Johnathan

1888 September 21, Siberia

Lately a peculiar restlessness has come over me. No matter how much I long to lose myself in a good book , I know I won't be able to enjoy it. I wander between the endless shelves of books but not even they can easy my fears.

I cannot in words describe what has taken hold of my poor soul. The things that brought me joy, now seem empty to me. I longs for something but I know not what it is. I can no longer sleep at night. I can't sit still, I can't bear to stay here anymore. Friends and neighbors are starting to notice something is wrong. I feel like I am going insane, but at the same time I know I'm not.

There is no reason for me to stay here. It has become obvious to me that what I long for is not here. Truth be told I don't even know if it is even in this world.

As I sit under the stars I still cannot say that I have found what I was looking for. My desperate longing to find it, what eve it is, has driven me to the coldest corner of the earth- Siberia. Strangely I feel more at ease walking the snow covered woods in the east of the Ural Mountains then at home with my beloved books. Never in my entire life had I felt the urge to travel, but there I was. I joined a group of explorers and set out to this cold and forsaken land. Why? I still don't have the answer.

As I sit there, by the campfire pondering my situation I notice something with the corner of my eye. Something glimmers in the dark northern night. I turn to look and just for a short moment I could swear I saw a woman. But that is impossible, there are only men on this expedition, there aren't any settlements around; what could she be doing in the cold night wearing a white dress. It could only have been my imagination. Yet after a while I get up and leave the warm fire. I walk in to the darkness nearing the place where I saw her. I stand before the very spot with a strange mixture of fascination and disappointment. There are no footprints in the snow. No human I know could walk in this knee deep snow without leaving tracks. My hope of her being real was gone.

Suddenly the restless longing in me awakens once again, i look around , I want to see her again. I feel as if I am close to finding the thing that I was so desperate to find.

In to the dark woods he went, without a word, without a light. Restlessness driving him; to where? He did not know, he just couldn't stand still. Time passes, minutes or maybe hours , but finally he sees something in the darkness. As he get closer he sees a woman dressed in white . He run to her, when the man reaches the spot she is gone.

i find myself in a large clearing. In the sky the pale moon cast it's light on the frozen lake. There, on the other shore i sees her and step son the ice, eyes never leaving her. Halfway there the ice breaks apart. i fall into the freezing water, the fur coat and heavy boots dragging me down under. i try to rise above, but when i turn my head i see her. Her beautiful face right next to mine, she glows like the moon, pale and almost transparent. Her hair is white like the snow and her eyes, they are such a shade of blue i had never known existed in this world. I knows I need air but I can't look away from her. She embraces me and I feel myself falling into the deep, deep darkness below.

Eleanor

1888 September 23, London.

It has been six months since uncle Johnathan left . To Siberia of all places ! I admit i feel guilty. Uncle was a kind man, i say was because i don't believe i will ever see him again. it's this feeling i have. When he left I thought to myself: i will never see him again. Since then I only received one letter from him. It said he had arrived in Siberia and met up with the explored group. Now for six months i have had no news of him or from him. My fear is quite logical, I think. Uncle has lived in London his whole life, he barely left the city and had never left England in his life. Siberia as I heard is a cold and dreadful place and my uncle is not young anymore.

Two day ago something strange happened. It rained that day, that's not what's strange, it rains a lot here. There is a painting of my uncle above the fireplace in the sitting room. Somehow the rain got in through the ceiling and fell unto the painting. At first it looked like it was crying but when the rain stopped hours later, uncles face was all blurred, all his features washed of by the rain. He looked so unrecognizable and ghost like.

Poor uncle. I fear i might be responsible for his fate. He took me in after i lost my parents, he was so kind. For as longs as i remember i had a kind of restlessness in me. uncle was a calming influence, with him i felt safe. But i fear that some of it has passed into my uncle and he only wanted to help.

Eleanor

1888 September 24

Days pass on. Life seems to be back to normal, more or less. Edgar, the black cat my uncle left me seems to have taken a liking to me. On long dark evenings I would watch uncle read by the fireplace with Edgar in his lap. Even now the cat sleeps in uncle's favorite armchair every night. The poor thing doesn't know that uncle Jonathan will not be back.

