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Case #0121121

Statement of Alexey Maxwell regarding his experience with a... Strange Cafe... Lovely. Time of incident: Autumn of 2006, Original statement given November the 21st 2012 Audio Recording by Elias Bouchard, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London.

Statement Begins:

I feel a little silly for coming here, writing this all down, I mean.... It happened six years ago now, and, It still feels like a dream and I know, I read the rules, I'm not supposed to come here with dreams or whatever the hell else could be considered a figment of my imagination, but I've never gotten it out of my head, I swear to you, this, no matter how unreal it feels, I know it did happen.

A week of my life.

Gone.

Nobody noticed.

But that was a week of my life, where I was somewhere that wasn't... here.

Where do I start? Well, I suppose I can say, I was on a walk, nothing big, I was having a rough night, that I think we've all had... I hope, unless it really is just me...

It was dark out, and I was feeling fairly low. My mum had died fairly recently back then. She was the only person I felt like I was actually close with, sad as that might sound. If I had a problem, I could go to her, if I needed a shoulder to cry I, I could go to her, If I wanted some company, I could call her up, say "Hey mum, mind if I come over, help you with some shopping?" It was pretty hard on me when she died, and I would say, it made me feel more like an outsider than I already was, like my one real tether was cut...

I was trying to clear my head, but it wasn't really doing much, if anything it was making things worse. I don't need to explain all the details but, I was spiraling. I felt trapped in my own mind, sinking, as it just kept spinning through my head "Nobody cares" "I'm a shadow among my friends" "I'm a part of nothing" stuff like that, stuff that's entered all our heads... Unless that's just me...

I didn't even realize, though it probably should have, I didn't even realize where I was going, didn't recognize the world around me, my feet seeming to make a path for me, and that was when... the fog enveloped me.

All the buildings there were cold, dark... empty. Maybe there were a few(?) with warmed yellow windows, filled with warmth, laughter, family friends, but there was something in the back of my mind, aside from my spiraling thoughts, telling me I didn't belong there, that I knew where I belonged... So I just kept going...

Pretty soon the scent of rotten seaweed and salty air began to warp round me, through me, and I just kept on following, dragging my feet along, through the streets, the fog, the nothing of it all, and then I saw it. This place where the fog dissipated, just slightly enough for me to make it out. It was about then I realized I made it to the docks, probably should have earlier, but you know... It's funny though, I live no where near them...

Anyway, it was this... cozy looking cafe? I think? Could have been a tea parlor, it's fuzzy. I remember all the windows were fogged over so I couldn't really see inside, but I guess that's to be expected for the weather. But there was this lantern over the door, that lit up the a sign, it read "The Quiet Kettle", and I remember thinking 'cute', cause come on, it's a pretty cute name.

I don't know what possessed me to do this but, it was like... it was calling to me, and I found my feet taking the initiative for me again, and... I entered.

I remember what it sounded like, when I first stepped inside. I guess, the floor was a little old, so when I stepped on it it let out this loud creak.

Embarrassment washed over me in a wave, and I quickly went to check if anyone heard, it was about then I noted how few people there were, all sitting so, so, so far apart. They didn't even glance up, their eyes fixated on their cups or mugs, taking in the aroma, or wisping away the steam with a silent blow of their breath. No one even noticed me, and at first I was relieved, I mean, that would have been embarrassing, but, then it started to weigh on me... No one noticed me...

I went further in, and I took in the shop. The lighting was dim, made it hard to see everything, kind of like a musty old tavern where they turn down the lights so you don't gotta see how run down it is, but I don't think that was the reasoning here, I mean, like it said, it was cozy, had generous spacing between the tables, and there were these cushioned chairs, that looked comfortable to sit in, like, like I could sit down and just... fall in, stay forever...

There was this stage too, towards the back, with this little microphone, I guess they had 'open mic nights'. And you know, I didn't notice it at the time, but thinking back, I know that some of the fog had gotten inside. There was a thick layer of mist over the floor, thick enough to cover my feet, and there was this sort of haze surrounding everything, that just served to make it feel even more like a dream than it already did...

