dead letters!! and more

[A worn journal, found in Room 4, stuffed with letters. The writing is incredibly difficult to make out and almost incomprehensible, but with enough time and effort, one might be able to read a sentence or two. There's general observations and scrawlings on Davy Jones and Captain Jack--nothing that people haven't already discussed. But starting Week 7, there are some interesting entries.]

I can hardly remember how many times I've been approached in my dreams at least twice by what I can only assume is the goddess Calypso. She already contacted us once when we held that blasted seance, but I wasn't able to identify her until the second time she reached out to me.

She's trying to make a connection with us, get us out--for what, I don't know. Whenever someone wants to help, there's always something in it for them. But in order to help us, she needs time. Jack doesn't know about her--and he can't find out. Not until her work is done. We need to make sure there are at least some survivors on the ship when she comes around. But with every week, our numbers grow smaller and smaller, and I fear for the day that we won't be able to figure out who did what, and we all suffer the consequences.

Look at me, writing like some ill Victorian child scrawling away in a journal to later be found by crotchety old historians who'll debate about the life and times of the author. But with how things have been going, it's only a matter of time before I die. It's only the when and how.

[There's some more notes here on various happenings throughout the week--notes on Jack, thoughts on the others still alive. Until Week 7, Tuesday.]

New week. New motive. This one's about our loved ones and friends being transported to a ship very much like our own. Funny--I was just talking to Filbo about Chas the other day. I wouldn't be so worried about this, if not for the fact that I saw those blueprints with my own two eyes last week. I hate to say it, when I know as much as the rest that anything Jack says is pure bullshit, but who's to say that he wouldn't resort to scooping up other victims for whatever he's got cooked up if we aren't enough to get what he's after?

No idea who R.L. is. Making a note of it here to look in the library--but I doubt there'll be anything, since it's all from the 90s.

[The next entry is the night after the trial. The writing is far more frantic, somehow more messy than before.]

I should have known. I should have known. Jack couldn't have gotten any of these resources--the voodoo, Davy Jones' heart--without someone pushing him in that direction.

Jack is dead. Reika killed him, but it unleashed something even worse. Something that definitely won't be as susceptible to stupid parlor tricks and the like. Jack was a puppet--still an utter cunt, but he was too proud to see that he was being used. Not sorry to see him dead, but leaving us with that fiery bastard is not really a better option.

I don't know what to do. I don't know if we're going to get out of this. Maybe if I was back home, I'd have the knowledge and connections and resources to really do something before any more lives could be lost. Before he finishes whatever ritual he has planned. Knowing demons, it's not going to be anything good. It was never going to be good.

I'm the guy who's supposed to be able to deal with these kinds of things. I'm the miserable bastard who walks through the dark so that others don't have to. But here, I don't know if I can do that without costing the lives of everyone else on this ship.

Jesus, John. How're you gonna get out of this one?

----

I know exactly what to do. The only problem is--who would be willing to go through with this utterly brainless plan? Who would be willing to put their trust in me that I wouldn't just sacrifice them and leave them high and dry? Or...who has a big enough death wish to go through with it?

Besides me, of course.

----

Everyone's suffering from the latest 'motive' the Captain has put forth. Less of a motive, more of a curse. I'm more than used to putting up with this sort of haunting, but the others....

I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing everyone like this--Flayn, Filbo, hell, even as funny as it is to see Magica suffering...I have to focus. I have to be the one to act by the end of the week. I can't leave anything to chance.

I'll have to do it for them.

----

It's done.

There's nothing more to say, here.

Chas, if this somehow makes it into your hands without my knowledge, I want you to know that no matter what people may say, you were the one thing keeping me sane throughout those years. I'm sorry for being such a bastard. I'm sorry for not keeping you in the loop, but it was for your own good. For your family's safety.

I wish you an uneventful life.