I have found (and by “found,” I mean “laboriously constructed”) a fascinating, disturbing document. It is a tragic tale, really, though, of course, if one is feeling callous, one might merely laugh. “What have this young man’s troubles to do with me?” I hear you saying in your unfeeling way. What, indeed? And yet– well, perhaps after you read the whole of this document (which I will release over the course of several posts), you will see that the troubles of this young man may one day engulf and devour us all.
But enough! Away with introductions! ON TO THE HORROR. You may view the horror in Artificial Artifact form, and/or read the text of the document. You’ll find the text below the fancy PDF flipbook thing, which is itself below this introduction (if it isn’t there, give it a moment, or try re-loading the page). I would recommend having a squint at the Artificial Artifact first, and then using the text below it to read any bits that are unreadable in the original document.
Pages 5 and 6 are new; the others are included so the reader does not have to flip through a bunch of posts to read the whole of the story so far.
Garden Party: Hargreaves
flatter Lady Brevis
(graceful compliment dress?)
mention concerns re apparitions to Rev. Dr. Grivesby;
if receptive, cautious broaching of topic EXORCISM
A) in Anglican Church?
B) on the cheap?
bloodstain appeared again (duration 1 hour)
Determine name of curate (ask Lady B.?)
Exorcisms: can curates do them? If so, for how much?
If not, why not?
Kitchenmaid hysterical; won’t say why
Phantom footsteps pursued me all through east wing today
Write note to Lady B., thanking her for sympathy re: hidebound clergy
make special mention of remark that “…such skepticism… ill accords with their Calling and Cloth”
Seek introduction Bishop T.
Something kept whispering into my ear last night. A rapid whisper, and I never could hear quite what it said.
home farm- £6.14s.8d.
articles, stories, misc.- 16s.3d.
Expenditure: £200 at absolute minimum
Write Bishop T.
Be Circumspect. Don’t mention the supernatural. Just express interest in bishops generally, along with a desire to give this particular one lunch.
Mist surrounds the house. Clear elsewhere. Simpson speaks of drains and rising damp. He does not believe it.
Lunch Bishop T.
– have Simpson bring ’84 port up from cellars. Ignore all protests, both about entering cellars under current conditions and about drinking port prematurely.
– would bishop’s exorcism come pretty high? Price-wise?
Tea with Lady B.
-“do you know any arch-bishops or anything?”
-compliment the garden (esp. roses)
-if red, compare to lips
-if not, not
I keep catching glimpses of other places. Gone as soon as perceived.
Convert to Catholicism
Something touched me on the arm; I felt it.
Sir Edwin Brevis, 59, after an illness. Industrialist, philanthropist, investor, statesman. As he liked to remind his many friends, he came from nothing; now, he returns to nothing, having earned millions of pounds in the interim.
Sir Edwin is survived by his wife, Lady Annabelle Brevis.
“I confess that I have ghosts”
(mem.: mix this in with some sins to make the thing seem natural)
Blood everywhere today. It drips from walls, ceiling. Warm to the touch.
Try again with Father Mason
“hello Father! Remarkable thing—meeting you here—by the way… ghosts… could you see way to…”
Something took me by the throat. There was terrible strength in the bony fingers, and when it released me I was half-dead.
Later: my neck is covered in bruises like fingermarks. Somehow, I am surprised that the creature left any.
Abandon all subtlety. Back Father Mason into a corner and ask him, straight out:
“will you perform an exorcism?”
The marks upon my neck burn cold.
Write to agency for new cook, kitchenmaid, housemaid.
Ask for convinced Materialists and those accustomed to ghosts only.
Exorcism Today! For FREE
Burning marks grow intolerably painful.
But Father Mason will bless them afterwards.
Funeral Father Mason
Talk to Dr. Smollett
-“Was it heart failure, or…?”
Couldn’t stick home. Slept at The Bell. Villagers eye me curiously, and whisper of me when they fancy I cannot hear.
They are angry.
There is no silence in this house.
That devil’s touch burns so I can barely think.
I am never alone.
They wouldn’t let me go
I keep seeing them out of the corner of my eye, just glimpses of something darting into cover or merging into shadows. But every room swarms with this covert movement.
Tried to walk down to village today, but was not allowed. Sickness grew as I approached my gate, and I lost consciousness when I was still several yards away. Mocking laughter swelled with sickness and seemed to come to a climax as I fell to the ground.
Someone is screaming in the woods.
Lady B. came by to scold me for
- Converting to Catholicism
- Neglecting her
- Being in a funk generally
Then, I think, something alarmed her, for she left quite hurriedly.
There is a dead poacher in the fringe of woods by the garden. I think his name was Jenkins. His neck is covered in terribly familiar bruises.
I have found the place where they are getting through. There is a secret place beneath the cellar stairs, and when you look at it from the corner of your eye, you can see it. And it can see you.
Why has there been no second attack on me? They killed that poacher fellow very efficiently, and they must know I am rather weak. It is remarkable how ill a few days of constant confinement in a very haunted house can make one.
Thurs. June 1
Must close it.
Plan: send Lady B. Catholic tracts.
She will send Bishop to remonstrate.
Found Simpson in cellar staring into portal and giggling. Butlers should not giggle, or not like that.
Find cellar door key
Simpson broke a china plate today. He dotes on that set, “being a gift from a Royal Personage to your great-grandfather, sir.” But today he broke a plate and didn’t seem to mind. I find this more alarming than many of today’s disturbing supernatural manifestations.
Lunch Bishop T.
Before he gets here:
-prop open chamber below stairs
-leave bell, book, candle in cellar
-light cellar lamps
-figure out how to get him into cellar
Had to lock Simpson in pantry—howling alarmed Bishop
If he got out of cellar, how did he do it?
If he didn’t, where is he?
TO BE CONTINUED…