(Author’s note: I am nigh sick with horror. Men: this is the consequence of spending BUT A SECOND away from your wife’s side!)

The dark oppresses me and the night is silent. My brave husband has been out since sun-up. I hesitate to open this leaf and pick up his pen, yet if he does not return this night, he would not wish the integrity of his narrative to suffer. I will press on and record these doings, hoping he will find my poor prose sufficient to the task.

The dark oppresses me and the night is silent.

Tho’ we are well provisioned, Leonard’s parents are weak from needing fresh-slaughtered meat. L seeks wild boar, but I fear the hunt may prove too hazardous. Luckily, Karaoke night at King Yum has been postponed due to the inclement weather. But who knows what other perils threaten?
At twilight there was suddenly a hubbub beyond the garden. A mob approached. Quaking behind the woodstove, our child, with hearing keen and honed by terror, identified at least seven strangers stumbling toward us, marauders hunting for food. Through a chink between planks, I spied a wolf, a zombie, two witches and a hobo, pounding upon our domicile demanding a handout.
“Mercy!” I cried, “what be ye asking for?”
Weaponless and alone but for the frail and helpless housemates, I snatched wildly at a sack of stale pretzels made with salt from the bay. Cunningly, I tossed the heavy sack through a window near the lantern; the throng pounced on the treats, scratching and clawing at each other in a frenzy. Before long, either the goodies, or the creatures, were gone.