ZealthosKOT

What could he do, indeed? The very same night he took up his own pen and wrote a note to Mister Davidson, the only thing he could think to do at the time. Yet another meeting in confidence was set between the two, after a bit of correspondence, after several such letters had passed between them. But of course, Mister Davidson's continuously hectic schedule normally allowed for little of such things. Regardless, a time was set. It was early two days after Mister Brennan's reception of the Lady Caroline's letter that he, with said letter in hand, departed for a large private property where Mister Davidson liked to walk when he was able. The su

The Absence of Miss Marianne Herholdt Chapter 4 - Denial It was the very same day that he had returned to the front door of Ms. Caroline's residence. The ride back through the countryside had gone by for him like a blur. The curtain was not completely drawn this time, so his mind was allowed to wonder, slightly. Not enough to draw his thoughts away from his Lady Marianne. It was a few moments after he knocked on the door, notably with somewhat more vigor than his norm, that the maid came to the door looking quite flustered. "I thought you'd come here Master, Miss Caroline said so. I'm sorry, Master, but she's gone. She left something for y

The next morning couldn't have come soon enough for the young student. Yet another restless night, spent with thoughts of his pursuit and worries of her current condition. It was only due to the nature of the circumstances that he was able to go on with so little rest to begin with. Naturally, however, he was beginning to feel the effects of fatigue. When the carriage finally came for him that morning, he was drowsily writing one more letter home, explaining his whereabouts to his family, and yet again assuring them that there was no need for concern. As slowly as the night had passed for the man, it seemed that the travel was drawn out even

Chapter 2 - Information It was not until the next week before Mister Brennan could get in touch with the man I had mentioned before, Jacob Davidson. In that time, worry had very thoroughly taken hold of the man, and hardly a moment went by when he wasn't thinking of what he could do, or worse; what could be happening to her. He hoped, of course, that her disappearance was something mundane, that there was no harm done to her, and nothing at all to worry about. For a time, that was all he could do, hope. It was certainly a misfortune that Mister Davidson was so busy a man, however it was fortunate enough that Mister Brennan could meet with hi

The Absence of Miss Marianne Herholdt Chapter 1 - Effect. A dark, cool night in early January. For the time, this cool weather might be considered unseasonably warm. Just days before, however, the ground had been covered in several inches of snow; now melted by the recent warmth. Wind still made the man want to pull his long coat tightly around his body. A light cloud of white smoke from the pipe he held to his lips. English tobacco, rich, flavorful, unlike the unsavory strength of Virginia blends. It calmed him down, and always had. And just now, he quite needed it. His mind wandered from it's intended query, the recent disappearance of an

A single lamp outside my window reminds me that there's something more than my rrom. The rest is such a blinding white, the shimmer of fresh snow, that it seems nothing could possibly exist beyond it; if only for a moment before I remember who, and where I am. I sit up in the substandard bed, tossing aside what seems a mountain of blankets and stare out that window still, that lamp casting its glow into my eyes, and I wonder because this cold white reminds me of loneliness; is the only person who can make me feel less alone over five hundred miles away? And then, who is she? I'm not sure, my consciousness tells me one thing, but the memories

I feel like, I just might Finally start to let go of this The pain is real, the past is sealed But maybe I can let these cuts heal But will it still hold me back Even after I've forgotten? Will I ever be forgiven? By myself, and by those that I've let down? Every word I speak or sing Seems to pose a valid question Am I real, what can I be? Will moving forward set me free? I'll tell you know, 'bit of what I feel; I hate to look into those eyes To see reflections unaffected By the way I see you in my own Every time I fall in love I find myself on the ground again. Every time I find a heart to hold I seem to crush it if it won