Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in Arthur Holmwood's LiveJournal:

Saturday, December 23rd, 2006
2:06 am	It's that time of year again, isn't it? And we could all use a celebration. Well, come on-- no need to go green with envy. ( Gifts for the Dracula pups: ) (17 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 25th, 2006
1:26 pm	Typist: Arthur's typist fails, obviously, and so this is a bit late. And I shall be a bit slow in commenting, as I'll be away until Sunday. Sorry! *let's just say it's still Wednesday, then, Wednesday afternoon, perhaps, though if it had become Wednesday evening or Wednesday night, Art wouldn't have noticed. he's not well today-- indeed, how could anyone expect him to be well today? he's in the rooms he's taken for himself, perhaps in the Mansion, and as always, they're fine but plain, almost militantly lacking a woman's touch; there's a bottle of brandy on his table and it's already open* *and it's May 24th, then, and on May 24th-- how long ago was it? a year, two?-- he proposed to his Lucy, and so did Quincey and Jack, but Lucy chose him... and look where he got her. in a grave twice over, staked, everything else the Professor did (necessary precautions of course, but--)... no, no, Art's not well today, and could use some company* (79 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, December 11th, 2005
5:29 am	Well. It's certainly been a while, hasn't it? Jack, Jonathan, Quince, you boys still around? I don't know about where you are, but it's sure getting a bit of a chill around here. I don't recall London being quite this cold. I've drinks if anyone would like to stop by. (67 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, August 22nd, 2005
10:06 pm	*takes a deep breath and straightens his waistcoat* Lucy? Lucy, if you see this, I-- I don't hate you. I spoke with Quincey, and he said-- Oh, Lucy. Please talk to me. I wouldn't do this if I didn't love you. Current Mood: dread (Comment on this)
Friday, August 5th, 2005
8:36 pm	I don't understand this typist sometimes. This is intended to be me, I'm told, and I suppose I can see the resemblance. If I squint. *little smile* And subtract a few years. I do rather like the suit she's picked for me. (Comment on this)
Monday, June 20th, 2005
4:26 pm	*crosses self solemnly* I thought that since Lucy... well. I 've often thought that there could be nothing worse than that, than to have to look upon the woman you loved, to-- well, we did what had to be done, terrible as it was. The other night, however... I faced death yet again. This time, too, it was not my own. I... volunteered to help move peop-- no, no, not people. Corpses. Shells. Their souls were God's by the time I arrived. The first I touched was a child. (Comment on this)
Monday, June 6th, 2005
6:51 pm	Typist: In which Arthur, Harker, and Quincey get slightly drunk and the DF mansion is hot. ( 'You'll make me quite uncomfortable if you stay fully decent.' ) (Comment on this)
2:35 pm	*rubs at his forehead* My Lucy's here. I can bearly believe it myself, but she's here. Or... something that used to be my Lucy, my love, my sweet fiancee, is here. I only wish I could have taken her away to be married before this all began, with her mother and my parents all fell ill, and then she... The time I saw her-- the last time I really saw her was, I suppose, when she died. She was lovely, in her white dressing gown, golden curls spread across her pillows, and when I kissed her forehead and watched her eyes close, I couldn't help but imagine that she had found peace. She hadn't. And then the second time-- it was horrible. I couldn't let anyone else, so I... all I truly remember from that night was the strength of my grasp on the stake. It was unfaltering, but then my hands wouldn't stop shaking for days. It's odd how things turn out sometimes. The memories are terrible. But nothing so terrible-- so secretly wonderful-- as seeing her again. I know my love, know the look in her darling eyes, and that wasn't her. I know this, and I tell myself... but nothing stops my heart from yearning for her. She's not right, and nothing's right. I had a few too many drinks with John and Quincey in the mansion last night. Why does this typist girl want me to say that nothing happened? Of course nothing happened. Times like this, it seems a good bottle of brandy and understanding friends is what a man needs. (1 Comment |Comment on this)