The Mind’s Eye.P1

The Mind’s Eye.P1 (In a Different Light)

Hook (Arkham): You were 1916 MU college friends with Henry Stanley, before he went off to war in 1917. You had about 18 months of college together and thus knew each other to some degree in interaction and classes. Henry tried talking Jack into joining, but Jack only stood on the dock to wave goodbye as the troopship weighed anchor. Years later Carson tried to enlist to join Henry now that he was healthy, but the war was already over. Carmen sent letters with small pictures or sonnets enclosed. But that was years ago. Now you read how Henry was recently killed in a car accident. You are attending his funeral and wake (to be held at his mother Helen Stanley’s (maiden name Farr) house.

Jack Stone, Antique Store Clerk (Ray): Fraternity brothers that first year. But when Henry enlisted, they went their separate ways. Jack’s degree in Natural Science with a minor in Occult Studies: look where that got him! Meager pay as a clerk, supplemented with black market sales of what he pilfers from the cemeteries. Now to read of Henry’s death… Jack owed him respect and thus appearance at his funeral. A chance to pay respect to Helen he’d met, what four-five years ago?

Carson Webster, Editor-Essex Herald (Leslie): You wouldn’t know from the looks of him now, but Carson once was debilitated from polio. Crutches built his upper body strength which suited his college venture as a scull rower. Henry a positive influence, turning aside the cruel bullies who picked on the weak. Not anymore! Who knew the legs were involved so much, such that he soon regained full mobility over the years. He all but forgot about Henry till reading of his death. A kind letter to his mother earned him invite to the funeral.

Carmen Vigil, Artist/Poet (Laska): Spanish (Asturian) heritage gifted her looks and charm, but the English poet/painter William Blake’s darker words and brush strokes guided her own artistic expression, trying to portray a world tarnished by the ravages of war and the influenza epidemic. Classmates mocked her dark portrayals, but it was Henry’s never-failing support and honest criticism that stoked her confidence and flair. Poor Henry: to survive the horrors of war only to die in an auto accident. Maybe a poem written in memory of Henry would soothe Helen’s loss.

 

2pm Sunday, April 23^rd: An already gloomy day with overcast sky as the hearse pulled into the Hangman’s Hill Cemetery, leading a small procession of cars. Probably half those attending were gawkers curious of any wealth left behind by the deceased. Five men gathered at the back of the hearse, fidgeting as they waited. It was Helen who approached the trio gathered near, eyeing each before asking Carson, “My brother was supposed to be a pallbearer, but he has yet to arrive. Would you mind filling in?” Any tears were washed away by the wet mist as the Protestant minister read scripture passages such as Psalm 23, “The Lord is my shepherd…”

Helen’s family and neighbors greeted the guests attending the wake at the Stanley house on Main Street. The trio walked among the others telling their college memories of Henry. Maybe they embellished the stories but who would know or care. 

The room grew quiet as Carmen offered her thoughts, “In memory of Henry, I wrote this poem titled The Lightning-Struck Sapling.”

Helen excused herself to the kitchen to replenish the finger food, but really to hide her tears. Jack and Carmen offered their help. It was then they heard noises: from the front room, Carson stepped out on the porch to investigate the police sirens slowly coming up Peabody Avenue. He saw one patrolman on foot across the street as if searching while another darted near Helen’s house. Carson stepped back inside to report, “There’s a manhunt in progress.” Meanwhile, Jack looked out the kitchen window per the rattle of trashcans in the backyard. He saw the back of a stooped man: butt-crack back because the man was wearing a hospital gown! “Excuse me, but can I help…”

His words swallowed at the sight of the eyeless man (holding a butterfly on his finger) who turned to face him! Jack heard the ceaseless muttering as the blindman pointed to the heavens, “Huge… star…living…waiting…waiting…” Carmen stood next to Helen looking out the kitchen door, close enough to catch her fainting fall after Helen blurted out, “Michael? Oh my God, Michael, what did they do to you?!”

Carmen drug Helen into the Livingroom to set her in a chair. Carson suggested, “Check the bathroom for smelling salts while I check out the backyard disturbance.” Even Carson was rattled at the sight of the blind man starring right at him as if fully aware of his presence. And aware of the policeman entering the backyard gate, calling out to others, “Over here, I found him!” As the patrolmen corralled Michael to escort him to the waiting patrol car, the butterfly took flight and Michael turned his bloodied eye-sockets to follow its path. [Persuade] Carsen stepped out with credentials in hand, “This is the Stanley house and Michael the brother of the owner. Care to tell us what happened? I’d hate to misinterpret the account in my newspaper report.” Sergeant Webley in command explained, “The man escaped from the ambulance carrying him from St Mary’s Hospital to the Sanitarium.”

