The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 6

(continued from part 5) "She was convinced that this... thing, was real. She was obsessed with it. In her last days, she spoke of nothing else." "Poor woman. How was it she... ah, forgive me. I shouldn't pry." "You were going to ask how she died? Its alright. Its seldom I get to speak of… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 6

The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 5

(continued from part 4) He smiled ever so slightly, as if the act were difficult for him and then removed two cheap shot glasses from the same desk drawer which had previously held the ambered and aromatic liquid and filled them halfway full and slid one across the table to me. I picked up the… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 5

The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 4

(continued from part 3) "How extraordinary." I muttered dejectedly, mouth falling open slight. Merric raised a brow and laid a firm, finely manicured hand upon my shoulder. "Are you feeling quite alright?" "I... no. I don't know what came over me. Its like... damn it. I can't explain. It were as a fit of... of-"… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 4

The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 3

(continued from part 2) Weeping. Faint and feminine and coming from the immediate upper floor. From Ward M-B. I thought at first that it might be a television one of the orderlies or guards had left on. Some of them carried small portable TV sets around for viewing during their lunch-break. I paused near the… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 3

The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 2

(continued from part I) He looked up then, panic clouding his sallow, shunken-eyed visage. I could tell I had disturbed him. "But I hear her at night. You said I wasn't mad!" "Calm yourself, sir. The mind plays tricks. Tree branches scratching the windows. Animals calling." He cut me off, speaking up quite stridently, his… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 2

The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 1

I know not how to begin nor how much time I have left to scrawl down the memories that squirm so uneasy in my thrumming skull. How does one describe such a thing? "Thing," that is the only word for it. For it was no man. Though doubtless fantastical my tale will seem, I feel… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 1