Black Violets

Miss Violet Ashwater has been suffering with strange dreams for her whole life it seems. She travels to a distant hotel to meet a specialised Doctor in attempt to help her. But at the hotel more mayhem is unleashed. Murder after murder. A dashing detective named Victor Cordent steps in but he is not all as he seems...


2. Frozen


I watched the snow fall, silently around the green fir trees. It swirled around in the wind, winding into white spirals in the air. I sat quietly in the back of the coach with my hands tightly clasped around one another, like a block of rigid ice. The sound of creaking wheels bumping slowly along was starting to hurt my ears. I flinched at almost every bump. The crooked wheels weren’t built for jagged roads such as these. The roads wound sharply around the corners of the mountains. I looked up at them wearily and wondered at their magnificence. It was tiresome having to travel by coach, so terribly tedious and slow. Tiresome? Tedious? Slow? Why did I think that? What faster and more efficient way was there to travel? The motion of flying slid into my mind. I could almost feel the wind on my face as I crossed though the starlit sky, gliding through the cold air at great speed and passing the quiet villages and green valley’s below. Strangely this image appeared in my head so vividly like a memory, like it was yesterday... I shook my head- hard- in disbelief. This wasn’t the first time I’d had an image creep into my mind like that. The images were always so impossible that they couldn’t be true but the frustrating thing was they always stopped abruptly, like they were supposed to carry on. Then I couldn’t remember the rest, it always escaped me. The memory of flying floated in my mind like a butterfly fluttering just out of reach, a jet black butterfly.

I clamped my teeth together violently. I didn’t like to think that I was going mad but I knew I was ill, that was for sure. All these strange thoughts ran around in my mind, thoughts that didn’t seem to belong to me but to someone else. Fighting them continually tired me out and sleep never helped. I rubbed my temples with the edge of my fingers, slowly and rhythmically in circles. I breathed in and out slowly, it helped...a little. My skin felt cold, hard and frozen, but that was the least of my worries. I leaned out the window my hands resting on the velvet coated door. The sun was falling behind the hills, and fast. My heart thudded against my chest like a hammer against a wall as if trying to tell me something. Or maybe it was just wanted to escape from the deluded prison it had been born slave to. Me. The second idea made more sense.

The reds and oranges of the sky seemed to ooze from the sun like liquid. Blood, perhaps. The tall fir trees stretched into a compact forest and each tree was weighed down by mounds of sparkling snow. The snow reflected the red and orange light which, in turn, lit up the frozen mountains and seemed to set them on fire. The illusion was beautiful; I could almost see the flames... burning, devouring. It was beautiful but in a dark, sinister way. As much as I tried, I could not prevail, everything I saw was ominous, baleful even malignant. How could a tree, or a house, or a child hurt me? I do not know. But that is what I saw and so I hid from the world but it had got to the point where I couldn’t do that anymore. I might as well have been seeing in black and white, maybe that would have put things in a better perspective. Colour did not fill me with joy, not any more. Did it before? I couldn’t remember. I wasn’t sure whether I had ever had a normal life; it seemed I had been like this for eternity. I closed my eyes tight, breathing too fast for my lungs to cope with. A little of my sanity was evidently still present as a mad person does not usually know they are mad. At least, that is what I told myself.

I leaned back inside the coach and dug my nails hard into the cushiony seat.  I had leaned out the window for a little too long and the snow had settled onto my face and begun to freeze. I cursed in frustration, everything was horrible, vile. I so wanted to see something beautiful, something that might please me, but that seemed like a far away dream. The quicker we got to the hotel the better; the hotel was actually inside a refurbished castle called Castle Dromodom. The name seemed a bit sinister to me.

The screeching wheels were making me feel a little sick and I had to see Dr Watson. This illness I had, was getting worse and no doctor seemed to know why or what was wrong with me. I sincerely hoped with all my heart that Dr Watson did, and that he could give me a cure. He was one of the best doctors around, or so I’d heard. I thought I must have a disease that muddled the brain. I scrunched my toes in sharply and started to count slowly. I had been travelling for two hours now. I was tired, confused and drained of all human emotion, at least all the good ones anyway. The snow carried on falling thick and fast. Then finally sleep found me and wrapped its arms around my body and knocked me out stone cold.

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