OF course, I shan't pretend to consider it any matter for wonder, that the curse of the Dummy has excited discussion. It would have been a miracle had it not — especially in the very town of Maastricht. It is now rendered necessary that I give the facts — as far as I comprehend them myself. They are, succinctly, these:
My attention, for the last three years, had been repeatedly drawn to the subject of the nightmarish case of the Jeker River.
The thick currents... the way it talks to us in a murmur becoming ceaseless and myriad, impermanent and profoundly significant, as though beneath the surface something alive waked for a moment of lazy alertness out of light slumber again…
''Good-Evening brother!'' The old man rose with hospitable haste and offered a seat. Although, the night was cold and wet, the small antiques shop-or rather hut- had a cosy interior. The blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly.
''Good-Day, sir! I was wondering on investigating on artefacts that may be of one's interest'' The man fluttered with excitement- it may have been because he wasn't regularly visited; picking one item would be like picking one's dearest child! Him being occupied resulted in me examining the unique antiquity. Everything was screaming at me with colour, size and age-reminding me of the time I went to an orphanage and enduring the pain of all the mother-less children dying to be chosen.
'Sir...this dummy!'' At first, I thought he was mocking me however his stern face told me otherwise.
'I beg your pardon?' I noticed his eyes tearing and realised that this was a man of great determination, for whatever reason, and I had a feeling that I may have stumbled into a once-in-a-lifetime offer...
'Hundreds of years ago, in this very town, lived a hard-working man by the name of Abel Listokef.He had everything he needed; apart from his dream girl. This girl went by the man Rosalina Stifnoecht and they attended the same school. After many years of trying to impress Rosalina, he finally had enough wealth that fit to Rosalina's likings. They married the same year and after some months of marriage, they gave birth to a son...'
I noticed by this point that his deep, ocean-blue eyes flood with tears. I tried my hardest to condole with him, oblivious of what was so tragic. As if reading my mind, he answered saying,
'Rosaline died giving birth and many nights later, Abel had a dream. He was drowning, with his family present. Full of guilt and reluctance of raising his son alone, he threw the newborn into the river and later went on to marry another woman. Rumour has it that local fisherman rescued the boy. Since that day anything that lives in the river dies. Fisherman moved out and crops started to die. Some say that when you look into the river you see a reflection of the boy himself. Clutching the dummy, I mentally noted to visit tomorrow...
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