Edward was only dimly aware of the scene of his destination but what he perceived left him with a disquietude and that sentiment strengthened itself in his mind with the way the boughs of nigh unseen trees shivered and let forth by chorus their worry. At the middle of it all stood proudly the black figure of the tower Blackhaw which, with simple stone crown for regalia, in the lull of the night presided. And though it had been said, with codifying hopefulness, that despite its leering forebode it was no more than a rookery to winged mischievous pests; yet still it leered. And it was in deference to its overreaching walls that the folk of West Craven looked askance towards it and ever viewed it with mistrust foremost. Had they known fully what they suspected, of the events that had transpired under its supervision, perhaps they might have gathered themselves for its dismantling. Though it would have taken a strict taskmaster to placate any labourer who was set to the task of disturbing any of the worthless jewels in its mantle. No, they would not; because about the tower myth became real and the minds of people deranged and the effect would only mount with each passing second spent in its presence until the effort would inevitably be abandoned and the tower would still stand, erect and gloomier still for the disturbance.

There was another thing which caught his attention, and it was not the withered stature of the old woman, the blackheart, but a young woman yet untainted and she seemed like him in features though her skin was lovelier and in her step was a gaiety which, in sheer lack of self awareness, bespoke itself of grace. Whither the girl before him was real or conjured his sense was too addled to consider, only did his gaze fall to the shapely shoulder which showed itself when the hangings of her modest dress slipped from them. And with unbridled curiosity he watched as she absentmindedly re-straightened it, only for it to fall off once more moments later. He thought to catch her attention as she danced amongst the ruins of walls on the twilit hillock, as she had, all the while, not once turned to face him, but as he set to do it she darted behind one enclosure and there dawned on him the immediate sense of her departure. And it was the proximity of the bleak, ever-watching stone that above him towered which assured him that following after her, though he wanted nothing more, was unmitigated folly.

There came the caw of an arrant bird, deep from without where the darkness made sight unseeing and afterwards the hush returned more apologetic for the interruption. The only exception was the baying winds which played with fingers across the long grass and teased a sullen melody from every caress. Under the guise of which Arthur had claimed ground between him and the figurehead of his desperation, the deserved of his death pact; and he moved from cover to cover until, concealed by shadow beneath the jutting eaves of the spurned fort, he waited as silently as the grim sentinel beside which he stood. Inwardly he contested with the fear which had become paramount now that he had approached this close to the haunter of his dreams. And as he watched, she seemed, though he could hardly believe it, ever more malign under the sterling cast off of the grand opal which shone downwards from the heavens above. He wondered how he would muster himself to draw his weapon against her and doubt plagued him that he might pull the trigger and miss and suffer from her wretched reprisal. It struck him as the only possible outcome on this hill, where she seemed to have grown in indignity and the uncleanness of her evil seeped into the air about her. But he would wait, although he might better have acted now before the indecision waylaid his spirit. He would wait because he yet cherished a vain idea that perhaps he had misconstrued the avidness of Demdike, her contorted features and the roving of her eye.

With the vanishing of the ephemeral beauty that had distracted him, Edward was beset with confusion and he felt that his head had become rigid and unthinking. He quickly became transfixed with the stark obelisk which demanded his stare as forcefully as gravity adheres feet to the earth. And, it cannot be certain whether by doping, or whatever else, but it seemed to Edward that there was more to it than any ordinary structure. It occurred to him that it was more a throne than an overlook, though it served the purpose of both, and that there reposed upon it one of greater majesty than deserved only commonplace rock as adornment. Were it not for the opulent silver which illuminated one half of its face and the way the trees bent towards it, bowed, almost, in reverence, he would have thought it entirely inadequate.

It was then that Demdike approached, who had gathered back unto herself her composure after being startled at Edward’s unexpected lucidity. Lucidity she thought, at first, but quickly realised that he wasn’t fully by the way his sight wandered, as if following the mimes of an invisible actor. Warily still, she viewed him because she saw he was quick, much quicker than she; and she was not yet quite so arrogant that she would stalk her prey unguarded. Even though it was with unequivocal confidence that she thought to ply her craft. She knew, after all, that she acted in the stead of the vigilant watcher, the corpulent pandemonium whose name was not suffered to be recorded but which had been entrusted to her, the vassal who would bridge the turbid waters.

“You’re not hurt are you?” She feigned concern, hoping to test the limits of his awareness.

“What? What is it you want…?” He seemed distant and never took his eyes away from examining the gloom and the rock. She too well understood that, for she had passed many evenings at the same endeavour, basking in unholy consultations with the aid of opium and fly agaric. And from his response she inferred that he was still sensitive from the grip of her concoction, though it did not have the potency she was accustomed to and she wondered if he might not be completely pacified. She started on another tack:

“Tell me, what is it you see in the rock face?”

“Do you not see it too? There looks to be a strange animal there in the shadow. I tried tracing its outline with my eyes but as far as I look it keeps on going. I thought I heard it whisper things to me but now I can't be sure. Maybe it was the wind. I wanted to ask it about the girl I saw wander behind it, over there…”

Was it the beast itself that he saw? She could not know but still there prickled jealousy at her dead heart, for the prospect that he might this very moment behold what naught ere the coming of the Barbaroi had seen -none, of course, but her- gave her seething mortification. Ah! What would it matter once he fell before her knife? Let him this last mercy and it will taste all the more bitter when she would wrench it from him and with the white flash of excruciating pain, cast him forever from this world. She had learned enough from his words to gather that he yet dozed in the tranquility. She would use his vulnerable sensitivity against him and bring him under her obeisance and she was content now that the offering would continue as intended, as she did not reckon on the mutineers each of whom conspired for her downfall.

