The City of Lost Souls

Arcanum Corvus is an author. He has a book on the New York Times Bestseller list called, Amissus animarum. There's a catch, nobody know's what he looks like. Matter of fact, nobody knows who he is; well there are a few. Arcanum has a past, and he cautiously exposes it through his characters. There's more to Arcanum than meets the eye. So who is the mysterious author, nobody truly knows.


35. Chapter Thirty Five

      I woke up roughly thirteen hours later, after being prostrate. My eyes felt as though, they were sewn shut. My body was listless, and I was not up for any sort of fight. I somewhat begrudgingly, allowed my body to absorb the rest it needed. The noise from outside was of children coming down the pavement, giggling filling the air. There were various voices, of different tones. It was a comfort though. It was peaceful, like the call of a bird. I stretched out on the bed, and slowly opened my eye. There were fresh flowers in the room. I sat up quickly, looking around. I wasn't aware of Mrs. Kimmage coming today. So I relaxed a little. Maybe I'd had goofed up her days off, that was my only conclusion.

      I stretched, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cool hardwood floor sent a shock through my warm core. I stretched, allowing my muscles to breath after my much needed dormancy. The flowers were beautiful, and fragrant. The bouquet consisted of purple irises, purple lilacs, delphiniums, and one single daffodil. I grabbed my phone, and headed downstairs. I looked around, and didn't smell any food, or coffee. I assumed Mrs. Kimmage, had either left, or did not make breakfast.

      Once I was in the kitchen, I looked around. There was no sign of her being here. On the counter laid a card. It appeared as though it came with the flowers. The plastic inset that would have held it in the bouquet, was gone. I checked the recycle bin, but there was nothing there. I was confused, but shrugged it off. Coffee was my most immediate. While waiting for it to fire up, I pulled the card across the counter. As I read the card quietly, the wording was different.


      Flowers have their very own language you know. You're great with languages that aren't common. Best of luck with it Arcanum.




I was puzzled. The card wasn't signed, but only provided a shop name. The Secret Admirer was printed on the card. I looked at the card turning it over, but nothing came to me. I abandoned the coffee, and took the card upstairs to the bedroom. Once seated at my desk, I sat down and phoned Abby. After three rings, she picked up,

      "Arcanum? Is everything ok?" Her voice sounded sleepy.

      "The flowers sweetheart, they're beautiful." I smiled, hearing her voice. It was comfort. I could imagine her sitting here with me.

      "What flowers? I didn't' send any Arc." She sounded confused.

      "There's a bouquet of flowers, sitting here in the bedroom. I glanced at them, and fancied the thought of holding her. She'd be smiling, quietly curled up against me. The smiled drew upon my face, spreading into a wide one of contentment.

      "Arc, I just woke up. I didn't send them." She yawned, and I could hear him in the background. His voice was there. He was inquiring as to who she was on the phone with. My fist clenched. She was groggy, and so was he. The male partner, as to whom she'd replaced me with; was in her bed. My temper started to flare, matching my nostrils.

      "Then who sent the bloody things then." I snapped at her.

      She sighed, "First off, lose the attitude you British Twit. Secondly, I'm not Sherlock Holmes. So calm down, but here's his address, 221B Baker Street. Maybe he'll help with your flower mystery. Good by Mr. Mystery Man." She hung up, and I was left in silence. At that moment, I could have crushed my phone into pieces. I needed to remain calm. My anger wouldn't lead me to who my "Secret Admirer" was.

      I took to firing up my laptop, to look up the meanings of the flowers.


      Purple Iris – Symbolic of wisdom, and compliments.


      I smirked, "Wisdom, of course. Mum what was your intuition when naming your children?" I asked aloud in the room. I went back to the search option on the webpage, and typed in the next flower.


      Purple Lilac – Symbolizes first love


      I sighed. It was Abby. I was her first love, as she was mine. She couldn't admit to it with her new lover, lying beside her. Thinking of him caused my brow to furrow. I would email her later. I needed to decipher the rest.


      Delphinium – Symbolizes big heartedness


      I thought back to the times I'd given, without thinking. Abby always said, "Your heart is always expanding. It's a beautiful heart." I smiled, remembering as she placed her hand on my chest. It brought comfort to have these memories.


      Daffodil – A single one foretells of misfortune


      Misfortune, the word struck hard. Like a blow from my drunken fathers hand. I swallowed down, the anger that threatened to rise again. The definition had two meanings; both of which would not forebode well. It boiled down to, bad luck, or an unfortunate condition, or event. I rubbed my face, mulling it over. I was being served a message, in the most subtle of ways. Abigail Zydef knew that I would be able to read through it. I would see past the beautiful colors, and the magic of Mother Nature. I saw it for the message. I'd hurt her deeply, and there would never be any way to repair that damage.

 I opened up a new window, and went to my email. I wanted to send an apology to Abby. She deserved it.



Dear Abby,


My best mate. I'm so sorry to have awoken you, with such a gruff tone. I do apologize. It was absolutely uncalled for. I need to first and foremost, put your feelings before mine. Hearing his voice, there with you


I stopped staring at the screen, did I continue with what I would say, "His voice makes me want to box his ears off." I shook my head. I took a deep breath, and returned to typing the apology, that would never stop being said.


reassured me you're in great hands. It show's me, that you're being treated the way you should be. I looked up the meaning of the flowers. It was a subtle message, that you needed me to hear. I realize it now. I do hope you have a lovely day. Hope to see you soon or at least chat. Peace be with you both. Tell him I send my greetings.


