Thomas pressed his scarf closer to his neck and continued to trudge through the thick snow. The blizzard clouded his vision completely and he could barely see the path beneath him. For all he knew, he might have wandered from the correct route long ago. He cursed under his breath, wishing that he had at least asked one of the local townspeople to have guided him.
He was unfamiliar with the region and had only visited once before. The nature of his last trip was to attend his cousin's wedding. His cousin had started out as a farmhand, soon receiving the admiration of his employer after only a years work. He quickly rose through the ranks and when his employer eventually passed away, he inherited the entire estate. He retired early, although Thomas had no clue as to why he would choose to sell the farm and buy a house out in the solitude of the moorlands. Thomas hadn't heard from him since the wedding. Not until the other day, when he received a letter asking him to visit urgently.
By now he had all but given up a hope. He even contemplated keeling over and curling himself into a ball. It would have been a more pleasant end than collapsing from exhaustion, or accidentally tumbling from the cliff face. As he was on the verge of giving up, he noticed a black speck in the distance. It was difficult to see through the thick blanket of snow, but he swore that it must have been a house. He sparked back into life and desperately sprinted towards it.
Sure enough he had been right. He soon reached the house and sighed in relief. He had no idea whether or not it belonged to his cousin, but he was glad just to get out of the snow. The gate had frozen over, but soon budged as he gave it a swift kick. He made his way over to the old latticed windows and peered inside. It was dark and he was barely able to make anything out, and he started to fear that it might have been abandoned.
He walked up to the door and knocked twice, flinching as his frozen knuckles crashed against the sturdy wooden frame. The door soon swung open to reveal a man of similar height to Thomas himself. He had a pallid complexion and dull, deep-set eyes. It took a moment for Thomas to recognize the man.
"Edgar! How are you doing?!"
"Ah, cousin," Edgar replied weakly, "please, come inside."
Thomas eagerly stepped inside and dusted himself off. He was surprised to see that the fire had not been lit. The house was lighted only by a sole candle which flickered dimly at the end of the room.
"Edgar, how can you not be cold in this weather?! Where is your serving girl? You should have her light one."
"I'm sorry Thomas. I'd rather not light any fires..."
"At least light some more candles!"
"No candles either..."
Defeated, Thomas sat down on one of the wing-back chairs and tried to rub some warmth into his hands.
"Well, it's still better than out there... But enough of the weather. How are you keeping dear Edgar? You look deathly pale."
"I'm afraid I haven't been feeling too well lately. Don't worry, it's not anything that you can catch."
"Well, I hope you don't mind me cutting to business so soon, but why did you ask me to travel here?"
"Well..." he shifted uncomfortably, "the truth is I've been feeling lonely lately. That's why I sought your company. You must think I'm selfish for bringing you all the way out here for something so trivial."
"Not at all. But what about Lucretia, your wife? I pray that you are still together."
"Well, she..."
Edgar was cut off as the sound of footsteps echoed from across the room. In the doorway there stood a young woman with long auburn hair. She wore a thin white dress which almost matched the complexion of her deathly-pale skin. Thomas found it odd that she had been walking around barefooted. She must have been freezing cold.
"Ah, Lucretia. Pleased to meet you. I hope you remember me."
The woman said nothing and stared at Thomas blankly for a moment, then she turned around and walked back through the corridor. Thomas has had noticed that Edgar hadn't moved an inch. Surely he must have noticed her standing there. Thomas could only guess that they'd had a falling out of sorts.
"Do you mind if I look around?" asked Thomas, who stood up and began stretching his legs.
"Of course... But be careful not to mess with anything. You can take the candle with you."
Thomas carefully picked up the candle and placed it on a small tin saucer, then made his way through one of the corridors. The house was bigger than he had imagined and he soon found himself lost. He continued to walk aimlessly until he came to an old wooden door. He swung it open and looked inside.
It appeared to be a study of some kind. The was a single desk at the end of the room littered with an assortment of books. The rest of the room was occupied with bookcases and paintings. He examined one painting in particular nearby one of the windows. It was covered in dust but he could barely make out the figure of a woman. He rubbed the dust from the figure and soon realised that a large piece of the painting had been torn off where the face should be. He looked at it for a few more moments, then sat down at the desk and started to look through the books.
Most of the books were dusty and covered in mold. They were written on an assortment of subjects, ranging from history to science. As he moved one of the books, a small envelope fell from its pages. In neat handwriting he made out the name 'Lucretia' on the front. Curiosity got the better of him. He started to open it when the door swung open without warning and a fuming Edgar strode into the room.
