Moonlight : A Tale Of Mystery And Wonder

Are we alone in the universe?. Does the supernatural exist?.

These are questions which I have pondered on for many years. As fate would have it, I decided to take a journey round the world to find the answers to these questions.

The course of this journey took me to the town of Bridgewell, where there were rumours of a man who had discovered a way to predict the future. I had heard such grandeur claims before in my journey, and so far all the wonder workers had been unable to prove themselves when their theories were put under scrutiny.

Sylvester Hodges was a rather peculiar fellow. He lived alone in a small hut in the dry lands, just outside the town. He had no friends, rarely socialized, and grew his food by himself.

Sylvester's home ; the shack as he called it, rarely welcomed any visitors. So, I received a few stares when I asked for directions to his home.

I eventually arrived at the home of Sylvester and contrary to the reports, he actually seemed like a nice fellow who was genuinely pleased to see me. He had received my telegram, and was excited to show me the findings of his research.

He sat me down, and explained to me the mechanics behind the"art and science of future prediction" (his words). It was incredibly detailed, and I was only able to grasp the basic concepts.

He claimed that supernatural forces were responsible for most of the happenings on Earth.

He also claimed that by watching the moon and the stars, one could detect the inner workings of the ''hidden ones". He tabulated his astronomical findings, and ran them through complex mathematical equations which I cannot even begin to fathom.

At the end of his calculations, he declared that the results would take hours to compile. Not wanting to spend the rest of my afternoon at his shack; I informed him that I would be returning to my lodge.

He wished me a safe journey home, and instructed me to return by 9:00 pm. I left his shack and headed back to the Claude Lancaster Lodge in Bridgewell.

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At 9:15 pm I returned to the dry lands.

Sylvester's shack was lit up by moonlight, and his windows were open. I knocked on the door to draw his attention to my arrival.

The door opened.

I moved into the hut wondering why Sylvester had left his house open at this time of the night. A look around the hut showed a state of disarray. The house had been ransacked, and items were missing. There's was no sign of Sylvester. It seemed he had packed up in a hurry.

A walk to his work table revealed two items of interest .

An unfinished charcoal drawing,

and a handwritten note.

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I was puzzled by what I saw before me. Where was Sylvester?, what did he mean by "the foundations of Bridgewell shall tremble"?.

Unable to find any answers to these questions ; I had no other choice but to leave the shack.

The happenings of that night, left an uneasy feeling in my gut. I couldn't feel comfortable staying in my lodge.

I left Bridgewell that night

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On the evening of the 23rd of July 1992, barely 24 hours after I left Bridgewell. The town was struck by a devastating earthquake.

Lives were lost, properties destroyed, and the warm and welcoming town became a shadow of it's former self.

The events at Bridgewell still keep me awake at night pondering. What happened to Sylvester?, what did he discover?, was he actually capable of predicting the future?.

What message was he trying to communicate with the charcoal drawing?, was this the work of the "hidden ones"?.

I left my home to find answers, but I return with even more questions. Is there any purpose to seeking knowledge?, is ignorance bliss?.

Will I ever find the answers to my questions?.

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Remarks.

This story is an entry to The Muse Of March Writing Contest by @mdbrantingham.

This happens to be the longest story I've published so far.

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The charcoal drawing belongs to @mdbrantingham

The rest of the images are mine.