Journal Entry 36 - Maple Hill Caretaker Log - June 9th, 1886
Last night, as I was locking up the graveyard’s gates, I beheld a most troubling sight. Several yards in the distance, up on a hill, stumbling listlessly, was a figure. His arms waved about, and every now and then he would pause. I called out many times, yet this man did not respond. For a moment, I wondered if I should confront him, but I was afraid. The moon was only a slight crescent, and it was difficult to observe the face of the encroacher. What I find so odd about this is that he disregarded my shouting, as if he neither understood nor heard. If he was attempting to rob a grave, surely he would’ve fled knowing someone had seen him? Yet he acted as though he were deaf. Who was he?
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