A Bit of Reason

I was so worried about Catherine that I barely got any sleep that night. I tossed and turned and counted the seconds until dawn. It seemed like an eternity before the sun came up, and when it did, I was out the door and into my car. I drove to her house in a trance, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

As I pulled up the driveway, I saw that her parents' cars weren't there; they got up early for their job and sometimes got home late. Catherine's car, on the other hand, was in its usual haunt. I approached the front door, unlocked it, and went right towards the stairs.

"Catherine? Are you awake?" I called out from the bottom of the steps. "Are you sleep asleep, girlie?" I quietly walked up the stairs, before finally getting to her closed door. I knocked twice, and when I recieved no answer, I opened it.

She was gone.

The blankets on her bed were tangled and pushed back seemingly in a fit, as if she had clawed her way out of a nightmare. Some papers with the creature were flung around, and on closer inspection of found small droplets of blood upon a few. I stood there completely dumbfounded for some time before rushing through the house screaming her name, looking everywhere in the house. She was nowhere to be found. I clearly remember a cold panic thundering through me, and the helplessness and worry seemed to take me over.

I called Catherine hundreds of times, left hundreds of voice mails, and paced any room I was in so many times I swear I left a long groove in the floors. I asked her parents if they knew where she was, but they were just as confused as we all were. A part of me tried to reason that it was her going out and looking for a wonderful place for us to vacation to, as she had said before. But judging by the way she acted the night I dropped her off, it didn't seem likely.
On the fourth day I simply curled up into a ball on my bed, clutching my cell phone and crying softly into my pillow. I wished that I had walked into the house with her and stayed. I wished that she would get better. I wished harder than ever before. I don't know how long I stayed that way, but the sound of the doorbell roused me from my stupor. I slowly walked down the stairs, hair disheveled and eyes bright red, and answered the door.

Lo and behold it was Rebecca, who wanted to check up on me and see how I was doing. From the sympathetic look on her face when she saw me, Rebecca was kicking into full on mommy-mode; ready and willing to ease my pain. I felt my eyes beginning to sting; the tell-tale sign that another flood of tears were coming my way.

Immediately she escorted me to the kitchen, sat me down, and let me cry a river into her shoulder. As I wept, I also heard her cries join mine. It took too long for my tastes to calm down again, but when I did, Rebecca was right there for me.
When I could manage words again, she asked, "Do you have any idea what might have caused Catherine to act this way? Any hint at all?"

I took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened with me and Catherine; the new fears, the insect, the bloody coughs...and then I told her about this Fear Dubh, and how it might be connect to all of these events.

Rebecca sighed and looked at me incredulously, "Elizabeth, really? Fear Dubh and any related stories are just that: stories. Anyone and everyone claiming to see it is just mass paranoia. There has to be something else that is the matter."

It was so tempting to just nod my head and agree with her. Rebecca took nonsense from no one, tolerated stupidity from no one, and used logic and reason to sort out any problems. Her being that grounded helped the rest of us many a time.
"But Becca, you know her. She was never like this at all. What if someone--something-- is stalking her? Actually, no. I know that something is stalking her. Maybe it's that thing."

Rebecca shrugged, and I could see that she, too, was as anxious as I was. "Catherine is such a sweet person; I can't see her earning the ire of someone, unless this person was just sick in the head. Maybe, just maybe, there is a stalker who is using the image of the Fear Dubh to terrorize her. Maybe she is an unfortunate, random victim of a person who likes to torment their targets by messing with their minds as much as possible."
I opened my mouth to speak, but as I thought about what she had said, it had some basis. In fact, I was willing to believe everything that she had said. And then she continued, stating facts and giving logical answers to the confusing questions I had. Another knock at the door came an hour later, and this time I saw Vivian there, also coming to see how I was. As soon as Rebecca gave her the rundown on what was going on, she, too, joined in the conversation, though Vivian was a bit more willing to believe that something supernatural was most likely happening.

"It could happen!" Vivian exclaimed. "I mean, Catherine was never like this before. Who is to say that Fear Dubh doesn't exist? Stranger things have happened."

"All I'm saying is, I just have a hard time believing that a tall man all in black exists." Rebecca replied. "It doesn't seem probable in the slightest. When we find Catherine, we should get her to see a psychiatrist and clear this up. Something is going on and we have to get to the bottom of it. We all hate seeing her like this."

Vivian raised her hand. "I'll drive her, when the time comes. And we can all go to a restaurant afterwards."

