Diary of Onesimus Snow

6th June 1892

Dear diary,

The events of the last few days have been as momentous and life changing as is to beggar belief. Even now I can scarce bring myself to fully comprehend the full implication of what has happened.

I have already recounted of course my trials over the last few months, my inability to gain a restful night’s sleep and the blank periods that have occurred several times. Well I now have an answer of sorts and it shall become clear as I lay out the order of events of this weekend.

It started well enough, my day off at last and I dressed eagerly and bid farewell to my household and set off for the bus to Muswell Hill to visit my foster parents. I must have had an episode at some point for the next thing I remember I was standing on a wooded path leading up to a country house. I do not mind to tell you that I was much perplexed. I paused a moment to collect myself upon which I realised a most bizarre thing, it was now significantly later in the day, evening in fact! Not only that but on a hunch I turned out my pockets and discovered a bizarre collection of unwelcome items, a wooden crucifix, a flask of cheap brandy and a letter of invitation to an art auction.

Even more perplexed I resolved to ask directions at the house and return to my employers at once and inform Doctor Rutherstone at once. At the household door I was greeted by an elderly gentleman who introduced himself as Dr Pemberton who asked if I was present for the auction, the exact same auction on the invitation I discovered upon my person. After making some small talk with the good doctor I was to discover that I was no longer in London but in an area called Potters Bluff, outside of Brighton no less. Unsure what to do but reluctant to endanger my employers reputation I presented the invitation I had discovered and was welcomed as a guest, I did of course feel most out of place but by all accounts I had little choice as the last train to London had gone and was grateful to accept hospitality until I could leave on the morrow.

I stood attendance for some time before I heard a name I recognised by happy chance, or so I thought. You will remember that some time ago I exchanged correspondence with Lord Dashwood, by circumstance it seemed that he too was attending this auction and I swiftly made myself known to him grateful as I was to share my plight with someone who knew of it and had shown interest. Lord Dashwood was most agreeable and intrigued by my situation and promised any help he could. Encouraged I relaxed somewhat and even talked to several other guests including a Father Moreau who seemed most agreeable. It think it was shortly after this that another episode struck and I returned to myself some time later with a foul taste of brandy in my mouth, the subject of scrutiny of the Lord Dashwood, Father Moreau and by several people whom I had never met. I was asked many questions of which I am afraid I did not acquit myself well but I was also told by Lord Dashwood that I seemed to have become someone else during my blackout with different speech and manner, a man of questionable means it would seem. Concerned of course I allowed myself to be examined briefly by both the good Father Moreau and one Dr Foster, another guest, both of whom seemed reluctant to give opinion on small evidence but consoled me somewhat but more was to occur.

The next few hours are mystery to me, I seemed to black out often and randomly sometimes remembering only a few seconds, sometimes an hour. No time appeared to pass for me at all between these fits but each time I returned to the foul taste of alcohol in my mouth and a fuller belly, I also found my clothes in some disarray.

During one of my longer periods of remembrance that evening I was told by various gentlemen present that I seemed to become another person during my blackouts, naming myself Samuel Wag, and more it would seem that I would adopt a different mode of speech and even habit and demeanour. Father Moreau went further to explain that as Wag I seemed a rough fellow of no manners or standing but more disturbingly seemed acquainted with many of those present and they with him. To my deep dismay it would seem that the only explanation for my situation was either one of total madness or some sort of supernatural occurrence.

My final memory of that evening would be at about 10 o’clock I presume; my sense of time is somewhat haphazard these days. With no one to serve and in my current state I took it under advisement from Dr Foster to retire to bed.

I awoke the next morning fully dressed (if somewhat sloppily) sitting over a puzzle poised to place a piece. I suspect my initial humour at this was a trifle hysterical but I say to you diary, who would have suspected a madness or ghost would take over a man and spend his/its time completing a puzzle?

This new day treated me no better than the previous one, I was becoming more susceptible to my ‘attacks’ each blackout lasting longer than the rest and each time I returned to myself my situation grew worse. If madness is infectious then perhaps I brought something to those present for madness is the only word I can find to describe what I encountered when awareness returned. Shortly after waking, some hour or so I believe I blacked out again and when I next returned to myself it was to more than before, their was a blinding pain in my back and I was holding a bloody knife in my right hand. I was told that in my fugue I had been stabbed by a Mr Potter, had swiftly disarmed him and stabbed him in return. Even more than this was the damage that surrounded me, several people seemed injured and Dr Foster had much work laid out before him.