Sometimes I sit there and read; uncle did leave behind a large collection of books. Thou I must admit that even with a good book and Edgar here it still gets lonely. Especially on stormy nights when the whole apartment is submerged in this strange eerie aura. I feel cold even if I sit by the fire; reading or just writing my journal. No matter what I do this chill seems to be stuck to me. In moments like this these dark thought overcome me. I just can't help myself…..

There is just something in the way the shadows of furniture fall on the floor; something in the way the old grandfather clock ticks; something in the way the floor bards creak even no one is walking on them. It makes me feel more scared and alone then I have even allowed myself to feel. I only started to notice these things sometime after uncle left, I haven't noticed anything peculiar before then. Perhaps it's just the home weeping moaning for its old master. If so the we are not that different; I too miss uncle. So I shall try to find some comfort in these eerie sounds.

Something strangely wonderful happened to day. I saw this unbelievably handsome gentleman while I was out. He was tall and pale , with long , black hair. He wore clothes that really stood out, a red velvet coat and black top hat with a feather, he looked like a noble; yet people on the street seemed to pass him by as he wasn't even there. Our eyes met for a brief moment ; his eye were so pale in color, almost completely white. He smiled at me and said" Good day my lady" I smiled back at him but before I could say anything he was gone. He walked so fast, as if he wasn't walking but floating through the crowd. I don't know why this encounter has affected me so deeply, he probably forgot me the moment after we met. But I can't forget about him.

Eleanor

1888 September 29

It's raining again today. Rain isn't uncommon here, but it makes me miss the warmth of the sun. I fear the upcoming months will be nothing but rain- autumn is coming to an end, cold and rainy winters are fast approaching. The thought casts an icy shadow on my heart. The memory of howling winds and raindrops, taping on the window sill like fingers make me shiver. To rid myself of such gloomy thoughts I went out .

I can't stand being alone at home, especially at night; the winds howl and the fire flickers casting strange shadows on the wall. The floor creaks as if someone was walking on it. Sometimes when I look at the shadows at the corners of the room it seems like somebody is standing there. Sometimes even during the day I get the feeling like I am being watched , but there is no one her other than me and Edgar the cat.

I bought some fresh Darjeeling in the usual shop and some rose tea from a Chinese man. I never knew you could make tea from roses, but smelled so wonderful, just like the flowers. As I was leaving the market I saw him again, that handsome man from before. My heart leaped in joy and I almost ran across the street to greet him, but I stopped myself. A good thing too, for he was with a lady; she was so beautiful, pale just like him, with long black hair, she wore a long black dress that covered all of her completely, a beautiful dress with lace and ribbons, wide sleeves and a high neck. She looked almost like a doll, so perfect and flawless. They both looked so perfect together. I felt a little jealous, but I should have expect as much, someone so handsome would without a doubt have lady in his life. They got into the carriage and it went off.

I heard some terrible news while I was out. Apparently I young woman was found murdered at Whitechapel. Her body mutilated beyond recognition, as if ripped apart by a wild animal. The police had increased the security in the area. Thank god I don't live anywhere near Whitechapel. Thou with so much police there it is unlikely the killer will return, only the devil knows where he might be now.

I lock the door and closed all the windows; thou this is the third floor and a human couldn't possibly climb in through one. But there was the possibility the killer wasn't human. This made remember a story uncle had read to me once "Murders in the Rue Morgue". Could a monkey have escaped from the zoo or some unfortunate sailor and killed the woman? a creature strong enough to kill a human and small enough to fit in through the chimney. The idea scared me; I lit the fire in the fire place, nothing could get in while it was burning. Once more I checked the door and all the windows. Then I sat down in the armchair, my fear left me exhausted. Outside a storm was beginning, lightning flashed and thunder followed no fat behind. Watching the approaching storm I fell into an uneasy sleep.

Eleanor

1888 September 30

I had the most dreadful nightmare. Somebody had broken in; I was in my bed as I awoke and there it was: a tall shadow, that looked like a man, with burning red eyes. I was about to scream, but he leaped forward and was upon me in one jump as if he were a tiger. He grabbed my neck with both hands and I really felt like I was going to die .

