A Cure for the Blind

Chapter 39 - The Terrible Fate of the Just

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Terrible Fate of the Just

A scream of terror pierced the western side of St. Agnes in the early hours of the morning.

Molly Brown had woken up particularly early that day. She hoped to be one of the first to arrive at the fish market, where she would try to use her charm to persuade the fishermen to sell her the cheapest fish even cheaper – with any luck, a good timed wink and a playful smile, she might even be able to get old Martin Cusack to give her one or two for free, as long as his wife hadn’t shown up.

She left her humble home through the backyard’s door, which lead her into the older and more forgotten streets of the city. These streets were mostly faced by the back of other buildings, so most people didn’t chose them to walk around, although Molly found they were a shortcut towards her intended destination.

The air was cold and humid, as the sun hadn’t even risen yet, and she hugged her poor cloak closer to her small frame. She turned left after passing the ruins of a long abandoned paper factory. Immediately, she noticed a strange shadow in the right side of the street, something big and dark lying on the ground. In the distance and under the weak light of the still ascending sun, she thought it was probably a bundle of old clothes or sheets, or maybe even an old bag of trash that someone had left there.

Molly kept walking, intent on taking a closer look. If it was fabric, clothes, sheet or blankets and if they were still in proper conditions, she would have no problem in picking them up and making good use of them. Her home was very cold, wood for the fireplace was too expensive for her to buy and her children would welcome an extra blanket.

As she got closer though, Molly realized the strange bundle had shoes. She sighed, disappointed. It was probably just a drunken man who had fallen asleep on the street or even one of the many homeless people who had thought that a good place to spend the night.

Used to receiving unwanted male attention, knowing full well the perils of a lonely street and fearing the possibility of being attacked by a desperate homeless man, Molly searched for a weapon before she walked beside the unknown body. She found a fallen iron bar on the ground, mentally acknowledging how out of place it felt, lying in the middle of the road. She picked it up but, instead of the cold and hard feeling she was expecting in her hand’s palm and fingers, she felt warm and thick liquid on its surface. 

She shrugged and didn’t much care for it; after all, it was hardly normal to expect it to be clean. She walked slowly towards the human bundle and the closer she got, the more she realized something was not right.

The man was lying in a most awkward position. No man would voluntarily lie like that. He had to have fallen. Not to mention how foul he smelt. Molly had never felt such decaying odor before. Walking even closer, she felt herself stepping on water - a lot of water. But that was certainly odd. There were no more puddles of water anywhere; the rest of the pavement had been very much dry.

Molly examined the water she was stepping on and it felt very wrong. The consistency of the liquid was different from that of water. It seemed darker too. She trembled. Her natural instinct seemed to have caught something that her mind hadn’t yet been able to process.

The man was lying on top of the thick liquid.

No. The liquid was coming from the man.

She walked a couple more steps and immediately froze, her eyes widened in horror, her voice caught up in her throat.

The man was dead. His skull was shattered - blood, bone and matter infecting his red hair. His head had been repeatedly beaten until it had finally broken in a most brutal way.