Bulfinch Journal Final
From Black Country Role Playing Society
14th February 1969
The past few nights have been unbearable, the strange apparitions in my nightmares seem to follow me into the waking world. I must continue my trip however…
12th March 1969
I have finally arrived, and the place is not what I expected. Am I truly mad, for following the whims of a dream? The strange noises have started again and for some reason trouble me deeply.
24th June 1969
I am now truly destitute, the last of my inheritance is now gone. I had the fright of my life this evening. It was a terrible storm and as I gazed from the book to the window, a flash of lightning silhouetted a shape of vaguely human proportions. I swear I jumped out of my skin, heart racing so fast I thought any moment a heart attack would finish me off.
1st July 1969
I was contacted again today, and promised answers to that fateful night of so long ago. I was again urged to keep the book safe.
Oh how I hate that man! I had thought I had rid of that awful fellow many a year ago. Why, oh why did he have to return from the dead to haunt me and insist on meeting up? I am now confident this is the only way. God help me.
7th July 1969
I swear I am going insane, the strange noises seem to grow ever louder, a constant torment to my already fragile mind.
20th July 1969
My money worries have been eased. I managed to sell the last of those truly awful paintings. Why anyone would want to own any of them is baffling to me. I have advised him the last has been sold, but he didn’t seem to care.
1st August 1969
How I long for home shores, darkest Europe is indeed an apt description for the places we have been forced to stay at.
28th August 1969
Tonight is the night I am told. I hope at least to be released from this nightmare existence. I have been promised much, and grasp to such promises with withered, feeble hands.
Who knows what the future has in store for me? One of less torture can only be hoped for. Those damned noises!!!!! If only I could make more sense of them. I have resisted scribing their sounds, but this entry may be my last
ti’ke lee lay, ti’ke lee lay
Ok, I have the items and am now off to meet him in the prescribed place. Warburg’s promises had better mean something…
(back to Charles Bulfinch)
