Until morning comes

[Prologue]

[a/n: I did not create the journal entires, I simply just copied and pasted them from their website XD so don't think I'm some sort of genus and I came up with this myself. I'm just implementing the characters in a way I see fits the lore]

September 12th

I began my search in the summer of 1956 after hearing of the town of Weeks, a place that had an unusual number of missing persons reports. America is filled with such towns. But what made this one more odd than some,was that there had never been a report of a body found. Indeed, the number of open missing cases stood at a staggering 364, the last of which happened a mere ten weeks ago. So, thusly I embark on my journey.

September 21st

It only took me a few hours upon my arrival to feel the malignant presence that lurked in the forgotten town of Weeks. Its buildings and structures in various stages of decay, all of them abandoned to the ravages of time. I visited the library in Wetherfield, a nearby town. It didn't take me long to find information about the region. Once a vast, prosperous and sprawling industrial area, Weeks, suddenly became a ghost town, not through the lack of iron ore, but on account of a series of terrible disasters.

Once again, I had found a place touched by the darkest of evils, so powerful that it spread like a virus in the area, consuming the world around it, rotting the core from within. The locals of Wetherfield would not discuss or talk further of the town of Weeks. The locals acted like the sort of thing you would see in your weekly Penny Dreadful, their eyes wild with terror. What happened here?

September 23rd

I have spent two days in this derelict library. The archives are somewhat unorganized. But I have managed to learn more about the town of Weeks. I get this eerie feel as I sit in that basement, but I feel a need to learn more. I have come too far now. I managed to piece some parts together and it seems like everything leads back to The Macmillan Estate. A huge industry with a mine and foundry and the former heart of Weeks. I found some police reports and complaints. But no sign of legal action. The archives here does not tell the whole story. But my mind tells me that I need to find this place. As The Macmillan Estate might sit upon some answers about these unexplainable disappearances I simply must go further. I feel somewhat uneasy as my comfort zone most often is behind a desk. But I can not be shackled to words and must instead make use of action. All I have managed to find out is that some deaths occurred and it was just shortly after that, that this...rot took hold of Weeks. I have tried to find my way and I asked the librarian. But she refused to even talk about it. Old maps in the archive show the way. But nobody is willing to take me. I will set forth tomorrow. On my own.

??? September (?)

I can not explain what happened today. I awoke to find myself in this strange place. I have no memory of how I came here. My last recollection was of leaving Wetherfield and beginning my journey towards The Macmillan Estate. The last part I had to travel by foot.. A seemingly never ending fire burns next to me. I can not even tell how long I lay asleep. This area of the woods seems to have no day or night, just an intolerable gloom. Unsure what awaits me but I will keep filling this journal. Maybe with a hope to warn others.