The morning sun rose higher in the overcast sky; the dense town of Cloisterham came into the eerie state of existence of a new day. The mysterious haze that rolled in overnight strangled the town. The sun appeared, as if it were trying to burn through a fogged window; the brightness of the day was merely the glowing of the haze. A sluggish day it would be, as the townsmen awoke slowly. The few early risers stomped like walking dead on the cold streets, neither a sleep, nor awake, dead or alive. The stiffness of the haze shrouded the town with an uncertain mysteriousness, like a dark figure lurking around the corner.Jasper fell into the every new day, which had become a hell to him. With the ominous anniversary pushing closer every minute, no longer did daylight provide freedom from his nightmares. Previously, he had only been vulnerable during his sleep, which currently, he rarely received. Lately he held had no safe haven, his nightmares consumed the days. The two years of pain melted into one horrible day, repeating itself over and over again. After resigning from his position as choirmaster, he spent every day wading through his deep depression, his great conscience sat upon him, suffocating him of the little life he still held. He had few visitors, but many watchers. So frequently he checked over his shoulders that concentrating on any task became impossible. As the murderous haze swept in under his door and billowed against the window, he enclosed himself in a world of fears, which proved never to release him.Below the postern stairs, Mr. Datchery prepared for a new day. He opened a cupboard door to retrieve a cup and grinned when he saw the hundreds of chalked lines. At this great score, he knew that the truth would soon surface. A knock on his door interrupted his thought, opening, Helena walked into the room. Surprised, Datchery exclaimed, “What are you doing here? Someone could see you.”“I got word that you ...
