Note from the Author
There was once a story whispered to me through a pair of red lips in a dark and smoky pub. It was unlike any story I had ever heard. It made me sad and happy, angry and spiteful, and yet kind and forgiving. ::Of course,:: I thought to myself, ::it's a very nice story but there can't be any truth in it::. Hah! That's the problem with most adults like me. If anything seems even slightly out of the realm of possibility, we dismiss it as impossible.
Yet, something about the story intrigued me. I felt a burning desire to know if it had really happened or if it was just some silly story told to a wide-eyed youngster. So, I have spent my whole life searching through dusty books, asking the elderly to share their stories, prying into family histories, reading stacks and stacks of tattered parchment, and exploring every record I could get my curious hands on.
Now, after all these years, I have found that the impossible and fanciful yarn is a true and terrifying tale. To prove that what is written in the manuscript is not the imagination of an old and withered man, I give the reader of this testimony these three shards of irrefutable and tangible truth: A black ring, a single gold doubloon and an unfinished letter to one Clarisse. I hope that the enclosed manuscript will not be dismissed as fantasy and never be read. I hope that the brave and cowardly characters in these pages are remembered always. And I beg of the reader to think on this:
However improbable some things may seem, the impossible often happens. . .
Your Humble Researcher,
W.D. Bartholomew