21st February 1867
My Dearest Katrina,
How are you dear sister? How I miss you and my life in the City. Life in Demomire has taken some rather unexpected turns, and I felt compelled to share my thoughts and experiences with you, dear sister.
Firstly, let me assure you that our family remains in good health, and little James continues to grow into a strapping young lad. The same cannot be said, however, for the state of my marriage to William. I am afraid to report that our once harmonious union has hit a rather rocky patch.
You see, Katrina, there is a matter of great importance that has arisen in Demomire. It revolves around a preacher, a most charismatic and enigmatic man who has set up a church of his own deep within the woods. His teachings are unlike anything I have ever encountered before, and they have left an indelible mark on my soul.
The preacher speaks of love, of freedom, of the beauty of the human body, and of the joy that comes from embracing one’s desires without shame. His words are like poetry, and they have stirred something within me that I never knew existed. His followers gather in the woods for midnight gatherings, where they partake in revelry, drinking, and expressions of love that go beyond the boundaries of convention.
It is at these gatherings that I have found myself, drawn by the allure of this contrary lifestyle, by the freedom to express one’s desires openly and without fear. The preacher’s teachings on love, sex, and freedom have resonated with me in ways I cannot fully describe. I have felt a passion and a sense of liberation that I thought were reserved for dreams alone.
Yet, my dear sister, William has proven to be terribly square in this matter. He refuses to attend these midnight gatherings, viewing them as sinful and debauched. He has become increasingly distant, disapproving of my newfound interests and friendships. It is as if a rift has formed between us, and I fear for the future of our marriage.
In addition, the preacher, dear sister, has a most peculiar flock, among whom are men once known for their unsavory deeds. These hardened criminals, notorious in their past lives for all manner of vice and villainy, now sit among his congregation. Yet, they are transformed – no longer the menacing figures they once were. It’s as if their very essence has been altered, their minds vacant, their gazes distant. They are present in body, but it seems their spirits have been lulled into a deep, unshakable trance.
They follow Jacob, the preacher, with a devotion that borders on fanaticism, yet there is a strange peace about them. It’s as if their capacity for wrongdoing has been entirely drained, leaving them as mere shells, devoid of their former malice. This transformation, though startling, has a certain allure. Imagine, sister, a way to turn the criminal and wayward into beings of docile servitude, no longer a threat to society but rather a contribution to its betterment!
It’s a miraculous sight, witnessing these once feared men wandering the town, calm as lambs, assisting with menial tasks, and following Jacob’s every word and command. Their presence in the congregation lends a sense of surreal order to the church services, a silent army of the redeemed, standing as testament to the preacher’s enigmatic power.
While some in town view this change with suspicion, I can’t help but marvel at the potential it represents. What if this is the key to reforming the lost souls of our world? A way to cleanse the wickedness from their hearts and repurpose their existence towards something good and useful?
This phenomenon, under the preacher’s guiding hand, has sown a seed of wonder in my mind. Could this be a new dawn for justice and redemption? Perhaps, in his mysterious ways, Jacob is unlocking a path to transform the very fabric of our moral compass.
I must confess that I have been quite taken by the preacher’s teachings, and I find myself questioning the strictures of society that have bound me for so long. I yearn for a life filled with passion, freedom, and the pursuit of desires without inhibition. Much to Williams distaste.
Katrina, I understand that this may all sound scandalous and unconventional, but I hope you can find it in your heart to understand. I am torn between the love I have for my family and the intoxicating allure of the preacher’s words.
I must confess, dear sister, as I pen these words, a part of me trembles at the recklessness of my actions, yet another part, still deeper within me roars with a fire I have never known.
In a moment of unguarded passion and curiosity, I found myself at one of the preacher’s midnight sermons, held deep within the forest under the cloak of starlight. It was a world apart from anything I’ve known, a realm where the shackles of propriety seemed to dissolve into the night air.
During this clandestine gathering, amidst the fervor and the shadows, I found myself drawn to one of the preacher’s transformed men. Eli Hawkins, his story is as intriguing as it is shadowed by infamy. Eli, hailing from miles afar – a distance so great that it baffles the mind how he found his way to Demomire – carries with him a past mired in criminality.
Eli was once notorious for his involvement in a series of daring stagecoach robberies across several territories. His name became synonymous with a cunning and ruthless efficiency, striking fear and fascination in equal measure. Beyond these audacious thefts, he was also implicated in several altercations with lawmen, leaving a trail of chaos and defiance in his wake.
It was Tilly, our local herbalist, who enlightened me about Eli’s past. In her travels, she chanced upon his wanted posters, plastered in towns far removed from our Demomire. The stories she heard of his deeds painted a picture of a man who was as dangerous as he was elusive, a figure almost mythical in his infamy.