I muttered agreement. I wondered how long my Catherine would be gone; a moment longer and I would pack my bags and look for her myself. The big problem was, I had no idea where in God's green earth she was. None whatsoever. I would be pure foolishness to go out and try to find her when I don't have the slightest clue where she is.

On the seventh day, Catherine returned.

The Beach

The next day I decided that now was as good a time as ever to cheer Catherine up with a trip to one of her favorite places. I called the rest of the girls together, and we all carpooled to go to the beach. It was a perfect day for such an outing, and the moment we got there I could see that everyone couldn't wait to start enjoying the day.

We set up our area and finally took the time to relax. Naomi dove into the ocean as soon as she could, with Florence not far behind. Vivian and Rebecca stayed on the sand, listening to music and reading a book respectively. My finacee and I sat on our beach chairs holding hands, admiring it all.

"I love this area, Ellie. It's so peaceful." as she said that, her eyes wandered to the perfect blue waves and sky, to the sand and the small children that splashed and yelled with joy. "I can see why tons of people flock here every summer. It's like you can forget the whole world here." With that she removed her sunglasses and wide brimmed hat, waded into the water...and proceeded to get nailed by a wave. She was alright, though, and as soon as she collected herself (and spat out some water and sand) Catherine laughed about it.

It felt so good to see my Cathy smiling again. It seemed like forever since I saw her act normally. After we hung around the beach for a few hours, we decided to head down to the Point Pleasant boardwalk. Honestly it was one of the most fun days I've had, with us playing those games and going on those rides. Just us being together having fun was amazing. And what better way to finish up such a lovely day than by eating a heavy dinner of boardwalk confectionary? We probably all gained more than five pounds, but damn, was it worth it.

The sun was beginning to set when Catherine and I  took a short walk down the beach. As soon as we got back, we were all going to head home. Truth be told nobody wanted to. Catherine sighed, "It's too bad we have to leave." she said, "Please promise you'll take me here again."

Suddenly she began to cough; not violently, but softly. She wiped her mouth, and I saw a bit a blood on the back of her hand. I freaked out a little bit on the inside, and I prayed that whatever she had would pass and our lives could go back to the way they were."Yeah," I said, "I promise."

I wish I could.

As we drove home, and I dropped off the girls at their respective homes, I could see Catherine start to get a bit nervous. The night had already fallen by the time I was driving to her house. I saw her nervously bite her lower lip, as if she was anticipating some unwelcome event, or someone to just pound on our window at a traffic light. "Hey, Catherine," I said softly, "How about you take a rest, okay?"

"I'm not tired."

"I...you look really nervous. Close your eyes for a bit, and I'll wake you when we're close to your house."

"Ellie, please. I'm alright."

"Are you sure? You look very upset about something."

She didn't respond to me, only turned her head to look out her window. For a brief moment there was silence, and in that moment I mulled over what I could do to help my beloved. Suddenly, Catherine let out a choked scream. Whatever she saw was freaking her the hell out, and I pulled over to try calming her down. I grabbed her shoulders in an attepted to

I spoke to her as loud and clear as I could, asking her what was the matter, begging her to calm down, telling her to take deep breaths, anything I could think of. Within minutes she did indeed manage to stop her hysteria.

"What happened? What did you see?" I asked, hoping that her answer could give me a reason behind her sudden outburst. She swallowed heavily and said, "I saw a guy out there. Really freaky looking. I though he was coming towards the car."

"Did he looked like the guy you were drawing?" I asked, curious to see if she confirmed it or not.
I would love to say that she nodded or shook her head, but she didn't. Instead Catherine reclined back in the front seat and said nothing. I drove to her house, escorted her to the door as I always did, and went home.

The next day, Catherine went missing again.

Fear Dubh

In my last post, I talked about the title of Catherine's book purchase. I couldn't get a good look at the author, or the cover art, but I know that the book exists somewhere. For some reason I can't seem to find it not matter what bookstore I look in.
I looked to the internet to give me the answer as to who or what the Fear Dubh is, as Catherine suddenly developed an interest in it. Normally Catherine would be facinated with Irish mythology, the faeries, the heroes and heroines, not the monsters that lurked in the shadows. In my research I found this little description of it:

“In Ireland, there is the legend of the Fear Dubh (The Black Man). This creature is said to haunt solitary footpaths at night, generally those that pass through woodland. It is reputed to be entirely malevolent."

