The Fairy Diary Day 639 #TFDbyRWOz2

Meribabell writes:

We are satisfied with our meeting with the new leader of the Frost Fairies. His name is Tublain, and all he wants is to take his people home to the North. They want nothing to do with the renegade queen nor her Caretaker. They look upon that pair as the corrupters of their king – enticing him to leave the frigid lands behind for lives of ease in the South. 

Our meeting was short, but we asked him to stay the night and await the sun and the arrival of our ship so that we could release the blue fairies we held here as prisoners. 

Merlin promised Tublain that he would do all he could to see them safely back to their homes. 

After Captain Goff arrived the Caretaker was brought ashore and put in a separate cell from the queen. And Tublain and the other blue fairies went aboard for the trip back to the ice floe. 

Gibley now recovered from his indigestion took Conjil up to escort our ship and to keep an eye on things. 

As for what to do next our meeting with Merlin was quick and unanimous as to our decision. We will take the queen and the Caretaker back to the Faerie Kingdom to be tried for treason and the murder of the High Fairy. 

We passed the rest of the day uninstalling the Crack of Doom from the tower and packing it up for transport. 

Day One Hundred Ninety One morning #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Lyle writes:

I got in the first question. “Why are you holding my friend?”

At Moglen’s answer I realized that my prediction had come true. They are accusing us of gross wickedness. They suspect we have murdered their liaison Flowers.

The truth they will not accept, which is not surprising, for that is at the root of the difference between us.

We will not be allowed to leave. They have required us to unpack and we are setting up the camp again.

We remain under their close surveillance, even in the fields.

And they refuse to release Enough.

Strangler Redux

Strangler Redux

There was another reason that my mom and my gramma were upset after the woman was strangled down the street on September 8, 1963.
A few days before the murder, my gramma, who had the room at the front of our apartment, answered someone knocking at the front door.  She opened it and was greeted by a man dressed in work clothes and claiming to be there to inspect the furnace. My mother joined gramma at the door to see what was going on. But the man departed soon after.
My mom tells me now that after the murder they had the suspicion that the “furnaceman” was actually the Boston Strangler.
This is all that my mother remembers today, but I remember something in addition. I didn’t learn about this until after we had moved to Brockton Massachusetts a few years later.
I distinctly remember her getting a visit from a policeman. Albert DeSolvo had confessed to being the Boston Strangler and was then serving his sentence in a prison near by.  This officer was following up on the details of his confession.  DeSolvo had described coming to our apartment on Lafayette Street in Salem. Described the welcome mat outside our door, and gave a description of my gramma who answered his knock. He was at the point of entering when he changed his mind because he heard children playing somewhere within the apartment.
I remember feeling grateful. Grateful that my gramma was not a victim of the Strangler. And awed that my brother, my sister and myself had some part in it.
Still, I sensed at a deeper level there was Someone else to whom thanks was due.