Note From Hazel: Sorry this went up so late, I didn't get a chance to post it until now.
Dear Future. . . Or Is It Past?
by Eve Nightingale
July 27, 1911
Dear Past,
They have not yet returned, Past. Three days and they have not returned. I have stayed here, as promised, and looked after our animals, as promised, but I have not been able to find it in me to eat any more. At least I did not promise that.
I am so tired, Past. So very tired. I passed out earlier today and woke in quite a panic. Harry, that rather odd pig, woke me by poking me with his snout. I don’t know how long I was laying there till he did. I know it must be because I haven’t eaten but my mind simply won’t let me eat.
It’s such a strange thing, having one’s mind not allow you to eat.
I wish Mommy and Papa would come home. I miss them dearly. The town has been so quiet since Mommy hurried to the mine. I wish they would come home. . .
Yours till the end.
Your Future,
Lola Doran
July 28, 1911
Dear Future,
Somehow I ended up in the basement. I have not a clue how but I am just pleased that I am feeling much better. I have not checked upstairs quite yet so I do not know if Mommy and Papa are home. I have heard someone upstairs so I hope they are!
I had such peculiar dreams, Future. Such peculiar dreams. I dreamed a family lived here. Two families, actually. The first one was quiet like mine but the son remained here. Then another family came and were quite noisy. Both families added to this house and there were some wonderful additions and some additions were of terrible taste. I plan to tell Mommy and Papa about them. We’ve already added a bathroom and kitchen so why not continue improving this house? With taste, of course.
I think I will go get some food now. I will write again today if Mommy and Papa return!
Sincerely your past,
Lola Doran
July 28, 1911
Afternoon
Dear Future,
You will not believe me! I can’t believe myself but, Future, this house is haunted! I believe that is why my rest was so troubled. That family I wrote about earlier, the noisy one, are upstairs! Thankfully, they didn’t see me. I have retreated to the basement and am trying to find a way to get them to leave.
The house looks different too. They’ve ruined it. They’ve painted it such ghastly, un-naturelike colors—it’s horrid! They have these devices that make so much noise and they argue over them!
I must end the entry here. I have to find a way to get them to leave! This my house! The house where the Dorans live! Not whatever ghosts or demons they are.
Frightened but forever your past,
Lola Doran
July 29, 1911
Dear Future,
They are very good at ignoring despite what their behaviors suggest. I have tried all day to get them to leave but they ignore me. How incredibly rude. Not only do they invade my house, make it look ghastly, but they ignore me! Just wait till Papa comes home. He will not be happy.
School will be starting soon but I doubt I can go. I must rid this house of these ghosts before I can even think about learning. I just have to find a weakness of theirs. I have noticed that they disappe-ar from time to time, some more than others. The children disappear the most but then the entire family disappears at night. Perhaps if I could find a way to go with them or find where they disappear to, I can find out a weakness.
This is all ratty. Why can’t ghosts dislike garlic like vampires? I would cover the house in garlic and be done with it. Well, then there’s the problem of the multitude of garlic. . .
Your Past,
Lola Doran
August 2, 1911
Dear Future,
I have tried for the past three days to follow where the ghosts disappear to to no avail. I haven’t the slightest clue where they go. I would assume it was that they can only thrive during the day but the fact the children, and sometimes the parents, disappear during the day crosses that out.
They are such a strange family with such strange things. They seem to hate the quiet. There is always something making noise. They use something that allows people to talk and move even though they are not there. I’m starting to think their belongings are being possessed. Ha! I’m being haunted by ghosts who are haunted by ghosts!
These strange possessed items come in several different shapes and sizes and make all sorts of noises. One of the noises I think is supposed to be music but they haven’t a lick of taste. None whatsoever. No wonder they are haunting me. They weren’t satisfied with their terrible tastes and nonsensical possessed items that they can’t rest in peace!
Oh, how could I forget! Ghosts haunt when they are not at peace, right Future? I must find why they are not resting and fix it. Maybe I should break those devices. For my sake rather then theirs. They give me such a headache.
Your annoyed past,
Lola Doran
August 3, 1911
Dear Future,
It failed. Terribly. I’m not sure what I had expected. If they are ghosts with belongings, I shouldn’t be able to touch them and yet I still thought I could break their devices.
Everything I tried to use to break them just ended up going through them during the rare times that I found something I could hold. Now I am cursed with head-splitting headaches until they leave.
They are fond of walking through walls and I haven’t an inkling why. I guess that if I could walk through walls, I would quite often, but watching them walk through walls and not return for hours is so confusing. They often walk through the west wall at the south side of the house and don’t return for hours. The eldest child does that often, like her father.
Every night they disappear through the east wall at the northern part of the house. Why? I haven’t the slightest clue but I am trying very hard to find out. I will try to follow them tonight but I have a feeling it won’t work.
Sincerely your past,
Lola Doran
August 3, 1911
Night
Dear Future,
I can not follow them, Future. I tried walking through the wall like them but it will not work. I wish I could have heard the ending of their conversation. They mentioned something about a church in the next town over.
