God May Pity All Weak Hearts
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himself and would keep any evil at bay.
I pray that this diary falls not into the hands of another, for they will surely brand me a lunatic for the following. Even now, sitting in the brightening morning, the image is at the forefront of my thoughts and cannot be burned away. I know that this was no bad dream, alcoholic delusion or mental reaction to the tribulations of the day.
For a moment, I believed I caught motion within that dark world, but this merely distracted me from the real fright that clung to the edges of the cracks.
Two hands, both pale as a cadaver’s, gripped the wall. Thin fingers were curled out of the shadow like worms from some dank underground cave where light is an unknown concept. Fingernails pressed into the plaster.
I gasped and nearly dropped the lamp.
As a landed fish may silently slide back into the murky depths, so too did these ghastly hands, their nails leaving the tiniest of paths along the wall.
For a long time, I sat perched at the edge of the bed, staring into that abyss, waiting for the rest of the horror to emerge.
What to do in the face of this dilemma? The beast appears dormant in the day time. As the sun rises and my confidence grows, I shall move the heavy wardrobe to prevent any further activity and consider my next move.
December 20th 1906. (extract)
How very foolish of me! I have reread my previous entry, which was barely legible due to my erratic hand, and have dismissed my recollections. A sad result of a very upset mental state, I adhere. Behind the wardrobe, the hole in the wall has not emitted the slightest of sounds, and every night I retire following my work at the Institute and my rest is undisturbed. Beast indeed!
Still no sign of Hodges, to my relief. His replacement, Rothering, a young man who works at the foundry, appears honest with no… tendencies towards my wife. Cora herself is busy as ever with the festive period, but I find her returning home at a reasonable hour and of acceptable sobriety. I believe she feels the guilt of her actions and has turned over a new leaf.
March 16th 1907 (extract).
As with Dicken’s ill-fated Scrooge, I have become tormented by festive ghosts. With Christmas and New Year many weeks in the past, it seems the period still is not over. Cora’s bookings have not shied over the cold winter, and she spends more and more of her time with those harpies at the Music Hall Ladies Guild. Her new found decency is lacking, with my occasional night spent solitary as Cora socialises well into the night, only to stumble home the following morning, still singing and intoxicated from the night’s adventures.
I fear we are slipping back into our old ways. Only yesterday, I attended the tailor to acquire new clothing for my work at the Institute. Cora too attended and after my measuring, informed the tailor of the material and colour which I desired! I will admit that I felt hurt and angry by her seizing of my affairs, yet held my tongue to prevent our discussions in public.
There is also rumour of Cora being seen with a man about town. I am yet to confirm these allegations and until that time must trust in the fidelity of my wife.
Sweet Ethel requested that we take a stroll through Hyde Park this evening, as she felt my disposition has been a little dark of late. While my heart flutters at the thought of such a rendezvous, I reluctantly declined. While Ethel is very dear to me, I am still a married man and must put all thoughts of romance aside. I will not lose Ethel as my closest friend, despite the sparks I feel as she takes my hand in those private moments. In these dark times, one must remain good and noble.
Mem. Must ensure I bait the traps. It would appear the rats are in the walls again. I can hear them at night.
November 2nd 1908.
It amuses me bitterly as I flick back through these pages and find these entries of a soul bared among the mundane lists of tasks and numbers! It paints a very sad portrait should you sift through the daily trappings of my day to day business and put the pieces together.
Just as the days follow their circle, as do the months and seasons, my marriage has once again come around to this. Cora has admitted, quite flamboyantly, that a string of lovers have passed through her life in recent months, lavishing upon her various trinkets and passions.
Like the patent medicines I so fervently promoted in my days with Dr. Munyon’s, sometimes the impact can be lessened with prolonged courses, and the body requires a larger dose to respond. My Cora, she has exposed me to her exploits for so long that nothing surprises me. Rather than react with the previous shock and heartbreak I have logged within these very pages, my response is hum drum. Cora’s constant perfidy has become the equilibrium.
