Diary of Lene Stein
September 5th, 1730
Tonight my father has been dead a year. His death was long in coming and at the end, exquisitely horrible. After his screams ended, the house of Stein lay silent for a time, as if we the family were walking around on egg shells for fear that his death was all just a dreadful mistake. Thereafter we began to live our lives in earnest and for a time there was light and laughter. But tonight I awoke from a waking nightmare, the window was open and the room cold as ice, and I was not alone.
