One appealing afternoon in Ward City, the acclaimed Stephen Silworth was visited in his office, which was located at the intersection of Maker Street and Caker Street under the number B112. It was owned by a bank, but was used by the famed exorcist, detective and monster killer, whose job was not to keenly conserve nature or the extraordinary practice of natural history, but to remove unwanted, unrealistic creatures from this World.
This meant he was not allowed to take any contracts concerning marriages and their consequences. Mother-in-law would be much more unwanted, yet not unrealistic. Anyway, he had the proficiency to solve a nuisance at the most renowned orchard of the region. This case was labelled The Bane of the Sadwraith.
He was sitting in his armchair, which was covered in leather, and read a book that explained the suspicious behaviour of liches, when his secretary, a fine but not very clever girl, knocked on his door.
“Come in.” replied the detective.
“Sir, a potential client would like to meet you.”
“Come in.” he replied patiently. The client, seemingly a well-off character, entered the room. His clothes were of exceptional quality, but his appearance, including a sturdy and dirty hand gave away his way of life. He had short brown hair, a magnificent, but grizzled beard. There was a crest like brooch on his jacket with a golden apple and green background.
“Greetings to my humble office, Reginald Gawn. How come you are here?”
“Well, I have some problems that needs an expert.”
“I haven’t heard anything.”
“I kept the media at bay.” Reginald seemed to be proud.
“So what is the problem?”
“There is a ghost at my orchard…”
“A ghost? What kind?”
“Don’t know.” He replied with a frustrated voice.
“I haven’t met don’t know ghosts before. Could you give me a description?”
“Very transparent. The noises it gives resembles cries. Sometimes it leaves some strange salty water around, which caused some of my apple trees to die because of it.”
“Does it come out at midnight?”
“No, usually at 8 o’clock.”
“It seems to be a sadwraith.” Stephen jumped to conclusions.
“Sadwraith? Wouldn’t that be moonwraith or something? That sounds stupid.”
“Let me tell you about their classification. Moonwraith is called that because of their love of the moon, so the sadwraith is named after their love for sadness. It’s not the same. Have you tried doing anything against it?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I do not want to meet an enraged wraith.”
“Yes. We tried to throw silver nuggets at her.”
“Really? That’s stupid. Leave silver be, it is just an old superstition. Every monster hates something, which is not necessarily silver, of course. Wraiths hate candlesticks, they especially hate being whacked the shit out of them with one of those.”
“He?”
“This world is strange. You have to experiment if you want to survive. Silver is not a valid option. Did it eat anything?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Ehh…”
“Never mind. I hope you have a car.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Great. There is only one thing we need to do before we start.”
“What?”
“The contract. My tariffs are on the main door.”
“I would like to take the cheapest.”
“Well it depends on the monster’s type. Which means I would like to ask for 5000*12, which is… 60000 Wardlings.”
“It is too much.”
“For the most profitable orchard around, or the soon bankrupt because we did not pay for the extermination orchard?”
“Eh… Here.” He took his purse out of his left pocket. He took out the money and handed it over.
“Here is the contract, you have to sign it.” He definitely signed it. “You can’t break it or you’ll die.”
“What?”
“Sooner or later. You just have to pay and help me in any ways to get rid of the beast excluding sacrificing anyone.”
“Okay.”
“Shall we go?” He put a candlestick, which was polished and engraved, into his satchel. It was made from the best steel, though.
“Definitely.”
“You parked in front of this building?” They started to move towards the exit.
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t. The inspector is an asshole here. Don’t be surprized if he has given you a fine. I even put a sign to warn people.” Leaving the premise they saw an electric car with some papers between the windshield and its wipers. Getting in, Stephen started to ask questions again.
“How big is your orchard?”
Reginald sped up. “Seven hectare. But there are some buildings and a distillery. There is a map in the glove box.”
“Where does she appear?”
“In the middle.” Reginald took the left at the first intersection, he went forward. This road took them to an avenue.
“Have you had anyone with depression, who died recently?”
“No.”
“I understand. Is there anything big in the middle?”
“Only trees.”
“I have a plan.” Stated Stephen.
“Let me hear it.” Asked Reginald.
“You have some paper we can paint on?”
“Yes.”
“We draw something sad on it. The subspecies love to be depressed. It’s their nature, so it is to be infatuated by anything that depicts sadness. Then she will charge at the signs. You run, and I’ll go for it. Then we have to find her remains and desecrate them. Pissing on it is enough.” Stephen saw Reginald changing lanes to the left. Some idiots started to honk, but nobody cared. Reginald never felt a road rage.
“Desecrate? Isn’t that too much?”
“It would attract nemesises. Spectres, which avenge other fallen spectres. If they sense her remains, they would come. Believe you do not want that. They will piss on your trees, rape your house and plunder your workers.”
“Rape your house and plunder your workers? What nonsense is this?” Then he changed lanes to the right, steered right to leave the avenue. He left the city and arrived at a road that was not as busy, since the avenues were full at this time of the day. That was the reason why Stephen never used cars in the city. He would have got a stroke already.
“This is what the manual says. I haven’t met nemesises before. I always did my job properly.” Replied Stephen.
“Now that you mention, my dog started playing with something lately. I haven’t seen it before…” Said Reginald out of the blue.
“What’s that?” Stephen asked curiously.
“A long bone.”
“That is great.” Stephen exclaimed. “Is it human?”
“Don’t know.”
“Another thing. Hold onto your contract when it happens.” Ordered him Stephen. Reginald turned and left the road. His orchards could be seen from the car. Stephen took a good look, then he started to fiddle with his mobile. After some minutes, they arrived. There was a mansion next to the orchard and a distillery in the distance.
“You have a lovely place to live, Reginald.” Said the exorcist.
“If it wasn’t for the wraith.”
“What’s the time?”
“About six o’clock. Would you like to have dinner?”
“Yes. I’d like to have some cardboards and coloured pencils.”
“Strange choice.”
“I am here to work.”
“Okay.” He went into the mansion and brought out the materials.
“Is there anything sad you want to put on the cardboard?” asked the detective.
“No.”
“Have you seen the film ‘Throm: Light World’ from ‘Farwell’? It was so bad I cried. Or we could fill them with heart-breaking posts of thirteen years old girls. You know, in which they broke up with their boyfriends after two days. Sadwraiths like that too.” Reginald nodded in the background, applauding Stephen’s creativity. For an hour, they filled the orchard with the cardboards of bitter messages. After that, Stephen warmed up. He had no intention to get strains and get killed. It was important. Then he waited for the monster to come.
He heard some cries after an hour. It was in his vicinity, but not that close by. Grabbing his candlestick, he ventured forward towards the noise of the wraith.
Glancing at the creature, Stephen saw right through its body. It was almost transparent and took up a human form, but was nude-like. Although the hair was not present on her body at all, she had some spirit mist on the head. She had a beautiful face, but was always crying.
Seeing the wraith kissing the thirteen years olds’ posts, he stepped to her. He took out the candlestick and bashed its head. This tool was the only thing the Wraiths could be hit with. The spectre fell and disappeared along with a strange ‘ououo’ sound.
“No more haunting. Where is the bone?” he shouted to Reginald. Running to him, he gave the bones to Stephen, who took out a flask and put its content onto the remains. Some turquoise lights appeared in the cracks of the bone. Reginald had the contract in his hand, which burned to show the end of Stephen’s assignment.
“Does this mean we are finished?”
“Yes. Can I ask something?”
“What would that be?”
“Can I take the bone and some of the salty fluid?”