Yet, the man I encountered in the forest bore little resemblance to the fearsome outlaw of legend. Under the preacher’s influence, Eli seemed a shell of his former self, his once fierce spirit dulled into a vacant calm. It was as if the fire that once drove him to commit such acts had been extinguished, leaving behind only a quiet husk.
There’s one thing about Eli that remains unchanged, however, and it’s something that set my heart racing in a way I hadn’t anticipated. His physique, dear sister, is a world apart from William’s. Where William is gentle and soft, Eli is the embodiment of ruggedness and strength. His form is hard and defined, each muscle a testament to a life of daring and physical toil. There was also an animalistic allure about him, a raw, primal magnetism that I could neither understand nor resist.
Being near him was like touching a piece of the wild itself – thrilling and a little dangerous. It’s as though his body tells the story of his adventurous past, each sinew and contour a chapter of his untamed history. It’s so different from what I’m used to, and I must confess, it awakened something within me, a longing for a wildness I never knew I craved.
In the heat of the moment, under the spell of the moonlit woods, I surrendered to a temptation I had never dared to acknowledge. It was an encounter that defied reason, fervent and unrestrained, throughout it, he moaned like an animal possessed, his eyes distant, as if lost in a world of his own. It was as though his spirit was elsewhere, leaving only his earthly form behind. I tried to look into his eyes through the encounter, but I could not break through the animal that seemed to have possessed him.
I confess, the thrill of it was unlike anything I have ever experienced – a rush of freedom, a liberation from the constraints that bind us as civilized beings. Yet, it was also shadowed by the fear of scandal, the dread of what might unfold if William were ever to discover this indiscretion. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine.
Despite the danger, I cannot help but reflect on that night with a sense of excitement and wonder. It was a moment of pure, unbridled passion, a taste of a life unshackled by the norms that govern our existence. But it is a secret I must keep, buried deep within the confines of my heart, for the consequences of such a revelation are too dire to contemplate.
With each day that passes, I find myself counting down to the next gathering in the forest. The thought of seeing Eli again sends a flutter through my heart, a mix of anticipation and a daring hope that perhaps, just perhaps, we might find ourselves lost in another moment of wild abandon.
There’s something about these midnight sermons, something magnetic that draws me in despite my better judgment. The allure of the unknown, the thrill of the forbidden – it’s intoxicating. And Eli, he’s become the very embodiment of this thrilling new world that’s opened up to me.
I can’t shake off the memory of our last encounter, the way he moved, the way he felt. It’s as if a fire has been lit inside me, one that burns with curiosity and desire. I find myself longing for the next meeting, yearning to lose myself once more in that primal dance of shadows and moonlight.
But there’s something else, Katrina, something that both intrigues and frightens me. At these gatherings, Preacher Jacob often offers a strange potion to his followers, a brew that seems to strip away all inhibitions, leaving those who partake in a state of blissful oblivion. I’ve watched them drink it, seen the transformation take place right before my eyes. It’s like they become part of the forest itself, wild and unrestrained.
I confess, the idea of drinking it myself has crossed my mind more than once. What secrets would it unlock within me? What hidden desires would it set free? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying. I’m drawn to it, yet I fear what it might reveal about my own nature.
What if I were to lose myself completely, to surrender to the potion’s power? The prospect sends shivers down my spine, yet part of me aches to experience that utter abandonment, to see what lies beyond the veil of my own restraint.
Oh, but the scandal it would cause if anyone were to find out! I’m torn, Katrina, between the safety of the life I know and the wild call of the unknown. It’s a precipice I find myself teetering on, and I’m not sure which way I’ll fall.
In the midst of all this tumult of emotions and forbidden desires, I find myself longing for a resolution, a path to tranquility amidst the storm. Please hold us in your warmest thoughts and prayers. I still hold onto a glimmer of hope that William and I might bridge the chasm that has grown between us, to rekindle the flame of our once vibrant love.
My deepest wish is for William to experience one of these gatherings for himself. There’s a part of me, perhaps a part I barely recognize, that yearns to see him surrender to the potent allure of Jacob’s potion. To witness him cast off the shackles of his reserved nature and embrace a wildness I’ve never seen in him. I imagine him, uninhibited and passionate, taking me in his arms with the same primal intensity that I found in Eli’s embrace.
Yet, this fantasy is shadowed by a lingering fear. What if we both were to lose ourselves to this intoxicating freedom? The thought of little James, our dear son, caught in the wake of our wild abandon fills me with a profound apprehension. The consequences of yielding to Jacob’s teachings could be irrevocable, altering the fabric of our family forever.
These are turbulent waters I navigate, Katrina, filled with longing and trepidation. I stand at a crossroads, each path shrouded in uncertainty. As I pen these words, my heart is a tumult of conflicting desires and fears, each as compelling as it is daunting.
With a heart heavy with secrets and a soul caught in the throes of a tempest,
With all my love,
Martha Stadwick
Author
