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13th of October 1897


Thoughts creep into my mind. I swat at them like flies. Equally unwanted. Thoughts of betrayal. Uncaring. Selfish, dark thoughts. Their very existence is a concern. To me, to those who might discover them. It is peculiar to feel alone while surrounded by love.

I suppose it is fear of what is to come. I would rather draw my sword before the gun can be aimed. I do not want to act upon these thoughts. I truly do not. I would prefer for things to smoothen. Wouldn’t we all?

Perhaps I am afraid I will be the one holding the gun.

There is the certainty of pain. In the back of my head, prickling, stabbing knowledge that there is no easy way out.

We cannot predict the future. We cannot plan for it. Only prepare.

I simply want the time to pass faster, is that so much to ask for? Perhaps, when I blink, it will be another month entirely.

Art of London

by Samuel James

Their search of Jules’ room turned up nothing but a few stray papers of shadowy figures scribbled onto them, and the usual items one would keep in their room. ‘Face it Lacey, your grandpa was simply mad’ Liz said when she pulled another stray paper out of a drawer, turning it over she saw the familiar scribbled figure she’s seen on the other pages.

‘He wasn’t always like this though, something must have driven him mad’ Lacey retorted as she looked over the papers they’ve uncovered so far.

‘Yeah, old age’ Liz said in a sarcastic tone and turned to Lacey, ‘old people eventually go crazy, some sooner than others. Grandma Lena went mad a few years ago, couple of years before that grandpa Harris went mad as well, it happens to all old people’ Liz was getting tired of Lacey’s search for something that might not even exist. They’ve turned Jules’ room upside down and found nothing but mad scribbles.

Lacey shook her head, not believing that it was old age that did that to Jules, ‘didn’t seem like old age to me. One night he was fine, telling me and my brother stories of his various travels, then the next day he’s muttering about shadow people and constantly looking over his shoulder’.

‘I’ve heard of sudden onsets of madness like this, it’s nothing new’ Liz said with a roll of her eyes and shoved the page in Lacey’s hands before making her way over to the door, ‘let me know when you find something that’s not another drawing of a “demon”‘.

Lacey grabbed Liz by the sleeve of her dress, ‘come on Liz, you were always up for an adventure or two, why are you backing out of this one?’ she asked her childhood best friend.

‘Because I have things to do today, mother needs my help with her garden and then I have to bring some fresh herbs to grandmother when I’m done’ Liz said, which was enough to make Lacey let go of her sleeve.

‘Well alright then’ Lacey said, a little bit quieter than her usual tone. And with that Liz disappeared down the hallway and out the door.

It wasn’t long after Liz left that Lacey gathered up the papers she’s found and headed down the street to Hazel’s place, the poor girl hasn’t been alright ever since she found Jules and Henry all torn up in that alley and she could use a bit of a distraction, but she spent the last month locking herself away in her husband’s house, refusing to let in anyone she didn’t know.

Lacey walked up the few steps to Hazel’s house and knocked a few times, calling out ‘Hazel! It’s me, Lacey!’ she said, waiting for an answer, but she didn’t get one. After a long enough pause she continued, ‘It’s been weeks since anyone has heard anything from you and we’re slowly getting worried!’.

Lacey waited around for a few more moments before deciding that Hazel might not be here, but is instead probably with her grandfather in the countryside, far away from the city where she stumbled upon a scene straight out of a nightmare. She was about to turn around and leave when the door was suddenly flung open and a hand shot out, grabbing Lacey by her elbow and pulling her in, slamming the door shut behind her.

‘What the-! Who do you think you are!’ Lacey yelled and turned around to face the person who just pulled her inside. Who she was met with was a rather disheveled looked Hazel, ‘Hazel? I almost didn’t recognize you for a second’ Lacey said, now much calmer than before.

Hazel shushed Lacey, ‘not so loud, you don’t want them to hear you’ she said in a harsh whisper.

‘Don’t want who to hear me?’ Lacey said, now in a whisper.

‘Them’ Hazel simply replied.

News of Art, Art of News

A Brief Report From The Museum Of Mistakes

After months of waiting, the moment is finally here, dear London. One of our very own reporters has been approved for entry into the Ministry of Public Decency’s coveted institution, the Museum of Mistakes.

While the trip, for such an opportunity, was brief, and the matters legally restricted for us to write about, there are a few interesting bits we are obliged to share:

  • The paintings, all covered by a cloth, only sneakily peaked unto
  • The statues, always missing an important part
  • Molds in dishes, murmuring
  • Wax figurines, stuck mid-play (were they truly wax?)
  • A crystal orb with a singular blowfish within

The trip was not just for pleasure of journalism, it was also the business of mistakes themselves. The Ministry was reluctant to let us enter, however the fact we had mistakes to offer smoothened out the dealings.

The nature of our mistakes, of course, shall not be disclosed; they can, however, be viewed within the Museum itself. Not that we recommend such foolish things as attempting entry.

Some of the mistakes were of the more speculative sort. Was that Lord Mayor’s shoe? The Contrarian’s torn coat? It is hard to say what a Master-

Ah, perhaps, we have said too much.

Rest well, dear London.

Ask Mother Goose

Dear Mother Goose,
I only want the best for them.

Dear Yearning,
There are many places to look before the last.


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