Nebulaphobia
A harried Dr. Sarah Ryerson walked into the Puritan Falls Hospital emergency room and immediately apologized to Denise Rosewood, a newly hired physician who was to assist Sarah in the ER. She would also fill in when the soon-to-be-married Dr. Ryerson was on her honeymoon.
"I'm Sarah," she introduced herself to the young doctor. "Welcome to Puritan Falls Hospital."
"Thank you. I'm glad to be here."
Having read Denise's resume, Dr. Ryerson knew she went to the Perelman School of Medicine and the University of Pennsylvania and recently completed her residency at the University's hospital in Philadelphia. Given her excellent qualifications, she was sure to be an asset to the hospital.
"Did you find a place to live yet?"
"Yes. I'm renting a house on Danvers Street."
"That's a nice area. But then, there are no bad areas in Puritan Falls."
"From what I've seen of your village, I would have to agree. This place looks like it was taken out of a Norman Rockwell painting."
"You picked a good day to start working here," Sarah pointed out. "It's been slow so far, so I can give you a tour of the hospital and introduce you to some of the other staff members."
The first person they encountered was Dr. Noah Prestwick. After introductions were made, Sarah mentioned Noah's girlfriend, Martha Prescott.
"You might have heard of her. She hosted Classic Horror Movies on Thriller TV network.
"You're dating Belladonna Nightshade!" Denise exclaimed.
"So, you have heard of her?" Noah laughed.
"I'm a big fan of hers. I met her once at a convention. She was signing autographs with Elvira."
"We should all have dinner sometime. You and Lion, too," he added, turning his attention to Dr. Ryerson.
"He's referred to Dr. Lionel Penn, my fiancé," Sarah explained.
"Does he work at the hospital as well?"
"No, but he practices here in Puritan Falls. He's a psychiatrist."
"If you'll excuse me, I've got to finish making my rounds," Noah declared. "Nice meeting you, Denise."
"Same here."
The two women toured the hospital, stopping at the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.
"The Hospital at the University of Pennsylvania has a Starbucks," Denise sighed after tasting the bitter brew.
"I'm afraid the only Starbucks in Puritan Falls is at the mall. You'll find our village is lacking in chain restaurants and big box stores. But we have some of the best mom-and-pop businesses in New England. If it's coffee you want, I suggest you stop at The Quill and Dagger."
"That's a funny name for a coffee shop."
"It's actually a mystery-themed bookstore. But Rebecca Coffin—she's the owner—has an excellent coffee bar on the premises."
"I'll have to go there, and not just for the coffee. I love to read."
"So do I. In fact, when things are slow, I read in the doctors' lounge."
"You know what, Sarah? I think I'm going to like it here."
* * *
Denise's first few weeks on the job were relatively uneventful. The patients who came into the emergency room were treated for a broken bone or two, wounds that required fewer than ten sutures, minor burns, sprained wrists, bee stings and food poisoning. The most serious injury she had to treat was a dislocated shoulder. Thankfully, the patient was young and did not do any damage to his rotator cuff.
When she was not on duty at the hospital, she explored Puritan Falls and made friends with many of the villagers. One August afternoon, hoping to enjoy the warm summer day, strolled down Essex Street. She purchased a Dennis Lehane novel from Rebecca Coffin. Next, she visited the Bell, Book and Candle, where she bought incense from Abigail Cantwell; Sweet Indulgence, where she sampled some of Desiree LeFleur's exquisite chocolate creations; and Treasure Hunt Antiques, where she acquired a Byers' Choice figure of Charles Dickens to add to her collection of A Christmas Carol figures.
As she headed toward her car, the heel on her shoe broke. The doctor lost her balance and fell to the ground, hitting her head on the pavement. Abigail Cantwell, who was on her way to have lunch with Ezra Graves, the owner of The Puritan Falls Gazette, went to her aid. She was soon joined by Douglas Pemberly, owner of the antique store, and his husband, Michael Whitby.
"Is she okay?" Douglas asked Abigail.
Before she could answer, Denise's eyes opened.