6pm: Carmen dabbed a wet cloth on Helen’s forehead as the distraught woman spoke, “Michael Farr is Henry’s uncle. He was supposed to be another pallbearer today. I just spoke to him yesterday. He’s a retired ship navigator (using a sextant for celestial navigation) who now dabbles in astronomy. He lives in #5 of the Simpson Apartments down on Walnut Street.” Without asking their approval, Carson volunteered their efforts, “We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Their search around the trashcans yielded nothing of interest.

St Mary’s Hospital: Jack laid on his charm with the receptionist Ester while Carson tried to persuade the woman as friends of the family, “We were at Helen Stanley’s house when her brother Michael Farr stumbled into the backyard. The family has a right to know.” Ester hesitated before opening her log to reveal the admission records: 1am call to the Simpson apartments to restrain one Michael Farr from further self-mutilation. Transported to St Mary’s for medical help. 5pm transport to the Arkham Sanitorium per his complete mental breakdown.”

Carson asked to borrow the phone. Carson called into his office to report the incident, only to be raked over the coals by his Editor-in-Chief Edwin, “Little late to the party! Have you seen the other newspapers?” They found today’s paper in the waiting room.

7pm: Back at Helen’s house, they were just as baffled when Helen asked, “He did it to himself? Why?” Carmen offered to stay the night as the others were ready to turn in after a long day. [INT idea] “Helen, do you have a spare key to his apartment? We should check it out tonight before any evidence to the matter is removed.” They climbed into Carson’s car.

8pm dusk Simpson Apt: Streetlights were already on as Carson turned the corner onto Walnut street and almost ran over kids playing stickball in the street. Where they expected squalor and neglect typical of the Southside, they found recent construction of new streetlights that bathed the French Hills area in a bright greenish hue. Carson remembered this an election year… the mayor probably trying to win votes. Women beat dirt from rugs that hung on lines stretched between buildings. Kids jumped onto the car's running boards to gawk at the trio. Jack flipped them a nickel to protect the car.

Carmen used the car hood to sketch images of the innocent kids around the car as Jack/Carson climbed the apartment steps. The sweet smell of Italian cooking greeted them along with Mrs. Cilauro who stepped out to call the kids for supper.

 A tabby-cat nudged their legs as they spoke. “Call me Mama C, I’m the manager… Sammy, leave the men alone. I know Mr. Sabatino feeds you well. Sorry, you asked about Mr. Farr? The police picked him up early this morning. I always knew him not right. Protestant and divorced. The moral decline of young people today, tsk, tsk. He not go to heaven, eh Sammy? You have a set of keys? I guess you can go up; a cleaning crew is still there.”

Carmen joined them as they climbed the stairs, drawing closer to a strong ammonia smell. They unlocked the door to surprise 2 men in white overalls cleaning the blood-splattered floor and walls. Well, they may have once been white overalls; pinkish now along with the water they pushed around. “We’re not done yet. Still looking for his other eye.” 

As one man pulled an eye from his coat-pocket to show, the other man protested, “I tell you, we’re not going to find it… the man probably ate it.” Carmen was already gagging as she backed into the hallway. [Psychology] Carson and Jack stood their ground, realizing the men obviously took pleasure in tormenting others.

Jack moved to the closet, “Just grabbing a suit and clothes for the man checked into the hospital.” Carson stepped towards the telescope setup near the window, “Have you looked over here?” He looked thru the scope to observe what was last seen. He noticed the open notebook on the side table. 

Carson summarized aloud, “Saw a strange geometric something near Saturn’s rings. Definitely pissed about the streetlights interfering with his observations. Sounds like a madman’s descent into insanity.”

As Carmen stood in the hallway, a man from an apartment down the hall approached and took a peek into Michael’s room. Maybe he wanted to make small talk with the beautiful woman, “I swear it’s getting harder to get a good night’s sleep nowadays. What with ‘Star-boy’ last night and the milkman a few nights back.” Carmen pressed for more details. “About 3 nights ago my wife was woken by incoherent screaming. By the time the police arrived, Georgio had regained his senses. Georgio Caruso our milkman. Yeah, he delivers sometime after 10pm. Haven’t seen him for the last few nights. Sorry, I’m Tony Valencio and my wife Ruth just down the hall. Michael? Don’t know him very well, recluse. He better not be using that telescope to go peeping-tom on my wife! Gotta get to work… graveyard shift. Be safe.” Carmen waved goodbye, then pressed against the wall as the cleaning crew also departed.

