The Reappearance of Sir Edwin Cole Sr.

The Reappearance of Sir Edwin Cole Sr.

Here, I found the late evening hours longing and raging on as the heat from the furnace was poetically cultivating heat from the fires it bore, a man gaining entry into the dorm that I was occupying. He seemingly had a vague expression cast upon his face as if nothing seemed to be the matter, and yet, here he was. I wondered up to the man, as I was in charge of admissions for the night and asked him if he was in need of assistance of any kind, then as if struck by some form of spell that he had been visible to, the man before me began to speak in a manner that was both provocative and highly unusual for the clientele that cater here.

Thus the man spoke as if he were possessed by some unseen being or had been unwittingly emerged into a vastness of emptiness and then thusly thrust into a shelter of my profession for a sense of longingness that he could had not related to, at least this first attempt at speaking that is.

It was then as the man that appeared to marvel at the monument of the facility and spoke about tidal fragilities. Thusly, as I record this man’s words, I will do all I can to ensure its prosperity:

“Noli quaerere patibulum aut praetorium, nullus enim modus prohibere potuit.”

Now, here I must admit my fragility in the words of old. It sounded old and rubric in the course in which he spoke it to me and took some time to be able to find an accurate translation. Thankfully, as it were, there had happened to be a man of Collar here that very night when the man entered into the Halls to which I was admitting patients for; upon hearing the words uttered in such a harsh and bellowing tone, the Collar man walked up to respond but nothing more was spoken. He recommended that the man rest for the night and speak with him once more upon his consciousness returning in the wee hours of the morning, preferably before the sun announced itself to the cock that we had on the property.

Taking all the care that compelled me to do, the Collared man and I tried greeting the gentleman and escorting him to a room, with him having no means to identify himself, once we had him lying to rest, I wrote his name in the book as a J. Doe. The Collar man took wonderment with this newly found person and tried for about an hour to ensure the man’s safety and quietness about him. Forgoing all other patients for the time he allotted to toil over the man, I was happily able to succumb to which the Collared man asked.

After the hour had ticked its final tone, the Collared man gave me a grace and told me that the man in question was none other than that of a man of ill fate that wondered in and to pay him no mind, as he seemingly lost himself and just needed a rest, then as the Collared man was departing from the chamber that I sat in, his words as if it were a translation then came upon he and spoke aloud: “Seek not the gallows or hall, for no manor could withhold.”

“Sir?” I questioned wondering what it was that the man said a moment prior, the Collared man turned to me with a look of fright and a ghastly pang emerged upon him, as if he had just seen and heard a sound from that of long-time past. The man then dropping to his knees upon the hardened flooring and collapsed into a stupor and myself as well as two other men had to bind the man for his own safety.

It was then, at that very moment, the man that had blundered in the vague look upon him was at the entrance. He stood taller than before by at least a foot or two, his long flowing hair that I had just noticed was flowing downward in spirals and colored red, his feet were of gigantic proportions and a smile now appeared upon the man’s grotesque face. These were not the features of the man that had entered just an hour before, but I knew instantly that it was that same man. I did not know how, nor why, though having not seen him before either, I just knew that the man that wondered in was now different and abound to recite a manner to the collapsed man that was once thriving and unbound.

None of the three of us moved or uttered a word, nor did we try to stop the man as he reached to grab the hand of the man collapsed and bound. Removing the shackles and the white suit we had placed on him, the man then made one more gesture and in English spoke this to us: “I am Edwin v. Cole, a Sir, once knighted by Her Majesty as a Hier for her trust, is my Queen Mary of Scott and all the Realm still abound to this tomb?”

We shook our heads about and dared not utter a sound. The man then lifted the gentle Collared and with a crude jerking motion of his arm thrust the man over his shoulder and walked to his room. Following the man, we three found him instantly as if he never had left it, sleeping on the bedding that we supplied him with and the Collared man standing over him, as if he were examining him. The man turned to us and seemed to have his wits about him as he placed a short stubby index finger to his lips and made a shushing sound. He then gathered himself and made his way to us, with a motion to follow, he passed by us making no sound nor any creaking of feet as he moved across the wooden flooring that was underneath his feet. We followed hearing our own steps syncing from time to time as we gave our Collared friend room to move, hearing our shuffling feet and yet none from he made us wonder in grievance and still, the man was he, himself once more, like the moment before us was one that had never happened.

