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Est. Sept. 2012

Journal Entry 1 - December 28th, 1872 - Midnight

The pendulum clock from downstairs has tolled twelve, and my concerns regarding Mr. Mansfield have not relented. Courteous he may seem to many, but the peculiar man is hiding something. Why am I the only guest here? I feel as though he is waiting outside my door—with that odious and corpse-like face staring with anticipation. I shall depart early tomorrow morning, for something is wrong. Hopefully he does not notice. He seemed quite desperate to know the length of my stay. When I mentioned only one night, he gave me a look of disdain, only to laugh thereafter. Mansfield does not strike me as being mentally sound. And I’m afraid of him.

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