Monday, January 15th, 1912

Journal of Dr. Arthur Corman. January 15th, 1912

After my daily rounds I went back to Abigail’s room and started to pack her personal items. Abby had gotten to a point in her life where all of her possessions fit neatly into two small drawers.

My life fit into two trunks so who am I to judge?

The drawers contained photos of her sister, a few pieces of jewelry, a comb and some old sheet music. I boxed up these items then started removing the drawings that decorated the walls of her room.  

One hundred and thirteen sketches were placed in the box, her room felt desolate.

I took the box back to my office and would deliver it to Dr. Ash’s office on my way to dinner.

Before I left I picked up one of the  drawings and stared at the black and white smudges.

If I squinted the image seemed to come into focus, I could see details that weren’t apparent with a casual glance.

In the bottom right hand corner of the sketch there were numbers and a letter scratched into the wax. 


Quickly I grabbed another sketch and squinted. 

The same numbers and letter were scratched into this drawing.

 Each drawing contained the identical thing, some sort of code.

 All one hundred thirteen drawings contained 1907.11.05.P.1125.

Much like Abby’s words to me yesterday I felt compelled to keep this information to myself.

I rolled up three of the sketches and placed them in my desk drawer then headed toward Dr. Ash’s office with Abby’s things.

The crematorium was in the basement level at the rear of the south wing.

The basement was not very well lit and the rumbling of the steam turbines was constant.

The hallways were lined by steam and water pipes as well as heavy bundles of electrical cords.

It was obvious that housekeeping never found their way down here because cobwebs filled every nook and cranny.

Ash’s office was located between the morgue and the crematorium, his door was open so I entered the office and sat the box on his desk.

The office was empty.

To the right was another door slightly ajar. I opened the door hoping to find Ash and entered a large storage room.

The walls were lined with metal canisters labeled "human remains". 

Hundreds of urns were stored here.

I closed the door and left.

My appetite was gone after the events of the day and I went back to my office to type reports in hope of getting to bed early.

There was something vaguely familiar about those numbers; almost instinctively I glanced at the books sitting on my shelves.

On the spine of each book was a similar code.

The books had been checked out from the medical library.

I scribbled Abby’s code on a small piece of paper and shoved it into my pocket.

I grabbed the books off the shelf and headed back to my quarters for some much anticipated sleep.

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