Journal,
I can remember my first days in New Babbage and my instant love for the city and its people. New Babbage is a place where it is easy for one to keep secrets, the citizens never question you about your past and almost never snoop (unless one has become slightly infamous, of course). No one questioned me about my late-night walks or suggested that I was less than a lady for wearing pants. As I have been living alone there was no fear that someone would discover my little secret or question my trips to the pub or apothecary. All and all it is everything I could have ever wished for when I was younger, all the adventure with no one ordering me around.
However, the last few nights I have begun to question my love of solitude. I could dearly use someone in the home to hear me padding up the stairs and come to see if everything is all right. The last few nights in particular have been rather rough. I sleep quite well for part of the night, but then something happens. Not exactly a nightmare (I do think I wore those out when James and Rebecca died) but more a level of dread that, when I wake, can't quite be shaken. It drives a certain restlessness into me and makes me feel jumpy. So jumpy, in fact, that I've taken to keeping a lighted candle in the room as I have been certain that once or twice upon waking I saw a figure standing near my bed.
Perhaps my new home is haunted (though I've never trucked with that before), I may have a priest over to do a blessing (those are supposed to work, aren't they?).
Well, I think I shall go get a cup of coffee at the Cocojava.
~S.MacB.
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