Journal Entry 51 - November 8th, 1898
Never again will I step foot in that old, God-forsaken mortuary. Although I heard some details about what the police found in the attic a few years ago, last night I was told I’d only be moving furniture from the first floor with two other individuals. And so, these arrangements seemed fairly agreeable. Yet the others never arrived to assist me. I had no choice but to begin on my own. It was quite late when I decided I had had enough of this nonsense. And so, I sat upon a stool and lit my pipe. The silence and gloom began to make me uneasy, and I felt as if I were being watched. I then wanted to finish my task as quickly as possible. Throughout the night, I watched over my surroundings with much precaution.
[This journal entry continues.]
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