By J. Douglas Turner
I was walking through the woods the other day when I came across what I believe to be an old factory Tower. While rummaging through the place, I found a well-kept brown leather book on a desk in what looked like a foreman's office. It seems to be some kind of journal, and for the hell of it, I thought I would write it down and share the tales of one James Townlie. At least all the parts that are legible. I hope you guys find all of this as fun as I do!
“Our wedding day went off without a hitch. Nina looked as beautiful as a mountain villa at sunset. Her dress was long and pearl colored with a floral design that flowed perfectly in the midday’s gentle breeze. Her shoulder-length hair framed her face with the elegance of a Victorian-era painting. Every moment of today was one of undesirable anxiety, given the unrelenting chaos that is Nina’s family. It was a miracle that her father’s family stayed sober for the whole event, and a bigger one that her mother’s side managed not to turn small talk into shouting matches. Nevertheless, we made it through one of the happiest and most stressful days of our lives. Soon we will be on our way to Boston for our honeymoon, just as soon as I finish this.”
“We have finally arrived in Boston as of 11:30 this morning. The trip here was quite uneventful, but Nina is happy, and that is all that matters to me. We plan to walk the Freedom Trail tomorrow and visit some local shops around the hotel. Currently, we are having a cup of tea in a little coffee house, and then it is off to the Opera with us. I hope that tonight might end with us and a bottle of red watching the stars from the hotel roof. However, I am eternally grateful just to be with her for any amount of time.”
“Our First full day in Boston was exhausting. I don't think I have ever walked this much in a day in my entire life. Nina wanted to stop in every shop and boutique she could find. Luckily for me, we found an old antique shop that I could not help but give a look through. There were china sets and a wide array of Hindu, Buddhist, and Mediterranean statues. However, the most interesting of all were the books. They had so many books on medicine and biology. One was a Turkish book on the lymphatic system. Another was an at-home apothecary, with home remedies for some things even I, as a resident, had never heard of. The most intriguing one to me of the lot was the journals of a Swiss noble from the 18th century on a wide variety of bodily systems. I bought all of them for further study, hoping they might help me with my medical studies. There might be something in them, some lost knowledge of a bygone era that could help the modern man. I will have to study them another time. My beautiful Nina is currently calling my name in the sweet tone of a water nymph. I can feel the steam from the bath she has drawn for herself, and I feel I would be a fool not to join her for a soak if there is room.”
“Our second day has been very eventful. Nina wanted to drive around, so we procured a car and went for a Sunday drive through the city and some of the surrounding areas. We went to Bunker Hill, where Nina bought a book on the Salem witch trials and a small charm made from Raven bones, which she has clipped to one of the loops on her purse. We also saw John Adams’ home and took a look at the founder's old, shabby home. It is quite a lovely place in a simple way. It’s always strange to see how much better the modern man has it than our forbears. We had lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant run by a small family. A young woman, whom I could only assume to be the owner's daughter, waited on us at a very old oak table for two. We had calamari and a bottle of red wine. Nina got fettuccine Alfredo, which she gushed over for most of the night. I had a medium steak and a Caesar salad, both of which I had no complaints about. While we were there, Nina asked if we could go to Salem tomorrow for a little ghost tour. Never one to argue my love, I told her yes. I will never understand her fascination with the dead, but she does look better in a macabre setting.”
“Our time in Salem today was eventful to say the least. We arrived in Salem at 5 o’clock and waited a good two hours for the Ghost tour until 7. Lucky for us, there was a restaurant with a witch theme that Nina absolutely adored. They served us bread in the shape of skulls, spiders, and headstones. I had a Cajun pork chop with sun-dried tomatoes over jambalaya. Nina ordered a 12-ounce dry-aged steak, Pittsburgh-style, with a house salad. After dinner, we walked to the tour guide stand and met with the rest of the group. Nina became quite friendly with our tour guide, a woman named Mary, with a plump, round face and a pear-shaped build, dressed in a loose-fitting white dress with what I could only assume were sweat stains on the hem. She also wore a dark brown leather corset and matching knee-high boots. Mary was a pale woman; the only color on her face was a soft red blush that made her look more lively. The makeup around her eyes was the real show stopper; it was done up like a raven’s wings. The color matched her wavy hair, which had been styled into a mullet.
