Hey everyone,
It's pretty late here. Been a long day. It's been a while since I've posted, though, and I don't what you guys to get bored. So here's a creepy letter from Thomas during his stay at Boston Corner.
And a transcript:
"Barnes,
God, they’re here! The phantoms have followed me! I woke up in the middle of the night and knew they were at the window. I didn’t even have to open my eyes. I could sense them. Three? Maybe more. I didn’t want to look. Didn’t want them to know I was aware of them. I tried to go back to sleep, but I could feel their eyes (do they truly even have eyes as we would understand them?) upon me. I got up, staring at the floor, and closed the curtains without daring to look up even once. I doubt that really did much good, though. I could still feel them watching me. At some point, though, I must have fallen asleep. It was morning when I next opened my eyes.
I still feel their presences everywhere. It’s so hot out today, but I feel cold. The Astarapomp has told me they are attracted by the energy of the portals. He implied that they were just animals feeding off the energies of the doorways. But I know that is not true. They are sentient. They seek out the portals- they seek out me!- for a reason that has the clear feel of intelligence behind it. I do not like that the Astarapomp is keeping something secret from me.
I need to clear my head. I’m going to walk to the drug store to get that film, then I’ll head back to the hemlocks and take some pictures of those bog plants. Write more later.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
It’s evening now.
The bog plants were gone. Not a trace remains. It’s as if someone pulled up every single one. Did the black phantoms take them? Why? So much for photographing them.
I found something better, though. I finally located that roof gable from the other world. And more! I found workers from the machine race. The ones I saw in the intergalactic hub. Their biological parts had rotted away, but the mechanical portions were still intact. At least I was able to get some pictures of them. I’m collecting their remains this time. Don’t want them vanishing like the bog plants. You can look them over when I return and tell me what you think.
The gable is in a weird location. There aren’t any trees nearby that I can climb to get a good picture
of it. But I’ll see what I can manage.
I’ll be staying a few more nights, I think. Not sure what I’m going to do here. But something tells me I should remain in the area. I have had this feeling before. Perhaps the Astarapomp will contact me again. Perhaps the portal will open. I do not know.
At the very least, I can use the down time to catch up on my reading and edit this brochure I’m writing about the Townsend Lighthouse Library for the display going up. You know I was finally able to get access to the Katherine Whig Collections? God, they keep that thing locked up so tight. Luckily I knew the Collections clerk from that piece I did on the Voynich Manuscript exhibit a few years ago. I was able to chat him up enough to let me take a look.
I just looked out the window. Night is coming. Will the phantoms return? God, I won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.
Tom"
