The Whitaker House Curse
1
December 23, 1902: the last entry in the diary of Jules Croft
I must confess that for someone who is about to die, writing in my diary is a most odd notion. However, since there is no form of self-defense, no diminutive space on earth in which I can hide that will keep me from this terrible fate, I must do what comes naturally—I must write.
Being a man of middle age and a widower of nearly six years, writing gives me a chance to converse with my beloved Joan. She never answers me, of course, but I know the spirit of my dearest reads what I write, nonetheless. It comforts me to know that, and I must do what comforts my soul. These few words will be my last comfort—in this life and the next.
It is almost midnight. The witching hour. The winds howl outside my home. Their coldness has breached the window I now sit by; they betray the one who is, no doubt, waiting anxiously in the eldritch comfort of the shadows outside, counting down the minutes to my doom. At the appropriate time he will enter and begin to search the rooms, one by one, until he has found the only one occupied. That room is my room, and the Devil himself will be here to collect on a debt.
There is great debate in theological circles as to what the Devil looks like. Can he take the shape of a mere human, or is he the cloven hooved monstrosity portrayed in so many paintings and pictures? I have seen both diabolical manifestations of that most fallen of angels. And even at this very moment, as I hear the deliberate, hollow clapping on the cobblestone in the street below my window, I know which form he takes this night. The intruder is not far off. He is eager to take what is his, so I must hurry to put to paper the events that precipitated this dreadful event:
Dead of Night Description:
Dead of Night is a compilation of 6 turn of the century era stories told with a Victorian flare and traditional horror plots with unexpected endings. If you like ghosts, ghouls, werewolves, and demons, this book is for you.
