Dear Elizabeth

The following documents were salvaged from 1920 Orchid Char Ln. on Saturday, October 14, 1989. They were compiled by the Indiana State Police department for their records. Each document was written in a different layout but they have been reformatted here with their original documentation included.
From the writings of Walter Hemingway...
Dear Elizabeth,

Today I’m having a party. You would’ve loved it. I hope I can see you soon. I am inviting lots of people. I don’t know most of them, but it’s okay. I have to go now. The guests are arriving. I do hope they are nice to me. I do hope nothing bad happens. I think it’s going to happen to me again soon. I hope I can see you before long. I do wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye.

Love always, Walter
From the journal of Sid Dorsett...
10/13
As soon as I entered the door, I knew it had been a bad idea. The place was freakin’ creepy. I mean, I knew the guy was a creep, but still. As I limped in (I can’t remember why I was hurtin’ now), it was really hot. Then I saw the fireplace. It was huge, and there was wood a’burnin’ in it. It gave off a lot of smoke and it choked me. I had to get out of that smoke room, so I went through a door and up some stairs into this freaky statue lined hallway. It was freezing, and I still hadn’t seen anyone yet, so I kind of peeked around and I found the source of the cold. There was a window open in this bedroom that I’m writing in now, and there was more smoke coming from this weird old fashioned lamp. Oh man, I think it’s happening again. I better stop writing…
From the journal of Anne Baldwin...

I was stiff as a board as I went up to that big old house. That man had a history and I was a little bit frightened going in, but I sucked up that fear and pain and marched in that door. As soon as I stepped inside, beautiful, smoky incense filled my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply. I sighed happily, and I felt a touch swoony, so I made my way out of the room into a parlor on the pretense of looking for a seat. There were no mirrors anywhere, so I never once caught a glimpse of how I looked, and I didn’t dare glance down, save someone should see me. However, I did find a seat, but it was dreadfully uncomfortable, and I was getting very impatient to meet this man, so I proceeded up the stairs into a dreadfully cold hallway. Some beautiful foreign statues lined the walls, and I caught another whiff of that incense. I was feeling a bit strange again, so I hurried toward the smoke hoping the man might be waiting there. However there was just an abandoned lamp giving off lovely oil vapors. I sat down frustrated at his desk and decided to write this. I’m descending into delirium now, I believe. My head aches worth something… Oh I think it’s happening. Oh gosh, oh Dear Lord help me…
From the journal of Sam [surname unknown]...

I decided to come for one reason, and I came for one reason only. I was mystified. I didn’t know how that elusive shifter had slipped the invitation to me and I wanted to meet the man who could trick me. My legs and arms were ‘bout falling off as I walked in to that smoky entry room, and I left the door cracked when I got myself outta that room real quick. I saw another door open and I just made way away from that rancid smelling smoke. Soon I found myself in a cold grey hallway with some interesting statues guarding the walls. For a moment, I considered investigating them, but I heard a quiet hissing noise, and a door at the end of the way was illuminated, so I made my way towards it. The room had an air of smoke in it, foul disgusting smoke. However, I was tired and alone so I decided to rest on the bed for a bit, and I had a sudden urge to write so, here I am. I’m feeling very tired and achy actually; I think it might happen soon. Oh, it’s starting I better stop……
From the journal of Mike Dorsett [no known connection to Sid Dorsett as referenced above]...

I don’t know why. I just thought I should. I kind of forget everything until I got there. All I remember was getting up out of the snow hurting like the devil had just reached though me. I wasn’t feeling too great about myself as I trudged up the walkway. I promised myself over and over that it wouldn’t happen again. I walked in and the room was suffocatingly smoky. The fireplace must have been going for a long time. I could barely see or breath, and I as got down towards the floor to get a better look, I had one of those thoughts. It was a quick and weak one, so I just shoved it out of my mind. I saw some footprints going in one direction, so I crawled the other way. I found a door and made my way through it. It was much less smoky in the next room. I presumed it was a dining room. There was lots of expensive kitchenware, and I just kept walking. Before I knew it, I was in another room leading back into the smoky room. There was a set of stairs leading up. I darted up them. At the top, there was a hallway. There were more footprints leading to one end and an essence of smoke. At the other end, there was a single door. I strode towards it, and when I went through, there was another half-flight of stairs. I leaped up the stairs to the landing and went into the room. It was a study, and I started to feel strange as I looked around. There was yet more smoke coming from a lamp, and I was feeling woozy, so I sat on the floor and decided to write this. Oh it’s happening again, it’s very strange, this thing, and it happens at the worst moments. I’m standing up now and I am walking. Oh, here’s where it really gets stran---
The following portion of the document was written by police officer Edward B. Ruthoford...
9:18, 10/14

