Journal Entry 26 - July 17th, 1875 [Continued]
The mustiness in the air also furthered the sense of decrepitude. Perhaps the antique rugs and furniture were to blame? However, as I walked into the dining room, I noticed someone sitting in a chair facing the wall. A bald head, with a thin horseshoe of white hair, protruded from the seat’s wooden back. Thankful I was no longer alone, I greeted the man and spoke to him. Yet as I made my way around, there was no one sitting in the chair. My heart stopped. I turned to observe the rest of the chairs along the table, only to reluctantly accept that there was not another soul in there. Hurriedly, I walked through the other halls, and many of the doors were open—revealing only an unresponsive emptiness.
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