I have never before been so lost and frightened, I could not fathom what to do and it took me some time to gather myself sufficient. Luckily my training came to my rescue and I fell to a serving mans duty without thought, I apologised to Mr Potter for wounding him and arranged tea for all present as best as I was able with my injury.

Whilst serving tea I overheard more disturbing tales than a man can stand, something about a group called The Pandoran League, a box taken from the grave of a child, a ghostly bride and much other strangeness I hesitate to recall. My next few hours, at least to my recall where a jigsaw puzzle with many pieces missing, each time I returned more gentleman were injured, being shot stabbed or beaten apparently by the grounds men of this house. At one point I was serving up tea when I was attacked by one of these fellows myself and he clubbed my brutally and I lost consciousness. I awoke in much pain from my ribs and my nose lying on the path in the grounds outside the house surgery, there seemed to be a pitched battle going on around me with gunfire and screams of the injured. Some kind gentleman helped me away from the middle of this affray and Dr Foster saw to me briefly. I am ashamed to say that I lost my wits upon being told that my nose had been surgically peeled of many layers of skin. I was later told that Father Moreau and myself had been beaten and captured by these groundkeeper’s and taken into the surgery where they had operated on us, Father Moreau was still captive but I owed my rescue to Constable Savage who heroically set upon my attackers but took grievous wound himself in doing so. Finally the battle seemed to be resolved in victory with Father Moreau recovered but with much injury to the gentlemen in the process, after recovering myself as much as able to attempted to aid the good Dr Foster in treating the injured but lack of medical supplies seemed as much an problem as the injuries themselves, I did manage to find some supplies for him from a croquet set and some household goods but they were barely adequate. I went blank again soon after this.

I came to in the middle of a different crisis, a lady of obvious breeding was in the house in a wedding dress, covered in blood wielding a knife and I could see through her. I know, I know more madness and yet it seems the more unreal things became for me the easier it was to accept. This would be the ghostly bride I heard of earlier and I find I must believe in what I saw unless I am to assume I am utterly mad for others could see her as well, even Father Moreau (missing a patch of skin on his forehead to match my nose). The ghostly lady spoke to one gentleman several times not seeming to hear his answers before fading before my eyes, shortly after I lost time once more.

Several more times I resurfaced into this mad world, each time to more injuries on my companions, and indeed less companions as some gentlemen succumbed to their injuries. The last time that day I came back to myself into hell it seemed, the air was thick with smoke and the stench of the charnel house. I was sat at the main dining table with several gentlemen all of whom bore horrible injuries. Lord Dashwood had lost an eye, and all others bar Dr Foster and I had been stabbed or shot to within an inch of death

Father Moreau has been such a help to me in all this, he was there whenever I returned to myself and explained to me as much as he could and gave me much guidance and promise of help, I suppose I must be at least assured that the good Father believes that I am not insane but affected by some spirit, I wish in a way I were mad at least it would explain the other horrors that I have seen.

It would seem as well that these events have awoken something in me, whilst sat at the table with the remains of the company I tried to follow what was said but not all made complete sense to me. I offered to make tea and whilst serving I feeling of danger and foreboding crept over me, it even seemed to come from a specific direction and upon investigation I found I could follow the sense like a trail to a box. It was explained to me in a disturbingly casual manner that the box contained a doll that could cause harm to one whose name was spoken to it at midnight, but that the doll was of no danger if left alone. So it would seem I can now sense something of the supernatural, perhaps this Wag has altered me in some way if ‘tis true that a spectre is the cause of my blackouts. If this is the case it would seem I owe this spirit at least a modicum of thanks for he has kept me relatively unharmed at a time when many have perished although, without his presence I would not have been in danger to start with.

The next day I arose early with the less injured gentlemen and set to work with a will, I helped move the bodies of the injured to a place where they would not be seen by the casual visitor or deliveryman and cleaned the smaller kitchen in order to receive such for the household that remained. The work served to clear my mind somewhat as I am in a quandary to my future. I have been offered work as valet by Mr Holmes which would be much to my benefit for it is a position I would not expect to acquire for some years were I to stay with my current employer, I would also not have to explain my injuries. However I do owe loyalty to my current employer and indeed am under contract until the end of the year at least. I have approached the Dr Foster to contact my employer and inform them that I have been attacked and am residing in hospital (where indeed I shall go after I have completed my work here) , which will give me some more time to think over my future, I suspect that although I do not wish to do badly by my family, a position with Mr Holmes would benefit me more and indeed protect those I once served.