"W-what h-happened?" the physician stammered.
"You fell and hit your head," the proprietor of the Bell, Book and Candle replied. "Would you like me to drive you to the hospital and have Sarah look at you? You might have a concussion."
"No. I'll be fine."
"Why don't you come inside the shop and sit down for a few minutes before driving home? I can make you a cup of coffee or tea, if you'd like," Michael offered.
"Thank you, but I have to get home and change. I'm meeting Noah Prestwick at the Green Man Pub for dinner. He's going to introduce me to Martha Prescott."
After assuring the three helpful villagers that she would drive safely, she got into her Subaru Crosstrek and drove to her Danvers Street home.
* * *
"I can't believe tomorrow is September already!" Sarah exclaimed after she and Denise finished stitching the cut of a teenager who had fallen off his skateboard and returned to the doctor's lounge for a much-needed break. "Where did the summer go?"
"You and Lionel will be married in what? Four months?"
"Just about. December 20. One day short of sixteen weeks."
"What made you decide on a winter wedding?"
"I love Christmas, so I chose the weekend immediately before the holiday."
"December is so hectic, what with all the shopping, parties and other holiday preparations. I can't imagine adding to that all the preparations that go into planning a wedding and a honeymoon. You must be a glutton for punishment."
"Lucky for me, I've got plenty of friends who are willing to help."
"I'm surprised you're not getting married in Puritan Falls. What made you choose Gloucester instead?"
"I wanted to get married at Hammond Castle. It's only a twenty-minute drive from here. Lionel and I attended a Renaissance Faire there one year, and I fell in love with the place. Speaking of Lionel, I better get going. We've got to meet with Josiah Barnard at the Sons of Liberty. He's agreed to cater the reception for us, and we're going to discuss the menu."
Not long after Dr. Ryerson left, Denise also went off duty. Rather than go home to an empty house and a microwaveable frozen dinner, she decided to stop at the Chinese Lantern for dinner. Normally, she ordered her meal to go, but this time she chose to eat in the restaurant. In addition to General Tso's chicken, she ordered hot and sour soup, an egg roll, boiled dumplings and tea. After paying her bill, she put her complimentary fortune cookies into her purse and walked out onto Essex Street.
A dense fog cast an eerie darkness on the late evening.
"It looks like night out, but it's only eight o'clock."
She took a step toward her car and nearly twisted her ankle. What had previously been a concrete sidewalk now appeared to be cobblestone. Fearing to walk through the fog on the uneven pavement, Denise turned to reenter the Chinese Lantern, but to her astonishment, the restaurant had vanished.
"Am I dreaming? Did I fall and hit my head again?"
The sound of a bell echoed eerily through the mist as though sounding a death knell in the night. The frightened doctor peered through the fog but saw nothing.
"Who's there?" she whimpered as the bell ringing drew nearer.
Suddenly, a man emerged from the fog. He was dressed in eighteenth-century attire, and atop his head was a tricorn hat. He carried a lantern in his left hand and rang a bell with his right.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice quivering with fear. "I know Puritan Falls prides itself on its four-hundred-year-old history, but I never heard of it having a town crier."
The bellringer remained silent, staring at her with soulless eyes. His lips never moved, but before he stepped back into the dark, foggy night, a male voice whispered the name "Mary Ann."
Her heart racing with dread, Denise squeezed her eyes shut and fought off a panic attack. When she opened them again, the world around her had changed. The fog was gone, having given way to a clear evening. Once again, she was standing on a concrete sidewalk, in front of the Chinese Lantern.
"What just happened?" she cried, and quickly headed for the safety of her Subaru.
* * *
Sarah sat in the doctors' lounge, drinking a cup of coffee from The Quill and Dagger's coffee bar, jotting down notes on a legal pad. She lifted her head when Denise entered the room.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I got you a latte and a slice of lemon drizzle pound cake."
"Thank you. What's that you're doing?"
"Making a list of songs Lionel and I want played at the reception. We decided a deejay will take a lot less room than a band."
The bride-to-be continued writing down song titles while her colleague sipped her coffee.
