Graduation was today, but in truth that alone would not have warranted even a line in my journal. No graduation would have been nothing but a formality if I had not met her. I spied her moving towards the piano to play for the ceremony, she moved with angelic grace,, a goddess among we foolish mortals. Her beauty was mesmerizing and when her fingers struck the notes on the piano it was if she was playing my very soul, silencing the voices there. I must admit I was drawn to her like moth to flame and before I knew what I was doing I had asked her for a date. Much to my surprise she accepted. Elissa Hathor, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman, my woman.

August 21st 1910

The voices have been angry but they are unable to break the spell with which she has hexed me. Tonight she accepted my proposal and soon she will be my wife. I am soon to take up practice in a small town in Alabama called Killen. I am am to be the family practitioner for the city and surrounding area's, I must admit that I did not see this turn of events in my life, but I find myself actually happy for perhaps the first time.

January 12th 1912

The manor was completed today and christened Graystone Manor. I am quite happy with it and Elissa is beside herself having become pregnant as well during the building, soon I will be a father.

September 3rd 1912

Our son was born. Joshua Paul, I delivered him in our bedroom at 4 am this morning. I looked at him through tears of joy. He was so perfect, so wonderfully perfect, I know great things will come from him. I laid him to Elissa's breast and moved in close to hold them both. I am content.

August 11th 1913

Our daughter was born today Lisa Ann, Another perfect child. My experiments and voices are far from my mind. I was overcome with guilt as I looked at my two children in my wives arms, I set my caretaker to sealing the basement levels, so that I would never be tempted again.

December 21st 1914
My son is sick, years of training and all the medicines at my disposal and there is nothing I can do. Many in town have come down with this fever as well and nothing I try seems to help. They bang on my door wanting help for their loved ones but my own son is sick and I have no time for them. I do not have any means with which to save them...or my son.

December 30th 1914

I buried my son today, Elissa is inconsolable, I have no words for this journal as the voices remind me if I had finished my work he would be alive. They mock me even now.

January 8th 1915

I broke through the bricks sealing my lab from me. The voices pushed me on to my work, to what I had abandoned. The rats had escaped their cages and flourished down here, it was a good place to start . I gathered them up and took to my experiments. I could hear the piano playing a simple nursery rhyme above. It was so damn distracting. On and on and on she plays it, never ceasing except when she fades from exhaustion. She will not eat, nor care for our daughter, I have had to hire a nurse maid to do even that. But it is that infernal nursery rhyme that is driving me mad...

March 16th 1915

I am exhausted tonight, every experiment has failed, I further behind than I have ever been and still she plays that damn nursery ryme, each note like a hammer on my sanity. I have pleaded and begged but still she plays. Three nurse maids have quit and now our daughter is with out care and still that piano plinks out note after insidious note, pealing back my patience and sanity, the voice have taken to chanting to that damned song I must find relief. I can not work, I can not concentrate, there is no place of escape anywhere in this manor that the haunting melody does not find me.

Even at the office I find no relief, I hear every patient humming that god forsaken song. Over and over I hear it, the voices sing it, my wife plays it and the patients hum it. I filled my ears with cotton and wax only to have the voices sing it so loud I felt my head would explode. Whiskey and morphine only dull the song while incapacitating me from my work. I found myself almost unable to contain my rage with Mrs. Hanks who took to tapping out the melody on the exam table. It was only my nurses interruption that kept me from killing her. No I can not continue with this I must find away to make it stop, I beg even now for the voices to please make it stop.

March 17th 1916

****Again our efforts to translate this portion of the jounal have failed. Some progress has been made with one of our scholars finding similarities between ancient Babylonian manuscripts and Dr Graystone's, writings.****

I awoke from a horrible nightmare only to find myself and the bed covered in blood. At the foot of the bed stood my young daughter her clothes soaked in blood. The house was silent. I ran to the piano to find my wife her wrists slit, hands still on the keys. The Piano keys were covered in blood as if she had continued to play even as her life dripped from her wounds. I spent the day scrubbing at the stains but the piano would not come clean, the keys now stained with her blood. I returned to my lab, my daughter with me and found the above writing.

I wish that had been all, but when I turned from my journal there he was, John Doe from the mental hospital. He was bruised and battered, his bare feat raw from the miles he must have walked, his clothes soaked in blood, and he was braiding Lisa's hair. His bloodied hand Pointed to a wall, I raised my lantern and there in blood was written FIND THE KEY, FREE THEM. Did it mean the voices, or my wife and son. He then bent and kissed my daughter on her head, she smiled a smile so cold it put me to my knees.

October 23rd 1917

My daughter has taken to the care of my mad friend from the mental hospital, bringing him parts of her food. She sits in his cell and colors with him. Her doodles have begun to take on the shapes of the strange writing I continue to find in my journals. She has yet to speak a word but I have watched from the dark and her and John share some secret language I am sure. Their grunts and clicks bring smiles and laughter from both and each night that I bring a new body in they are beside themselves with joy and excitement. Perhaps she too can help me find the key.

October 31st 1917

I gave my daughter and John blood tonight. They threw themselves into a rage that nearly tore the doors from the cell. Their eyes rolled back and soon their hands were drawing symbols on the ceiling and walls. My daughter came straight up and looked me in the eyes speaking these words “The bodies must be alive, Death can only be unlocked through the living.” Then both collapsed on the floor and were still.