Prologue
Complete silence wrapped around the woman as she stood on the edge of the Maroon Bridge, looking down at Lake Wheil below. She thought of the popular nickname this lake has. The Wailing Lake. They named it so due to the many suicide attempts that had been made at this lake. People like to say that if you visit the lake at night and listen very closely, you can hear the wailing of all the dead who found their demise in these waters. All was silent around her… and yet she couldn’t hear anything… no wailing of the dead… only her own. Harsh winds blew at her, as if some force was trying to push her and make her join the dead in the lake. And although she was intending to do just that… she wanted a few more minutes in the blissful silence.
A minute later she could hear something. She looked at the road behind her and noticed a headlight coming her way. As the headlight came closer and closer she could identify its engine sound. It was a motorcycle. She hoped he would just drive past her, not even caring if he notices her or not, as long as he moves on and leaves her alone. Her hope was unfulfilled, as every other one she had in her life before. The motorcycle came to a halt in the middle of the bridge, and the driver took his helmet off and left it on the handlebar. He looked to be about 30 years old. Not more then 35, she guessed. He had long black hair, reaching down almost to his shoulders, and he wore a black leather coat. At first she feared it was a member of Harley Nation, the notorious biker gang, but a second later she realized it didn't matter. There was nothing he could do to harm her, as she was standing on the edge of her wishful death.
The man approached the railing on the edge of the road and leaned his hands on it. His eyes had a dreary appearance. He took out a cigarette pack from his pocket and lit one with his lighter.
When he looked at her he noticed how stricken with anxiety she appeared. He could see in her face that she was lost, as he knew that feeling all too well. "Don’t worry, I won't try to stop you," he said, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette.
"I was once on a similar spot, on a similar edge, ready to jump just like you," he blew the smoke away, into the thin night air.
"What stopped you?" she opened her mouth.
"Something… it doesn’t really matter. If you had that something you’d be getting off that ledge too by now." He looked so serious and ominous, as if he stopped only to watch the dreadful show of her taking the leap.
"I see… well, you're probably right, since I have nothing left in this world," she said.
"Which one did it? Lady Dread? Men of Midas?" he knew there was death of a loved one involved.
"Ferals," she responded.
"Oh…" he knew that was probably the worst one of them.
"My husband and only boy." Tears started streaming down her face. If it’s Ferals that killed them, it must have been a very brutal kind of death. The man thought to himself. "I'm very sorry," he said.
"Do you want to know how they died?" she asked.
"No," he answered decisively. "My nights are already packed with nightmares. I think I'll pass on the chance to have some more." A few moments of silence passed as he finished his cigarette. "Well, it’s getting late. I better be off now." He got on his bike and took one last look at the poor woman. She gazed at the starry sky, taking one last glance at the mesmerizing view. The only beautiful thing left in this place is the night sky. He said to himself. As he began driving away, just as he started accelerating, he managed to catch in the corner of his eye the horrible picture of the woman casting herself into the darkness below.