The Secret Diary of Jane Elliot

Nonsense - 26th of May 1851

The clock has just struck twelve and I am ready for my adventure, and as the name suggests it could be dangerous. I barely know what to write except to ask you to wish me luck and pray to God that if death has decided that it is my time and it will have to sweep me off my feet that it'll be painless. Wish me luck.

---

Oh death sweeping me off my feet was such an understatement, dear diary.  Before I get ahead of myself I shall explain it all-

I went back to the graveyard with only myself and a candle. All I wanted was to see the phantom again and collect more memory of his attire, but I got so much more than that. After haven arrived back at the graveyard I took my time walking around. A strange mixture of fear and curiosity filled my every sense but I continued on until I had walked around the whole graveyard at least three times. It was very cold and I could feel my finger's numb but I ignored it all- my mind was set on seeing the spirit.

Finally, I noticed a strange light and I could feel my breath hitch as I recognized it. I knew I was close. I followed the light until arriving at the same mausoleum which it had led me to before, and then I lost sight of the fleeting string of light. Feeling defeated and tired, I looked at the mausoleum and then, with a frown and a sigh, I turned around to where I thought I was going to see nothing but the light from my candle showing my way back. But oh my dear diary, I was staring death right into his eyes.

Again, just as last time, I inspected him just as well as he inspected me. He wore a fancy, laced, black dress coat, and an elaborate ruffled white satin poet shirt underneath it. He wore black gloves, a black top-hat, black dress pants, and black shoes. I had never seen any man so darkly attired before, but, to be fair, he was no ordinary man. He was blonde, that was true, and his eyes were dark and glooming, but he glowed like an ominous spirit.

He had a handsome, Grecian profile, and a royal French strikeness to his pose, no matter how glooming it may have been portraying I, still, felt no fear. My heart aches to admit it, but I was captured and entranced by this spectre.

"Are you afraid?" He asked with an accent which I can only explain as being a strange mix of German and French. It may sound interesting and maybe even amusing on paper, but hearing it with one's own ears is like hearing an enticing piece of music, evermore capturing you.

"No," I admitted in reply, the phantom walking towards me with a curious and confused expression. He seemed like an ordinary man as he strode towards me, aside from his lack of etiquette. Yet, with him, I didn't seem to mind.

"You were," He narrowed his eyes at me, "Last time... Your eyes. They revealed it all."

I widened my eyes and looked into his. Black holes with a spark of red stared back at me but, still, I felt no fear. In truth, I was enticed by this man, if that is even what he is. Then he did something I still can not believe- he moved his hand and touched my hair. But, instead of moving my locks, his fingers went through my hair like the winter's breath of air and I could feel a cold tingling sensation crawl down my back from my shoulders.

The man grinned at my sudden shiver, which I had no control over. It seemed to have been unavoidable. 

"Why'd you come again?" He asked in his glooming voice which seemed to echo through the crisp air.

"I-I was curious," I admitted in half-truth, although most of the reason was to comfort my friend. I'll admit now that my actions were idiotic, since she tried to advise me not to go out there again, but I hardly know now whether I am unhappy or glad about my choices. This all must seem so very confusing for you, diary.

"Curiosity--" He began but I cut him off, rather rudely, now that I think about it, but I knew that I had to speak my mind.

"--killed the cat, I know, but satisfaction brought it back." He showed a strange look of surprise and amusement which I merely stared back at him in reply.