So what now for the future? My righteousness and loyalty are crumbling, as is the wall of the bedroom, which deposits dust and plaster behind the wardrobe on an almost daily basis. I watch Cora as she sleeps. I do not take my wedding vows lightly, yet I lie in the dark, listening to the rats gnawing at the foundations behind the wall, and I dwell on the current state of affairs. While I grow tired of her wayward actions, which at times feel befitting to a woman half her age, I see now that Cora is happy, while I, on the other hand, have grown stagnant in my routines. I am not hurt directly by the adulteries of my wife, rather it is my own missing desire that pains me so.
Today, I may put to my dear Ethel to take a walk with me following our work together at the Institute. How my mouth goes dry at the mere thought! A girl so pure and kind may very well refuse my proposal, but I feel in my starved heart that she is to be the piece that is missing. May God give me strength for what I am about to do. While He shall surely disapprove of this affair, I trust the Lord shall see this is a matter of love, and lend me the courage to see it through.
January 5th 1909.
The oddest thing happened this evening. The theory of out of sight out of mind no longer applied regarding the growing hole in the bedroom wall. I have no idea how Cora can sleep through such a racket. The vermin inside attend their demolition work nightly, as if they are rushing to meet some deadline known only to themselves.
While Cora was out on one of her many exploits, I concluded my business for the evening and enjoyed a cup of tea before attending my night’s work. With some effort, I pulled the cumbersome wardrobe aside and studied the revealed wall.
The radius of the hole appeared the same and this didn’t account for the sound of gnawing nor the amount of dust that had fallen to the carpet. I initially deduced that the fissure had not overtly widened, but perhaps had deepened. However, there had been no sign of damage within our bathroom, which was the next room. Considering this queer problem, I lit the gaslight and peered into the darkness.
Once more, the light did nothing to shift the shadow. It was easy to imagine one looking through a window into the deepest reaches of space, a destination no telescope had the power to observe.
I reached out to sample the depth of the hole, but refused at the last moment. Something about this anomaly – the density of the darkness and a fleeting memory of dead fingers curled around the edge – refrained my hand. Instead, I listened for evidence of the long-tailed workers that coordinated such wreckage. Only silence reigned within.
Uncertainty gnawed me. It felt that this transgression against light had become my own personal affair, and I was unsure of the appropriate steps to take. It had become clear that some fiendish will was at play, and I had the suspicion that should I find the funds to have the hole repaired, the fissure would appear again, costing me of pocket and mind.
It was then that something revealed itself in the darkness, although to keep a true account I have to confess that the sight was glimpsed for but a second, and due to its nature, I cannot vouch for its authenticity.
Outlined deep within the darkness glimmered two small circles of gold. I gasped, believing that some hellish animal had been lurking in the shadows all this time, scrutinising me and drawing its malevolent plans.
To the relief of my beating heart, I realised that close to being a set of eyes, the golden object I had seen had been a pair of spectacles,
similar to my own.
As I stared into the hole, the sight now a mere memory like an after image of a bright sun, I held that not only had I witnessed a pair of small golden spectacles within the wall, but also a long moustache below and thinning hair above! How foolish of me! Driven to terror by my own reflection!
I surmised there had to be a mirror or at least a pane of highly polished glass within the wall. How it originally came to be inside the wall, I have no idea. However, as I raised the gaslight to seek out a second glimpse of this reflection, I found darkness.
Only darkness.
I replaced the rotten bait on the untouched traps and pushed the wardrobe back against the wall. This house deepens my curiosity once again.
July 27th 1909 (extract).
I must make efforts to secure this diary in future. I fear Cora suspects my growing intimacy with Ethel, and these words will betray me should her eyes fall upon them. Troubled sleep these last few nights. Hearing scratching and banging in the early hours that stir me from my nightmares. I worry the strain of my romance is beginning to tell. I am a doctor and a gentleman, and am not cut out for such secrecy! At times I pray to God for assertiveness in these troubled times.