the office, I found an envelope on my desk. Ben told me that a man in liveries had arrived in a private hansom and handed over the paper to him, saying that his master had instructed him to give me this piece of paper and that it was very urgent. As I opened the envelope, I discovered a piece of paper in which was scribbled just one word, “Norbury”. The seal on the envelope ascertained the fact that this was sent by no ordinary man but the Duke of Norbury himself. I had to go.
The next day, I boarded the train for Norbury. It was the fourth stop after which the train would continue to go further up north, upto Yorkshire. I arrived at the station at half past eleven and had no trouble finding a ready hansom. I later found out that the Duke’s castle was actually about seven miles outside the city.
It was the modern era and the powers of these small dukedoms were taken away. Despite that, the building looked grand and modern. From outside, it was a huge building built in stone masonry, that must have been at least three centuries old. Two avenues ran down both the sides of the building, lined with several trees laden with fruit. And one of them was paved with cobblestones, to be used as a driveway. The building itself must have been at least three stories high, with four turrets on the four sides. The windows to all the rooms were huge and the doorway, even bigger.
Inside, there was a living room heavily furnished with expensive antique furniture. From the ceiling hung down two chandeliers made fully out of crystal and gold. I was made to sit in one of the armchairs and was told that the Duke would see me soon. Sure enough, ten minutes later I was ushered into the study. The number of books and artefacts made my head reel. In the centre of the room was a large table, on which were kept a bookstand, an inkpot and a feather quill. Behind the table was a huge armchair lined with velvet and in it sat reading, the Duke himself.
As soon as he saw me, he rose from the chair, greeted me and directed me to a chair. The Duke seemed to be an amiable man. He was an old man, probably in his sixties.He had a small nose, wore a pince-nez and had a big. The Duke got about explaining the business. He had a hobby of collecting expensive jewellery and had recently bought a diamond. It was no ordinary diamond. “The Clarcinet” was a deep golden colored, twenty-four karat diamond, one of the biggest and rarest in the world (but I had my doubts as these people were often in the habit of exaggerating). But, when the Duke brought out from a huge safe, a golden box and opened it, my doubts were totally proved wrong. The sight of it dazzled my eyes; I had never seen anything like it before.
He told me that its worth was about $1,00,000 and that an acquaintance of his had promised to pay $1,50,000. Although he was reluctant to part with it, the offer seemed irresistible and he needed that money since he had lost a tidy sum in the races. He needed me to personally go and deliver this package to a Mr. Hapsburg living in New York city. I bluntly refused. Even though the package was precious and needed personal attention, I was certainly not ready to go to New York all the way across the Atlantic. Finally, he told me that he would cover all my expenses and pay me $20,000. I had to go.
I left the charge of my business to my secretary and left for New York. The journey was uneventful. Mr. Hapsburg was out when I reached and safely delivered the parcel to his secretary. I spent a few days there, until I began feeling homesick. It was on my return journey, though that my tale starts.
I arrived at Manchester and was looking for a way to get to London. The Duke had already deposited my fees into my bank, so there was no need to visit Norbury again. I looked around for a cab to London (it might seem strange but I had to since the station was under renovation and all the trains were stopped). No one was ready to go. Then finally I found a cab which would at least take me half way to London, till a town called Stratford. We reached Stratford by nightfall and I managed to get a room in one of the inns. The next day, I was told that all the cab drivers had gone on a strike due to an increase in some kind of tax. There were two villages further ahead where I could find some mode of transport but one of them, Herefordshire, was a days walk and the other, Ox county, was at least two days away. I decided against the latter. But before going, the innkeeper warned me from going anywhere near the castle. It was supposed to be haunted, I was told, by the ghost of the king of Herefordshire, who seemed to have been poisoned by his trusted prime minister.
I reached the town early at night, but there was no one to be seen. I walked up to the highway to see if I could spot anyone. Suddenly, I could make out the figure of a man riding a horse. As he came nearer, I inquired him as to why was this place deserted. Apparently, there was a big annual carnival going on in a nearby city and the whole town had gone to attend it and that they wouldn’t be back until the next evening.
I wandered into the city, hoping to find at least one house that was open. To my utter disappointment, I found not one house with their windows open, let alone the door. I started wandering till I finally came to the other end of the town, where the forest started. I could see before me the imposing façade of the dreaded castle. The castle was actually well outside the village and could not be spotted from it due to the thick jungles around it. I could have stayed under a tree for the night, but thanks to my luck, it started to snow just then things started getting cold. I had no choice but to seek shelter in that castle.
I am usually not the imaginative type, and I had nerves of steel, but one look inside, made me freak out. In front of me was a huge hall, with two stairways along the sides of the walls leading upto more rooms upstairs. I climbed up to the first floor and tried the first room on my left. It was open and I went inside. The room was heavily furnished and contained a luxurious four poster bed. Too tired to think any more, I plopped down on the bed and went to sleep almost immediately.
I woke up in the middle of the night, my body dripping with cold sweat. No, it couldn’t be the heat as it was still snowing outside, it was something else. I could feel someone’s presence in the bedroom. It was almost as if someone was circling me. I opened my mouth to cry out, but my throat had gone dry. As I turned to the window, I realized that I was at least about five feet away from it, while I could distinctly remember having closed the window while sitting on the bed.
I felt a cold wind passing by me. I felt like screaming but my body seemed to have been paralyzed. Suddenly, I heard a sound to my right and as I looked there, I could make out a white figure standing in the doorway. It was dark, but a flash of lightning illuminated the room for a second. Now the time for which the room was lit up was short, but it showed me all I wanted, and needed to see. A tal old man with a pale white skin, hollow eyes and thin, cruel lips and a red liquid dripping down them. Although frightened to the marrow, I felt a sudden impulse to run. I got up and lunged towards the door. I opened it and started running down the stairs madly. I opened the main door and ran towards the town like one possessed. Coming to think of it now, I must very well have broken the fastest speed record for a runner. I seemed to have forgotten the way I came in and even if I had remembered, I was too disturbed to find my way out. I ran haphazardly without any sense of direction. Twice I bumped into different objects scattered across the room. Then, as if by a miracle, the main door stood before me, closed. I took a few paces back, and ran towards the door with all my might. Though big and heavy, the door’s old rusty hinges gave way and the two huge pieces of wood fell down flat. Again I continued running. Everything after that was a big blur. The only thing I remember was spotting a village in front of me and my pace increased.
As soon as I entered the village, to the east, I could see a pinkish tinge in the sky. That was all the comfort I needed. I sank down on a pile of fresh green grass in front of me, my body still dripping with sweat, not the cold one this time, but the one you get when you have worked very hard for something you prize- your life. The sun was overhead now. I picked myself up, totally exhausted, but completely relieved. I trudged all the way to the next big town, where I could finally find what I was looking for all this while- a cab which would finally take me to London.
I hope you enjoyed reading this tale. If you did, stay tuned for more and if you did not, stay tuned anyways. Who knows? Please subscribe, you might like something else I put up. So this is me, Arindam Bhaduri signing off.