I went from site to site searching for this thing, and found stories of people (or people who knew people) who had encounters with this 'Fear Dubh.' The stories were the stuff of nightmares; people being abducted in the night or, even more unnerving, the day. A story in Ireland about a child and her grandmother, and how the latter died in a terrible fire that had no known cause. How the fire made strange, black cracks all over the walls that looked like the tentacles of a eldritch sea monster. The pictures that showed what was left of the house were chilling. The local county police chief died of a heart attack a few days later, and following his death the priest also died mysteriously. Odd.

There are similar stories around the world, such as Der Großmann, who was featured in several disturbing woodcuts from 16th century Germany. It, too, was a malevolent entity; it lurked in the Black Forest, who supposedly kidnapped naughty children at night, and who stalked said children until they confessed their sins to their parents and changed their ways.
After I looked everywhere I could, I went to Catherine's house to ask her about her obsession with the Fear Dubh, and what started it. Catherine had a vivid imagination, which helped us during our childhood playdates. Perhaps it had gotten the best of her. Or perhaps not.
When I got to her house, I found her drawing in the den. She didn't look like she had slept in days. On pieces of large, white pieces of paper were grim images made with charcoal. Drawings of forests, of a black thing lurking in the water, the fire, the air and the earth, of half remembered nightmares through a cracked, ancient mirror.

I asked, "What is the Fear Dubh, Catherine?"

She muttered, "Something."

Not 'nothing, but 'something.'

"What is it?"

She was silent for a time, but then said, "Everything will be fine, Elizabeth. Just...just please stay with me."

I pulled her into a hug and I whispered, "I will never leave."

We laid on the sofa, saying nothing but holding each other, and there we fell asleep.

The Night

Catherine slept over my house in the summer of 2011. It was a fun night, with us watching movies, making s'mores, laying on the grass and counting the stars. For a moment I didn't worry about her, and she as acting like her old self. We talked about how wonderful our new life would be, what color our room should be, the color of the curtains, that good stuff. Just her and me, in a world of our own.
We soon got tired, and as always, she slept with me. No, we didn't engage in maritals, if that's what you were thinking. We always slept in each other's bed since we became girlfriends. She curled up next to me, and together we fell asleep.
I woke to the sound of hysterical sobbing.
It wasn't my mother; she was dead asleep. It wasn't my brother of my father; they too were asleep. It definitely wasn't me, and it wasn't Catherine at all. But in the dead of night I could hear someone in the house crying in a way that I have never heard before. I don't know where it came from, or who was crying, but it chilled me to the bone. I wanted to go look for the source, maybe even comfort them, but the fear was stronger than my curiosity. Again I looked at Catherine, who was facing away from me. Instinctively I shuffeled closer, wrapped an arm around her, and closed my eyes. The crying continued.

I could do nothing else but listen and pray that it would stop soon.

To be honest I don't know how I did it, but I finally managed to sleep. The morning came, and the crying had finally ceased. Catherine was already in the kitchen, sipping her tea and reading the news. At first I wanted to talk about the crying I heard last night, hoping that perhaps she would have any idea. For some reason I decided against it. Maybe I was just being paranoid and it would turn out that one of my family members was crying. But...but it didn't sound like any of them.

Catherine wanted to go to the bookstore to pick something up and invited me to come with her. The entire drive there was in complete silence. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. I don't think I saw her blink. I placed my hand on her shoulder, and her features softened.
Once we arrived, my beloved raced to the mythology and folklore section. Catherine had always been facinated by Irish folklore, as I already mentioned, and had several books on the topic. But she also had a ravenous appetite for folklore of the rest of the British Isles. Rebecca jokingly called her a walking encyclopedia on anything and everything relating to that subject. It was cute.
But watching Catherine flip through those books, desperate to find...whatever she was looking for, wasn't cute or in any way endearing; it was frightening. Wordlesly, anxiously, she ripped a book from its place from the shelf and tore through the pages in what looked like desperation. But as she picked up another book, a coughing fit shook her, and it fell to the floor.
I forgot to mention before: Catherine had been having these odd coughing fits on and off for a while. She went to the doctor for them, and he could find nothing wrong. Not even when she brought up that she had been having strange boughts of nosebleeds. I forgot what the doctor said, but he gave her something that was supposed to help. It did nothing.
She picked up the book and brought it to the cashier's, wordlessly paying for it and walking out the door. I couldn't get a good look at the title; she held it so close to her chest. We sat in the heated car for a little while.
"Are you okay?" I asked. I hoped that she would say something along the lines of, 'yes, I will be fine.' But all my Catherine did was weep. We sat there, in the heated car, as I held her. She told me that she loved me over and over again, and while I said nothing, I cried as well.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a part of the title: 'Fear Dubh.'