My commanding police chief walked briskly up the front walk, his feet crunching in the year’s early snowfall. I trudged behind him shivering and fuming about how much of an idiot he was. He walked right up and opened the front door. A plethora of smoke erupted out the open entrance, and he let forth a string of choice words. He then decided to let the place air out through the door for a moment as we took a trip around the house. I noted 2 open windows and discovered a small journal, which I pocketed for later attention, while he seemed vaguely uninterested, and only looked a little bit at the scene where the man had died. He then resumed his bored stance, looking slightly impatient to get back into the house. When we made our way back around the house, the smoke had barely cleared. He was chiefly concerned with investigating the house, whereas I was more leaning towards searching outside the house. Of, course, he won, so we began our quest into the smoky house. The first order of business was to open the windows, which we did, and the smoke cleared considerably after several minutes. He found several footprints going around the bottom floor. Most of them went towards the kitchen area and up the stairs off that room, but one set went the other way around through the dining room before going up the stairs.

“What kind ‘a ship was he running’ round here?” the chief exclaimed.

“I don’t know sir,” I answered monotonously.

“You know what Ed; I’m tired o’ your lip. I can see you and don’t give me that look gosh darnit, I’m tired a’ you and I just think you should know that before you do something you regret.
As the hot blood rushed to my head, I practically spit out the words, “I don’t like you either sir because you’re rude to me, you treat me like I’m dumber than your stupid pet dog, and you, frankly, are a blatantly senseless idiot.” I stood there seething as he stared at me for a moment.

“Fine then,” he suddenly announced. “You solve this case by yourself.” And then he left. He just walked out. I was so astounded I just stood there. I looked stupid, I bet. I was glad though. The man is an infernal idiot. I was speechless. I swear he…
Anyways, I started completely over from there and interviewed all the neighbors. I found out there had been a party, but no-one wanted to go because the old fart that lived there had started to get pretty creepy after his wife, Elizabeth, had died. When I told him that he had died, they seemed unsurprised, but they wanted to know how he had died. I told them that was unknown, which was partially true. After I had finished that, I went back to my squad car for a break. As I was eating lunch, I remembered the little journal I had picked up while we were walking around the house. I read through it a few times, and it basically explained everything that we had seen in the house, but there were still a few things I didn’t understand. For example, why were there two windows open? And what was this about the man going insane? I reread it one last time and things just begin to fall into place. As the sun reached its zenith in the sky, I went into the house upstairs, and down into the room that only had one set of footprints.
I listed things I knew in my head. The man was insane. He had written a letter to his dead wife. He had died from jumping out a window. But that only explained one open window. Why were there two? And why did…
Then it hit me. The party guests were fake. They weren’t real. They were all one person. The insane man had gone through mental brakes, called fugues, that changed his state of mind and he thought he was different people. He had several fugues, that he referred to as “it’s happening”, in the same room and ended up jumping out the window due to his self-hypnosis. In reality, the fugues were caused by his need for his wife. He had consciously forgotten that she was dead, but he knew unconsciously. This caused his unconscious mind to try to commit suicide as he went through the fugues. However, when he hit the ground after jumping out the window, he hit just so hard that it jolted his mind into different states, and therefore different people. Nevertheless, the window was just low enough that the fall didn’t kill him. It did make him very sore, though, as he mentioned many times between his different states of mind.
Wow, it is hotter than Mexico City on the most blistering day of summer in here. I’ve been writing in this room that I came up to since I realized that the door had locked behind me. I closed the window since it was chilly outside but, I have to finish this. Anyways, the last time, he fell from a higher window than every other time, so he died immediately.
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. There is a lamp in here, and I’ve just let it burn, but the desk just caught on fire. It’s spreading. Oh my gosh, it’s spreading. I’ve got to find a safe. A fire safe. Now. This must be saved. And, Oh Gosh. Oh, please help me. Oh I love you Jesus, please, please help. It’s happening. IT’S HAPPENING. No. I can hold on long enou------

The above information was salvaged after a fire on Saturday, October 14, 1989 from 1920 Orchid Char Ln. The fire started in a small room as was noted in the text. Officer Ruthoford died in the fire. Soon after, the above texts were salvage from a fire-proof protective lock-safe and it was determined that Officer Ruthoford was correct in his accounts and deductions of the death of Walter Hemingway the previous night. Soon after Ruthoford’s death, his commanding chief descended into depression and died. This has been filed by Benjamin Michaels, Indiana State Police Department.