These entries were written on scraps of paper and left between the pages of Victors journal.

December 17th 1899

I reported for debriefing yesterday as ordered, and was greeted by my commanding officers and a sea of disapproving and judgemental faces. My journal has been confiscated, hence my writing this on a scrap of paper. I was ordered to leave camp and report back in the morning.
I returned to base today to be told that I have been diagnosed as unfit to carry out my duties due to stress and given compassionate leave over the Christmas period. I am to report for review in the new year. They are using my journal entries as evidence to the effect that I am mentally unsound. I have been branded a liar and a lunatic.
Many of those men bore witness to my actions in the Sudan. They have seen, first hand, my abilities. I have lead men to victory when all seemed lost, gaining promotion in the field and now they call my mental fortitude into question?
It is no secret that many of them begrudge me my title of Captain. That I, at such a young age, should be at almost the same rank as they. To hell with them. I know what I saw and I know the state of my own mind.

December 19th 1899

I have chosen to use my enforced leave to further my own endeavours  I am determined to find out the secrets of this bizarre piece of jewellery and perhaps uncover who, or what, “khu” might be once and for all. To that end, I have travelled to Norwich in order to trawl its great library.
It was only when I arrived in the city that I was reminded of the time of year. So lost have I been in my own private thoughts that I forget we are so close to celebrating the birth of our lord Jesus Christ. I see people rushing here and there in preparation for the festivities, everyone so happy and excited to be with their loved ones and without a care in the world for the bitter cold and snow. My only wish this Christmas would be to find some of the answers I seek.
Sadly however, it was not to be. I arrived to find that the vast library was greatly damaged in a fire last year and most of the books were lost. Those that survived are in storage and scattered all over the city. trying to track down the ones that may be of any use to me will take far more time than I have before I travel home again. I am not ashamed to admit that my heart sank at this news.
Yet this was not the most troubling thing to befall my day. He was here again, the very same man who haunted my steps in Southampton.
I had just stepped from the city office after enquiring about the library when I saw him, bold as brass and standing across the street, smiling at me. He stood there, looked me straight in the eye and smiled. Immediately I set my steps towards him. His smile broadened and he tipped his hat. I was just about to set foot on the road when a carriage passed between us and with it, he was gone. Vanished as if into thin air. I searched the length of the street but there was no sign of him.
So now I have a new riddle to solve, another conundrum to add to my list. I have decided to stay on at my lodging for a day in the hope that I might be able to confront him and discover his infuriating game. I do not enjoy being toyed with in this manner. I will not be taunted or intimidated by any man!
December 21st 1899

My pursuer is far more cunning than I first imagined.
As I awoke yesterday morning I hatched a plan with which I might gain the upper hand and confront my grinning stalker. I approached the boy selling papers on the street corner opposite my lodgings and, with the promise of rewarding his efforts, I described the man in as much detail as I could remember. I told the boy that I would keep him and the front door of my lodging house in sight and that he was to signal me when the man approached. having set my trap I took a table in the tea rooms down the street and awaited my opportunity.
The opportunity did not arise.
I had been sitting at my window seat for several hours when the waiter approached with a fresh pot of tea. I assured him that I had not ordered it. He placed it on the table all the same and handed me a folded note.
It read, “Have a fresh pot Victor, you’ve been nursing that one since you sat down. It must be stone cold by now. A.J.”
Looking quickly around the tiny shop, he was nowhere to be seen and I left my table with such haste that I was at the door before I heard my chair clatter to the floor behind me. I flew past the boy at full sprint, shouting my question ahead of me, asking if he had spied the man as I went. In his shock he could only stammer a quick no. My pace did not slow as I crossed the street without a care for the carriages. The door of my lodging house flew back to hit the wall as I entered with speed and took the stairs two at a time. Arriving at my room I fumbled with the key in my pocket and, after a short struggle, I flung it open.
As I stood in the doorway trying to catch my breath I could feel my blood slowly starting to boil in my veins. The first thing I noticed was that my bag sat neatly packed on my bed. When I had left that morning, my clothes from the previous day had been hung on the back of my chair, my wash bag had been left by the basin and the bed had been left unmade. Now however, my room was spotless, my bag was packed and there, sat next to it on the bed, was a small, charred and fire damaged book.
Doing my level best to keep my temper, I made my way across the room and lifted the book to inspect it. It was damaged and stained but still readable. The front cover told me that it was “Dracula. by Bram Stoker”. Not a work I have heard of. I threw it back down and took stock of my situation.
I knew I had to leave tonight as my funds were all but depleted and I was expected home. I felt beaten and dismissed yet again, which didn’t help my mood in the slightest. Taking up my things and pushing the book into my pocket I made my way down to the desk and asked the girl there if she had seen anything of this maddening phantom. She had not, she even went as far as to tell me that no one had called or left a message for me at all that morning.
I made my way to the station and the train that was due to bare me home. My eyes searched the streets with every step as I went but to no avail. Now, back in the warm embrace of hearth and home I am trying to put these events from my mind as I would not wish to spoil the festivities for my family. This is far easier said than done however.

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