The door to Jon's small, seaside home is left unlocked. A light coating of dust begins to form, barring a few surfaces - he clearly didn't stay long, when he returned from his last voyage.
Laid out neatly on his desk is a note, typed out on a typewriter, and poised purposefully beneath the desk's lamp.
To whom it may concern,
I'd like to apologize, first and foremost, for my deception. I've made it known for the last several days that I would be absent for a short time while Jean and I ventured on a study of some of their findings from Dr. Coldwood's expedition. This is not the case, and never had been the case.
If this note is found, that likely means we have been gone for longer than anticipated, and it is possible we will not return.
Our intentions were, to put it as simply as possible, to defeat and potentially kill the Prince of Fools, Mendel. Jean is a warrior with great capabilities of waging onslaughts on those not of our world, and our hopes are for my Sight to be able to guide us beyond the barrier, to the jaws of the Infernal. They have harmed our people enough, and this is our attempt to take direct action.
Doing so does not come without cost, of course. If we are to fail, we will be doing so outside the barrier. I do not believe we will be able to come back from this.
I'm sorry to anyone I've left behind, who are hurt, betrayed, or wounded by my avoidance to discuss it. I won't try to hide behind excuses: it is cowardice on my part, not being able to leave someone with worries so heavy. I can only hope that, should the worst have come, you know that I was doing my best to help the people of this town, and that, someday, you will find it in your hearts to forgive me.
To Zelda: You've been a wonderful friend to me, and I wouldn't have made it nearly as far as I have without you. Thank you for everything.
To Gerry: Be good, will you? Feel free to take any of my journals, as well as my stash of cigarettes in the lockbox beneath my bed, should any of it be of use to you.
To Annabel: I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. You deserved more from me. I love you. I've left you a pocket-watch I found in the sea. Please exercise caution with it. It may be cursed. I hope it isn't.
To Neil: You've bared the greatest brunt of my dishonesty, and for that, I understand if you cannot forgive me for it. I love you dearly, and I hope this cursed town someday sees you as you are: a man so fully of the people, willing to lay his neck on the line, all for the sake of truth and justice.
For anyone I've not written to directly, please take little offense from it - I'm writing this quite late at night, and am still grappling with the idea that it may ultimately be unnecessary. Be well, all of you, and may your lanterns always be lit.
A Note, Left On His Desk
Laid out neatly on his desk is a note, typed out on a typewriter, and poised purposefully beneath the desk's lamp.
To whom it may concern,
I'd like to apologize, first and foremost, for my deception. I've made it known for the last several days that I would be absent for a short time while Jean and I ventured on a study of some of their findings from Dr. Coldwood's expedition. This is not the case, and never had been the case.
If this note is found, that likely means we have been gone for longer than anticipated, and it is possible we will not return.
Our intentions were, to put it as simply as possible, to defeat and potentially kill the Prince of Fools, Mendel. Jean is a warrior with great capabilities of waging onslaughts on those not of our world, and our hopes are for my Sight to be able to guide us beyond the barrier, to the jaws of the Infernal. They have harmed our people enough, and this is our attempt to take direct action.
Doing so does not come without cost, of course. If we are to fail, we will be doing so outside the barrier. I do not believe we will be able to come back from this.
I'm sorry to anyone I've left behind, who are hurt, betrayed, or wounded by my avoidance to discuss it. I won't try to hide behind excuses: it is cowardice on my part, not being able to leave someone with worries so heavy. I can only hope that, should the worst have come, you know that I was doing my best to help the people of this town, and that, someday, you will find it in your hearts to forgive me.
To Zelda: You've been a wonderful friend to me, and I wouldn't have made it nearly as far as I have without you. Thank you for everything.
To Gerry: Be good, will you? Feel free to take any of my journals, as well as my stash of cigarettes in the lockbox beneath my bed, should any of it be of use to you.
To Annabel: I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. You deserved more from me. I love you. I've left you a pocket-watch I found in the sea. Please exercise caution with it. It may be cursed. I hope it isn't.
To Neil: You've bared the greatest brunt of my dishonesty, and for that, I understand if you cannot forgive me for it. I love you dearly, and I hope this cursed town someday sees you as you are: a man so fully of the people, willing to lay his neck on the line, all for the sake of truth and justice.
For anyone I've not written to directly, please take little offense from it - I'm writing this quite late at night, and am still grappling with the idea that it may ultimately be unnecessary. Be well, all of you, and may your lanterns always be lit.
Goodbye.
-Jonathan Sims