The Return of Ottoman

Long have I been away.
Things have passed and new things have been born into the world since my sixty years of confinement. I am, as of yet, unready for this new world outside my windows. The memories of the events that led to my betrayal and imprisonment are still fresh upon my mind. It took all I had, and all I could summon, to survive those years. Precious little of my wit or resources could be spared for the luxury of self reflection. But now that time is over, and though I am hunted still, and still lack many of my former freedoms, I exist in relative peace. Before I immerse myself in the world of the now, I must revisit the world of then. Perhaps I can answer many of my own questions along the way.

I live in an anonymous, peaceful town. I am sure there are crimes and dark secrets and betrayals here, as there are everywhere, but as I have money and am quiet, I am shielded from them by an expensive lawn and a freshly painted old house. I am a simple man at heart and the solitude and quietness of the town are like salve to my heart, quickly healing me of the chaos and viciousness I learned to embrace during my captivity.

Though I was a private detective for many years, my most joyous discovery was that I was not suited to the awfulness of the depravities and brutalities to which I was subjected, and which I sometimes committed, during that captivity. Those dark days are now beginning to lose their potency for nightmares. Instead of nightmares I am now hunted by questions. Though I know who was responsible for my imprisonment, the damned and mad Bill Amsterdam, I don’t know why.

For these answers I can only return to my past, and write down the incidents of importance, and perhaps sort out a pattern, or perhaps notice a small detail, as lost in memory as a bit of broken glass on a beach of sand. The devil is in the details, as they say. It is possible there exists somewhere in my memory the key to my current circumstance.

Lisa has been my constant companion during these last few months. Though I insisted the debt owed by her grandfather was long since paid she has assisted me and aided me in my convalescence without interruption or complaint. Though as small as I am large she has a drive and energy that would be formidable if she were to present herself as a foe. As luck would have it, she came to me as a friend and in the early chaotic days of my freedom she saved me again and again.

It is not that I needed physical help. I still look much as I did in the days of her grandfather, William, who never quite learned to stop asking dangerous questions. Indeed, it is possible that I am still the worlds strongest man, though my isolation currently prevents me from knowing that fact with any certainty. What I required most was kindness, which had been sorely absent from my life for many years.   Strange, dark Lisa gave that to me, after her fashion, reversing the ledger books of her grandfather debt.

Outside a light blanket of snow has draped the trees with a ghostly blanket of white. I feel introspection mounting within me like the slow rumble of avalanche. I feel the pieces of my past fusing together into a single tale. Perhaps this tale will someday lead me to revenge, perhaps even redemption, but for now I am unwilling to act. Now I must journey inward, toward the deepest recesses of memory, and it will be from there that I report to you next.
Your long absent, but not forgotten friend,
Ottoman Von Luitgard