"Don't you like the cake?" Sarah inquired, seeing that Denise had taken only a small bite of it.
"Yes. It's delicious. I ...."
"What's wrong?"
"I had a disturbing experience last night," she began and described her encounter with the town crier. "I thought, by his appearance, he might have been hired by Josiah Barnard to promote his restaurant, but that wouldn't explain the cobblestones or the disappearance of the Chinese Lantern. You probably think I'm crazy."
Sarah, who had been born and raised in Puritan Falls, was not as shocked by these claims as her fellow doctor had believed.
"No. I'm marrying a psychiatrist, remember, so I know sane people can see and hear seemingly inexplicable things for all sorts of reasons. As I recall, you recently fell and hit your head. You were knocked unconscious. Perhaps you should have come to the hospital."
"I haven't had any other problems. No headaches or dizziness."
"Why don't we run a few tests on you, anyway?"
"I don't think it's necessary."
"At least, let me run a CT scan."
Thankfully, the results were negative. Since there were no further incidents in the week that followed, Dr. Rosewood dismissed the strange occurrence as a product of her overactive imagination. Sarah, on the other hand, believed it was the latest in a long history of bizarre events that seemed to plague the villagers of Puritan Falls.
For nearly three weeks, Denise's life returned to normal. The summer was drawing to an end, and autumn was almost upon them. On September 18, she began her morning by visiting The Quill and Dagger. While browsing through the new releases, she saw a man reading the back cover of a true crime book.
"You must be the new doctor," the police officer assumed. "I'm Shawn McMurtry."
"Sarah and Lionel's friend! It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Are you on duty today?"
"I'm working the night shift. That's why I wanted to buy a book. The ER is often quiet then. What about you?"
"Today's my day off. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" the policeman offered.
"I'd like that, thanks."
Shawn and Denise, both of whom enjoyed a good murder mystery, spent the next hour drinking coffee and discussing their favorite books and authors.
"I confess I have a fondness for the old-school detectives," McMurtry admitted. "Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, Nero Wolfe, Ellery Queen."
"My favorite crime solver is Kay Scarpetta. Not only is she a doctor, but her creator, Patricia Cornwell, is one, too. When I read her books, I identify with the character."
"Another coffee?" Rebecca asked, stopping by their table with a full pot.
"Not for me," Denise answered. "Three is my limit. Besides, I should go. I've got a few errands to run, and I'd like to take a nap before I go on duty tonight."
She offered to pay the bill, but Shawn insisted on taking care of it.
"Thank you. It's been a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure we'll run into each other again. When we do, the coffee will be on me."
Smiling, she walked out the door of The Quill and Dagger with the intention of going to Shop 'N Save to buy groceries. However, no sooner did she set foot onto the Essex Street sidewalk than once again she found herself surrounded by darkness and dense fog. The noise of the busy village abruptly faded away as did the mom-and-pop shops that lined Puritan Falls' busiest street.
Every nerve in Denise's body tensed as she waited for the sound she feared would follow. Within moments, it came. Sensing the town crier's presence before he appeared, she wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. She started to hyperventilate. The ringing drew nearer. Unlike the previous encounter, when the bellringer emerged from the fog, she did not attempt to speak to him.
He walked straight toward her, coming within a distance of three feet. He stared directly into her eyes. Although his lips did not move, he spoke to her. After saying a single word, he backed away and was enveloped in the fog. A worried voice broke the bizarre spell.
"Dr. Rosewood? Are you okay?"
"Shawn?" she sobbed.
"What happened?" the policeman asked.
Reluctantly, she returned to the bookstore where, over a fourth coffee, she confided to Officer McMurtry the events of both August 31 and September 18.
"And he spoke to you," Shawn said. "What did he say?"
"Only one word, Annie."
* * *
On the first of October, Sarah Ryerson taped a cardboard cutout of a black cat in a witch's hat on the filing cabinet and placed a ceramic pumpkin on her desk.
"Isn't it a little early for Halloween decorations?" Noah teased as he watched her fill a ghost-shaped dish with candy corn.
