7 Letter from a friend

Author's Note: You can use all your votes on the book 'Beauty and the Immortal: It started with a dig'. Thank you for the support!

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He sprinted through the alleys of downtown, which were in darkness with very little light. Loud footsteps could be heard coming from behind, and he tried to get away. But instead, he hurled on the ground, his lower back pressing on the ground. 

The footsteps continued to be heard approaching him from the shadows, and he shouted, "What do you want from me!" 

A finger emerged to peek out of the shadows that pointed at him.

Sylvester was startled awake, drenched in sweat, and his heart pounding. Ever since he sensed a presence tailing him, he had been plagued by unsettling nightmares. 

He wanted to reach out to the parish house once more, but what would he say? That he was going paranoid, waiting for the thief to restock his kitchen? Because he hadn't noticed another break in. Even he didn't know if he should laugh or pray after the break in his house. 

When a bell rang at the front door, it abruptly broke Sylvester's thoughts. He made his way to the main door before opening it. There stood the mailman with a smile. 

"Is it Mr. Sylvester Crowley?" 

"Yes?" Sylvester replied, and the mailman gave him a little parcel. 

"Please sign this here," said the mailman, handing him a piece of paper on a board along with a pen. After Sylvester had finished signing, the man politely remarked, "Enjoy your day, Sir. Because life is short."

Sylvester stared at the mailman who descended the stairs and left the building, while leaving an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Returning inside the house, he locked the door with the two new locks on the existing lock. As he walked towards the table, he opened the parcel and noticed it was an hourglass. There was a card with it that said, 'I am in town. Let us meet if possible. Maeve.'

Maeve was his first work acquaintance. Actually, she was his ex-girlfriend's friend. Samantha O'Brien. His first love and relationship. And they were so happy, until that horrible morning that he stumbled on… A chill ran down his spine at the very memory of it. Samantha O'Brien was a beautiful young woman, and they worked in the Jillians opera workshop, which was where he met her. 

"Let us travel the world together, Vester!" Samantha used to say, and it made Sylvester very happy. 

"That sounds perfect!" Sylvester stated his opinion with his whole heart. "We will have a family of our own, Sam!"

After finishing work, everyone had been invited to Maeve's house, where she had thrown a party. The house was nothing less than a manor. 

"I should go back now. I will pick you up in the morning," Sylvester kissed her lips.

"I can't wait," she replied with a nod. 

After sharing another kiss with Samantha, he stepped out of the massive manor with his friend Ryan, who was going to drop him home, when he noticed Maeve approaching the entrance. 

"Leaving already?" Maeve inquired, staring at him. 

"Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow morning," Sylvester replied. "Thanks for the party." Climbing in the carriage with Ryan, he left. 

The next morning, he then went to see Samantha at Maeve's manor. Arriving there, he caught sight of some of his college mates, who were passed out on the couch or corners of the manor. He continued to look for Samantha, before he entered the room, and caught Samantha's brown hair.

"Sam, it is time to wake up—" when he turned Samantha, who was sleeping on her side, it felt like someone had knocked the air out of him. The duvet and the lining of the bed where she lay were soaked in blood. 

Her hand held a scarecrow doll, which was bloody.

Fear gripped his mind after he walked down the memory that he sometimes wished to forget. But was it right to forget the girl he had loved? He wished he didn't leave Samantha there. 

Sylvester was unable to hold any romantic relationship with any women after Samantha, and he had little desire to do so. The murderer was never caught and it only made him angry. Then at the same time, a shiver of panic ran down his spine. Recently, he had started to hear and read about the scarecrow's appearance in Riddleford. 

"Mr. Crowley?" 

Sylvester had zoned out in his thoughts at his workplace, and he turned his gaze on the man who held a notepad in his hand. The man said, "We've got the stage ready. Can you take a look at it?" 

"Yes," Sylvester replied, trying to get his mind back to work, as tonight was the opening night of the show. "What about the chandeliers that were ordered two weeks ago? Have they come yet?" 

