The Mystery Of The Darkos

Aster Darkos Journal:

I am writing this sitting in my room (taking shelter from killing cold outside). I am writing but hundred of dreadful thinkings are abandoning my mind. Three months have passed and there is no improvement in grandma's health. I heard from mom that she's becoming weaker and weaker. Father is also not writing us for many days. I am worried about him too. He went to Helmsley for an errand but instead of coming to home soon, he also called Remi there. I'll not spare him if he doesn't too writes me. Mom is calling me!

Letter of Mr. Orion Darko to Mr. Remi Darko

Helmsley

Mill Moor,

Remi!

Son! I hope that you are in Whitby and the hotel I reserved for you is quite suitable for you. I know it will take 4 to 5 days for you to reach here, in Helmsley because the journey is long and tedious and you'll surely stay in Whitby for 2 to 3 days but son try to come soon. I need you here. The matters are now troubling me so much. I am in a fix. Come soon!

Orion Darko

December 6, 2019

Aster Darko's Journal

December 3

9:00 am

Was doing breakfast. Mr. Grace Lane came to us yesterday. He is a short-heighted, reckless, bland, but garrulous, aged man with large grey eyes, clenched cheeks, well-shaped brown lips, and greyish hair. He has become our family friend for many years. But, unfortunately, the coming of him was not well to us. He told us that dad will remain in Helmsley for some more time. The matters relevant to my grandfather's death are becoming more and more troublesome. I will try to quote his exact wordings in my journal.Because I learnt it from my father that the best journal is the one which doesn't leave any obstacle for the reader to move ahead. After taking two cups of coffee, finally, Mr. Grace began,

"Mrs. Orion, it was my earnest desire—you can say—that I'll bring serenity to this house, which is facing many troubling matters since Mr. Raven's death. But Ah—what can I do?" Exclaimed he, a deep expression of grief on his face was evidence that he didn't come with good news.

However, after placing a cup on the table beside the sofa and brushing his beard with the tips of his fingers in a sophisticated manner, he continued,

"Mr. Orion, after his short corroboration in Helmsley, found that the death of Mr. Raven was not accidental or fortuitous. It was planned by someone—someone we don't know yet—but will find surely. The matters are very obscure and arcane. Who did it? Why did he do it? These are the questions that are still unanswered."

My mother, after a long sigh, exclaimed,

"Ah, Mr. Grace, who did it to him—and—is Orion sure at his inquest? Because I cannot doubt a single man—if I want to do so—who could do it to him, and why? Ultimately, you are telling me that Orion is not coming now." Mom said in a single breath.

"Oh! My dear Mrs. Orion, surely. I want to tell you so. I was so panicked when I received a letter from Mr. Orion yesterday. From his letter, I can extract this implication: the matter is of property—or something like this. I will have to go to Helmsley too—I think—should be with him," said Mr. Grace.

"We will also, Mr. Grace," said I—rather shouted, but alas! The answer from Mr. Grace was what I was expecting.

"Hope, my dear, it will take too long there; you can't." His eyes sneaked as he continued, "Whatever, I will tell You when I'm ready to go there," said he as he stood up, took his hat, and went out of the room taking large steps (as he does usually). Oh! I am getting late. I have to go to my piano class. Let me say goodbye!

Letter of Mr. Orion Darko to Mr. Remi Darko

Helmsley

Mill Moor,

Remi!

Son! I hope that you are in Whitby and the hotel I reserved for you is quite suitable for you. I know it will take 4 to 5 days for you to reach here, in Helmsley because the journey is long and tedious and you'll surely stay in Whitby for 2 to 3 days but son try to come soon. I need you here. The matters are now troubling me so much. I am in a fix. Come soon!

Orion Darko

December 6, 2019

Mr. Orion Darko's Journal

December 4 - 8:30 am

It has been so long since I last wrote. A month has passed here in Helmsley, and I couldn't find anything about Father's death except that he was murdered by someone. It darted in my mind when I saw a letter in his drawer, written:

"You'll surely die, Mr. Raven. We did it together, but you betrayed—you betrayed Mr. Raven!"

