~𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓵𝔂~

Chapter 3

October 4th, 1952

Saturday

Dear Diary,

I have forgotten to write to you, these days there is so much going through my mind I am unable to remember much. Days come and go without any realization or change. I do not know what is wrong with me, but John says that I should recover soon enough, and I look much better, but I do not feel any better. Claire is always so kind to me, she said that she and John were making sure that I recover as soon as possible. Sarah is always quite distant and seems to be acting strange around Claire and John, but I do not pay much mind to her. I try to sleep but cannot, I try to relax but cannot. It seems I am not capable of rest anymore. At night, mysterious creaks and knocks plague me as I hide beneath the sheets, shadows that disappear just as I turn my head to look at them. John says their all in my mind. But I disagree. Yesterday when exploring the house, I stumbled upon a big library in the east wing. A tall room with walls decked with old books, some going as back as the 19th century. Books with torn silk covers and flowers pressed into its pages along with notes scribbled in the margins in a hurried unreadable writing. I sit in the library for hours, reading and flipping through the musty pages of the thousands of books. Novels, cookbooks, textbooks, poetry books, sketch books, books about mythical fairytales and creatures, all sorts of books are packed into that room. The library takes my mind off things, but I still want to go out, run through the grassy fields and feel the open breeze on my face. I say to John that going out would make me feel better, and that I should be allowed to work again, but he keeps telling me that I am improving, and those things would just distract me. Claire also assures me that I should not let these things get to my mind. I always see John and Claire together, they are always hiding in the corner and instantly moving away when I come into the room. I feel ashamed that I am hiding this diary from John, he genuinely wants me to recover.

I keep seeing shadows on the walls and whispers that seem to be coming from inside the walls, John says that they are not real, and I should not let such thoughts have such an impact on me. Sarah is asking for me, I must go.

Yours lovingly,
Margaret