[Narrative, Letter for Eddie N.] Who: Muerte What: Fade and a letter Where: Repose → New Jersey When: Before the shenanigans at Tethys Warnings/Rating: Sad? Nothing too drastic.
The shift is subtle when it happens, and not immediately noticeable. The attic of the bed and breakfast takes on a dusty sort of absence, paint that had been on canvas and walls fades away until it's gone. Supplies disappear like someone simply packed them up and toted them away. The residents there slowly forget that there was a woman that lived upstairs for a while.
In a spooky house across town, traces of her still remain. The room she'd once inhabited stays covered in the frenetic lines of paint on the walls, portraits of residents from town, scenes that would seem familiar to some if they saw them. Items and trinkets remain as well, strewn around the room, but nothing that would seem to hold any sentimental value. Certain things are missing, betrayed in their absence by the clean prints left in the gathering dust. There's no letter goodbye for a brother left behind - there's no need, when he already knows.
The only true sign that she knew she was leaving is an envelope that's left in a certain carnival trailer, tucked between gears and tools. Inside is a picture, a recreated print of sepia toned drawing showing a ship anchored out from shore, sails limp as it sits in a cove. On the sand itself are a number of smaller boats, bootprints betraying the occupants that had climbed thankfully onto the land. The drawing itself is signed (the same sepia, the same tone, part of the original piece), a pair of initials (E.G.) in familiar hand. The scratchy handwriting on the back looks just as old, faded, though the date in the upper corner shows the current day.
Eddie, Do you ever feel that pull to be somewhere else? I don't know why I'm asking - I know you do. Well, this pull is a little more insistent than some. As in, I don't have a choice; I can't stay here any more. I can feel it, that whatever rules over me (and I still don't know exactly what it is, even after all this time) wants me to go again.
If I can, I'll do my best to let you know where I end up. I'm guessing back to New Jersey. That's what it feels like, at least. If so, it'd be nice to get a visit from you if you ever get out that way again.
I love you, in that part of me where all the most important things live. Be happy if you can, okay? As much as you can, whatever it takes.
<3, Muerte
***
Across the country, under strangely tangled but untouched trees that grow on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, the birds suddenly take flight in response to a soft pop, a thud of body falling unchecked to the (thankfully grassy) ground. In the next moment, the sentinel trees hear a woman's sigh and the beat of larger wings ans she disappears - if she was ever even there. A handprint, a bare footprint, that's all that remains in the soft dirt, along with a lingering whisper:
"Shit...
Well that's not what I expected..."
As it has for hundreds of years, the place remains otherwise untouched, the old bones beneath the roots of the trees staying undisturbed, their occupant safe and secret.