Greetings to the living,
It is I, Raven Knightshade; within these pages are summations of the psychiatric files within the Manor’s vaults that pertain to the lives of individual souls who due to inattention of their own mortality find themselves guests within the Manor. In response to the chaotic atmosphere that surrounds the guests and grounds of the Manor, once again various changes have occurred. For a description of the Manor, its purpose and residents/employees please see any of the previous volumes of this journal, due to events that transpire continually at Knightshade Manor, the ectoplasm that surrounds the Manor and grounds, creates several additions to the Manor.
On the first floor, in a conference room; Aaron, Dena, Louis, and Caroline decided to have a meeting regarding my impatience to remove those from the Manor to the facilities that would better suit the patients needs, I sent my messenger Sallyn to listen at this meeting, as I am too busy working on this archives to eavesdrop, besides when you know a sylph, it is easier to use their vaporous forms to blend into the wall and literally become the “ear” in the wall. Aaron knows about Sallyn, and can smell the moist moss smell of her hair, he guards his speech well as he intends to side with me on all issues against Caroline, I do admire his ethics. An extended conversation is held in the kitchen between Caroline, Dena and Slurgh whose staff is completely out of control, as the Marions once again cause a revolt just to cause chaos as they literally live for this sort of thing.
On the Third Floor – Innocence lost, is the location of a majority of the townspeople from Maysville, which in essence was an American frontier town, frozen in time. The quaint architecture of the 1800’s with the pastel shades of yellow, pink, violet, blue, and green all trimmed with white boards, the streets paved with smooth red brick, with grout smoothed out of sight due to centuries of travelers. The annual festivals that marked the melt-off of winter, the advancement of spring, the celebration of the day independence was declared, and various other seasonally marked holidays. As the years wore on, and the young people moved to the city to earn their living, the town began to die a little bit each year. By the time the developers had arrived, there was little left of the quaint little town that served home-style hospitality to all who ventured near. The vacant lots and vacant stares of the townspeople should have warned the city-folk to stay alert. The city needed new life, and new life was what wandered in the day the developers set a plan of action to desecrate the land and remove the last innocent American town.
Camille, is an author who lived in the end of the nineteenth century, she was the wife of a diplomat from Eastern Europe. She enjoyed the luxuries due to her husband’s station however with ample time on her hands, she became a writer, releasing books on poetry and handwritten notes on etiquette. It was during an invention seminar that her husband requested that she attend, that she was left to her own devices and walked amongst that various booths of technological advances. She passed a booth with a glass box, standing upright, and just large enough to fit a person. She gazed at wide wonder, and asked the inventor what it did. He assumed she was unintelligent and expressed this opinion that it would be too difficult for her to comprehend. She touched the surface of the glass as he turned away to speak to another customer, the booth next door had a young man working with electricity, and as he cranked to wheel to generate a current, Camille’s hairpin touched the connecting canopy between the two booths, a jolt flashed through her body and she fell into darkness. The man turned in response to the half uttered scream and watched in horror as the woman vanished from site.
She awoke to a woman standing above her and hearing a beeping sound coming from a box with colored lights and lines flashing.
She looked around and uttered, “Where am I? Where is my husband?”
The woman placed a hand on her harm to calm her and turned to the assistant next to her.
“What is she saying?”
“I don’t know. We need an interpreter.”
Camille was speaking an extinct language as the country that she and her husband had resided in had been annexed with another and another country.
She exists in the future, and has no idea where she was, how to speak the language, or how to return to her own time.
The above transcription is in the beginning of the file as notated by Dena, the rest of her file can be found in the actual Knightshade Manor Volume 8 publication.
Contained within this volume, is a summation of files maintained within the basement of the Manor. As stated in all previous volumes, the intent of the staff is to facilitate the speedy recovery of all guests who find themselves within our domain, for, as always there is never a limitation to the influx of premature dead.