Journal Entry 88 - December 4th, 1888 – 6:27 a.m. [Continued]
These antiques protruded through their pale palls like ghosts. When I shut my eyes and listened to the drumming of my heart, I heard the nearly inaudible shriek of Clifford. Knowing he likely cried out from the first floor, I stumbled down every flight of stairs and returned to the antechamber. Only the longcase clock ticked—my heartbeat pounding in between its sounds. I shouted Clifford’s name, though his unresponsiveness answered the questions I wanted to shake away. Then, from outside, Prince howled unlike any time before. The sound he made was low and drawn-out; when he ceased to bawl, I knew something far worse would transpire. I yelled everyone’s name—my sanity being swallowed little by little.
[This journal entry continues.]
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