She told Nina and I that she was the designated witch, whose story she would tell us about on the walk through Salem. On the tour, we heard of dead men of the old motels, disembodied whaling of babies, and the one Mary said she always saved for last.
“The final tale of my great, great, great-grandmother Margaret Taloway. Back in the 1700’s, after the Revolutionary War. Miss Margaret was married to John Taloway, the son and firstborn of the Taloway family, at the ripe age of 19. The Taloway family was very well off even by today’s standards. Their estimated wealth, adjusted for inflation, is about 20 million dollars. Sadly, however, Margaret did not get along with most of the Taloways. Mr. Edward Taloway, John’s father, loved Margaret like his own daughter, but Elizabeth and Sarah Taloway, John’s Mother and sister, hated her. Everything Margaret did could never be enough for them. All of the family troubles would come to a head when Edward would die suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 62. Elizabeth and Sarah would blame Margaret, claiming she had something to do with his sudden death, and would take her to court over it. John and Margaret would argue that she couldn’t have been the cause, for they were not home when Lord Edward died, and Margaret was 8 months pregnant at the time of Edward’s death. The judge would rule that she was innocent, and one month later, Margaret would give birth to a baby boy, whom she would name Edward. Unfortunately, John would die in a tragic hunting accident 4 years later. Leaving Margaret and little Edward alone with Sarah and Elizabeth. Little Edward would eventually come down with a bad fever. An Elizabeth would tell some townspeople that her grandson had died, but Little Edward was still seen around town; many people reported that the boy wasn’t quite right. Numerous people would claim that Edward was an otherworldly kind of strange, a sort of wrong that could not be put to words. Many would lay the claim that the boy was possessed; one of the local tavern owners would even claim that a horse trampled the boy, and half an hour later, he would get up as if nothing had happened. Margaret would remarry a local businessman and friend of the late Lord Edward, Henry Eden. They would go on to have two children together, Samual and Mary Eden. Sadly, however, the joy would never last. One day, while Henry and Mary were out on a business trip to Philadelphia, tragedy struck. A house fire burned down the Taloway mansion, killing Little Edward, Samual, and Sarah. Elizabeth, while Lord Henry was still away, would round up a mob and drag poor Margaret to the center of town to be burned under the claim that Margaret was a witch. Where, for once, Lady Elizabeth got her way. Margaret would be the last woman to be burned for the crime of witchcraft in the state in the year 1799. Some still say that you can see her and her children walking the streets of Salem in an endless search for each other.”
For a brief moment at the end of Mary’s grueling tale. I could have sworn I saw a boy peeking out from an alleyway. His skin seemed sickly gray, and his eyes. They were an ungodly yellow that glowed like hellhounds. I am by no stretch of the imagination a believer in the paranormal, but that child was something out of the darkest pit of hell. His little face was wrinkled into a wicked snicker with every ounce of evil wrapped up into it like a vine of katsu around a ball of barbed wire. I still don't know if anyone else saw that creature or if it was just me.
I asked Mary, and she said. “Your description matches what most people claim little Edward Taloway looks like, and he mostly looks at people from around corners.”
We left after that and went back to our hotel room for the night. Nina is currently packing her bags so we can depart in the morning. Once I finish this, I shall pack my things as well, and by all hopes, we should be on our way home to Asheville. Until next time in Boston, it's been a strange pleasure.”
It's about now that I feel I should mention I've taken a few liberties to make his stories flow a bit better. Additionally, the journal has no dates or other indicators as to the time frame in which it was written. The leather binding feels almost brand-new, but most of the pages are damaged, and James writes like an old man. His cursive is horrendous. It is so bad that I can barely decipher it, and some of the next few pages might take me a while to figure out. Until then, I'll keep you guys posted.