"Hey, this is Puritan Falls. It's never too early for the holidays. Besides, the Community Improvements Committee has been working on plans for this year's harvest festival since April."
"I'm well aware of that, but Martha won't tell me what to expect. Will you give me a hint?"
"Sorry. I've been sworn to secrecy. You'll have to ...."
Sarah fell silent when Dr. Rosewood entered her office.
"Are you okay?" she asked, seeing her colleague's pale complexion and the haunted look in her eyes.
"No, I'm not," Denise whimpered.
"Sit down and tell me about it."
Meanwhile, Noah volunteered to go to the cafeteria and get the troubled physician a cup of coffee.
"It happened again," Denise managed to say.
"What did?"
"I saw the town crier for the third time, outside Treasure Hunt Antiques."
"Was it like before?"
"Yes. The darkness. The dense fog. The ringing bell."
"Did he say anything this time?"
"He spoke the name Elizabeth Catherine."
"Elizabeth Catherine. It sounds like a first and middle name. Didn't he mention a last name?"
"No. Like the other two times, he backed away, the fog dissipated and the world returned to normal. How many times is this going to happen to me? I'm terrified of going out, fearing that the fog will return."
As she had so often in the past, Sarah recommended Lionel Penn's services. Given he was a renowned psychiatrist who had helped many patients overcome their phobias, he might be able to help. Whereas many people initially balked at consulting a mental health expert, Denise was willing to try therapy in hopes of ending the nightmarish visions.
Two days later, she walked into Dr. Penn's office. After filling out the new patient forms, she sat in the reception area, waiting to be called into the psychiatrist's office. Like Sarah, Judy Stanfield had decorated the office for Halloween. On the coffee table, she had placed a ghostly galleon, in keeping with the nautical décor Lionel favored. It reminded Denise of Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
"Dr; Penn will see you now, Dr. Rosewood," Judy announced, smiling with encouragement.
"Sarah has told me about your recent experiences," Lionel began. "But I'd like to hear what you have to say."
After hearing his patient describe all three encounters, the psychiatrist asked several questions.
"Have you ever had a bad experience during a heavy fog? For instance, a car accident or a physical injury?"
"Do the women's names hold any significance for you?"
"My mother's name is Catherine. I went to college with a woman named Elizabeth. I have a niece named Annie, but I don't know anyone named Mary Ann."
"Have you seen this mysterious fog any other time?"
"No. Only the three times I mentioned."
"And each time it heralded the arrival of the town crier."
"Yes."
"You could suffer from nebulaphobia, which is the irrational fear of fog."
"I never knew there was such a thing."
"There is," Lionel confirmed. "It can be triggered by past traumatic experiences involving fog."
"But I never had such an experience," Denise insisted.
"Sometimes we bury traumatic events in our subconscious. Those who suffer from the condition perceive fog as a threat, such as reduced visibility, accidents and sometimes supernatural events."
"And if I do have this phobia, how can I treat it?"
"With time and therapy. Meanwhile, I can prescribe anti-anxiety medication to prevent further panic attacks."
* * *
"The village looks so empty now that the Harvest Festival is done and all the Halloween decorations are gone," Denise observed as she sat at The Quill and Dagger coffee bar with Shawn McMurtry.
"And now that it's November, most of the trees are bare," the police officer pointed out.
"Does the village do anything for Thanksgiving?"
"No, but come Christmas, there'll be plenty of lights and holiday displays."
"Good. I love the holidays."
"So, how have you been? Have you seen the town crier again?"
"No," she answered, clearly relieved. "I've been seeing Lionel every week, and the therapy seems to be helping. It's been over a month since the last occurrence."
"Great! I'm glad to hear it."
After receiving a text message from his wife, Shawn swallowed the last of his pumpkin spice latte and buttoned his jacket.
"I gotta go. Penny locked her keys in her car, and I've got to help her out."
