Archive for May, 2013

443

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

Dear Andre,

Young Peter Bradford has made a very frightening argument for Angelique being not just healer, as was her mother, but a witch, as well.  Similarly, nothing is as it seems with Barnabas Collins.  Please be advised that, if Angelique appears, she is to be trusted only to a limited extent.

N.

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442

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

“The statements made by me regarding Miss Victoria were untrue.  I recant my entire legal argument and wholeheartedly suggest she be freed post haste.”

Thank you, Reverend.  It may require a tad of embellishment, but doing homages of valued signatures is a specialty one gains only in the finest of boarding schools, and I will aptly apply flourishes taught there when necessary.

The final brick’s mortar should be drying.  My main concern now is the aroma. Good Ben Stokes is used to such a bouquet, often finding his own complimented by a whiff of a ripening corpse, however, my own sense of smell is heightened to the point of discomfort under most circumstances.

As for explanations, I must proceed wisely should others sniff about.

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441

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

It’s quite something, hearing dreams.  For many nights, I thought I was going mad, but now I know that I am hearing the dreams of those I choose.  More importantly, I can now manipulate them.

“Abigail” has visited Trask.  She advised him on where to find the witch.  I’m expecting him at any time.

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440

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

Mr. Ben Stokes has made his prodigal return.  Amid the quest for my cane, I have continued to increase the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Rev. Trask.  A phantom hand.  A signature ring.  A voice heard only to him.  He’s sincere in his fight against the devil, and it was a pleasure to laugh at his invocation of faith and Providence.  He’s now mad as a March hare in the eyes of The Eel, as well.  He’s in a bit of a panic, and I must say it’s the first time I’ve had fun in quite some time.

Searched for the cane.  I think the noise may have upset other guests, but I dropped the body off in Trask’s quarters.  There is nothing like a strangled prostitute left in the bedroom of your ordained enemy to ensure that he will experience vague uneasiness.

Carried her there as a bat.  That was not…

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439

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

In my haste to escape an unfortunate situation, I did the unspeakable: the cane was lost.  My signature cane and bearer of the family masthead.  The Eel (reliably inconveniently) interrupted a feeding. It was supposedly buried with me… a singular item.  I must have it.

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438

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

Today, I said farewell to Mr. Ben Stokes, I think.  His disinclination to assist me in entombing Rev. Trask in one of the cellar larders was the cause.  I thought I could force him.  I certainly did what I could to intimidate him.

Trask is a more than deserving recipient of torture and death.  That’s a theatrical into which I’d hoped Ben would have cast himself… as the lead.

My plans continue apace.

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437

The Journals of Barnabas Collins

Today, I once again exercised my will.  It has been as if I’d grown up believing that I had but one arm.  The use of the second is something that has reflexively been triggered and reflexively used.

In this instance, it was the mental torture of the good Rev. Trask in exchange for arranging the execution of Miss Winters.  His fears were so obvious.  The hallucinations as easy to create as fogged breath on chill morning.

I remain shocked by my well of anger.  Others experience vindictive attacks and lose loved ones, but do not walk the path as do I.  Has this rage always been there?  Is it an effect of my condition?  I never recall being this bloodthirsty as a man, but if I were, why?

BC

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