July 16th, year uknown

_{Dear diary,}

_{I traveled home to-day. It were a truly beauteous day, which unfortunately I was unable to enjoy. Through the whole ride I stayed in the four-in-hand with the curtains drawn. Even with these precautions, my skin feels tender now, and I must take care to dress more properly when traveling back. It still pains me that I cannot gaze upon the sun. If my skin feels as though thousand fires rage, how will my eyes fare in meeting the moon’s lover? I dare not think!}

_{But that is not the most pressing matter. My return has become far more complicated than I could anticipate, and I fear my presence will be known. It turns so out that the barn in which I intended my stay—I know, I know, but one must be subtle—burned down just the month before. It is natural that I can make myself other sleeping arrangements if must be, yet the manner in which the barn went to the ground is making me most distressed.}

_{The farmer with whom I managed to trade a few words, told me it had been burnt to the ground to kill the Vampyre within. A Vampyre! I fear I must have looked distraught for he asked me what was the matter, so I hastened to tell him I was frightened. My birthday feels weeks away, all of sudden. Mayhap I will simply do my business and take my leave. It is unfortunate. But can I stay? Oh tell me what to do!}