My name is Joan Redfern, and this is a journal of impossible things.
It is set in the spring of 1913, in the rolling green hills of the English countryside, in a quiet village with a simple way of life. And, despite all evidence to the contrary, it is all true.
Unlike most stories, the beginning to this one is very clear. It was when a young professor, by the name of John Smith, abruptly applied for a job at the school where I was working as a nurse. The man himself was average, with unruly brown locks, wide dark eyes, and fine features. He was quiet, and was very much a dreamer, but when he became excited, he spoke rapidly. All in all, there was nothing too unusual about him.
But for the fact that, despite his appearance, his home was a very long ways away indeed.