The Story of John S Hudson

Oh wait,’ he said and suddenly my eyes went wide as I heard her grasp for air.  The Baron then disappeared back up the stairs and from my view.  I again got to my feet, with more difficulty than ever, and forced a passage up.  Having thought I had seen it all, my mind went numb at the sight of the Baron suffocating his bride with a pillow, the same one I had used earlier that night during the lovemaking.  I froze, as I could not fathom a reason for what happened before my eyes.  She went limp within a moment and the Baron rose from his treachery.  He again flashed me the smirk.  ‘Now you have.’
"I retreated back in horror and amazement, becoming awash with my new and dangerous situation.  My status or reputation in this city would not combat an accusation such as the Baron had designed.  He then descended the stairs, full intent to kill.  I shrunk into the darkened depths, so as to be away from the evil before me.  The Baron spoke, jubilantly, like a child wanting to confess his want.  ‘I guess you are aware of my sadness over the demise of my wife,’ he chuckled, ‘Well, my old friend, there is method to my madness.  You see, the Lady Regina stood to inherit a rather large fortune within the next few years, procuring smaller amounts at different intervals as to not attract too much attention to her windfall.  But, if in the sudden and unexpected death of her, then I shall receive it, being, of course, her loving and mournful spouse.  You do not now how much trouble you have saved me, John Hudson.  I can pin this crime on you as easily as I can whip a mongrel.  You simple bastard.  I guess I bought the chloroform and burial equipment for nothing.  Did you notice the nails and wood?’
"I do not now what came over me, or why I reacted in the manor that I did.  Maybe he did not expect it, having thought of me as too weary to make any estranged effort toward him from my stint of captivity.  I charged the Baron.  My weakened legs summoned every bit of power and I sprang like a cat, pouncing upon my prey before he could get a punch off.  Thus I followed the animal instinct of survival from this point.  There were blows dealt to my head and abdomen.  We rolled about among the filthy floor of the basement, knocking over bottles and scattering the already sloppily placed storage.  As I rolled over the boards, I remembered.  Somewhere to the left of our current position was a plank.  It was of the perfect size to use as a weapon.  The Baron had no idea of this and I knew I could get to it, barring the fact that my hands were constantly busy in fending off his blows.  Driving my fist into his hips gave the Baron a pause, and I pushed him over to where I could reach for the plank.  As I let go with one hand to reach, he made use of this and send a hearty blow to my face.  I nearly swooned at the force but managed to grab the board.  I hoisted it up and the Baron, now straddling over me, sent his fist again.  Facing the right direction, edge pointed to receive his flesh, board and hand connected perfectly.  Hearing the yell as he unexpectedly contacted with the wood, I jumped to react.  Sure enough, as he pulled back, the board cracked and his knuckles bloodied.  He screamed at me in such a tone that the echo it produced within the confines of the basement still bounce about those masoned walls.  I wasted not a second, and as he tried to grab me with his good hand, I kicked at him and sent him reeling backward.  The Baron landed hard.  Swift were my actions, picking up the bottles and throwing them in the direction of my foe.  They crashed against the floor and shattered, and I knew that only precious few moments of clean air remained.  I sucked in a breath and picked up another board.  Beyond the light, I could see the Baron flailing about.  I then swung in low with the thick wood and struck at his legs.   I heard the loud snap and noticed that my piece had not broken.  The Baron Von Genderstien cried out in life-ending agony as his body again tumbled to the floor.  An escape by walking would be impossible.  The smell that entered my nose caused me to gag.  Although I took in no air, I had to gain the surface soon, as I could not hold my breath for long.  Having rendered the Baron unable to walk, I swiftly made my way up the stairs and out the door of the basement.  He cried out in hysteric and drunken moans, induced by the heightening effects of the thick vapor filling the whole of the basement.  Death would be imminent.  I shut the door behind me and tried to breath as little of the air up here as possible, as it could still contain much of the fumes.  Pausing momentarily at the dead body of the Lady I had so recently been in the acts of love with, I paid my respects to her and wished her soul onward.  Then I made my retreat.
"The world was awash in darkness and I could only reason that I had spent no less than 24 hours in the dungeon the Baron made for me.  More time must have passed in my transitive states than I thought.  I passed a clock heading swiftly back to the Dam.  The time read one-thirty.  By now, my mates had to be aware of my missing presence at our usual bars, and therefore I made a quick line for the nearest and contrived a story as to my whereabouts, saying I had met a foreign lady and entertained her in her hotel for the whole of the day.  And thus it went on."
John Hudson now relaxed in lit another cigarette.  I sat amazed, transfixed upon his casual gestures in light of having unfolded such a story.  The man wore motely with his constant sipping of a drink during the recital.  I simply had to ask when he left the city.  He replied that he remained only another week, with the breaking story of the tragic deaths of the Lady and the Baron, presumed to be the cause of jealously.  It would only be a short time before the police come about Hudson’s way, and thus he fled.  I knew not the exact dates of this story, for he kept them from me, but I do know that I will forever hold the tale within.  Maybe it is comforting to hear such a story, and maybe it can bring absolution.  I now no longer see the same man I had before, I now see one of pain and mourning, and of a memory that had to be unleashed in his life; maybe to share the suffering through a vivid tale, or maybe to endure the agony of having to keep secret what lashes out ever so often to be heard; the silent voice of conscience.