Saturday, 31st of October
Although lately I have found it to begin getting dark much earlier than it has been, this particular evening seems to have been even more so than usual. Perhaps this had something to do with the thunderstorms that have enveloped the skies. A lesser man might be inclined to spend the evening at home in quiet contemplation, but my physician has instructed me to take steps to improve my somewhat lacking health, and if I am to remain diligent in following his command, I must not let such a minor thing as a howling gale or two deter me from my evening constitutional. Indeed, as I found as I departed from my quaint little cottage, the evening’s was dark and stormy. Nonetheless, the walk was largely uneventful.
Granted, I do not seem to recall there being a ladder placed in front of my doorway when I entered the house this afternoon, nor do I recall there ever being any large black cats in the neighborhood, but nonetheless, both of these seemed to find their way into my path as I departed the house. As I closed the front door behind me, I was unexpectedly greeted by the crash of a shattering mirror, which I also don’t recall being there previously. I will have to remember to clean that up later on, somebody could get hurt by all of that glass. With the hour growing late, I made the decision to put this off until morning, and proceeded forth. As I assessed the weather conditions, I discovered that the storm had in fact somewhat tempestuous. Not wishing to catch a cold, but wishing to complete the evening’s walk nonetheless, I opted to take a shortcut through the old cemetery, where I found a bit of a commotion. A number of the graves appeared to have been opened, and their former occupants were wandering about the place, seemingly none too pleased about this situation.
Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, but it is my understanding that once one becomes deceased, generally it is required of them to remain in this state for an indefinite period of time. Granted, it must be dreadfully boring to spend all that time lying quietly with little to do but rot into oblivion, but I find it highly unbecoming for one to rise up out of their grave and shamble about the countryside. Years of rotting and neglect does dreadful things to one’s personal hygiene, creating a smell that I find to be most offensive. And don’t even get me started on this whole obsession with brains. I do suppose that if I hadn’t eaten a good meal in three centuries it is entirely possible that I might be rather hungry myself, but surely it wouldn’t take much effort to find a meal more satisfying than the flesh of the living. Even a reanimated corpse can clearly see that most of the brains they seek to feast on remain in use, and their present owners would much prefer that their brains not be devoured. A number of the apparently no-longer deceased gentlemen that I was confronted by seemed to be rather persistent on this subject. Perhaps if they hadn’t been so thoroughly uncouth in their approach to the situation, it may have been possible to come to some sort of agreement, but negotiation proved futile.
Although I do not generally advocate the use of violence, I have found that on very rare occasions it may become necessary to club someone repeatedly over the head with their own severed leg in order to get a point across. This was one of those occasions. I worry that perhaps I may have been a bit too emphatic about this, but then again, the slightly murderous attitude of these recently undeceased gentlemen made it somewhat difficult to work out a more diplomatic solution. Regardless, I believe that I made my point clear that unless there is a very good reason, dead people should generally remain dead. Having had my say, I proceeded on my walk, and made my way home. I think a few of them may have attempted to follow me, but I suspect it’ll take some time for them to make their way over here. I’ll worry about them in the morning.
In spite of my best efforts, it seems as though I may be getting a cold after all.