Hemlock

Mary Hemlock inspired by the style of Dickens To feature in 'The World of Myth' magazine USA April 2024

Hemlock

Mr Perigo was dead. There was no doubt in this matter. It had been established by his mourning widow, the clergyman and the undertaker. He was as dead as an inanimate object could be. As dead as a cartwheel abandoned in a canal, as a flickering candle in a haunted mansion, as a penniless poet’s inkwell. Take your pick, he was defiantly a goner.

It is important to establish this here, alas the rest of the proceedings will lack the fantastical element the author had intended.

 The only person to be seen at Mr Perigo’s funeral was his grieving widow Rebecca, who had, after much effort, produced a tear or two. It was a sorrowful sight to behold on that grey and dank January morning as the mist crept around the graveyard’s permanent residents. However, if you were of a keen eye, you might well have spotted a dark, cloaked figure leant nonchalantly against a twisted Yew.