I have a sudden desire to go there. There is a very nice cemetery there. My friend is buried there and I often like to visit her when I am as confused and lost as I am now. I know it is silly to talk to the dead. They can not talk back after all.
Perhaps this family is buried there! I have heard their names often enough—they argue and blame each other often enough—that I am sure I could find them and see why they are so unhappy! I shall go tomorrow! No! Tomorrow night would be even better, when the ghosts are all gone!
Your excited and clever past,
Lola Doran
August 4, 1911
Dear Future,
Tonight I go to the cemetery! I thought about asking my friend Will to come but he’d just call me a coward. The heel. So I will venture alone.
I used to be scared of graveyards, long ago, Future. They scared me so much and I didn’t quite know why. I just knew they did. Then my friend Lilly told me a story about them. It’s a personal story so I won’t inscribe it here but it was a very sweet and sad story. Ever since then, I haven’t been scared.
I have my oil lamp all prepared and ready. I still fall asleep by it every night.
I have tried looking all over for my coat but have not found it. Rather annoying but I should be fine in the dark. August nights are not normally that cold.
I shall write either after I return or early in the morning if excitement does not override my sleep.
Your thrilling past,
Lola Doran
August 5, 1911
Early Hours of the Morning
Dear Past,
I am shaking with fear, Past. I do not know what to do but I know I must see where these ghosts go.
I went to the cemetery. I went to the cemetery to find their graves. But I didn’t find their graves, Past. I didn’t find them! I found Bethany’s grave but not this family's. Instead I. . . I found. . . OH! I can not say, Past! I refuse to write it! I refuse! I am going to find where the ghosts go and end this nightmare once and for all!
I refuse to say!
Your terrified future,
Lola Doran
August 12, 1911
Dear Future or Past,
Please forgive the lateness of this entry. I could not bring myself to write this but I fear I can not wait any longer.
I found where they all go at night, Future or Past, whichever it is now. I found where they all go. They go upstairs.
My home does not have an upstairs but theirs do or mine does now, whichever it is. My home never had an upstairs but I followed them up stairs to a new floor where they sleep. They have their own rooms, some have two, and sleep.
It felt so wrong being there. So wrong. As if I didn’t belong. I mustered up my anger that I like to call courage and marched up to the man of the house to try to wake him when I caught something in the mirror. Looking over, I jumped back.
Where I was supposed to be, I wasn’t. There was nothing there. No light, no shadow, no person. It was as if I didn’t exist.
I ran from the room and ran back to the graveyard. I forgot to take my lamp but I didn’t need it. These lights along the road appeared on top tall posts but I did not truly notice them until on my way back.
I needed to see if I remembered correctly of what I found and to my horror I did. I remember it, Past or Future. I remembered it clearly.
They have no graves. But Mommy does. And Papa. They never came home. . . Their deaths were the day the mineshaft collapsed. I guess Mommy tried to save Papa only to be crushed herself. They never came home.
But you know what I saw between them? Another grave. This time it had my name on it. My name, my birthday, and my death date.
I feel myself slipping away now. I know I was not being haunted but the one doing the haunting. I feel so alone. . . so cold. . . but I can hear them. I hear Mommy crying softly with both peace and joy and Papa calling me to them. They didn’t come back to me but rather went on . . . went to their true home.
What I don’t understand is why I didn’t go then? Why, when I fell asleep so tiredly and hungrily to a sleep of which I would never awake, didn’t I leave home?! Perhaps I couldn’t accept my fate.
It pains me to leave this home but, despite how noisy and troublesome this new family is, I know they will care for it. The eldest doesn’t want to let this place go. That brings me comfort. Someone else loves this home too and she will be with her family.
Mommy and Papa have grown louder so it is my time to go. . . Goodbye, Me. Goodbye, house. Goodbye world. Goodbye.
Sincerely,
Lola Doran
With a dull thud, the diary landed on the floor of the one and a half story house. It laid in a hallway to the eldest’s bedroom. It just so happens that that eldest daughter was running her way up the stairs. What is the wretched point?! If they want me to stay, why don’t they teach properly! In her angry daze, she did not notice the diary until she tripped over it. She normally had very good balance but when it came to being shocked back to reality, her body forgot all sense of balance.
She stumbled to stay upright, running into the chair in the hall as she scowled as to not cuss. Once she stood straight, rubbing her hip, she turned and saw the old, leather bound book on the floor. She paused. Not mine. . . maybe parents’. She bent over and picked it up carefully, noticing how cold the leather was. She didn’t think the air got thatcold that close to the floor.
She carefully opened it, always scared that she would hurt an old book, and looked at the very first entry back in 1904. She mouthed the words of the short entry before reading the signature. Her mother was walking up the stairs to check on her, that class had been rather dispiriting after all, so the daughter called out: “Hey Mom?”
“Yes sweetie?”
“Do we know a Lola Doran?”
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