Arc Xx


            I swiped my finger across the laptop track pad, and moved clicking the send button. The computer sounded with a chime, alerting me it had been sent. I stretched, and looked at the screen. I opened my iTunes library, and hit play. It was still on shuffle, from my last writing session. The first song to come on was The Freshmen by The Verve Pipe. I decided to try and write. It had to be done, and procrastination would only prove to be futile. I opened up my writing, and started where I had left off. A couple hours had passed, and it was approaching dinner time. I still hadn't showered, or had a meal for the matter. So I saved my progress, and closed the laptop. My phone had several missed alerts. Twitter like usual had the most, and so I decided t o clear out the notifications.

            "OMG! I just finished the first book. I can't wait for the next one. " I smiled, knowing the reader had thoroughly enjoyed the tale that was written.

            I continued to scroll, and it popped up with a lyric.

            @Itschattyabby The Best of You – Foo Fighters. I've got another confession my friend. I'm no fool. I'm getting tired of starting again.           

            I wasn't quite sure what to make of the song at first. After listening to it a second time, it was starting to click, and quite clearly. She was questioning me. Was someone getting the best of my character? Truth be told, they were. Ornella had been the woman I loved. The woman I daydreamed of having children with. The vicious cycle of wondering, was quietly maneuvering its way back to me. I was pulled away from the wondering, when I checked my email. Abby had replied.




            Arcanum what don't you understand. I didn't send you a bouquet of flowers. I haven't had time, nor would I have. In your case, I would have sent liquor. Seems to be something you fancy more. That or I would have sent Ornella. I'd make sure there was a black bow on her head, matches her soul. Sorry you can't seem to grasp my response. Take care.


            Abigail </3


            I read the email, and the symbol at the end was hard to digest. It was a broken heart. What had I done to this young lady? I was aggravated, and needed to alleviate the feeling. The gloomy fog, of what was my life needed to disappear. If it involved me remaining here permanently, then so be it. I needed a break from the drama back in Boston. Ornella and Abby had to come to terms. I was no longer of any interest for either one of them.

            I decided on a shower, and I would fetch a meal while out. There had to be something interesting going on in the center. I was trapped behind the brick wall of a writer's block once again. Sadly, the Berlin wall came down easier, than this one appeared it would. I decided something warm, but comfortable would work. I took to a turtleneck sweater, which was a solid black. I'd chosen a pair of black dress trousers and a matching pair of leather shoes to top it off. . I wore the sweater tucked in my waste, and the silver belt buckle, shimmered off the light in the room. I retrieved my pea coat from the closet, along with a scarf, and gloves. I was ready to set out into the cool evening air.

            I locked up the flat, and made my way down the path. Lights were on in the homes I passed. Families sat down to have their meals soon. I was caught again in the daydream. This time, it was different. Abby was waiting at home, and with children. I could see her smiling. The children were young, a wedding band on her left hand. I smiled. Then I saw him walk in through the door. It was not I, as I had hoped. I quickly let the image fade away, and finally made it to the city of life.

            I had my headphones in, and quietly listened to music as I walked the cobblestone side street. I wanted something that wasn't popular, but a small shop. A sandwich and a brew would work for me. So that's what my search was aimed for. A tiny shop was lit and welcoming. After this, I wanted to find the flower shop. I'd assumed they'd be closed by this time. It was a flower shop, and in the early hours of the evening. Deliveries would have been done for the day. So I would phone the next day, and ask questions.

            I sat down, by the window and looked over a menu. It wasn't extensive, but offered enough for choices. I was settled simply with a grilled cheese sandwich. I wasn't starving, but my body needed some fuel to continue running. The brew would be generic for me. I needed to regulate my sleep pattern, once I returned to the house. The waitress came over, and quietly took my order. She smiled, and glanced over her shoulder once. I sat back, and looked out the window.

            Back in Boston, Abby and Farrel were trying to enjoy their afternoon.

            "What are you thinking?" Farrell questioned. They sat quietly, as he held her hand.

            "For starters, why the hell would I send him flowers? No offense, but I usually prefer to receive them. Secondly who sent them? Third and final question; why not ask your psychotic ex." Abby sighed, and let her head fall back.

            "Because for starters, you're pretty upset he up and left. Secondly, she seems preoccupied with her new boy toy." Farrell pushed her hair behind her ear.

            "Oh Alvin will only occupy her for so long. She'll become bored of him, and back to grovel at Arc's feet. He'll stupidly take her back, and she'll stab him once again." Abby let out a lengthy sigh. Farrel wasn't sure what he could do. His girlfriend was quite upset, and rationality wasn't high on the agenda.

            The motion, started to lull Abby to a peaceful place. Her thoughts wandered, and her eyes closed. Farrell caressed her knuckles, with his thumb. A faint smile crossed her face.

            "I do love you. I won't leave you like he did. I promise you that." Farrell whispered, brining her hand up to his lips. Carefully he placed a single kiss on her knuckles.

            "He didn't leave me. I told him to go speak to her. It was my fault." Abby spoke with such disappointment.

            "And this time, when he's abruptly left? Was this your fault as well?" Farrell questioned her.

            "In all truthfulness once again, yes." Abby wasn't sure how, she could explain it. Deep within her heart, she knew it though. She stupidly assumed her best friend, had assaulted Ornella. She ran to him, whined about her situation with his ex. It was her problem, not his.

            Farrell sighed, holding her hand, "You can't silently blame yourself. You'll never get anywhere.

            "No I won't, you're right. I will not allow others to pay for my broken heart." She let his hand fall softly, and returned to her solitary thoughts. 

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