This Day in History...

Today was to be our wedding day. We were supposed to have traveled to DC and gotten married in a lovely ceremony. What was to be the happiest day of our lives isn't, and no matter how many times I call her number, she never picks up. No matter how many times I beg for her to answer me and just tell me what happened, there is no one there. It's a bizzare kind of isolation that nothing can cure. Her parents are distraught, obviously. The police have found no trace of her anywhere.
If anyone has seen her, please let me know.

New Year, New Problems

2010 had come and gone, and 2011 came with heavy snow and record cold. It was a bitter, gelid winter that seemed to have no end in sight. The storms that came were relentless to the point of cruelty. Luckily for us, school and planning kept our bones and hearts warm.
Rebecca, Florence, Naomi and Vivian were to be our maids-of-honor, my little brother the best man. My family, Catherine's family, and some friends were invited to the wedding.

The invitations that we had sent out were adorable: it was a single white card, elegant script joyously proclaiming our wedding day, the place, the time, all those little details. Vivian thought that it would be interesting to add in some scents to make it more personal, like gardenia or jasmine. It was a neat idea that Catherine and I liked. We decided that jasmine would work perfectly, and added some glitter in the envelopes for that extra sparkle.

The goings on in our lives were hectic, with the wedding stuff, work, and college. How we managed would have been anyone's guess, but we did it and we did it with pride.
Rebecca (surprise, surprise) got the best report card out of us all. She always did, really. Only one B- in a sea of A's and A+'s. In November of last year she told us that she was seriously considering transfering to Miskatonic University in Massachusettes, and wanted to see if any of us wanted to apply with her. Now, MU is one of the most prestigious universities out there, on par with Harvard and Yale. Someone with Rebecca's smarts would get in without a doubt, but us? It was a 50/50 shot.
Florence was often found in the fitness center after classes, burning off all the stress and any thoughts of doubt, she would say. And when she wasn't getting her cardio in, she was at home writing down business plans for a company that she wants to start. Fürstin is to be her company's name. At first, Florence wanted to work for Vogue, but decided that she could do much better. She always wanted to be a businesswoman, and she wants Naomi to write for her magazine.

Naomi's true love has always been writing. She's been a part of the creative writing club for so long that she may as well be the person who runs it. Since as far back as I can remember she was always writing and reading all these incredible stories. She had written some pretty poems that she submitted to the newspaper often, and had a rough draft of a book series she eventually wanted to get published, but told us that she wanted to also write for a magazine. That's where Florence came in and proposed that Naomi write for her.
Vivian has wanted to make music for the longest time. The stuff she makes now are really catchy and well-made. It's nothing like what the pros do, not yet anyway. She is on our college's radio with her own show, called "Music of the Spheres." It's a hoot and a half listening to her. She hopes that after college she could find someone to help with her music career. She knows that the business is tough, but if anyone could handle it, Vivian would be at the top of the list.

As for Catherine, her grades went down and she dropped out of her beloved home ec club. I feel like a broken record saying this over and over again, but that was totally out of character for her. Yet again, she refused to open up and brushed it off, stating that she just had things on her mind. When she and I were talking about a book we had been reading, there was a stinkbug that had wandered into the kitchen and had begun to fly around obnoxiously. It was crashing into the ceiling and walls like it was drunk, and I laughed at the poor thing's antics. But Catherine...she reacted bizzarely.

She tracted that thing down and smash it into oblivion. Catherine wasn't the biggest fan of bugs, and should she encounter one, she would only swat it away or go into another room. I had never once seen her do that. The she told me that the bug wasn't ordinary...it was watching us.

The explaination was strange, silly, bordering on paranoia. Actually, no. It was paranoia. But after making sure that the bug was dead that no other insect was crawling around us, she calmed down and resumed our discussion as if nothing had happened. The grip Catherine had on my hand, it was as if she believed that she and she alone could protect me.

Happy 22nd, Vivian!

Happy birthday, Vivian! I hope that you have a happy year, and good luck with finishing that electronica album you have been working on.

Haus of Laub is a pretty neat title, if I do say so myself.