Sincerely, Jennifer x

13th November 1828 

My sweet one, 

The morning finally came, and I rejoiced, for I was free of the terrors that taunt me through the night. 

Even as I awoke, surrounded by the real world, I could barely shake the shadows from my mind, and I carried out my duties and routine in utmost silence, yearning for the comfort of your embrace, and the safety and satisfaction it brings. 

Last night’s dream was worse than I have ever experienced. I wept as I awoke–joyful to be alive, but profoundly perturbed by what I had seen. 

You must believe me, sweet Agatha. Since the day that we met, I have never told you a lie, and I swear to you, every word I write is the truth. 

There is death on board this ship, and it shall have me. 

I hear it calling to me, even in my waking hours, its siren song deafening, dominating my every thought. 

Please let me make it through the next two weeks. Please let me make it through the night. I beg of the heavens to let me return to you. 

Last night, as I slept, I was sent to the hold again. My legs were not my own, and in my dreams, I was under the power of the darkness. I cowered before the crate, chilled to the bone as the voice snaked around me. 

“Let us be free, William, and you shall be spared.” 

Again, the same demand, repeated as I crept closer, trembling on my hands and knees as the musky air bore heavy on my back. My fingers found the damp, fractured wood and my eyes fell upon a crack in the crate. 

“We must have our blood, one way or another.” 

Eyes, piercing and predatory met my own. Bloodshot and brimming with tears, as they peered through the darkness at me, a hollow laugh filling the air for a spell. They blinked, slow and deliberate as the beast spoke once more. 

“Let us be free, or all will perish.” 

More eyes joined it, as the room became swarmed by hollow, haunting laughter. I backed away, but evil hung in the air, clinging to me and clawing at my body and soul. 

I awoke with a start, but it stayed with me. Those words echoed in my mind all day, and I thought of nothing but the eyes, and their anger. 

People are growing sick, my love. Just this morning at breakfast, Mister Goodson fell to his knees, his mouth, a fountain of blood. It poured from his lips, cascading over his crooked teeth as he gasped for air and floundered on the floor. 

It seems to have come from nowhere. We are all diligent to take our lemon juice and our nights are never without prayer. Yet, the sickness has such a hold upon the crew. 

Today, eight of the men are infirm in their beds, with more coughing and spluttering as if they will soon join them. 

As mad as it sounds, I think it has to do with the suffering promised by the creature in the crate. 

I promise that I intend to return home to you, but my darling, I fear that it is not to be. 

I fear that I shall never be free again. 

Please do not be melancholy without me, sweet Agatha, for I am sending my love to you with every moment, and I pray that soon, this nightmare shall end, and we shall be reunited once again. 

Though these letters go unsent, for now, I hope that you can feel my affections where you are, and I hope that at night, you pray for me, as I pray for you. 

Ever Yours, 

William