The Journals of Barnabas Collins

Tonight, I came upon Mrs. Stoddard standing atop Widow’s Hill and, thinking she was to jump, scared her senseless as I caught her from the edge.  I continue to be drawn to that hill.  She has a bent toward the acceleration of mortality.  Again, I speak of my concerns and they are none the wiser.  I asked if death or life contained more torment — ironic subjects on the eve of her wedding.

She is clearly terribly unhappy with the Irish Irritant, and so his death cannot come soon enough.  But how to be subtle?

The spectrum of life and death becomes increasingly unclear.  I hope quite fervently that Sarah is indeed returning.  However, I have no idea how I would respond were I to see her again.  But I want it fervently.

My attention remains on finding companionship.  Attempting to navigate my loneliness, I have found myself attracted once…

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