1927: Redemption

Elena Hastings

“Myths do not happen all at once.

They do not spring forth whole into the world. They form slowly, rolled between the hands of time until their edges smooth until the saying of the story gives enough weight to the words—to the memories—to keep them rolling on their own.

But all stories start somewhere, and that night, as Adeline ran through the woods of London, a new myth was taking shape.”

2021-DECEMBER-FLORIDA

Adeline flipped to the page number fourteen, which read:

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I believed that in the past, people had sincerely tried to make a change- even if sometimes the way they had approached was controversial or related to myths. The idea behind it had not always been bad or immoral. Right?

There was something about that guy that brought my nerves to the edge, but I couldn’t put my finger on it yet.

Well, then Jack pulled me out of my thoughts, pointing at a photo on the wall. “This is the only photo they have of them.”

I examined the writing next to the picture and read out loud, “ The Sylvester family also known as the shape-shifting- werewolf family, they fooled the nobility and police in the 1920s, skilled in working in disguise and having superior strategic minds. It was impossible to file a case against them. They had a large number of young men following their orders who saw them as the leader and saviours, but today it’s known and undeniable that they had murdered various noble families in London, one of them being the Hastings.” I stopped listening for a moment and in a way, I felt wistful.

Hastings.

The name echoed in my head.

“It says, they burned down their house.” Jack’s eyes widened, “That’s grim,” he zinged.

“It is.” I agreed, my chest tightened.

Why was I feeling reminiscent all of a sudden?

Gulping, my eyes travelled onto the photo again.

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Turning to the page nineteenth, which read:

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Well, the photo was not of the entire family, just two tall men. It was a picture taken from behind them, it was black and white but I could tell that one of them had lighter hair than the other, most probably blonde. The blonde-haired man was lifting his arm as if he was waving his hand at someone. The dark one was a few inches taller, his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

Jack chuckled, saying, “At least, they are nicely dressed.”

Indeed they were nicely dressed even though the photo was taken from behind them I could tell that they had suits on. The blonde was holding a beret in his hand.

“But,” I huffed at that moment of time, looking away, “It’s hard to believe that back in the day's men did horrible things just because, I wonder what went through their minds. I can imagine what nobles were like just look at this world with democracy being cool as it is. I bet they only tried to survive.”

“They were nobles themselves, why did they need to survive?” Asked Jack.

I know Jack was right, but maybe all this drama of being an aristocratic family was a cover in the history. Maybe they were trying to survive from the myths roaming around them…. Anyways, Jack grabbed my hand again, pulling me away from the picture because the more I looked at that picture, the more suffocated I said, I don’t know why.

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Adeline flipped over the last page suggested by him, page number twenty-five, which read:

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As we continued to visit the exhibition, we listened to the guide, looked at the photos on the walls and analysed the few pieces that were on display.

“Most of the things that belonged to the nobles belong to their inheritors. We often find people that agree to donate but the 1920s were glamorous. Every piece is something special, so, sometimes inheritors don’t want to donate because the pieces can be beautiful and they just want to keep it.” The guide explained.

Yeah, just like my Mum.

“Oh, fuck.” Jack blurted out with utter shock written over his face. I followed his gaze and my eyes got a family photo hanging on the wall, I didn’t comprehend what was so fascinating about it.

“Don’t you see her, Rose?” Jack grabbed the back of my neck and pushed my head closer to the wall.

“Jack, ow-” I shrugged his hold off and looked at the picture. Then, I saw it and it made my heart stop for a moment. It was as if a bucket of cold water was poured over me, giving me a headache.

“She looks just like you, Rose. How is that possible?” Jack chuckled, not being able to take his eyes off the photo on the wall.

“More like us,” I muttered.

Yes, I tried to shrug it off but in fact, I could not. The girl had my features, but if you look at her closely, she had Jack’s eyes and dimples. It was strange to look at an old family picture and have the feeling of looking at yourself.

I have never felt like this before.

Coming to this exhibition turned out to be a very bad idea.

“You’re right. If we ever had a daughter, she would look just like her.” Smirked Jack.

Today was an odd day and I did not like his smirk at all. “Are you proposing to me, Jack Martinez?” I remarked nonchalantly, making him snort and roll his eyes in response.

Then my eyes travelled onto the name that was under the frame. “Oh,” my eyes widened in surprise. “These are the Hastings.”

“So, this is the family whose house was burned down, huh?” Jack stated with a sad tone and I nodded.

“Her name is Elena Hastings, it says. Look,” I added, pointing at the writing next to the photo.

Examine it more carefully. It was indeed as if someone had dressed her up and taken a picture of her with an old camera.

“Her death was controversial since some people believe she wasn’t killed in the fire but was the victim of a werewolf-hunt.” Jack read out loud, “But it is unknown who exactly did it.” Jack pulled out a disgusted face, “Oh man, it says, she was found in the forest with her throat cut open and one of the legs ruptured.”

“Seems as if my doppelgänger had a miserable end,” I mumbled.

“Wait, didn’t your Mum say that she knew of your ancestors from back in the 1920s or 30s?”

“Yes,” I sighed at that point, “The mirror we have at home. It’s from that decade.” This was odd, so many fortuitous overlaps.

“Perhaps, she is your ancestor,” Jack noted.

“Yeah.”

I was at a loss for words. Usually, I would be the talkative one, but at that point, I felt dull- like I was in a trance.

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After reading the pages the stranger told her to read, Adeline closed the diary, kept it down, and reckoned to let her mind digest this piece of information.

She was leaning to the headrest when suddenly she heard a noise of clattering.....

Who was making the noise?

Did someone enter her apartment?

Did Archer Lewis’ goons find her apartment?

Well, they might know about her place of resistance already, thought Adeline.

Moving up and away from the bed, Adeline pulled out a hard stick under the bed and held it in her hands in an offensive position and moved ahead......