THE SUPERIORITY MYSTERY

 

THE SUPERIORITY MYSTERY

It was an odd one. That is for sure.

The first crime, of which I was acused, happened while I was in another city, speaking about an un-popular topic, and asking each side about the others point of view.

The police did not find it difficult to locate me since I was at the head of the table, acting as moderator, and helping the attendees understand the content.

When the police asked how long I had been present no one could answer except to say that I had been present since the discussion started.

The problem the police had was that some 50 people were present. All agreed that the only time I had left the room was to use the mens rooms.

During the time, of the second crime, of which I was accused, I was in another discussion. This one, about how to prevent flood water from washing away towns.

I was awaiting my turn, to discuss my own suggestion, while the attendees boo’ed ideas like pumping the rain water into trucks.

The police not only asked how long I had been present, but they looked at the video.

This is when I was asked, again, about my former in-laws. Again, I had to ask “How would I get there? I have no reason to return.”

The police told me about the profane graphetti. I told them “I wish I could help but I have not been out of this city in many years.”

I would have asked about my other sister except that her third, and final, husband, had contacted me, after her death.

As far as the “victims” were concerned, it did not matter if I had transportation. They wanted me locked up “just because”.

It was the third time, when I was brought into police headquarters. This because someone had hacked my e-mail account, and sent a message, saying that, if the family did not admit to (something) that cars would be vandalized, and homes would be ransacked.

I told the police that it was a clever hoax. I was willing to wager that my former in-laws were at the “heart” of the matter. When asked HOW and WHY, I would tell them “It is simple. Since I am the last of my family, they want to see me die in a prison cell. This way they can prance around, proclaiming their superiority.”

For the record, I was hoping NOT to have to return to what was left of the town I had grown up in.

A town, which had been demolished by a developer. A man who had ripped out the city center, to build his own “paradise”.

Since neither the police, nor the F.B.I., which was investigating the case, claimed to have any funds, for accomodations, the Democratic Party put me up in some space they kept, near the city.

What baffled me was “Why now?” The families had been about as “close” as America, and Russia, for decades. My former in-laws had denied my family, since the early 21^st century. Why wait this long, to stage this stunt?

It HAD to be a stunt. If I had wanted to do this, I would have done so decades ago, while still employed as a janitor.

This is why I went after the case as a “frame-up”. The only thing that would make sense. Since I was the last member, of my family, alive, it made sense for them to want me disgraced, and out of the way.

It would take weeks to find even the most basic of clues, but I found it, with the F.B.I. help.

The schools, that my former in-laws children attended, brought forth the permission letters, stating that their young people were NOT to be exposed to my short story fiction.

Especially since the class was about learning WHO the authors were, and WHY they published under pen-names.

When the F.B.I. asked the schools “Why did you choose these stories?” The reading teacher would ask “Why not? The author may not be well read, but his stories are the type we are teaching students to write.”

It would seem that “The Haunting Past”, “The New Sixth Sense”, and even “The New Brady Bunch” were being read much more than even I imagined.

When I expressed curiousity about the Relic Hunter stories, I was told “We consider those to be for a more adult class of readers.”

The classes, in public school, were more into trying to define what a good story was. This is why the schools could not understand why the family had pulled all students out of reading class, until the series was done.

This when, as school personnel pointed out, the young were reading from other students copies.

Now, sure, I was nearby when some headstones were demolished, however, at the time of demolition, I was on video-conference with the state capital. I could not have done the deed.

When my in-laws demanded my arrest and were asked “On what charge?” They shouted “We KNOW he did it!” When the F.B.I. asked “HOW? He has been here, all evening.”

MY in-laws had to be removed from the building, after saying “Give me five minutes with him, and I will get him…”

Over the next three weeks, while I continued trying to find a rationale, another team of agents came up with what looked like a pattern.

It only looked/appearred “bizzarre” until it was compared with an ancient symbol, related, truly related, to the family.

I mean that we are talking about older than my search for my family ancestry, from when we came to the United States.

Although our findings would be impossible, to prove, after so many centuries, if legend held true, then the 20^th century would NOT be the first time that this family had insisted upon superiority, over others.

The time had been between the 7^th and 8^th centuries, and rumor had it that a young, village, woman was trying to gain the affection of a family member.

In order to halt the romance, the family had “called out” the woman, for witchcraft.

When the woman could not do the impossible, by denying witchcraft, by reading from the gospel (it is a known fact that, until the 20^th century, only the rich, and powerful, had reading and writing).

Result, since the woman had no teaching, in reading, she could not read from scripture.

This is why she had been condemned, and burned at the stake. This, while her young lover, was ordered to watch.

Her screams had filled the night, as flesh, and bone, burned, bright, in the flames. What local monks would have called “The light of the lords eternal justice.”

We had been lead to this point by stories of a young woman, heard, crying out, in the night.

As crazy as it may seem, we followed the womans path from the village, where she was born, across the Atlantic Ocean, where people had been terrified to go out, on the ships decks, after dark, then, for about 25 years, the sounds had been heard, in colonial America.

The woman had, then, gone silent, for centuries, yet had re-emerged, in the 20^th century.

As best my team could figure, the re-appearance coincided with the fact that the family was, again, boasting of its superiority, to others.

