The Haunting of Elsinore Manor

▪︎ Two ▪︎

Oct. 15th, 1907

Dear Diary,

The days are getting shorter, and it makes me sad. How much longer will father be away? I'm certain he said he would return by autumn. I find I can't remember when he left. Was it summer? June, perhaps? I don't know.

The boys were arguing again last night. Rosen was yelling at Gilbert something fierce, claiming Gilly had hidden his precious wooden horses. Father made those horses for Rosen, and the way he acts, you would think they were pirates' treasure. Perhaps to him they are. Gilly swore up and down that he wasn't to blame. "Chester did it!" he had cried.

Honestly, I realize he's only six years old, but why would Gilly need to make up an imaginary friend when he has a perfectly adequate older brother to play with? I suppose Gilly could be tired of begging Rosen's attention. Gilly needs a playmate, while Rosen is content on his own. That's the way they've always been.

I think Gilly misses father. They both do. So do I. Uncle Claude is a poor substitute. He makes me uneasy. He stares too much and says too little.

The whole house feels different without father. I miss the way things were before.

Yours truly,
Ophelia

~ * ~

That boy came back. I came into my room and he had everything on my shelves rearranged. I asked him why.

"I like it better this way," he told me.

He wears funny clothes. But he seems nice enough. I told him we could play together as long as he stops scaring me. He said he didn't mean to.

~ * ~

Oct. 18th, 1907

Dear Diary,

It's raining again today. A cold rain. English autumn. The sky has been so dark with storm clouds this week that it never really looks like daytime outside. The boys are going positively stir-crazy. I think boys need to play outside daily or they lose their minds. They were fighting about "Chester" again this morning. Rosen says he's made up. Gilbert is convinced he's real. Mother is weary of the whole situation. She tries to praise Rosen for being practical while simultaneously trying to not discourage Gilbert's imagination.

Poor mother. She smiles and comforts us, but I can tell she's sad. She misses father. I overheard her saying to Uncle Claude that she "...never expected a notary to have to travel for such long periods of time." I'm not entirely sure what a "notary" does, but it's father's job. Uncle Claude says father is currently in Romania, which, I gather, is very far from England.

Uncle Claude. I don't like the way he looks at mother. There's something strange about it. Something unsettling. I wish he would go.

Yours truly,
Ophelia

*