When I awoke I couldn't believe I was alive. I was in the living room sitting in the armchair and fully dressed. My dress stuck to me from cold sweat and tears were running down my face. For once I felt glad I am alone, had uncle seen me like this he would have had a heart attack. How fortunate for uncle that such things can't hurt him anymore.

I took a nice long bath; the warm water washed away all the remaining feelings of dread. Edgar the cat sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed his head against my cheek. He meowed demanding to be brushed.

Mrs. Hopkins dropped by while I was brushing Edgar. She used to be neighbors with my uncle, before he moved here. When I first came to live with Uncle Jonathan he lived in the northern part of London. Few years later we moved to this apartment. Mrs. Hopkins told me that a strange man had been walking around asking for my uncle. Mr. Hopkins spoke to the stranger but he did know the address we had moved to and Mrs. Hopkins wasn't home at the time. Most unfortunate, I wonder who that was. However he left behind a letter addresses to my uncle, Mrs. Hopkins was kind enough to bring it with her. I asked about the stranger, she said she heard from her husband that he was tall dark and handsome and also quite young, thou he didn't give his name. I became very curious as to who he might have been- all the friends of my uncle were elderly gentlemen.

After Mrs. Hopkins left I couldn't hold in my curiosity and opened the letter, it is unlikely that uncle will ever read it. The letter read:

"Dear sir Jonathan,

We have never met but you once did a great favor for my father, Charles D. .I have recently bought some property here in London and I plan on living here. However I have never been to London before and I don't know anyone here. If it isn't too much trouble for you , perhaps you could introduce me to ways of this fair city. And should you need anything I would be more than happy to return the favor.

Sincerely, your friend J.D. "

After reading it I felt a little sorry for the man, if only uncle was here, he would definitely help him. I would be happy to help a friend of my uncle's but I had no way of getting in touch with him, I didn't even know his name.

Eleanor

1888 October 3

While I was out today I heard some rumors about another girl being murdered on White-chapel road again. I don't know how the killer got past all the police. Some folks are whispering that someone in the police might be the killer, a scary possibility. The city just isn't as safe as it used to be. As I was walking home from the market a crow landed on the road in front of me. I froze; the black bird just looked at me with its dark eyes. Then it cawed, the sound cut through the silence of the strangely empty street. It cawed again and again, the looked at me again and flew away. I was confused; the behavior of the bird was so unusual. I never heard of crows approaching people like this. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, I jumped from the sudden contact and nearly started screaming.

When I turned around I saw him, the man from before. All my worry suddenly disappeared, I must have been lost in my own thoughts since I didn't hear him approach me, thou the street was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. He smiled at me and apologized, I still couldn't believe we were talking to each other and I had to remind myself of the lady I saw him with the other day. he said he was looking for the home of Jonathan Kingsley . Nobody could ever imagine how surprised I was when he spoke uncles' name. Then I remembered the letter thought that maybe he was the tall, dark and handsome young man that Mrs. Hopkins mentioned. I said that my uncle was away on an expedition to Siberia. He seemed disappointed and I felt bad . I offered him my help. He Said he didn't want to trouble me since i'm a lady. I found out his name: Jack Duval . He asked to tell uncle when he got back to find him. Poor man, my uncle will never be back. His name made me remember the letter, the initial that were signed, they were J.D. I was about to stop him and ask if he was the same J.D. who wrote the letter but he was already gone.

When I got home I felt so horrible, the man I so longed to meet has finally approached me and I could do nothing for him .If he really is J.D. he needs to know that my uncle is not coming back and that I am the only person who he can ask for help. Then I remembered that I had no way of getting in touch with him. What if he never comes around here again Feeling like a fool I sat in the armchair ,with a cup of tea and Edgar the cat, reading a book of poetry to relax. The fire in the hearth burning with a cracking sound and rain slowly tapping against the window.