It's going well, I think. Although I always wait with bated breath until Saigyo has read it. It feels alot more cohesive this time and I like what I have. I'm going to take a break because I've been at it for 5 hours (which roughly means one and a half pages -.-) and I can feel my head filling with sand. Also, it has started to thunder and lightening and I don't want to scare myself.

"Here, you got this in the mail, Vic" said.
It was another birthday card. This one was from her parents. Inside was a card that had Snoopy on it with the words We're proud of you and a Target gift card on the inside worth 75$. Victoria looked at it and didn't smile until she noticed that Dylan was looking at her for her response. She forced a cheap smile and he turned around and went to the couch to watch whatever happened to be on the TV for a few hours before he studied for his LLM. Victoria knew she'd have to make that phone call to her parents either tonight or tomorrow. May as well get it over with, she thought to herself. Anyway she didn't feel like watching whatever was on to not have to think about her troubles tonight and she'd been dreading this call for the last few days, putting it off.
She picked up her purse and dug her pink phone out. She had liked the color originally since she wanted something bright and fun but now it felt silly and too young. She noticed she was growing to feel that way about a lot of things lately but didn't know why that was. She wondered if she was changed forever.
"Hello? Hello?!" Her mom answered. She always said hello twice because she didn't wait for the other person to say hello after the first one. This didn't happen with just Victoria.
"Hey mom, it's me."
"Happy birthday honey! How are you?" Her Mom's tone suggested to Victoria that she didn't know since she sounded both excited and full of joy. Well what do you know, Dylan actaully respected my wishes for once, she thought to herself.
"I'm .. I got your card today. Thanks for the gift card."
"You're welcome Vic! Now I know that it's supposed to be just for you because it's your birthday but if you wind up spending it on someone else then I won't be mad at all." Here it comes Victoria thought. "Sooo, How is my little grandbaby doing in there?"
Tears welled in her eyes and before she could even get a word out she started crying.
"Honey what's wrong?" Her Mom asked in a panicked tone.
"I felt real tired after my workout and my back kind of hurt so I laid down on the couch to take a nap..."
"What's that got to do with the baby honey?"
"And when I woke up I was cramping. Then I noticed I was bleeding too." Her mother went silent and Victoria sobbed for a few minutes. All the details of that day she wanted to forget were burned into her mind forever and flooded back to her.
"So I stood up to call Dylan but the cramps were so bad I fell down to my knees and couldn't get to the phone for a few minutes, and then when I did there was blood everywhere, just all over the carpet, and all over the couch..
"Dylan? Why'd you call him and not 911?"
"I was scared! And I did call 911 after I called Dylan and he told me too, and that he would meet me at the emergency room and -"
"I can't believe this!" Her Mom yelled.
"The doctor at the ER told me that it was too late, I had bled it out." Victoria cried. "I miscarried."
There was silence again from her Mom for another few minutes.
"I told you not to push too hard!" Her Mom yelled into the phone. Victoria stopped crying in shock. "I told you that you don't need to exercise, it would be bad for the baby! You should have been more careful after what happened the last time!"
"Mom, it wasn't my fault!" She cried. She heard Dylan get up from the other room and come towards the bedroom.
"Bullshit! You weren't being careful after you knew this blessing from god was given to you, a second chance that -" Dylan yanked the phone from Victoria's hand and walked away from the bedroom with it, exchanging profanities with her mother.
He hadn't said much to her after he'd met her in the hospital room three days ago, that sterile white emotionless hospital room where the doctor had told him that she had lost the baby. Not that they had lost it together but that she herself had lost the baby, as though it was her fault. Maybe she was reading too much into his words but Victoria was certain that it was a Freudian slip. She wondered if Dylan blamed her for this too.
He had clutched her hand as he watched the ultrasound in the ER looking for any chance that it could be saved. The expression on his face told her everything. Despite his appearance he was a man who had lost what was most precious to him. His hand went limp and she watched him walk away with the doctor to chat. When he came back he had the prescription for and told her that she wouldn't have to get the operation to remove anything that was left. Victoria had then sat up in the hospital cot and wept into Dylan's shoulder getting his nice shirt grasping him tight. He had put his arms around her lightly and didn't say anything as she apologized over and over.
That was my mistake there, you only apologize when you've done something wrong or someone else belies that you have, Victoria thought. Maybe the doctor wasn't the only one who had made a Freudian slip. She regretted apologizing now so much.
"Fucking bitch!" Dylan yelled into the phone. Victoria heard him throw it across the room and it breaking against the wall. A few moments later his cell phone ringtone went off but he just let it go to voicemail. It must have been her Mom. She heard him come towards the room again.
Dylan sat on the bed next to her but she didn't look up. "You okay?" He asked as he pressed her head to his chest. Dylan was so angry he was shaking so he knew he wasn't actually being comforting but at least he was trying to be. She nodded her head no.