Journal Entry 76 - July 25th, 1895 – 12:50 a.m.
Leaving this gloomy mansion may not be as sensible as I first believed. Several indistinct shapes are creeping hither and thither on the porch and by the windows. I’ve concealed myself in another one of the innumerable chambers. There are now several pairs of footfalls, as if more than one resident is searching for me. I hear someone on the second floor and someone on the same story as I. Always, I shall remember this as the most horrifying night I’ve ever lived. I would much rather this house be inhabited by ghosts. Now, I write these entries only to firmly hold my composure together—for without ink and paper to make sense of these events, how might I otherwise remain sane?
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