the impostor, part four

by nick nelson

part four of five

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we continued on our way across the alternately swampy and desert waste. our party now consisted of six - myself, griselda, dee, cora lee the camel, desdemoma - and the odious badboy the sailor. outwardly all were at ease, but savage passions - mine - simmered beneath the surface, like lava beneath a restless volcano. desdemona, my beloved, to whom i had dedicated my existence, whom i had served so faithfully for so long, and whom i would have happily given my life for, now had no further use for me, and only had eyes for the wretched little twerp badboy. one night, after we had made camp in a particularly swampy spot, and after the campfire had died down and we had settled down to sleep - except for badboy and desdemona who had settled down to less sedentary pursuits - i could stand it no longer. the sounds of their infernal laughter and frenetic lovemaking drifted to my ears through the miasmic night. i rose from the paltry blanket i had spread out on the damp ground - a slight mist was also falling - and seizing a large, sharp rock, crept up on the larger rock behind which the unholy pair were … i refrain from describing what met my eyes… i bashed both their skulls in with my rock. no sooner had i done the deed than i regretted it. i crept back to my blanket and awaited the dawn. griselda and dee did not seem as surprised as they might have, when in the morning i confessed what i had done. “it is unfortunate, abad,” griselda said , “that you could not better control your unruly passions. but what is done is done. all we can do is push on.” “we will hear what dr eusebius has to say,” dee added, a bit more ominously. in due time we exited the swamp land which had formerly been the great lake that desdemona had drunk, and after crossing a couple of small rivers, entered the windswept desert that surrounded the great city. at least we reached the city, and quickly found the celebrated dr eusebius, of whom i had by this time heard so much, that i was rather weary of his name, than curious about him. to my surprise, the good doctor was not a professor or personage of note at some great school or gymnasium, but the proprietor of a small bookstore in a dim back street of the city. the doctor himself was a wizened creature who looked to be about eight hundred years old, and of no imposing appearance. be that as it may, we were all given a warm enough welcome. in briefly describing our voyage, griselda and dee made no mention of either desdemona or badboy or my murder of then, simply referring to the disappearance of the lake as “a fortuitous occurrence.” i was shown to a cot in a back room of the bookstore, and prepared to sleep under a roof for the first time in many months. i fell into a deep slumber… which was interrupted in the hour before dawn… part five