June 12th, 1869

There has been a death.

One of the men who was infected with the rash passed away. His delirium got the better of him. His doctors say there was nothing to be done, he was too far gone. Near the end, his temperature flew sky high, and he succumbed to his illness. He went out screaming and pleading wordlessly with some unseen horror. Everyone heard.

At least the man was unmarried. He had a rather large house for a single person, so it's really a good thing that he’s gone. We can move in another family that's better suited to the home. A nice large family of working stock would be good for us. Lots of stupid little children to grow up into stupid workers is what we want. The education in the town is dismal for that exact reason. Raise them dumb, and they’ll do anything you say.

Father is... enraged. He’s been speaking of my incopetency, harassing me through letters. Saying I should have wrapped up by now, when I’ve barely started. He doesn't understand how much it takes to become known and trusted in the town. There are many men with suspicious mannerisms, and constant rumours. Each day it becomes more difficult for everyone to continue work, and more people consider leaving to take their chances elsewhere. The workers don't see that they wouldn't be wanted anywhere else. They’re already bottom of the barrel scum, and they’re audacious enough to entertain the idea that they could make a life for themselves in the bigger towns and cities. I know cities, so I know that these people belong out here in the dirt and mud, squirming with the grubs and maggots that they so resemble.

I just wish the weather would let up. It's been raining and raining for such a long time, I’ve forgotten the warmth of the sun. Everywhere is absolutely slicked with mud, and some of the mineshafts are hidden underwater. We already had enough problems with the recent lack of gold, and we don't need them added to by the loss of certain passages underground. I’m beginning to have suspicions that the miners could be stealing gold. I don’t yet know how they could pull it off, but it would certainly explain the slump in our mining success recently. I’ve asked Father to up the security around the entire town, and especially the mine entrances. If anyone is trying to sneak down there illegally, there will be severe consequences. Hopefully upping our security will help everyone fall in line. Taking a severe approach to discipline and order is the only way.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

My cabin has been even more dismal than usual as of late. The rain has flooded the cellar, so the whole place has an odour of wetness and rot. I think the ground is shifting from erosion, because my decorations have been falling off of walls and rolling off tables. Every time I try to close a door or open a window, something gets stuck because it’s all so crookedly built. I despise shabby handiwork, almost as much as I despise the sounds of the animals at night. They’re ravenous and savage. Coyotes yip and howl, and I can always hear them tearing some tiny animal apart, limb from limb. Some nights it sounds like it's on my doorstep, it's so close. And to top it all off, some kind of nocturnal bird has been screeching its lungs out lately. If I didn't know better, I’d think it was a banshee. Constantly droning and flapping in the background. I

really ought to get myself a shotgun to take it down myself. At least then I might find some peace, and at the very least, it would make an interesting decoration over my fireplace.