"Within my dark chambers I have feared for my own wellbeing. A curse has
filled our beautiful city with a haunting reverence, which only I seem to
notice. This evil corruption follows me within each cobblestone passage and
red-bricked building. But, why is it that people do not realize? What do I
know that they do not? I have even consulted with the appropriate physicians
in the Pennsylvania Hospital, located on Pine Street. If I may comment, they
seemed to eye me suspiciously, as if I was mad. Despite the ignorance of my
peers, I still feel the presence of something unexplainable.
It is the Fifth of December, eighteen hundred seventy-three and in the late
hours, seven forty-six. No, it is now seven forty-seven. I am documenting my
struggle to escape the city, for I fear for my own life. It has started in
the evening two days ago, the Third of December. I was returning from the
First Bank when it happened. A horse-drawn carriage had just passed me when
I noticed a dark shadow creeping up behind me. Surely, I thought it was
another bank visitor, but it was not. A cold gust of air washed over me as
my eyes met what would become my contemporary dread.
Standing before my very own eyes was a vision of mine own self. Within a
timeframe between five and ten seconds of myself staring at me, a putrid
vision was created. I noticed a cut begin to take shape at the hairline of
my counterpart. Slowly, this cut enlarged, outlining its face. Numbed and
curious, I stood watching. The cut lines extended past the face, down the
arms, up the underarm, down the sides of the body, down the legs, along the
foot, between the toes, and up the opposite side of the legs, until the line
connected at the face. What I witnessed next has permanently scarred my
mind. A crooked smile arose upon my vision's mouth. The skin was sliding
away!
I looked down to see the skin detach off the feet. I looked up to see the
facial features intact, the mouth seemed to be laughing as it slid down what
would have been the chest. The eyes, still in the skull, watched my every
move, which I had made in its presence. At this point, I did not care to see
what would happen next. I ran for my life, so here I am now. I have not left
this very location since that incident. It seems as though time stands still
to a degree. Light is not entering my front windows, nor do I feel the cold
of night changing to the warmth of day.
The phone has rung but once, which is uncommon, because I work in the court
systems, which rule our city. This still quiet is both calming and yet
filled with a disturbing loneliness. Both, the fear of leaving my quarters,
and fear of what could happen in leaving, circulated my mind. After several
hours of intense debate within my mind, I made my way toward the door. I
reached for the handle, but I could not open it. The door was locked from
the outside. But how could this be? I would surely be able to open a locked
door from the inside.
I attempted to open the window, but the lock on top was welded shut. How has
the lock been welded shut if I had been the only person in the room? Slowly
I crept back to my writing table, where I am telling this story now. Wait,
there's a." Read the paper found on the desk in the man's office. He had
been missing for several months now. The last person to be documented in
seeing him was a man outside of the First Bank. "After asking him what the
time was, he stared at me for several minutes before running away,
screaming. I do not know what happened." Claims the man. He was around the
same height as the missing man who had written the account of his last days.
He also had several scars, which all seemed to connect to the same point
around his body.
filled our beautiful city with a haunting reverence, which only I seem to
notice. This evil corruption follows me within each cobblestone passage and
red-bricked building. But, why is it that people do not realize? What do I
know that they do not? I have even consulted with the appropriate physicians
in the Pennsylvania Hospital, located on Pine Street. If I may comment, they
seemed to eye me suspiciously, as if I was mad. Despite the ignorance of my
peers, I still feel the presence of something unexplainable.
It is the Fifth of December, eighteen hundred seventy-three and in the late
hours, seven forty-six. No, it is now seven forty-seven. I am documenting my
struggle to escape the city, for I fear for my own life. It has started in
the evening two days ago, the Third of December. I was returning from the
First Bank when it happened. A horse-drawn carriage had just passed me when
I noticed a dark shadow creeping up behind me. Surely, I thought it was
another bank visitor, but it was not. A cold gust of air washed over me as
my eyes met what would become my contemporary dread.
Standing before my very own eyes was a vision of mine own self. Within a
timeframe between five and ten seconds of myself staring at me, a putrid
vision was created. I noticed a cut begin to take shape at the hairline of
my counterpart. Slowly, this cut enlarged, outlining its face. Numbed and
curious, I stood watching. The cut lines extended past the face, down the
arms, up the underarm, down the sides of the body, down the legs, along the
foot, between the toes, and up the opposite side of the legs, until the line
connected at the face. What I witnessed next has permanently scarred my
mind. A crooked smile arose upon my vision's mouth. The skin was sliding
away!
I looked down to see the skin detach off the feet. I looked up to see the
facial features intact, the mouth seemed to be laughing as it slid down what
would have been the chest. The eyes, still in the skull, watched my every
move, which I had made in its presence. At this point, I did not care to see
what would happen next. I ran for my life, so here I am now. I have not left
this very location since that incident. It seems as though time stands still
to a degree. Light is not entering my front windows, nor do I feel the cold
of night changing to the warmth of day.
The phone has rung but once, which is uncommon, because I work in the court
systems, which rule our city. This still quiet is both calming and yet
filled with a disturbing loneliness. Both, the fear of leaving my quarters,
and fear of what could happen in leaving, circulated my mind. After several
hours of intense debate within my mind, I made my way toward the door. I
reached for the handle, but I could not open it. The door was locked from
the outside. But how could this be? I would surely be able to open a locked
door from the inside.
I attempted to open the window, but the lock on top was welded shut. How has
the lock been welded shut if I had been the only person in the room? Slowly
I crept back to my writing table, where I am telling this story now. Wait,
there's a." Read the paper found on the desk in the man's office. He had
been missing for several months now. The last person to be documented in
seeing him was a man outside of the First Bank. "After asking him what the
time was, he stared at me for several minutes before running away,
screaming. I do not know what happened." Claims the man. He was around the
same height as the missing man who had written the account of his last days.
He also had several scars, which all seemed to connect to the same point
around his body.
he was a visionary 
