It dawned on me post haste that the untoward death of the wee’un was caused by arsenic poisoning. The Derby Gazette expeditiously divulged my theory to the masses; nonetheless it was nary successful in convincing everyone. The benighted had their own speculations, that my theory was impossible, and that no person could be killed by wallpaper especially.
The family of the child had been sickening for quite sometime. I sent them apace to the country to breathe in uncontaminated air. On their arrival back to their dwelling the wee’un had again taken ill. At that time, I beseeched the parents of the Wilson boy to remove the paper from their walls. They had complaints for a fortnight of pains in the eyes and head as well as irritation of their lips. After a simple tidying of the parlour and a brushing of the walls this malady was brought forth. My begging fell on deaf ears. Besides my warnings, there was nary more I could do; the matter was left resting with the Wilson family.
The fashionable, viridis wallpaper continues to line the pockets of much of my country. Ladies wear finery dyed with arsenic to get the most beauteous shade of emerald green. Children’s trinkets are painted with the poison. Delirium has clouded the minds of many. And the witless are unable to acquire that the maladies now plaguing them come from both their homes and the clothing they donned.
Since having been labelled a charlatan by my peers I’ve now questioned my own soundness. I fear I’ll face an assured diagnosis of hysteria by their hands. I’m feeling increasingly green around the gills about my closely watched, but certainly doomed speculations about the well-liked, arsenic dyed wallpaper.
Mayhap, I too need to vanish elsewhere to draw in the uncontaminated country air.
I fear rest will escape me this evenfall. Each hour is needed for rumination…only the dotish would slumber with soundness. Because I longingly await the dawn of answers.