There was no name, no address, and the handwriting was illegible—it was not written but rather scribbled. What did they do? Who wrote this obscure letter to my father? And why did Father come to Helmsley in such a hurry, where he died—no!—was killed? Whatever the case, my son Remi will be here soon. And I know with him, it will be easier to unravel these mysteries. Here comes my dinner!

Aster Darko's Journal

December 5 - 8:01 pm

I am so worried and panicked. Remi hasn't written me a single letter since he left for Helmsley. Oh! God, protect him from any mishap. Save him for us! Here is something more to mention in my journal: Grandma—oh! Her health is breaking down as the days pass.

Remi Darko's Journal

December 6 - 11:30 am

Yesterday night, I couldn't write more. Was tired so much slept well. This, the Langley Hotel is, however, a fascinating place to stay. The sweet noise of chirping of birds, dancing slopes of colourful flowers, moreover, mysterious but tranquil moors on either side of hotel compelled me to stay here for some more time. When I woke in the morning, there were beautiful scenes waiting for me in the window of that very room in which I was staying. It made me enthusiastic when I saw a small, sophisticated table on the eft side of my small, wooden bed which was furnished with a precious quill-pen and beautiful but superficial ink pot. The clock stroke 8:30 when the waitress, in a grey skirt with a large purple flower badge on her left arm, came in my rom, his badge in indicates their vibrant nature that the people of the Gothland are vigorous and fastidious too. Her large, grey (enough to be strange) could take a glimpse of the whole room and her blonde, curly hair were tied in a pony. She placed a tray of breakfast on the side table which merely included two half fried eggs with black pepper sprinkled on them toasted bread and, as usual, Eat grey coffee, and then, after taking a small envelope from her left pocket, she interacted with me in her melodious voice.

"Here is a letter for you," said she—without illustrating that by whom it was. So I myself asked her, "From where?" I could see a sudden expression of unease on her face. "Don't know, Sir. A man came early in the morning and handled it to our man on reception. He said you know him, I think he was in honey." She handled a letter to me and went out of the room. It startled me when I saw that the letter was unsealed and convulsed from the top. Whatever I opened it ad remained paused for a moment and then my hands began to tremble with fear so much that I could hardly handle a letter in them.

"Go back Remi. You should live more."

There was no name and address on the letter; It seemed that the person who sent this suspicious letter to me was in a hurry because the paper used for a letter was in a worst condition, the paper was convulsed from outside and there were strange scars on it. I ran to the reception to inquest if they could tell me the gesture or any other information about that person but alas! The person who was in reception, in the morning, was gone. I came back to my room and tried to think that who could do this but my thinkings left me in nightude and their remained a void in my mind.

I had to do some shopping so that I might take some accessories that were needed for my next journey. The driver was already standing near the huge door of hotel to pick me up. I don't know why but whenever I see this man, a sudden ominous feel surrounds me. In our half hour journey to Whitby market, this man asked a single question to me:

"Mr. Remi, when will you leave for Helmsley?"

It was asked drily. "I'll tell you when I will," said I, and he nodded. I was still thinking about that letter. A couple of times, I felt a stare on me by the front seat but when I tried to check, he was driving a taxi. But I could feel that it was a perfunctory drive.

Finally we stopped at the market. It was a huge but well-organized market and folks were busy in their shopping. The atmosphere of market was balmy. Overall, the ambiance of Whitby pleased me much except those mysterious happenings which incurred to me.

On my way back to the taxi, I felt that I was chased by tall arm-wearing dark blue, long-coat with blonde beard who stopped on those very shops on which did I. I stopped for a while and tried to address him but when he saw that I noticed him chasing me, he turned quickly and entered the street left to me. I ran but there was no one there. So I came back to the taxi. The driver is so strange. He was sitting in a same gesture in which I left him. His one hand on steering and other was helping him in smoking a cigar.

Say I we came back to the hotel and without stopping anywhere I cam to my room. That was I faced till now. Now it is 1:00 pm and I am waiting for lunch.

Letter from Remi Darko to Aster Darko

Whitby, Langley Hotel, Gothland

December 7, 2019

Dear Aster!

I know you are angry with me because I didn't write you. Ah! Aster, would that were you believe on my narrative. Here are some strange things happening to me. I'll be with dad in few days and will try to tell him all about that. You take care of yourself dear, and of mom also. Tell me about grandma.

Your brother,

Remi Darko