Despite suffering from a mild case of seasonal affective disorder, the doctor had a smile on her face when she left the bookstore. She was looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with Noah, Martha, Douglas and Michael. After that, there would be a bridal shower for Sarah Ryerson, hosted by Penny McMurtry. Shortly before Christmas, she would attend the couple's wedding at Hammond Castle in Gloucester.
As she neared her car, she wondered what she should buy as a shower gift. Lost in thought, she reached into her handbag for her keys. The rapid transformation from a clear, warm autumn day to a dark, foggy night was alarming.
Oh, no! Not again!
Like before, the eerie sound of the bell was followed by the appearance of the town crier. He came to a stop roughly a yard in front of the terrified doctor. After uttering the name Mary Jane in his reedy voice, he took five steps back, without turning, and vanished. Daylight returned in the wake of his departure.
Not having encountered the mysterious bellringer in almost six weeks, she had foolishly believed her sessions with Dr. Penn had "cured" her of her nebulaphobia. Obviously, they had not.
She was still trembling from the unsettling experience when she entered the emergency room. Sarah, who was waiting for X-rays from the radiology department, was concerned by her colleague's appearance and correctly ascertained the cause.
"It happened again. Didn't it?"
Denise nodded her head and responded, "I don't know what to do anymore."
"Lionel says these things take time. You've only been going to him a short while."
Seeing her fellow physician on the verge of tears, she suggested they go out for dinner after their shift ended.
"It might take your mind off things if only for a short while."
Although Denise doubted a night out would change her mental state, she agreed to go because she dreaded being home alone.
* * *
Dr. Rosewood walked into the Green Man Pub and found Sarah and Lionel seated at a table with Shawn and Penny McMurtry.
"We saved a seat for you," the psychiatrist informed her.
It soon became apparent that the two couples were deliberately trying to cheer her up.
"You don't have to pretend nothing is wrong," she protested. "You all know about the visions I've seen. Perhaps Sarah has told you I had another one this morning."
"I didn't feel it was my place to say anything," Dr. Ryerson assured her.
"You seemed fine when I saw you at The Quill and Dagger," Shawn noted.
"It happened right after I left the bookstore."
"Funny," Penny said, "From what Shawn told me, these things always happen when you're on Essex Street."
"I never realized that, but you're right. The first time was outside the Chinese Lantern. The second was in front of The Quill and Dagger. The third was by Treasure Hunt Antiques. And this morning, I was by my car in front of the Bell, Book and Candle. But unless Essex Street is haunted, I don't see how this would cause my visions."
Shawn, who had appeared lost in thought, abruptly looked at the date on his watch.
"It's November 9," he announced, causing the other people at the table to stare at him with confused faces.
"So?" Sarah asked.
"The dates fit: August 31, September 18, September 30 and, today, November 9. As do the names Mary Ann, Annie, Elizabeth, Catherine and Mary Jane."
"What are you going on about?" Penny wondered.
"Mary Ann Nichols was killed on August 31 and Annie Chapman on September 18. September 30 was the day of the so-called 'double event' when Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddows were murdered. Lastly, November 9 was when Mary Jane Kelly was butchered."
"Why do those names sound familiar?" Sarah wondered.
"Because they're the canonical five," Shawn answered.
"The what?" Lionel asked.
It was Denise who replied.
"The accepted five victims of Jack the Ripper."
"There were other women he might have killed," Shawn added, "but experts all agree that he murdered these five women."
"What has any of this got to do with me?"
"Perhaps you read about Jack the Ripper or saw a movie or TV show about him. The bump on your head could have jogged your memory."
"You're suggesting I imagined these events."
"Yes. I certainly don't believe a town crier is walking around Puritan Falls. Nor is it possible for a fog to suddenly appear and disappear as you claim."
Lionel tactfully broke into the conversation.
"Dr. Rosewood is under my care, Shawn. I will address these concerns during our next session. But for now, why don't we order dinner and try to relax?"
"Great idea!" Penny cried. "I don't want to spend the evening talking about grisly murders that happened back in the 1800s."
* * *
Denise woke the following morning and went to the kitchen for her first cup of coffee of the day. She poured the French roast into her mug, added a packet of artificial sweetener and opened the refrigerator for the milk. The smell when she removed the plastic cap caused her to wince. The milk had gone sour.
