Our mysterious fish messenger is back. The word ‘Dig’ was left in assorted aquatic creatures and shells on the O’Stoat family vault some time before yesterday morning. I was alerted to the presence of the word by Master Owen Davies. It is a curious invitation. Was it made by the same person who left us the words ‘dead’ linked to the recent, unresolved murder at the O’Stoat mansion? What would be the use of digging up those long since deceased?
Doc Willoughby’s study of the gory remains leads him to think that the victim of the recent mansion murder was Drustan O’Stoat, son of Melisandra and Durosimi O’Stoat. One can only imagine what terrible circumstances led these two parents to murder their offspring.
Search parties on the island have yet to find any trace of the pair. I am not encouraging citizens to open the O’Stoat tomb. If whoever is leaving these messages actually knows something, will they please come forward and make their insight known.
Normally I do little more than naming the dead. It is the end of a story and I would rather share interesting news, things we can do something about. This morning, the word ‘Dead’ appeared, crafted from fish just outside my house. From the word came a trail of debris – shells, fish, driftwood, stones, leading all the way across town to the O’Stoat house. Others had found and followed the trail and a crowd had gathered there before I arrived. As no one else seemed inclined to venture in, I did so myself. The house was entirely empty, aside from human remains. Doc Willoughby is investigating and hopes to identify the body. It would appear that one of the O’Stoats is dead, and the other two have fled. Another sad chapter in the life of this cursed family.
Some bright spark left the word ‘Why’ outside my front door the day after last week’s Vendetta came out. Once again, the word was formed out of sea life, although this time there were several crabs and a starfish. At least I assume the word was ‘why’ as what may have been part of the central bar of the ‘h’ was still alive and some distance down the road. I beleive this to have been a childish prank.
No big news story this week, dear readers. The excitement with the new grave has led to much speculation, but as yet no answers. Science is slow, I am told. Anyone wishing to view the bones and grave goods can do so at the library.
‘Perhaps’ a single word formed out of the mortal remains of sea creatures, was this week found outside our Town Hall. No small amount of care and effort must have gone into dragging those fishy remains inland and arranging them – all in the dead of night.
What does it mean? It’s hardly a strong word. ‘No’ might have constituted a protest against the night of dancing held there and we could have looked to our religiously conservative citizens for an explanation. A word of anger or rebellion might have suggested the work of frustrated younger citizens. I can think of many powerful, meaningful words to have shared (although I would never employ the medium of rotting fish), but ‘perhaps’ is not one of them. The ambiguity is maddening! Why go to such effort in order to say so little?
By midday, wild birds had eaten most of the word. I kept watch there myself and can assure my readers that none of the word will make its way into any meals or food products.