I was absorbed in the book that I didn't notice the time flying by. When the old clock stroke midnight I jumped from the sound. I never noticed it getting dark. Putting the book down I made my way to my bedroom holding the candle to light my way. Edgar was asleep and noticed nothing. As I walked past uncles study I hear a noise. I stopped, the room wasn't locked but I never had any reason to enter it after uncle left, so I didn't. I opened the door, a strange feeling guided me there. I was afraid yet curious. At first I saw only darkness, then I lit the candles on the large table. The sound was that of something hitting the window. I looked at the windows and there I saw it, a black small shadow , what looked like a bat flapping against the glass. It made a screeching sound and I became almost absolutely sure it was a bat. The creature seemed like it was trying to get inside. When I rose the candle higher to get a look at it, the thing flew away. It was probably trying to find a place to hide from the rain, poor thing. I went to bed without being troubled by anything else.

Jack

1888 June 27 

We are traveling across Europe, Cordelia and I. France, our lovely home, thou it mains me to leave it we must.  Italy is our destination, thou we will only  arrive after many weeks.  This trip is not for pleasure or  sightseeing.   Cordelia is to marry a Italian noble.  She does not wish to marry that man, but our financial situation is rather dire. Our father was once  noble but in his last years he fell  and lost his fortune to alcohol and gambling. He borrowed money and never returned it. It made him many enemies so no surprise when he was one night murdered. 

Poor mother passed away recently, she had been bed ridden for years,Cordelia had been looking after her all this time, not moving, not reacting to anything. One could think she was dead if it were not for the slow rise and fall of her chest. May she rest in peace. 

At first we had sold our residence in the city and moved to the county manor, it partially covered the debts our father left. But the house needed to be maintained, even after we dismissed the staff. What mother left us is laughable: trinkets,old books, clothes. I have yet to tell Cordelia this, my dear sister would be saddened if she knew, i sold the manor to make money for this trip. We have no home to return to.

She does not wish to marry that man, neither do I. He is a brute from what I heard  and nothing pains me  more than imagining my frail, beautiful sister  in the arms of that man. I my self will be taking a bride, a widow of a merchant, not a young woman to be sure. But sacrifices need to made if we are to survive in this world. 

The carriage moved along a forest road. Cordelia peacefully asleep on her seat in front of me.  Long rides always made her fall asleep. 

We left early in the morning, it was now day, how long had it been since we left? I can only wander.  The coachman stopped to rest the horses. Sister got out to stretch her legs, I thought of going outside myself but i heard a sound.  Clearly I was alone in the  carriage, yet something was inside there with me, I could hear it but not see it. 

As I looked around I saw it. On the back window of the carriage was a black moth like insect. It was flapping it's wings, but not like a trapped creature trying to get out, it was graceful , almost as if it was dancing with it's own reflection. It was hypnotizing.

Cordelia returned and I looked away just for a moment, when I looked back the moth was gone as if it had never been there. 

Curious. I wonder if it was just a dream or perhaps an omen of some kind?

Jack

1888

June 29

It’s morning, but the day is cloudy. Fog is settling in, not a good day to travel.

We have spent the night in an inn. The rooms were small so I had to take a separate one. The coachman stayed with Cordelia, I have instructed him not let her out of the room. The crowd that gathered downstairs can only be described as appalling.  Those drunks probably never saw a noble woman in their lives; I dare not think they might do to my beautiful sister.

The food was hardly expectable but we need travel with little expense as possible. The vine was not the best but neither was it the worst. The stew however was probably the worst thing I’ve ever had in my life. The meat tasted like none I’ve ever ate, and whatever animal it was, if it indeed was an animal  had probably been dead for longer than anything used for food should.  I could not allow my sister to eat something so horrible, I paid the old hag in the kitchen to make a meal specially for her. 

I blame my nightmares on the terrible food, the bed was hard as a rock and the pillow was uncomfortable. I hardly got any sleep and the few hours I did manage to sleep I had terrible nightmares.  I dreamt of  storm. A powerful wind bending  tress  to the ground, black clouds running across the night sky, lightning flashing with blinding light and the roars of thunder so loud they were deafening. And when lighting flashed I saw something in the distance, as if a figure was standing on the forest path, too far away, too small to clearly see. When the next flash came it was no longer there where I saw it first. It appeared to be gone. But then I saw it again on the third flash of light, it seemed to have moved closer for  it seemed to have gotten bigger and clearer. With each flash it was slowly moving closer with the storm following close behind. I cannot describe the fear that gripped me, I cannot explain why …

When I awoke it was silent, all still asleep. The fog had covered the forest but as the day gained momentum, mists cleared making way for the sun.