Carmen entered the room and was also drawn to the window, curious if there were any houses across the street offering open window views of scantily clad women. She only saw the one-story house with its big bay window and curtains drawn. She scanned Michael’s notes, “His onset of insanity sounds sudden.” At mention of the milkman incident, they decided to wait at a local diner till Caruso’s shift.

10pm: [Group Luck] They returned to Walnut Street and waited in the car for almost an hour till the milk-truck arrived. Carmen stepped out to approach him alone. [Psych-hard] She easily read his body-language to realize the man was still scared. Maybe she could put him at ease. Georgio hustled in his deliveries as he tried to avoid small-talk with the charming woman, “It wasn’t anything, just shadows. Headaches from long hours. And these damn lights don’t help.” Georgio wiped his eyes and was about to reveal more till Carson joined in, “Tell us what you saw in the shadows.” Georgio hustled off, “I’m late as it is. It will take me two shifts to complete my deliveries at this rate.”

Monday morning: While Carmen stayed the night on Helen’s couch to comfort the poor woman, Carson was already up and on the phone to the police station where his contact worked, “Come on Jim, whatta ya got on another disturbance on Walnut Street a few nights ago?” Sgt Jim Portrelli cupped the microphone to avoid anyone overhearing, “Not over the phone. By the time you get here, maybe I’ll have something.” 

When Carson arrived, Jim took him into an interrogation room and flopped a paper on the table, “Found this buried in the police blotter. Took it from that nosy Carlton reporter over at the Arkham Advertiser since we released Caruso on scene.”

Hot Off the Press: Carson returned to his newspaper office to compose his own story, when Edwin stormed in, “What the hell have you been doing as the other newspapers already report your milkman is dead!” Carson was pissed, “Damn it boss, I’ve been on leave with that funeral I attended. Are you sure these other papers aren’t spreading wild speculations?! Assign me full coverage of the story and I’ll get you headlines.” Carson ground his pencil to a stub before grabbing another as he drafted his story. 

He silently grumbled, “Damn that Jack Carlton getting the best of me. Dr. Jekyll my ass. So, you say a doctor has been spotted roaming the area. Bullshit! We were there and didn’t see anyone else. Surgical skills huh?”

Jack was already having breakfast at Helen’s house with Carmen when Carson arrived and showed the competing newspaper articles. Carmen realized, “If what they say is true, we were the last to speak to Mr. Caruso.” 

Jack picked up on the other article, “Says here the city engineer Mr. Endicott approved the lighting. Maybe we should check that angle.” Carson scoffed, “It also says the street kids are irritable and complaining of headaches. Carmen, you were around the kids more. Did you get the impression they displayed such emotions? I say we go to the Asylum to check in on Michael. Helen, could you write a letter of introductions of us as friends of the family to get admittance to see your brother?” Carmen went next door to get a neighbor to sit with Helen while they were gone.

10am, Arkham Sanitorium: The receptionist showed their intro letter to Dr. Hardstrom who explained, “Yes, Mr. Farr was delivered late yesterday. I prescribed mild sedatives to calm the distraught man. I haven’t made today’s rounds yet. I’ll need you to sign release forms if you want to come along. Have any of you toured our facility before… as patient or relative? Don’t let the screams and antics scare you.” Carmen wasn’t sure if the accompanying orderlies were to protect her or restrain her if she lost her mind. They rode the elevator to the 3^rd floor, where they passed other orderlies escorting patients down the halls. Dr. Hardstrom explained, “We prescribe the latest treatments in mental health. We have a positive success rate.”

They innocently entered Michael’s room, Carmen already offering, “Helen sends her love.” They all gasped in fright: once again the blindman starred into their very souls as he stood before them with bloody fingertips. 

His blood used as the medium of his artwork that decorated the walls. Once again Michael uttered nonsense, “It’s out there…it’s coming…I found it…will they name it after me?” He collapsed into insane giggling as he pointed to the upper northwest corner of the room, “The Farr Star…far, far away. Not so far, ey Farr? He haha!” The orderlies rushed forward to restrain the man in a straitjacket as Dr. Hardstrom called for a nurse, “Get 10cc of laudanum!” He turned to the visitors, “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. I’ll have another orderly escort you out.”

