Midnight. – Tonight would have been the night, the night for which I have been planning. Perpetual life stood in my hands, and then liquefied through my fingers. A cold and soothing chill crept into my cell only an hour ago. It was eleven on the clock, and my head was pressed firmly on the floor, my lips gently tapping it as I spoke to the Master. And he spoke back to me. My ears pricked up as his words flowed through me like a sweet wine. He told me what to do and how to do it; where to go and how to get there.

And I listened.

I felt his strength enter me, and I felt omnipotent, like a God! Oh, how restless I am! A crushing disappointment is making my hand quiver as I write this. Though the Master touched me in ways that I never imagined possible, I did not feel fear. I felt only servitude and the will to die for him. Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.

My hands shook as I placed them on my window ledge and then up to coil around the bars. They were cold against my perspiring palms and it relaxed me. As I exerted more and more pressure against the bars I heard them creak. My feet touched the air and I flowed easily through the window! The drop was small and I landed in a steady run, moving at a pace I thought unachievable by a man! Although the dark clouds intercepted any light that the moon might have brought, I could see clear as day. Everything was illuminated just for me. The Master was ready to greet me. He was waiting for me at Carfax Abbey, only a stone's throw away from the asylum. I pressed my warm body against the cold red brick and kissed the wall.

My hands were out by my side and I made the shape of a crucifix against the brick. Attendants shouted after me and threatened me. The voice of Dr. Seward reached me and he told me he could see me and that I was in danger.

"I shall be patient, Master." I mumbled, my lips still pressed against the wall. "It is coming- coming- coming!" I was escorted back to my cell but not without my breaking the finger of the mocking attendant- that one who called me "dog".