Red Letter

• Eloise Newman, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2011

The letter had been simple. Just two sentences scrawled in red ink.
Time will bring loss. I will have you join me in death or memories.
Written on old, yellowed paper that looked like it might crumble at one’s touch, the words had been studied very carefully by our top officers. None could decipher the message. The case had been ongoing for months, and everyone working on it was getting frustrated. No clues, no leads, no fingerprints. Mary’s husband had just disappeared. When his body was found everyone assumed the case was finally closed. Then Mary had turned up at the police station, clutching the letter, and we realised that perhaps he was not yet done with his cheating wife.
We needed to check out Mary’s house for any clues as to what his letter meant.
I shivered, the sneering wind flailing my ponytail around. Andrew and I stood looking at the brass house number, 6, carelessly screwed onto the brick wall.
“We need to go in eventually, mate,” I said as casually as I could. There was something about this house that was freaking the hell out of both of us. He nodded, and we walked over the parched grass towards the porch.
Entering, the first thing I noticed was the hollow sound like clicking in the back of someone’s throat.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Moving into the lounge room, gun raised, I noticed an ancient clock on the wall; 5:54 it read.
The house groaned as if encouraging me to continue forward.
“Andrew,” I called into the silence. I followed his reply until I was standing in the pastel-coloured kitchen.
“Emily, look at the corkboard. There’s something… on it…” he trailed off. I followed his gaze towards the corkboard behind the sink. On it was a message, each letter written in what appeared to be crimson blood.
Life’s cost is treasured. A moan came from back in the hallway. I ran out and almost stepped on Mary.
I swore, and knelt down to her. “Mary, what happened to you?”
“Stop… the ticking…,” she gasped, pressing a locket into my hand and falling unconscious.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Something was wrong with this house, seriously wrong.
“Emily…,” Andrew started.
“I know. Let me think!” I yelled.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He had hurt his beloved. He wanted her to join him.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Oh God,” I said, looking at my watch; 5:59 p.m.
Time will bring loss.
I raced back into the living room, my mind spinning. Mary’s husband loved her. He didn’t know she would involve others.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Life’s cost is treasured. My hand curled around the locket, Mary’s own treasure, with cold, numb fingers. The house number. In ten seconds it would be six p.m.
Reaching the clock, I fumbled around for the compartment I knew was there.
Three.
I pressed the locket into the hole but it wouldn’t fit.
Two.
I yanked it off the chain; my heartbeat drumming in my ears.
One.