Cordelia was cheerful and it filled me with joy. As we set out on out journey once more she sat on her seat in front of me looking out the window at the passing scenery, she was saying something about the birds chirping and the flowers but I was too exhausted to focus. Unable to fight it let sleep take me, thou Cordelia was usually the one to fall asleep on rides. I did not wake  for many hours. Despite being in a moving carriage I had no dreams this time.

Jack

1888 July 6

The journey has been uneventful. It might have started out somewhat unpleasant but I have gotten used to life on the road now. During this time we have stayed at several inns, none as bad as the first. Nightmares are a thing of the past.

The day was sunny as is typical of summer time. We have moved out of the woodland area for the time being. Now it’s open fields and towns. Flowers blooming in the summer heat, cattle grazing in the fields, townsfolk hard at work tending to their crops, vineyards full of grapes ripening in the sun.

Cordelia decided to go for a swim when we   were passing by a small lake. She had been complaining about the heat all day. It would not do for any of us to overheat and a swim will not hinder our journey in any way. While she was changing into something suitable for swimming I went to look around. The coachman tended to the horses. They walked into the water thou didn’t go deep and drank for a while, then moved to the shade and lay down lazily chewing on grass around them.

It had been a while since I’ve seen her in anything other than the gowns she wore. We lived far from any source of water so my sister did not possess any appropriate swimwear. She emerged wearing nothing but her undershirt that reached slightly above her knees.   It had short lace covered sleeves and a low neckline decorated by a small white ribbon. Slightly above the ribbon I could the smallest hint of her breast exposed and I felt my breath get caught in my throat. I could not look away, thankfully she did not notice.  She ran right past me towards the water and jumped in splashing much like happy child and not the young woman that she was.

When did first notice it? I can’t recall, but slowly the little girl i took for horseback riders and read tails by the fire had grown into a woman. Already sixteen.  For the longest time it had been just the two of us, she is all I have, the only family left to me. I cannot bear the thought of losing her to anything to anyone.  Sister, when did first I notice how beautiful you are?

As we entered the town we passed the local graveyard. A funeral procession crossed our path, but I noticed something strange about it. Two men walking behind the casket carried objects that seemed unsuitable for such a procession. On carried and ax and the other, close to his chest held a long wooden stake and a hammer. I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.  We were still far from the German border, and I was amazed that the superstitions of Eastern Europe gypsies had invaded my dear France.  Only uneducated fools fear the dead coming back. At one point of his life my father had been a respectable scholar and a doctor and he ensured his children were well educated. 

I overheard some men talking in the place we were staying in. The girl they buried today, it was a suicide, so young only sixteen, a year younger than my sister. They feared she would come back because her death was unclean. I almost laughed out loud at their words, once something is dead, be in by natural cause or some tragedy, they are gone for good. That is the truth of this world.  I made sure Cordelia was not around to hear any of it. She was always so sensitive and compassionate, such a thing would weigh on her mind, and there was no need to burden her with such things.

But I fear that despite my best effort she might have overheard something. I was still not asleep even thou it was late, I simply could not sleep.  There was a commotion in the hallway outside my room. I heard footsteps and hushed voices. Curious I got up and went to check.  I was greeted by the coachman and the owner’s wife who was just getting ready to retire for the night.  The cause of this was Cordelia, she was sleepwalking apparently. Her eyes were closed, arms stretched out in front of her, her face looked serene. She had tried to get into the small balcony at the end of the hall.  Desperately trying the open the window and get outside. I pulled her away, she resisted at first. I called her name, eventually she came around. She looked confused with no memory of what she was doing, or what she dreamt about.  I decided to watch over her for the night and switched rooms with the coachman, but Cordelia slept peacefully for the rest of the night. 