The man nodded, and replied, "They arrived this morning and have been unboxed. The ladder was in use on the stage until now, but we will attend to it immediately."

When nighttime approached, the board at the Frontier Hall Opera House entrance was brightly lit. Men and women from high society had begun to enter and take seats in the lavish gallery. The walls were red, with drapes hanging at the sides and chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which now glowed with light. The air smelled of money and refinement. There were several notable persons present, including the Opera house's owner, his niece, Lady Poppy Williams, the mayor, and the commissioner who had come with his wife. Lady Delilah, Sylvester's mother, had also made an appearance, attracting a lot of attention from people who couldn't stop flocking around her. 

The show began, the artists captivating the viewers, along with the music filling the vast auditorium and reverberating against the walls. 

When the curtains closed, the audience applauded, bringing wide beams to those who had worked so hard to make the show a success. 

"Bravo! What a wonderful script and the music," Lady Delilah praised her son once he came to her. "I enjoyed every bit of it, Vester. I am so proud of you."

"I didn't do much, Mother. It was a combined effort by everyone," Sylvester said, while receiving a kiss on his cheek from his mother. 

"You are being modest." Lady Delilah laughed softly. 

"I think someone should be out of the two of us," Sylvester chuckled. Knowing his mother was going to be swarmed by her admirers, he said to her, "I shall see you tomorrow, Mother."

"Of course. I understand. I will see you tomorrow," Lady Delilah smiled, and she was met by the commissioner and his wife. 

While Sylvester spoke to the other patrons, he caught sight of someone familiar in the crowd. Startled, he said, "Maeve."

"Hello, Vester," the woman smiled, her lips tinted with a faint pink as she smiled. "I moved to London after graduation and have been working under Madame Sylvie. I heard you were working here and thought to drop by. Did you like my gift?"

"It was interesting," Sylvester replied and then said, "It was good to see you." 

"Me too. It is a beautiful night," Maeve smiled back at him. He was happy to see her, but at the same time, it reminded him of the bad memory. After speaking some more words, he left her and Lady Poppy approached him. 

"Mr. Crowley. I wanted to congratulate you on the excellent opening. All of it was fantastic, and I am sure tomorrow the newspapers will rave about it."

"I am very glad to hear that, Lady Poppy," Sylvester replied with a bow. 

And while everyone was busy congratulating and talking to each other, Ricardo remarked, "Oo lala, who is that?" His eyes fell on a blonde woman, her hair pinned up. The woman was talking to the great Lady Delilah, and he overheard her introducing herself to the older woman. 

"I am Jane Reinhart. I am a big fan of yours, Lady Delilah," her voice was mature, yet one could pick the giddiness from meeting the actress. 

Lady Delilah stared at the young woman, who gave a nod and smile, noticing the black dress that was worn by the younger woman. She responded, "Thank you for your appreciation, Miss Reinhart."

The commissioner's wife, who was still standing there, said, "Miss Reinhart doesn't frequent these places, Lady Delilah. She has been busy catching criminals."

"I am a detective," Jane Reinhart proudly informed her, but Lady Delilah only smiled. 

"She's the hermosa I saw that night. The beauty," Ricardo murmured, while continuing to watch the woman. "Looks like the great Lady Delilah doesn't approve of her. She would approve of boring Poppy."

"People prefer people of their own taste and class," Agnes replied to him. "It is a known fact."

"Well, I think Jane Reinhart is a delicious woman. Oh, she is leaving!" Ricardo exclaimed in disappointment. 

"Ricky, don't even think about it. We are supposed to be here until the end of work," Agnes whispered to him quickly. It was because she knew his track of mind. 

"Calmate, Agnes. You need to relax. No one will even notice me slip out," Ricardo chuckled, fixing the coat he was wearing. As he made his way towards the exit, he caught sight of one of the workers. Before Ricardo would be questioned, he stated, "I am feeling ill and will be going home." Without waiting to hear a response, he continued to walk, and finally caught sight of the lady in the black dress.

He ran his fingers through his black hair. With a grin, he said, "Time to put on the charm."