Dear, Sweet Merriam

I coughed up a spout of salty water, my heart pounding vigorously as I struggled to find my breath. In the chaos of my mind regaining consciousness I could hear Mother calling my name. "Solomon! Solomon!" My vision returned and I could see her next to my sweet sister, Merriam. Mother smothered my forehead in kisses, even as she chastised me for being so reckless in the water. Merriam, though soaked from head to toe, appeared rather amused at my embarrassment. I learned my lesson; I was no sailor, nor half the swimmer she was. There was a small consolation that the shore we landed on was our small island home from which my misadventure began. Our home was a modest structure built by our great-grandfather on a quite spacious island. It rested in Luce Bay only a few miles east of the Mull of Galloway. It was here our family would make our summer retreats, and this would be our second year since Father's passing. Perhaps this time would prove to be a more cheerful holiday. Merriam wrapped me in a towel and sat me down inside the kitchen. Like chefs fit for a lord, she and our maid, Jeanne, began chopping vegetables for a piping hot bowl of broth to warm my bones. I could already smell the ingredients being mixed in, one of which being radishes, a favorite for my particular pallet. Dear, sweet Merriam! If only you read my journal, you would read many instances of your thoughtful care and heroism. But I, your brother, should be your guardian! Why should I be so foolish as to make a show of bravery only for you to pull me out of certain doom. How strange that it frustrates me so, but I love you all the more for it. Strangely, I could not sleep that night. I felt the need to wander about the halls. Jeanne was nowhere to be found, asleep in her room, I assumed. It was barely midnight and even in lamplight I could see dust on the portrait of our departed father. No wonder Mother needs to find new maids every few months if this was their quality of work. Perhaps Merriam was awake as well. I made my way to her room to see if she wished to linger before bed, being the adventurous souls we both were. Her room, however, was empty, save for the normal furnishings and a distinct section of wallpaper peeling from the bottom right corner. I found myself curious as to what secret Merriam may be hiding. Pulling back the wallpaper revealed a sort of vault-like door and excitement welled in my heart. As I opened it, my eyes adjusted to the deep darkness. In a moment I could see the hidden room that lay across a short stone threshold. From what I could tell, it looked virtually identical to Merriam's room. I stepped forward, careful not to make too much noise, but stopped as I looked to my left. There stretched a long hallway, like a medieval dungeon, leading to heavy door wrapped in thick, solid chains. I almost started down the path when I looked back to the hidden room, and was shocked to see Mother on the other side. She stood at the end of a doorway with a sympathetic expression. "Mother," I said. "How did you get in there?" She walked towards me and held out her hand. "Oh my sweet boy," she said. I jumped as a hand touched my shoulder from behind. It was Mother's hand. I looked at her, then back to the reflection. This room was merely a grand mirror, reflecting everything in Merriam's room. Everything but me. "Mother, what's happening?" I trembled. "What is this?" "Please, Solomon, come back to bed," she pleaded. "You've been through an ordeal and you must rest!" "What's behind that door, Mother?" "Solomon!" "I demand an answer!" Tears welled in her eyes. She gently grasped my hand. "I beg of you, son, leave Merriam be," she said. "Merriam?  Why in God's name is she locked behind chains?!" "Solomon, please just come to bed.  Sleep!  Forget all of this." Mother's voice was shaking. "We can all have Sunday dinner together like always.  Merriam can explain everything to you then; how you still live-" She gasped upon speaking the last word. "I must know, Mother." I ran to the door and unlocked the chains. Mother's voice rose to a scream. "Solomon, please!  Merriam can help you, just don't disturb her NOW!" I swung the door open and saw her... It. The creature in the shape of my sister, tearing the flesh from poor Jeanne's throat. Merriam, no, the abomination looked up from its meal. It stared at me with those blood-red, unfeeling eyes, gnashing its predatory teeth. Shrieking a horrible, ungodly sound, it sprang up to attack. I slammed the door immediately and fumbled for a single chain to lock in place. Its nails scratched, fists pounding on the door and I sank to the floor as Mother sobbed out loud. I breathed shakily as the pieces came together of how Merriam truly saved my life. Mother and I looked at each other. Her tears weren't of fear, not for Jeanne, not the torturous cries of the monster. She wept for me. My voice lowered into anger. "You should have let me drown."