Journal Entry 74 - July 25th, 1895 – 12:19 a.m.
Through the parlor, down a long corridor, and into another chamber, I discovered the back door. I stepped outside and found not a stable, but many slouching, dead trees—underneath which appeared to be headstones. Fortunately, there were a few lamps along the snaking path. As I hurried to the end, I stumbled upon a garden and greenhouse—the most well-kept places of the entire estate. Yet the further I inspected the plants, the more I understood the gardener’s horticultural practices: belladonna, or deadly nightshade, grew in abundance, as did poisonous hemlock; the English yew had no shortage of red berries; and wolfsbane blossomed everywhere. A harvest of death?
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