“The man that is in the room sleeping like a child is that of a desolate soul, I had found this identification upon him in a pocket from his jacket.” Here the Collared man said as we were once again in the hallway a good distance away from the doorway where the man slept, he then handed me what he found on the person in question:

Sir. Edwin V. Cole: Herein A Mystic for Her Royal Majesty

Give quarter to he if in finding the man.

If none given, Death shall befall thy heads.

Polymer and Proliferator.

James Cartil II

Duke.

“Sir,” asked Marnal Ducke, a kindly man who helped care alongside myself and the other gentleman, Kinged Groul, “What is this about?”

“I shall explain, but I need to seek the study for it is there where the records lay waiting for me to gather and read. I shall return whence I have knowing that I need to know. I ask that ‘till then not to disturb our guest and allow him to rest.”

To that we agreed as the Collared man had been truthful and honest as long, we knew him. He then bowed his head in thanks and silently walked toward his destination.

With the departure of our good friend, we three looked at one another and pondered the same question but dared not say a word about it and wait for the good man to explain upon his arrival back to us. Proceeding then with our work and checking on those that were in our charge, we three set out on our separate ways.

It seemed as though the night was not going to end as if time in itself had frozen over. No sounds of slumber nor the dreams and screams from those in our care that we had grown accustomed to hearing nightly were ever happening. It was as if the man who came into our mists made a silence all abound from his presence alone. However, the fire still kindled on, no flame or flicker of candlelight ever gave way, it was just as I had spoken, time in itself was still and none resolved to make a movement of any kind whist the man remained here in our care.

A small and faint sound of a muffled yawn came from my crest of my mouth as I grew weary and longed for a rest. I, myself, was not tired in a way that I had worked the nightly hours keeping our charges safe, nor in a way that said that my time for the shift to change hands was near, nor was it the tiring boredom that grows upon those of us in a place like this and again, nor was it anything that I had thought to pass by as a fleeting thought. My eyes closed as my chair seemed to have fallen out from underneath me and upon the floor, I found myself and not a sound lingered nor penetrated my ears. I had found that I myself was in a bed that I had not known before, comfort in all ways that I had wanted for some time. The bedding itself was that like a cloud, the posts were tall and sturdy, wooden oak from the Colonies that were too expensive for one of my stature or pocket, linen of the highest quality comforted me and contorted itself around me sophisticated in its ways to provide the very best comfort that I could have ever imagined. It was then that sleep caught up to me and I found myself drifting off into the bedding provided.

No thoughts of where this had come from, nor did I think it a reality, a dream of something that I had wanted for some time and in that way, as such as dreams are, found myself indulging in its folly and gave it grace to entrap me in the follies of fantasy. If dreaming of a bed would be considered as much. The pillow that I had found placed under my head was of goose and gander feathers, it needed no such movement to entice a more pleasant feel. My eyes felt heavy as they began to close upon me and I found that I had not only felt a feeling of that of warmth and happiness of all boundlessness and nature, but also a small glimmer that the upmost possible was just that, this was my dream and here, in here, my dream was a reality.

When I awoke, I found myself idle and before a large door, it seemed one of an old-timely fashion with no knobs or hinges ensuring its stability. I found the door to be see-through and yet firm in itself that the door was a door and needed to be opened. I did just that.

I awoke startled and glancing about the place that I had found myself and aghast that I was being gazed upon by my fellow employers. There was a bright silver ornament perched upon the center of their foreheads and a look of discontent and one other of concern.

“Do you know where you are, sir? Who you are?” one spoke this to me as if he knew not who I was or where I was. I initially was taken aback by such questions as those were the kind that I were to normally speak to a new incoming figure that needed care and to know of a loving touch if it were of need, I tried to speak to the gentleman above me, but no words wanted to make themselves heard. My lips moved again and again, but I heard nothing of what I said, just what I was thinking and trying to communicate to them. They looked upon me with a discerning notion and the coldness of a hand being pressed against my head, then that of a moist rag thereafter.

“We do not know who you are good sir, you appeared to come in of your own variation and speaking of tales to the likes which gave us grave concern, how are you feeling currently?”

“Good Jacob Dolt, and yes, I do know you, and you sir, Tally Forle, as you as well, Fransua Ogano! Your wives and child’s names too! We have worked together long since the days of boils! Why are you asking me of this and treating me as if I had lost my way and wits?!”

“Sir, can you tell us your name this way we may be able to know who you are?”

“My name is Sir. Edwin Cole, Sr.”