Noon: As they rode back to Helen’s house, all were shaken at the realization that Michael had pointed in the same direction his apartment telescope was pointed. Carson remembered his own view thru the telescope, “What the hell did he see out there?! The star, the streetlights…I’m confused.” Carmen compared lighting to painting, “Just like lights, each color has its own wavelength. Maybe there is something unique to the streetlights; they do emit that different greenish hue.”

They debated what direction to take. Interesting how the younger, more innocent of the trio, seemed to direct traffic. Carmen spoke up, “Carson, you have a job to do for your newspaper. Why don’t you use your credentials to question the Medical Examiner about those supposed ‘surgical cuts’. Jack, why don’t you check out City Hall regarding the City Engineer, Mr. Endicott. Find out what he knows about the new lighting on Walnut. Since he doesn’t know me, and maybe gaining favor with my feminine looks, I can find the reporter Jack Carlton near Walnut Street. He seems to have a lot of information. Maybe I can learn his angle or informant.” They planned to meet back up around 5pm for dinner.

• Jack parked in front of City Hall and climbed the steps. He paused at the directory board and took the elevator to the 3^rd floor. He introduced himself to the receptionist, “I’m a recent graduate of Miskatonic University with a degree in engineering. I heard Mr. Endicott’s name mentioned regarding a new light source. I was hoping for an interview. [Hard Charm] Vanessa apologized, “He’s out of town right now on business. Perhaps I can find records of the Town meeting notes you reference.” 

• It took awhile before she returned, “You can sit at the desk to read it as it is my only copy. Otherwise, I’m sure you could track down newspaper coverage of it.” Jack scanned the November 1921 minutes that mentioned MU’s own Professor Duncan giving the lighting presentation.
• Carson parked at the Medical Examiner’s office. He planned a straight-forward journalist approach, poking at a coverup. Dr. Ephraim Sprague sat at his desk eating his egg-salad sandwich with gloves still stained with cadaver blood. [Persuade +Luck= extreme] Carson explained, “I’ve read sensational articles by my competitor writers that bring your competence into question. I know you from my dealings with the police to have a sterling reputation. I’m hoping to get you on record to sway any indications of inflated reports.” Ephraim pushed away from the table, “You can come see for yourself if need be. Even a novice like yourself could see the surgical nature of the cuts. Assuming you can stomach seeing the dead carved up.” Carson declined, “I trust your words.” 

• Dr. Sprague opened a book as reference, “The butcher cut open the skull to expose the middle of the brain, below the Corpus Callosum. Said butcher removed the Pineal Gland.” Carson had to ask, “What purpose does that serve?” Ephraim flipped some pages, “We know so little but think it related to the retinas. Dissections prove mammals such as porpoises have larger glands. And they, like bats with larger glands relative to their size, also use echo location. Maybe the pineal gland is some kind of sensory aid. A 6th sense if you will.”
• Carmen chained her bike to the light-pole with the police callbox on Walnut Street. The pleasant street atmosphere of yesterday was gone. Kids complained, “You tag too hard.” Others, “No fair hide-n-seek… you cheated, watching us hide.” Even Mrs. C was in an unpleasant mood as she yelled at the kids, “How many times do I have to call you for lunch?! Fine, you can go hungry for all I care.” Carmen noticed the police barricade setup at an alleyway. She crossed the street and was quickly confronted by a policeman, “Sorry Miss, you’re too well dressed to be around here. It’s not safe.” [Charm] Carmen faked a gasp as she pried him for more information, “Actually, I’m looking for a reporter from the Arkham Advertiser who is supposed to be around here. Have you seen him by chance?” The policeman tried to block her view of the alleyway as he chatted, “The night shifts says they had to run Jack Carlton off a few times. Thankfully I have seniority and was able to change to days after I was called here yesterday morning per that Mr. Farr situation. At least these damn streetlights are off in the days, but I swear I’m still getting headaches.”

[Sanity] Carmen was barely paying attention and had to rub her own eyes as she now swore she was seeing blurry vision. What looked like bubbles floating behind the policeman and now drifting towards him. She backed up from the jellyfish looking blobs. Jelly… wait… didn’t Michael’s telescope notes say something about ‘evil putty jelly’?! She turned and ran for her bike, fumbling with the lock, before finally getting it unlocked as she pedaled as fast as she could away from Walnut Street!

NEXT SESSION: https://rigglew4.blogspot.com/2024/04/mep1-minds-eyep2.html