The Black Beast of Kittiwickshire

In all my life, I have never been very diligent at the keeping of journals, and so it is inevitable that days will be missed. But here, in this world, a single day may contain so many marvels that to allow only one to pass unrecorded seems criminal. Still, I have been much occupied with my geologizing and the unpacking of four crates of specimens, folios, books, and the misc. that so clutters the life of a woman of science. Often, the typewriter often sits forgotten, and I try to lose myself in work and not ponder my peculiar situation too long or too closely.

Two nights past, I had decided to travel from Babbage to the town of Victoria City in Caledon, and was taking the evening air and considering whether or not my flat had room for another chair, when, as I passed the town square, a great cry went up. Two officers of the Caldeon Militia appeared — a Capt. Susenko and a Col. Scaggs — who warned that "the beast was approaching." I had heard rumours of a strange creature roaming the wilds of Caledon, but had dismissed them as only so much superstition. However, to hear such strange alarms being spoken by armed men in uniform! I should note that, by chance, another Babbage resident was present, Miss Kaylee Frye, who, I have been told, is a most remarkable mechanic.

Only seconds after the first warning, the monster made its appearance, dashing towards us from the west. Hardly did I have time to realise what I was seeing when it leapt over our heads and vanished once more into the cover of night. Much confusion ensued, though Col. Scaggs and Capt. Susenko had sufficient presence of mind to continue their warning cries to the citizens of Victoria and to provide me with a pendant fashioned, he claimed, by a local alchemist, a sort of talisman to warn of the creature's approach and also to provide some defence against the beast.

How would I ever describe that brute? It must surely have been at least seven and a half, maybe eight feet tall. Covered in thick, matted black fur, it resembled nothing so much as a man crossed somehow with a black wolf — as with the werewolves of legend and folktales, and, indeed, Capt. Susenko called it that very thing. It had the most terrifying howl. Shortly after the first attack, it once more entered the square, and this time was fired upon by the bold militiamen, as well as by Miss Frye (who wielded some steam-powered weapon of her own design), but all to no avail.

This time, the talisman I'd been given glowed brightly at the beast's coming. Col. Scaggs suggested that it was using the rooftops to move through and about the city. Once again it vanished, but soon reappeared for a third pass at our tiny party. This time, the wolf thing charged directly at me, and, indeed, came so close that I felt its foetid breath hot upon my face and its coarse hair brushing against my skin! And once again, it was gone in a flash, and I cannot say why the creature did not seize the opportunity to do us harm, for surely it could have. Both the Capt. and Col. claimed our fortune was due to protection afforded by the talismans, a claim of which Miss Fry seemed to dismiss as only so much superstition (and she did refuse to wear one herself). But, when faced with a werewolf, and having myself spoken with a Sidhe, how could I then doubt the provenance of these brooches? It seems I have been cast into a world where science and magic somehow coexist, where reason and faerie vie for the eager minds of men, and I am at a loss for resolution. We kept to the square until sunrise, at which time the creature seemed to have moved off.

I have taken a keen interest in this "beast of Kittiwickshire," for, I think, it may hold some key to understanding the paradox of this world. Can the monster's existence be explained without recourse to magical beliefs? Last night, I returned to Caledon, this time to the more remote district of Carntaigh, hoping for another glimpse of the demon. I know how reckless of me this was, for I traveled alone and unarmed, with only the purported protection of the talisman to keep me from its claws and teeth. While I did hear the monster's howling repeatedly, I did not again sight it. However, I am almost certain that its howl was answered by the howl of another such fiend, calling back from some more distant part of Caldeon. These impossibilities — my mind reels, even after all I have seen and heard in the past twenty-five days.

Later, towards dawn, I was invited to visit Capt. Susenko at the laboratory he is building with Miss Gloriana Maertens in Babbage, on the opposite side of the island from my own flat. Col. Scaggs was there, as well. I reported what I'd heard that night in Caledon Carntaigh, and we talked also about science and invention (again, the constant paradox). He has seen my own workshop, and was taken with the small fossil saurian skeleton I have mounted. Towards sunrise, I returned home, exhausted and dizzy from my adventures.

And still, I have said little about the particulars of my conversation with Miss Terry Lightfoot, the remarkable being who calls herself Sidhe, or of Oolon Sputnik, with whom she travels through time. Also, there are the persistent, terrible, vivid dreams I have not recorded, which I suspect are evidence of my own temporal journeying. But not now. Later, if I am not so weary or if some new excitement or travail does not present itself. For now, I will place these pages in the envelope with the others.