By David Accampo

May 24th

Dearest Emily,

Forgive me for not having written sooner. Your father has me up at all hours of the night, running the strangest of errands! Last night, we had to convey a large steamer trunk from the docks to the ramshackle hut in which our dear Admiral has taken refuge. Not so odd, I suppose, except for the ungodly hour and the nature of the contents of the trunk. I shall not inflict the gruesome details upon you darling, as they are not fit for man, let alone the delicate constitution of a woman. Suffice it to say, the trunk reeked of offal; and Hendricks and I were forced to wear kerchiefs over our noses to stifle the acrid stench.

Still, I should not complain. Your father is a good man, and my induction into the Order is necessary for us to live as man and wife, a dream well worth the unusual regulations placed upon it.

Yours,

Stephen

***

June 7th

Dearest Emily,

You can’t know how I’ve cherished your most recent letter! Days on this infernal island have begun to wear upon me. It is only the strength of your love — displayed so proudly in your letters — which keeps me moving forward. Wearing the uniform in this oppressive tropical climate is rather less than bearable, but with every step I take through the sand, my saber rattling in its scabbard, the stiff wool chaffing my sides, brings me closer to you.

Sadly, I’ve nothing to report on your father. The Admiral sees no one now, and delivers his messages through stained parchment letters slid beneath the door of his make-shift cottage. He claims the ritual is well underway. My induction into the Order is nearly complete. I have been given the Ostrich feather to carry on my personage at all times. I’m told this is a symbol of both good omen and grave import; I endeavor to keep it close to me at all times lest the Admiral believe I’ve strayed from his words.

Hendricks has taken ill. He rarely rises from his cot. His skin is clammy, his features jaundiced. I awoke one night to the sound of wheezing and a hacking cough. I don’t suspect he will finish out his stay on the island. The Admiral informed us, via letter, that another ship would soon arrive. Hendricks and Tennyson are expected to depart on it.

They have been deemed unworthy of the Order. That leaves only myself and Albertson as the newest inductees. A part of me wishes I could hop on that steamer with him and find my way back to you. But we both know that would only be folly.

Yours,

Stephen

***

June 19th

Dear Emily,

Forgive the tardiness of my reply, my love. The Admiral has kept me quite busy, making arrangements with the natives for the final feast and induction ceremony. I have completed the Serpent’s Path, and the Admiral, who I confess has grown rather bloated on this strange island diet he keeps, has emerged from his isolation. He told me today that he is proud to call me a son of the Order. I take that to have two meanings, my dear, and they both bode well for our bright future!

I was rather surprised to read the revelation in your last letter. You must heed these words: Hendricks is not to be trusted! Your father has informed me that Hendricks betrayed the Admiral’s good name. I realize it must have seemed good fortune for the fellow to seek you out at your family estate, but you mustn’t believe his agenda was purely sociable. Hendricks is a jealous man, and despite what he claims, his infirmity was not brought on by unnatural forces. His illness is mere human weakness.

I beseech you — stay away from Hendricks. The man only wishes ill upon your father and his presence brings nothing good to your family.

Yours,

Stephen

***

June 30th

Emily,

We are on the eve of the final ceremony. Oh, the wonders I have seen! Your father has opened my eyes to the world, opened the inner eye, if you will, to all manner of spectacle unseen by mortal man. This new world is a thing of complex beauty, of radiant light, shape and colour. I cannot wait to introduce you to this heaven on earth.

Alas, this is not the reason for my letter. I was shocked and a bit betrayed by your recent confession, my dear. I asked you to steer yourself clear of the madman Hendricks, and yet it appears you haven’t heeded my words. I am sorry the old fellow met his untimely end, and in such a ghastly fashion. I did once call him friend, and his passing does fill me with melancholy. Surely, his illness was one of untoward carnal activity, and not due to, as he so claimed, some malignancy brought on by the Order and our ritual. I assure you, the Order seeks an end to all misery, all war! Your father has only the most benevolent intentions.

I confess, the means to this end are unusual — and often repugnant — but as the night gives in to the inevitability of the sunrise, so to is the beauty of the Order revealed.

We shall live in eternal bliss. This is my promise to you. Please, put Hendricks and his final, twisted visage from your mind. We shall brook no further talk of the putrefaction of flesh.

Soon,

Stephen

***

July 6th

Emily,

I have not received reply. Please, I am worried. I received my sash as a full-fledged member of the Order. Your father beamed with pride as if I were his own son!

Unfortunately, any festivity was cut short by a terrible native uprising. Apparently, these ragged savages have lost several of their womenfolk, and they believe the Order is responsible. Clearly, they do not have the blessed insight of Those Beyond The Sky.

The Admiral has called for swords to be drawn.

I go to my duty.

Love always,

Stephen

***

July 16th

Dearest Emily,

I haven’t the words.

Our battle was hard-fought and won. Arrow and spear are no match for sword and rifle and good old English strategy, you see.

There is more to say, and I do so now with heavy heart.

Your father, our good Admiral Wellington, has passed on. The old man fought bravely, as best he could in his engorged state, but the cunning tribesmen brought him low with a cowardly arrow’s shaft. For a moment, all seemed lost, as the Admiral dropped to his knees in the dust, his jacket stained with crimson.

However, we in the Order have been prepared for the moment of transmogrification. What a glory to behold! It must have seemed a terrible thing to these dim savages as the Admiral’s skin split, as his true personage was revealed, sloughing off his old fleshy casing as though it were nothing more than a long coat taken off on a spring day. The tentacles burst forth, crimson and sea-green. His vengeance was swift and terrible.

I am proud to say that we passed the final test. The Order, brothers all, rallied behind this fearsome new leader, this great king descended down from beyond the sky as our ages-old prophecies have foretold.

Your father will be missed, but his passing brings about a new understanding. A new world! We are not alone. A time of great prosperity is at hand, dearest Emily, and it begins on this small island. We must prepare the way of the Others. The time has come for you to join me, my love. On this island, we shall be married, in honour of your father. I have sent a man named Hickory to fetch you. He should be there shortly after you receive this letter.

I tremble with anticipation to think we shall finally be together! We will finally begin our life! What will you think when you see me, I wonder? I have begun the slow transformation already. My skin is softening, loosening. It loses some of its colour and resolve. I will have no use of it before long. I am larger than you will recall, but it’s the steady diet of meat I must consume. I admit, I didn’t think my tastes would change quite so drastically, but I can already feel the delicate flutter of tendrils within my body. It is a marvelous sensation, and one I am sure you will quite enjoy.

Be courteous to our man Hickory.  I have instructed him to treat you firmly and ensure your passage to the island. I realize you didn’t expect our new life to begin in quite this fashion, but I know you’ll soon come to understand the beauty of this life.

I count the days to your arrival, my love.

Yours in eternity,

Stephen