Disastrous Obsession

After dinner we retired to the drawing room, adjusted the gaslights and sat in front of the fire. It had been a splendid meal. Major Clennet was in fine form with his stories of India, while Professor Maxwell shared hilarious tales of university life. Lady Stimson entertained us with her African exploits and showed us one of the tribal idols she'd been given – the rest having been presented to our good Queen Victoria. Then, as was customary, we moved to the telling of ghost stories. In turn we told stories that chilled the blood – until one guest was left.

'Jamieson,' I said, 'what about you?'

Rupert Jamieson was a young friend of Professor Maxwell's. I didn't know him well, but the professor had vouched for him, saying that his radical theories on high-energy wireless electrical power were dangerous but first-class. The professor confided that Jamieson hadn't wanted to come to dinner – he'd virtually dragged the lad from the laboratory where he'd been working so feverishly since the death of his fiancée. Jamieson stood and it was then that I noticed he was trembling.

'I appreciate the invitation, but I really must get back to my work.'

Naturally, this prompted a chorus of good-natured disapproval. A round of ghost stories simply can't be left incomplete. Jamieson subsided into the armchair. He glanced at his pocket watch and then the window. 'It's probably too late, anyway,' he muttered – and he laughed unpleasantly. 'Alright, then. How would you like to hear something really frightening?'

He smirked as we all nodded, our eyes full of anticipation. Maxwell rolled his eyes, and leaned into the sofa as Jamieson snuck another glance at the window, his shoulders sagging in defeat. I waited … we all waited for him to launch into his tale.

‘I presume Maxwell told you about the death of my fiancée?’

He paused, watching us nod our heads. He smiled grimly before continuing. ‘Emily died when the pneumonia hit. There was nothing I could do. The feeling of having lost someone you love is unbearable.’ He gave a little shudder and glanced discreetly out the window again.

‘The funeral was heart-wrenching, and I missed seeing her face. So, the night after the funeral, I snuck to her tomb and …’ Jamieson stopped, seemingly unable to continue, ‘I don’t know why I did it, I think I went crazy just missing her day after day-‘

He looked at each of us, almost pleading acceptance. I realised that my breath was held, fervently hoping he wasn’t going to say what we all had in our minds.

‘I- dug her out.’

No such luck then.

‘Even though she was dead and stone-cold, she looked beautiful. The moonlight shone on her face and her long hair gleamed. I couldn’t bear to let her go now. To be able to hold her in my arms again, the feeling was indescribable. Ecstatic beyond what I felt ever since her illness. Yet more pained, knowing that I cannot bring her back ...’ he trailed, off, clearly lost in his own world now.

‘I had this crazy idea if I had enough electrical energy or an electromagnetic spectrum, I could bring currents to Emily’s brain and heart, and bring her back to my side. That thought bought fresh hope for me and I took her back to my laboratory that night. I planned how the currents would run, and let her remain beautiful at the same time. So I contacted my old friend Neil Arbuckly, a skilled surgeon.’

Jamieson gave a harsh laugh.

‘He was willing to help me, and the next day Neil came over. We worked together for months and months. He provided a sanctuary so that Emily wouldn’t rot, whilst I worked away, creating something I thought could bring me out of this misery. It took forever but it was finally finished, she was finally finished … Emily would be back again.’

He took a deep breath, and smiled bitterly.

‘Or so I thought. It wasn’t until later, after I had added the power, after Emily awoke, that something truly terrible happen.’ He subconsciously glanced at the window and started talking faster, almost stumbling over each word.

‘She seemed sweet and perfect, just like Emily. But after I left Emily in Neil’s care, I came back to utter chaos. Neil was injured and he stormed out, screaming that I had created a monster. I turned and saw Emily standing there, knife in hand. She declared that she wanted … no not wanted, needed more energy.’

Jamieson buried his head in his hands and continued in a muffled voice. ‘I should have destroyed her, but I couldn’t. She was my fiancée and I loved her, no matter what. So, I tried to change the currents, but whenever I came near her, she would wildly defend herself. I came so close, but nothing I tried seemed to work.’ His head snapped up and Jamieson glared at Maxwell.

‘Maxwell, then, lugged me out of the laboratory. It wasn’t until later that we realised we had left the door open. I’m afraid it’s too late for any of us now,’ concluded Jamieson, and glanced at the window for the umpteenth time tonight.

Two loud raps suddenly broke the silence. I jumped out of my skin and gave a little shriek. I turned to Maxwell.

‘Is it true? Was the door open?’ I asked shakily. My body went numb, as he nodded slowly.

I murmured something unintelligible and tried to run of the room. Someone grabbed my arm, and I turned to see Major Clennet holding on.

‘What was that you just said?’ he demanded.

I took a long breath and said to no one in particular, ‘The door’s not locked.’

~fin~