"I was sitting in my room, in the midst of writing a letter, bidding farewell to a friend who has, it seems, departed this place and returned to her world. Of a sudden, I heard a harsh voice speaking from the shadows of the room, telling me that it had taken her away," he says. "I addressed it and it laughed at me, then my hand moved of its own accord, reaching for a paper knife in order to stab my free hand." He glances away. "You will think me mad for saying such things."