The week has been restful. Thank you for your well-wishes through the blog's official Facebook (www.facebook.com/paleforestdiary). As a reminder, if you have not done so, you can follow this journey there.
As promised in my last post, I would like to share what I have discovered of Charlotte Hamm. Unfortunately, however, there isn't a great deal of personal information about her to be found. At least not here in Pale Forest.
I spent a part of Monday looking through records and trying to get my hands on a birth certificate. This was not easy as the woman at the front desk was less than hospitable. I remember she called me Mr. Clark before I had introduced myself. Despite this, I did manage to get a look at certain public files. It would seem that there is no record of a Charlotte Hamm, though there was a family with that surname who lived in Pale Forest in the 1960's.
I drove out to their house Tuesday. There was nothing at the address now except a sign that read "Private Property". I found this odd since there was no house or any other structures on the lot. I did look around a bit, though, and found an old well. Admittedly, shadows.txt was in the back of my mind and I didn't go too close. I did take a quick picture of it, though.
I spent a few more minutes snooping around until I heard noises out in the forest and decided it was time to end my reconnaissance.
Later that day, while combing the Internet, I did find another sign of Ms. Hamm in the form of yet another short story. This one is only a few paragraphs long but shows a continued interest in the macabre.
Sounds From My Basement
Some nights, as I lie in bed trying to sleep, I am instead pained by the noises from my basement and what they might portent.
I have identified every one and why they frighten me.
There is the deep rumble that sounds as if a madman is banging on water pipes.
Another is shrill, like a woman crying out. How it goes right up my spine!
Then there is the thumping of what I imagine to be footsteps carrying murderous intent.
Still another sound reminds me of chains rattling somewhere in the darkness below my house.
I know my fears are silly and that there is nothing to actually worry about. While I am consumed by these noises, however, sleep will not find me. Though I toss and turn, I soon realize I must go down into the basement to assuage my tattered nerves.
Thus, my mind wracked with doubt, I climb the twisting stairs down two floors and into the darkness of the cellar. I carry not but a candle to light the way.
And, of course, I find everything just as I left it. Even so, to make certain, I begin my nightly ritual.
Bloodshot eyes stare emptily back as I make my rounds throughout the tables.
Only after I have tightened their chains, doubled their knots, and adjusted their gags, do I return once more to my bed. And then, with a peace of mind that no one can hear them, that no one will ever find them, sleep comes for me.While the tone is sinister, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with Pale Forest as "The Monster on Browning Street" did. Perhaps this was simply nothing more than a story. Or perhaps there is no validity to my thoughts of her being somehow connected with this mystery. I don't really know. With no actual evidence of a Charlotte Hamm having lived here and nothing more to go on, I might have to table this search for now either way.
What do you think, believers? Is this nothing more than a dead end or should I continue to pursue it? I'd love to hear what you have to say.
Until next time...
