Journal Entry 25 - July 17th, 1875 [Continued]
The lobby felt utterly dead. I observed the vacant chairs and sofas, seeing only my shadow sometimes occupy them as I strode by. Cobwebs hung in the corners and my reflection gazed back from behind the windowpanes fearfully. There was something rather peculiar about the inn. But this fancy first struck me upon my arrival earlier that evening. Mr. Mansfield had explained to me that I was the only guest. Yet oddly, I later heard voices in the adjacent chamber, as if two individuals were conversing. Naturally, I believed that Mr. Mansfield must’ve been mistaken. Surely there were others? And perhaps I would make their acquaintances in the morning. This was the hope that staved off the ever-rising dread.
[This journal entry continues.]
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