Chapter 16 condolences

March 1885 New York The obituary in the newspaper said that the well-known performer and stage magician, Hector Hector, who holds the title of magician Prospero.Bowen died of heart failure on March 15th. The text goes on to describe his career and legacy at length.The stated age of the deceased is not correct, probably few readers found out.A short paragraph at the end of the obituary mentioned that he left behind a seventeen-year-old daughter, Celia.Miss Bowen.She was about the right age.There was also a small announcement that although the funeral service will be private, letters of condolence will still be delivered through a local theater.

Condolence cards and letters were collected, packed into large bags, and sent by messenger to the Bowens' private home, a modest town house that had been decorously decorated with flowers.The smell of lilies was too pungent, and when Celia couldn't bear it anymore, she turned them all into roses. Celia piled the letters of condolence on the dining room table until they flooded the living room.She hated to touch the letters, but she couldn't bear to throw them away without reading them. When she could no longer avoid the question, she made a pot of tea and began to deal with the piles of letters.She opened the letters one by one, and then sorted them into several large stacks.

There are postmarks from all over the world.There were long heartfelt letters full of genuine sorrow, empty blessings and false tributes to her father's talents.Many letters mention that the sender did not know that the great Prospero had a daughter.Some recalled her kindly, describing her as a bright and petite girl that even Celia couldn't remember being like that.There were also a few annoying references to marriage proposals. Especially these kinds of letters, Celia crumpled them into paper balls, and put the crumpled balls of paper one by one in the palm of her hand, concentrating on them until they burned, and finally they were reduced to ashes, and she slapped them away, leaving nothing behind .

I am married.She spoke out into the air, turning the ring on her right hand that covered a peculiar old scar. Among the piles of letters and cards was a plain gray envelope. Celia pulled it out of the pile of letters and opened it with a silver letter opener, trying to pile it up with the other letters she was about to throw away. Unlike the other letters, however, this one was signed and addressed to her father himself, and even though it was postmarked after his death, the card inside was not a condolence or condolence note for her bereavement. There is not even a greeting, and there is no signature. These words are handwritten on the letter paper:

it's your turn Nothing else. Celia turned the card over, but the back was blank and clean, not even the name of the stationery dealer, and there was no return address on the envelope. She repeatedly looked at the words on the gray letter paper. She couldn't tell if the chill running up her spine was from excitement or fear. Throwing the rest of the condolence letter aside, Celia took the card and left the room, walking up the spiral staircase leading to the living room on the second floor.She took a bunch of keys out of her pocket, and impatiently unlocked the three doors one by one, in order to enter the room soaked in the bright afternoon sun.

How is this going?Celia said, holding the card high and walking in. The figure hovering in front of the window turned around.The sunlit parts of his body are barely visible, part of one shoulder seems to be missing, and the top of his head disappears in a cloud of falling dust reflecting the sun.The rest of his body is transparent, like a projection on glass. The barely human Hector.Bowen read the message on the card and laughed happily.