"You couldn't leave it alone, could you?! I told you not to go messing!"
"I-I'm sorry, I only meant to..."
"Enough. I think it's time you retired for the night. Follow me. I'll take you to your room."
Thomas followed Edgar silently and they eventually reached a small bedroom at the top of the stairs. Edgar showed Thomas inside, then turned to leave.
"Edgar, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any harm."
Edgar stopped for a moment and nodded, then slipped through the door and closed it behind him.
The room was musty and it was clear that it hadn't been cleaned in years. However, he could settle for it. It was much more preferable to staying outside. He slipped off his shoes and without getting changed, climbed into bed and sighed.
He woke early the next morning and made his way downstairs. As he did so he peered through the window of the landing. Surprisingly, the blizzard hadn't eased off in the slightest. If anything, it had got even worse. He carried on down the stairs and reached the living room. He was surprised to see Edgar awake before him, reading from an old book at the table. Thomas couldn't see Lucretia, but guessed that she must have still been in bed.
"Morning," said Thomas as he took a seat at the table.
"Oh, morning."
It seemed as though Edgar's mood had improved since the previous night, but there was still a tone of seriousness in his voice. They sat in silence for the next several minutes, disturbed only by Edgar's occasional coughing fit.
"Good lord Edgar. You seem to be more sick than I had feared."
"It's fine. Don't worry. Anyway, Thomas. There really is something I should tell you..."
Before Edgar was able to continue there was a sudden knock at the door. Thomas wondered if there was anyone as crazy as him who'd venture out in such weather. Edgar answered the door, and in stepped an old, kindly man who wore a long black coat.
"Good morning," the man said as he sat down his briefcase on the table.
"Look!" Edgar complained, "I told you the last time you arrived, I don't need a doctor. What are you doing here?"
The doctor unzipped his bag and took out a stethoscope, then turned to Edgar.
"I really must insist. Why, you look half-dead already! Unbutton your shirt. Let me check your breathing."
Edgar reluctantly unbuttoned his shirt and allowed the doctor to press his stethoscope against his chest. The doctor ordered him to breathe in and out several times, then finally allowed him to button his shirt up again.
"I'm afraid it doesn't sound good at all. Your breathing sounds rather laboured. It may be better for me to take you to my clinic."
"I'm not going!" he roared, "my place is he-"
Edgar was suddenly cut short as he begun to cough violently again. This coughing fit lasted longer than before, and when Edgar removed his hand from his mouth, a small trail of blood ran from his lips.
"Sir! I must insist! This is serious."
Edgar eventually agreed when he was suddenly afflicted by a coughing fit even more violent than before. The doctor quickly ushered him outside, but turned to Thomas before he left.
"I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. I'm a local doctor. Who might you be?"
"Thomas. I'm his cousin."
"Ah, so you're his cousin. Well, don't worry, I'm going to do everything I can to help him."
"I'm sure you will. I suppose I should tell Lucretia that he's going to be absent for a while."
"Lucretia?" he said with a puzzled look, "Mr Edgar's wife you mean? She's been dead for over ten years. You must be mistaken."
"That can't be true! I've seen her with my own eyes."
"Listen... I really must be going. The sooner I get your cousin some help the better. Goodbye Thomas."
The door swung shut and Thomas retreated back into the living room. Surely it must have been a mistake he thought. He was not one to believe in ghosts or spirits. And why hadn't Edgar mentioned anything when he first arrived? He decided to confront Lucretia himself and find out the truth, but after searching the entire house he found no trace of her. Deciding that she must have still been asleep, he returned to his own room and collapsed onto his bed.
He must have fallen asleep. When he eventually shifted he realised the room was completely dark. It appeared the window had been left open and a chill ran through the room, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. He was about to sit up when a creaking noise came from the entrance and the door slowly crept open.
"Edgar, is that you? Are you back already?"
There was no reply. Thomas could hear footsteps, so he was sure that someone had entered, yet it was still too dark for him to make out their figure.
"Edgar?"
He quickly sat up and looked around nervously. The footsteps grew closer and without warning he felt an icy grasp on his arm. Lucretia's face appeared before him. Despite her sick complexion he still found himself looking at her beauty in awe. He felt another chill run through his body, and when he looked back at Lucretia, he was horrified to see her face transformed into bloody corpse. He began to feel numb as his entire body started to seize up. The last thing he saw was Lucretia's maggot ridden face as she collapsed onto his chest.