As for the reason why its handwriting seemed a duplicate of my own, It was one of my team members who suggested “You have stood UP to the family, and reminded that that they are no better than anyone else.”

When the group leader would ask “Surely, over time, members, of the family, would have stood up to the family.” The member would say “As far as I can tell, maybe five people stood up to the family. Each one was, subsequently, dis-barred from the family.”

When I asked “Why was I chosen? I am not even from the same part of Europe, as they were?” The team member would say “It must be your German ancestry. Remember: Even American law is based upon German law.”

When the next question was “Why wait more than 200 years?” This is when another voice entered the conversation. A voice none of us had heard, before.

The voice, soft and calm, would say “I have tried to make contact, many times, yet all ran from me. Until now. You have sought me out so I feel comfortable being known to you.”

When a researcher asked “Is it true? Were you burned at the stake?” The spirit would say “That part is true. It was not, however during the 7^th or 8^th centuries. It was during the 9^th. It was the full moon, of the trail of tears.”

When we asked “What was the “Trail of Tears?” The spirit would say “That is the legend of the full moon, centuries ago. The full moon was seen as the high point, of evils power, so condemned witches were put do death, at this time, to prove the religious power, over the powers of darkness. The “Trial of Tears” was the walk, from the prison cells to the execution place.”

When I asked “Why me? Surely there are other Germans.” The spirit would say “You are the only one I have found, with an open mind.”

When an F.B.I. agent asked “What do you expect him to do?” The spirit would give us a location where a piece of evidence had been buried, since my in-laws had come to America. The spirit said “If you can find it, then I may leave this existence, and join my family, in eternity.”

I agreed with the F.B.I., that it could not hurt to look.

Two days, and some digging equipment, later, and we found out why the spirit had said “The secret is protected by those who never sleep.” An F.B.I. agent had mentioned “Please tell us that does not mean zombies.”

Two days later, were stood among the people who never sleep. We stood before a cemetary.

The coordinates covered four graves. This is why we dug only three test pits, looking for the evidence.

We suspected that pit number three would be the winner since the headstone was so old that it took a laser scanner to read any remaining detail.

It was a good thing the a forensic pathologist was along, since we had no idea what we would dig up.

It was in a metal container, yet, when the pathologist opened it, they told us “We have to get this into containment, as fast as possible.”

Four hours later, the “document” was under the most sterile, of conditions, possible.

The ink was so faded, and the “paper” was so browned, that the F.B.I. had to use some process I had never heard of, to try and capture any prints that they could.

Four days, of intense processing, later (as well as two more markings), and my former in-laws demanding that I be prosecuted, and the journal was readable.

It took a master, of very ancient languages, to translate the pages, into modern English.

In summary, the family had the young woman condemned since she would not look upon the family as a superior race. They had forced the young man away from the woman, then denounced her, for witchcraft. This way, they could be SURE that she would NEVER threaten the family, again.

This is when the expert brought forth another book, and read from its pages.

“A young man, left broken-hearted, by a witch, would be mated with another woman. One of proper breeding. The couple never produced offspring since the man never showed interest in his “family preferred” wife.

While it is alleged that the man died, of a broken heart, there are those who believe that either his bride, or his family, killed him.”

When a member, of the F.B.I. unit said “lets get a warrant. We have probable cause.”

The senior agent would ask the expert “When did this happen?” the expert would say “Somewhere between 950 ad, and 975 ad.”

The senior agent would say “While there is NO statute of Limitations, on murder, there is no one, alive, from that time.”

When the senior agent was asked “What do we do?” The senior could only say “We have done what the spirit wanted. We have the journal. All we can do is make sure it see’s the “light of day”.

The publishing, of the journal, even 12 centuries later, did have an impact.

The supposed “superiority”, of the family, was smashed under the weight of the contents of the journal. A journal which did not stop with the young woman being accused of witchcraft.

A journal which, before being buried, spoke of times when the family had tricked, or outright deceived, others.

One crime, which the family pulled a total, of five times, before Christopher Columbus time, was to sell land which they did not own.

Each time, the family got bolder, and sold the lands for more money. This is how, long before the law caught on, the family paid for first class passage to America.

In colonial America, the family did a total of seven cons. Each raking in close to $1 million colonial.

The journal ended at this point, as it was buried.

MY in-laws tried to file appeals, saying that the journal could not be verified, and that, as a result, it was just “heresay”.

When a months worth of research, yielded evidence that the cons had taken place, a judge ruled “Evidence, no matter how old, remains evidence. No one may be sentenced since all parties are deceased, so the journal just goes on display.”

It would be in the local museum that my “I am better than you are, because of my family” nephew would receive the very thing that he never would have believed possible.

The spirit, responsible for the defacing, would appear to the “man”, saying “Now you know how your mothers family feels. Not so proud are you?”

The look, on his face, was what she had been waiting to see, for centuries.

The “pedestal”, and the pride, which had supported the family, for so many years/generations, had crumbled.

As for myself, since no one could place me at the scene, of any of the “crimes”, I was never arrested.

The last I saw, of the spirit, was when she came before me, curtsied, to which I gave her a deep, and humble, bow, then, smiling, she dissolved.

I would continue working on politics, writing fiction, and building my own crafts.