This will be short. I hardly can find the heart to say anything at all. The beast is dead. It was slain last night by two brave women in Caledon. But not before it slew Artemisia Paine. In front of my eyes, it emerged from out the still and blackness of night and took her away. It was over in only a moment, and she died in the snow where she fell. I felt her last breath...
And now I am once again alone and lost in this strange world. My one light has been stolen. When the undertaker came, I would not allow the body to be moved. Miss Paine is here, with me. With science did my father bend the very fabric of space and time. Surely, then, with science I can conquer what must be a far simpler problem. I will not rest until I have exhausted all possibility.
I can not now write more.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
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