In Regard to Our Existence (Paranormal/Horror)

Part 3

I had never known Green to be a man of superstition. The full extent of his fear of the illogical was a faint case of arachnophobia. Yet, I tell you that upon reaching the confines of his home, the paper found beneath the mangled corpse was immediately cast into the trash in effort to abandon its abhorred notions. From this point onward, Green did his best to separate himself from the curious case in the Victorian home and its loathsome bedroom in which a certain man died of unexplainable cause. Having the foresight of a man who has spent most of his life in preemptive evaluation of the world unfolding around him, I stealthily obtained the dreaded riddle scrawled upon the now tattered paper from its place in the waste bin.

We had planned on spending the next few days in Alexander's home so as to discuss and edit an article he had written and planned to submit to the scientific community. The 20,942 word piece had been assembled in attempt to dispel belief in the supernatural. The paper in which we were due to both review and revise stated occurrences of unexplainable happenings to be mere differences between the individual's account of the event, and the truth of the matter.

Just days before then, Green had proclaimed this to be his best work yet in means of both word selection and his revelations of logic. After returning home, as the talented author retired to his room, the article laid spread about the floor in neglect and disassociation.

That night, a certain yearning to know of the horrors within that Victorian home enshrouded by a pall of secrecy and terror overcame Green. He dreamt of fiendish beings girded in the black emptiness of night, who's trait's are indiscernible except through the confines of the dream state. The man's darkened imagination swelled with evil revelries unto the point in which he could no longer maintain it, and he awoke with a start.

Green now sat upright in his bed entangled within his sheets. Awakening did little to chase away the state of fright in which he had so recently emerged from. For hours upon end, especially the darkest hours of night, the man was tormented by his imagination.

As I have mentioned before, the practice of science almost requires one to abandon any sense of intuition. It was intuition that now caused my scholarly friend to return to the accursed house. We had decided, or more accurately he had decided, that we would return to the case of Andrew Hopkins within the following week. It was under the guise medical interest he had purposed we would do so.