Jack

1888 July 16

I am at a loss of what to do. My sister is ill, and it is not some common cold either. Ever since it happened the first time in that village Cordelia has been sleep walking every night. Two days ago we nowhere near any towns and had to spend the night in the carriage. I woke to find the door wide open and my sister gone, the coachman was sound asleep unaware of anything and my efforts to wake him failed. I suspect he had been drinking in secret. The man should have been on watch for anything dangerous, but he fell asleep. Unfortunately there is no means of finding a replacement.

I ran into the woods screaming her name. Dreadful scenarios flooding my head. What is some wild animal had gotten to her. What if it was worse- some passersby saw how beautiful she was dragged her out of the carriage. Perhaps she was sleep- walking. Anything could still happen to her.   

I finally found her in a field of flowers; under the light of the full moon she looked so pale as if she was a ghost. She had at some point removed her dress and corset and was in nothing but her undershirt.  She stood there reaching her arms into the large full moon as if embracing it. I walked up to her and just time to catch her when she suddenly fell. I held her, she did not wake up, it seemed she was back to being sound asleep.  I lifted her and carried her back to the carriage.

On the way I noticed something red on the white undershirt. It was blood, but only a small amount, a small scratch on her neck, must have been from the low branches while she was sleepwalking. I am glad she got away with just a scratch. This is nothing compared to what could have been.  But her sleep walking was becoming a problem, I know not of a cure for such a thing. Even if there is one, we are on the road, far from cities big enough to have specialists of such matters.

After the incident for the next the two days  she had been very weak, she didn’t eat anything and mostly slept,only awaking in the evenings before dusk. She seemed to be paler and it had caused me serious concern. But since adopting this new sleeping pattern of sleeping during the day she hasn’t sleepwalked even once. Perhaps it was a symptom of a more serious decease. I merely hope it is not consumption. 

1888, August 8th,

Johnathan

I have received a letter from someone I have not heard from in a long time. James had been a dear friend of mine that was before he married in a noble family, French one of all things! He had always been a spender as long as I have known him. We had kept in touch many years after he married and moved to France. Had two children. So I told him that if they ever wanted to see the land of their fathers I would personally show them show them around London.

The letter was strange, I could not read it- must have been sent some time ago. The writing was just smudges and scratches. Perhaps he had been drunk when he attempted to write it. Paper it was written on looked almost ancient, yellowed with sight sighs of mold. Why would he sent me such a thing? Perhaps it was just a drunken attempt to get back in touch, I don’t remember him ever being one for tricks like this. I wanted to throw the paper out and write a reply asking him what he meant by it. But the strangest thing happened. As I rose my hand to toss it into the burning fire place, looking at it one last time I thought that there was indeed something written on it. Held over the flame it looked like the illegible scratches and smudges form some kind of pattern that perhaps it is some ancient language and not nonsense after all. So I thought about taking to the museum, maybe they can figure out what it is.

Nonsense is what they called it, complete and utter nonsense. Well, that should prove it, I should just toss the thing, but somehow it’s still there in my pocket, it had been all the way home. I took it out looking at it again. Sumerian, he said, some of those scratches look like they might be Sumerian, but most likely the similarities are a complete accident. Yet I cannot stop looking at it, cannot stop trying to read it.

I went to bed feeling frustrated, perhaps that is why I had such an unusual and vivid dream. I dreamt and in my dream I saw the letter but the strange writing, indeed it was a writing, made sense. As the letters moved across the page in a spiral I began to feel myself pulled into it. I saw a place, not the warm Sumerian climate, no. it was ice and snow, a mountain surrounded by whiteness wherever you look.  And in this dream I was flying thought the air, and the snowflakes danced around me forming the words on the paper as they went on. But when I looked to the sky I saw no stars. The sky pitch black. I was so close to the mountain now, but my splendor was replaced with terror as I heard the air all around vibrate as if the world and the air themselves had begun to speak. The voice spoke but I could not understand the words because they had been a language I have never heard. And thus I awoke in my bed, cold sweat on my brow and deep sense of dread in my heart.