Journal Entry #1
Dr. Adrian Vaduva III
Brasov, Romania
March 9, 1865

He sits there, gazing at me. His glare pierces my heart like a poisoned dagger hell-bent on my destruction. "Retribution", I say! Or be it revenge? The very damnation of my immortal soul?

This man...he interests me strangely. His visage is a torrent of familiar memories as I scramble to assemble the pieces of our past dealings. I see him, watching me, as I go about my daily tasks. Hither and thither... He is neither here nor there... He is everywhere!

"Come at me!", I say. But does he? No... No, he sits there...watching me. Calculating... Plotting... Why does he not advance? Is he waiting for the perfect moment?

Perhaps it is just paranoia. I have been working dreadfully long hours of late. This keeps me up at night. Why did I do it? To what end do I strive?

Cannot think about it right now. I must leave...I must sleep. Dare I go? Will he follow me? The streets are crowded. I will lose him in the crowd! They will obscure his sight of me. There is no more time. I must go...