walking across Westminster Bridge with his lady, his Katherine, and what looked like Clarence Kingsley. I’m no good at describing such like Campbell was, but I’ll do my best here, for the sake of his memory, and so whoever is reading can picture it all.
They were walking side by side, and it looked like they were talking back and forth to each other, though I couldn’t hear any sound from them. Katherine, lovely lady, was dressed up as though for a wedding, and Campbell had on his tails and spats; I remember I could see his spats and his cummerbund and his silk hat, and Kingsley was done up similar, but without the hat. Queer thing, they were all three sort of glowing like the phosphorus weeds you get at the docks, kind of pale and a bit scarlet. Then, while I was watching, they all three went dark, like they were turning to bronze, and sunk down through the bridge. I ran to the edge and saw the glow down in the River before that went dark, too, and I got the impression of prison bars across the water. The next morning, PC McAllister found a body by the bridge, a boy like the one Cambpell described. He said it seemed fresh enough, if bruised bad, but it rotted away by the time they got it to the morgue.
So that’s about it, I think. Good man, was Sebring Campbell, wherever he may be now. Like I said, queer thing. No one will believe this, I know, but you can take it for a story, if you like, just so long as you make sure and remember it, because it’s for certain something that should never be forgot.
PD Kyle G. Hansen, Scotland Yard
Somehow, I cannot disbelieve this story of obviously fictitious proportions. Perhaps it is because it does not have the tone of fiction, or perhaps because, for a work of fiction, the two different hands and two different styles of writing are unlikely. But mostly it is because I have seen the Rothers creature myself, exactly as described by this dead man, and I have seen the Child, and I believe, though I am not sure, that I have seen Sebring and Katherine and Clarence.
The struggle is not yet finished.
You may, of course, make your own decision concerning all of these events, but I, for one, believe.
About the Author
MR Graham is a native Texan who traces strong cultural roots back to Scotland, Poland, England, and Germany. A mild-mannered Latin teacher during the day, Graham transforms at night into a raging Holmesian loremaster and rabid novelist.
Though passionate about all scholarship and academia, Graham’s training and true love lies with anthropology, particularly the archaeological branch.
Additionally, she seems to have a strange habit of talking about herself in the third person, even when it’s not situationally appropriate to do so.
Visit MR Graham at quiestinliteris.com, Facebook, or Twitter, and share your thoughts about The Truth of the Matter on Goodreads.
Peruse some of her paranormal fantasy series at The Books of Lost Knowledge
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