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‘JOURNAL’ OF ——— SMITH
RECOVERED FROM THE HOUSE OF CHARLES BAILEY, — AMITY STREET, NYC JULY 5, 1843
Perhaps it is a mistake to write all this down, but it doesn’t really matter. They are after me now, and there is so much I need to say. The problem is I am not sure how to say any of this, or what I want to say, or who I want to say it for, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter, either. It’s coming from me, to be sure, but it won’t end with me, or at least it isn’t up to me. Maybe it’s fate or something else I haven’t thought of yet, but I have no say in it, and I’ve only just realized what that means. It’s freeing, really. Free of my father, free of my mother, and especially free of Henry. Yes, I am finally free of Henry, which is why I am ready to write.
I don’t know when I became so afraid of words, and it all seems so foolish, my consistent silence, but I’m done with that now. I don’t have any responsibilities for my future anymore, and isn’t that just so beautiful? I’m realizing I’ve been waiting for this excuse to talk about myself. It feels so right to finally talk about me, and I suppose this is my last chance, anyway. I think everyone needs to take the time to review his history, his whole history, at least once, and I won’t have another opportunity, so it has to be now. I don’t know how much time I have, but that doesn’t matter either, does it? I think I’ll take it slow, and if the writing stops before I get to the end, then that’ll be okay, too, because emptiness is always hiding something deeper.
EXCERPTS FROM A BRIEF INFORMAL HISTORY OF THE POXY AND DOUBLING
BY JOSEPH HERALD, JR.
PUBLISHED 1894
PREFACE
Nobody knows when the Poxy actually started, but general consensus hovers right around the middle of July 1827 in the house of Mabel Clayborn. You couldn’t spend time in New York afterward without hearing about the Poxy — that’s where it started, and New Yorkers embraced that fact like a badge of honor. People enjoyed hearing about it again and again, feeling a confused pride in their chests in knowing that their city had it the worst of anyone, the same swelling a boy feels as the other schoolchildren ogle the new cast adorning his freshly broken arm. The Poxy permeated every corner of conversation, almost always manifesting as the story of Mabel Clayborn and Doctor Stoll. Nobody knew how that story came into being, as the only people who witnessed its events were Mabel and the Doctor, and they were the first to die.
Continue reading: Double Vision (https://fs8.formsite.com/vandyforms/files/f-76-12-17074687_QGbv61XO_Double_Vision_Story_1.pdf)
