If anyone is still interested in what is going on with “Love Letters From The Other Side” I will attempt to keep a posting going on Allen’s page as long as I can. I really don’t know why I am even doing so, but some people have called and emailed me asking that I keep them updated on what was going on. As you all can see from the previous post that Allen seems to have taken on another fantastic journey. I say journey in terms of being nice, however nice is a far cry from how my inner emotions truly are at this point. Just try and put yourself in my shoes and then ask how it feels. Yes, how it feels to be exact is exacerbating and demeaning. Its not as if the situation wasn’t bad enough to begin with, but for him to concoct this cock and bull story of jumping into other dimensions and then begging me to join him “On The Other Side”. Ha! Have you ever heard of such?

I really don’t mean to be sounding off as such, and I don’t mean to come across as cruel and unforgiving, but truly you can see my embarrassment over the entire situation. I mean, what would you think if the person you love and have loved for many years pulled a stunt like this. Would you just sit back in the comfort zone of your home and say “Oh, it will be alright?” No you would not. You would be just as mad as I am over the whole thing.  Don’t get me wrong here, I still love Allen and I suppose I always will, but this whole thing has my head reeling and my heart breaking. I guess this is just one of the hazards one must face when falling in love with a dreamer.

I did a little more digging this morning on Allen’s Bridge To Nowhere. I contacted a friend of mine at one of the nearby universities and gave him a copy of Allen’s notebook that he claims to have tossed through some type of time portal. I expect him to give me a call soon and at least put to rest such a ludicrous claim. I will say this and it did somewhat surprise me. Professor Henderson did know of an old Indian burial ground in the general proximity of the area where the old bridge is located, but he told me that many people knew of this and that Allen most likely dug up the information at the library or online somewhere thus adding a bit of truth to his tale. He also went on the further explain that my husband obviously suffered from a very active imagination and was probably still somewhere in the woods gathering more information for his story in order to give it a life of its own. This last comment I seriously doubted, but after all…(Door Bell Rings) “Now what”?

“Mrs. Wilson”?

“Yes it is, how can I help you”?

“I’m First Detective Casey O’Neil and this is my partner Rosa. May we come in?”

“Why yes detective, please do.”

 “Is this about my husband? Have you found out anything on Allen? He’s not hurt is He?”

“Yes Mam, it is about your husband and we need to discuss a few things with you pertaining to the report you filed Saturday. In your report you state that it is not uncommon for Mr. Wilson to go off and sit in the woods and write stories.”

Yes Sir, that is correct, but he has always been home on time and has never gave me any reason to worry until now.”

“Hmmm, uh Mrs. Wilson, I really don’t know how to ask you this any other way than straight out, but have you and your husband had any problems with your relationship? Any fights, disagreements or discontentment in your relationship?”

“Why heavens no, I mean we have the usual discussions that married folks have, but nothing that could be construe d as a fight. “Why do you ask such a thing as this anyway, my husband is missing and you are asking me if we ever fought?”

“It’s just routine Mrs. Wilson, nothing to concern yourself over.”

(Cell phone rings)

“O’Neil here, what’s that? Hmmm, yes please do, we are at Mrs. Wilson’s house right now. Yes, Sergeant, bring it on over.”

Mrs. Wilson that was sergeant Milbank’s down at the lab. When we were out at the bridge this morning where you say was your husbands last known whereabouts we did find something but did not want to comment until we got the lab results back.”

“Oh God, he’s dead, you found him and he’s dead, Oh dear God…”

No, no Mrs. Wilson, its nothing like that. We don’t know where he is, it’s just that we, or shall I say the hounds found something this morning that we thought to be peculiar. We called in the dogs this morning to see if they could pick up a trail and they did, but lost your husbands scent right at the entrance to the old bridge. We walked them to the other end of the bridge and still nothing, and just as we were coming back across, one of the hounds let into the strangest howl you ever heard. It was then that I noticed a bundle, a package right there on the path in front of us. I swear that it was not there when we crossed just minute earlier, and absolutely no way we overlooked it the first time.”

“A package, what kind of package?”

“It almost a 12 X 12 square wrapped in a newspaper. It is tied with twine and had a note attached to the outside addressed to you. What we found extremely odd is that you said your husband according to his notebook stepped over into another time…1890. Well Mam, this package was wrapped in a newspaper dated August the 2^nd, 1890 and it didn’t look even a day old. Inside were some more letters to you supposedly from your husband. We had the lab run checks on the newspaper and the letters to determine their true age and they were not over two days old, but here is the catch Mrs. Wilson. The ink that those letters and the block type that the newspaper was printed on has not been in existence for almost 100 years. The sergeant is bringing the package over now and we need you to read them and see if you can garner any clues from them.”

“So its real, he did go over to the other side.”

“I don’t know Mam…I just don’t know…

© 2007