WtAF Eloise Journal

May 4th, 2014 (Episode One)

Dear Luther,
I fondly recall your journaling habits. Sitting in the library, the bay windows open to the night sky behind you, while you scribbled away, the room lit only by that damned green-shaded public library-style lamp you insisted on using. I'd bring you tea occasionally, and you only ever refused when you had a tumbler of whiskey already at hand.

I think I understand why you journaled the way you did. Was it your only means of keeping sane? Was it a confidant you could tell about the things you encountered, when you couldn't tell anyone else? There is a part of me that wishes you might have confided in me, but I know it would have done terrible things to our marriage, even if I had believed you. I'm grateful to you for compartmentalizing the horrors you saw so effectively, my love, for protecting me and our family as well as you did.

I do wonder whatever happened to your journals. After you died, I deliberately avoided looking for them, because I was afraid it might hurt too much. I wanted to remember you as the man I remembered, through the filter of my own experiences and feelings for you. I didn't want to see the flaws you saw in yourself, the petty insecurities and little jealousies and all the other things people tend to pour out onto the page. So it became a habit to forget about them.

But now, I have to wonder - what exactly was in those journals? And where might I find them? Is there information there that might help me better know this horrifying world? After fifty years, I'd assumed I knew how the world worked, but last night's revelations were eye opening, to say the least.