I can't drink this.
Since the prospect of black coffee did not appeal to her, she got dressed and drove to The Quill and Dagger for a latte.
I'll stop at Shop 'N Save on the way home and buy a quart of milk. While I'm at it ....
Her thought came to an abrupt end. She was standing in front of the bookstore when, for the fifth time, daylight gave way to darkness.
Again? And so soon? It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since the last time.
He emerged from the fog, his lantern held high.
"Who are you? Won't you please tell me?"
His blue eyes looked into hers. She read only compassion in them.
"You need not fear me. I am only a messenger."
"A messenger? I don't understand."
"Pearl Beardsley."
Having said the name, he stepped back into the fog. Once the daylight returned, Denise entered the bookstore and ordered her coffee. Before Rebecca placed the cup in front of her, Shawn McMurtry arrived.
"Hey," he called. "How are you today?"
"I saw him again."
"When?"
"Just now. Right outside."
"You don't seem too upset about it."
"I'm not. He spoke to me this time."
"What did he say?"
"That I needn't fear him because he was only a messenger."
"Is that all?"
"No. He said the name Pearl Beardsley. It was the first time he gave me a first and last name."
"Pearl Beardsley. That's not one I'm familiar with. I suppose that blows my Jack the Ripper theory."
* * *
The doctors' lounge was quiet when Denise entered it. Sarah was searching the internet for gifts to give her bridesmaids, and Noah was picking teams for the football pool. The TV was set on CNN, but no one was paying attention to the news.
Denise placed her salad container in the refrigerator next to Sarah's leftover pasta.
"I see someone went out to eat last night," she said.
"Lion and I had to meet with the officiant, so we stopped at Mama Rose's afterward."
"It won't be long now," Noah declared. "A little more than a month, and you'll be Mrs. Lionel Penn."
"Not exactly. I've decided to be like Rebecca and keep my own surname. So, I'll still be Dr. Sarah Ryerson."
"What about you and Martha?" Denise asked Noah. "Any wedding plans in your future?"
"It's possible. Perhaps when I decide who I love more, Martha Prescott or her alter ego, Belladonna Nightshade," he laughed.
"You forgot one," Sarah reminded him. "Martha St. James."
"Who's that?" Denise wondered.
"That was Martha's professional name when she was an actress."
"Reminds me of The Three Faces of Eve," Noah joked.
Denise was still chuckling softly as she poured herself a coffee and sat down on the well-worn sofa.
"In London today," a CNN commentator stated, "Scotland Yard has confirmed the identity of the woman whose remains were discovered in White Chapel as Pearl Beardsley. The mutilated corpse was found beneath a building that was being torn down to make way for a new high-rise. Samples of her DNA were traced to a family member through a genealogical website. It was further determined through forensic evidence that the woman was killed in 1888. Given the condition of the remains, the location of the body and the approximate date of death, it has been speculated that this woman was a victim of the notorious Jack the Ripper. Scotland Yard, however, will not comment on this theory."
"Pearl Beardsley," Sarah said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Isn't that the name ....?"
"Yes," Denise answered, cutting off her colleague's question. "It was the name the town crier said at our last meeting. Apparently, Shawn's theory wasn't as far-fetched as we thought."
Although she received no more messages about London's most famous killer from the spirit who once tread the cobblestoned streets of Puritan Falls when Massachusetts was still a British colony and the Sons of Liberty Tavern was still known as The Pine Cone Ordinary, Denise Rosewood knew she had not seen the last of the town crier, for she at last understood that she did not suffer from nebulaphobia. She did not need a neurologist, psychiatrist or any other physician to tell her that the blow to her head she received in front of Treasure Hunt Antiques had somehow awakened the psychic ability she was born with. It was a gift, she realized, that would not go away.
I'll be seeing you again, she thought, smiling at the memory of the town crier emerging from the fog, holding his lantern to light the way.
Salem was never a town crier, but he did enjoy ringing a huge dinner bell.