I got to the counter eventually, and there was this man standing behind it, he was tall, kind of, I don't know, roomy? Like he was a nice, comfortable house. And his hair was kind of a mix of brown and grey, it looked... damp, kind of like when you've been out of the shower for an hour or two, and you hadn't bothered to dry it. I'd put him at... late forties if I had to but, he really seemed much older. Regardless, If I had to condense it all down into one sentence, I would say: He fit the place perfectly, like- not like the place was made for him, but like, he was the place.

Well I got to the counter, and he smiled me, and it was just this gentle, sympathetic expression, so kind that I couldn't help but smile back, even if it was this weak, pitiful, mirroring of what he gave me... He let out this sigh, and I saw this puff of... smoke, leave his lips, well, not smoke, but it looked like that, you know, like that bit of 'dragon's breath' you get when you breathe out on a particularly chilly morning.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" He asked me. I tried to answer, I did, but, the words caught in my throat with the damp, chilling air around me. And I wondered... Why did I come? What had taken me here, I though I had the answer, so I tried to say it but before I could say he spoke again, "Would you like me to put the kettle on? I think you could use some tea" and, I found myself nodding, Tea sounded lovely in that moment. So he nodded, waved me off, and I found myself a seat, far from everyone else. I didn't feel like being around people, even if I wanted to, I didn't want anything to see me the way I was in...

The chairs, they were, just as comfortable as I imaged, I sunk in, and closed my eyes and I felt happy. Well... maybe not happy, I could still feel this burrowing hole in my chest, caving me in, making a pit, it was more like I was numbed and... I felt like I was where I was supposed to be...

There was this faint 'squeee' in the distance, but it stopped quick enough, and the man came over again, pressing a cup into my hands, it was so warm, my hands couldn't help but latch onto it, keeping a tight grip, "There you go," he said "drink up," he said "and just tell me if you'd like anymore, alright?" I nodded, and he trotted off, leaving me with my cup...

I took a sip, even though it should have been scolding, I don't even remember if it burnt or now, but, I know it was Oolong, and this is going to sound crazy, but, I could swear, it tasted... sad, and resentful, and pained, and... muted... That ridiculous, though, right? Just a cup of tea? I guess you lot would know about this stuff though, yeah?

I held the cup under my chin, let the steam curl round my face, warming it, obscuring it. It was just a momentary pleasure. Couldn't I at least have that?

I was kind of... lost from there, just drinking, hiding, and there, was the distant tapping of a microphone, "Testing, testing one two, one two three... all that" It was the shop owner's voice, well, I assume he's the owner, the man who served me my tea, I recognized that much. Although his voice was a little off, it kind of had an old... lofi charm to it, if that makes sense? I mean, I don't know if a microphone without any special... voice editing set up can do that, especially back then but that's how it how it sounded, I thought it was strange, but, no one else seemed to care, so neither did I

He still had that smile, I wasn't looking, but I could hear it in his voice, soft, gentle, sympathetic "Well, look at this crowd, big night..." I wouldn't have called it a crowd, I think there was maybe six... five people there, counting myself...

"I suppose I'll start off the open mic, as usual, and, I have a new poem, yaaay," He spoke in such a low energy way, like he was trying to get a playgroup excited for a nap "I would like to dedicate this poem to- someone very special to me, uh, I guess... you could call him the 'one that got away', but uh... hm... Maybe that doesn't quite work, erm..." He seemed slightly nervous, or maybe just awkward, couldn't tell if he wanted our attention or not, I suppose I could relate though... "Well, never mind, I care about him very much, and would like to dedicate this poem to him"

I tried to listen, I really did, as the man continued on, reciting a poem of his own creation, dedicated to this 'someone special' whoever he was. But... It all felt so distant, like I was listening to him underwater, and just kept drifting down further, and further into the back of my mind, before I found myself in the rabbit hole that started it all, down, down, down once more. My friends, my family, my place, my position,among them, how I'm never going to escape it, cause it's just who I am. The man's words disappeared, and... I was too far beneath the waves.

Ripples formed in my teacup as something dripped inside.

It was so warm, just a small comfort, it felt like everything I had, I didn't want it to be, but what else was there to do? I took another a sip, and lost myself within it.

Next thing I knew something had a hold of my shoulder, gently stirring me to focus.

"Sir? Sir?" I blinked blearily. I don't think I fell asleep, I know what sleeps feels like, and that wasn't it... it felt more as if, I drifted away, tuned the world out from my mind so I could deal with the storm in my brain. I went to absentmindedly wipe my cheek, and it was wet, with tears or precipitation I don't know. What's more, I tembling, my heart racing in my chest. I breathed shakily, as I looked to the man, "Don't think you have to leave now, I'm open twenty-four hours and personally, besides I like to think so one ever really leaves," He was still smiling that same, gentle, sympathetic smile, "I just wanted to know if you could use another drink"

I looked down at my cup, still clasped tight in my hand, though by now it was cold, just... some icy flavored water. My body seemed to act for me.

...I nodded

After that, things get really hazy. I don't know how long I was there, not when I was inside at least. It's just a blur of fog, and tea, and poetry, and, and, sometimes the occasional sound of quite harrowed sobbing, I think sometimes mine, accompanied by gentle shushing and suggestion that another kettle be started. But mostly, I was just in my own head.

When I did snap out of it... I think, it was because, I thought of my mum. I thought how it had been a while since I visited her grave. I wanted to see her, right there and then, more than anything, so I tried to push myself up onto my weak legs, up from my comfortable cushion. Still, no body looked over at me, despite how I stumbled. But... One person did walk over, the man....

"Is everything alright?" He asked, concern written over his face, that smile gone, and I explained what I could though my words felt as if they jumbled up in my mouth. Regardless he nodded along, he understood, or at least seemed as if he did, even if... I saw something flicker behind those glasses he wore...

"Well alright, but consider back again, alright, we'll always have a seat for you"

I asked what I owed him, and he just shook his head, "It's on the house" he told me.

I nodded, and then, I just stumbled out, back into that thick, cold fog, and before long, I found myself in London, on a shockingly sunny day. I mean, yes, London, gloom, but, also, I just came out of heavy fog, and remember it was night when I went out that's- that's not normal. I guess, I didn't pay much attention to that at the time I was focused more and seeing my mum's plot...

But, I realized the odder things when I got home, checked the date, and... it had been a week, and then, I went to call just about- everyone, family, friends, work, and... they didn't even realize I had been missing...

It has been a while since that whole... experience, six years as I said at the start of all this, I guess I've had a lot of time to process it. I think I'm doing better now, my headspace is improved, I feel like I'm a little closer to my friends, more involved with my family. Therapist says it should make me feel like a more present figure in their lives, and yeah, I guess it does, but... Sometimes, when I'm alone... out on a walk, mind beginning to drift, I can see it, just out the corner my my eye... a fog beginning to roll in.

Statement ends

Welp... I know a bad trip when I see one, er- read one. Alexey here Probably took something, and then that just magnified whatever he was feeling, and the cafe... tea parlor? Hell, could have even been a pub, wherever, he ended up, likely just got distorted as well, but, I did send some assistants to see if there was any kind of merit to this claim.

Helen managed to get into contact with Alexey Maxwell's former work place, looking into their system to find that there was in fact a week in November in which Alexey had been missing, without calling in sick or for vacation, or just for grieving. What's more, there doesn't seem to be any sort of reports or notices regarding our statement-giver's brief disappearance. Not even a Missing Person's case...

I also scent Nikola down to the docks round London, to see if they could find the shop. And... Peter, because of course Peter insisted on going...

Anytime anything, anything at all, involves the ocean he insists on-

Nevermind, it gets him out of my business, even if I could stand use him in the archives sometimes... He could walk into the ocean for all I care, for how much he loves it... But far be it from me to spout off over my own issues over the- ah...

Well, they weren't able to find any place by the name of 'The Quiet Kettle', and certainly no spaces which look anything like what Alexey has described, but, after a little prodding around they did discover that in 1961 there was in fact a cafe opened known as 'The Quiet Kettle', owned by a Mr. Martin Blackwood, but it's not even in London, rather some little... port village, miles away from here.

We have attempted to get into contact with Alexey once more, ask some follow up questions if he can remember any other details he left out, but, try as we might to follow up, we can't seem to get a hold of him...

...

End Recording.

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