Tuesday, April 10th, 1870

Dear Diary:

I am not entirely certain about the relative length of demonic pregnancies versus typical gestational periods, but I begin to grow somewhat concerned. The little devil just doesn’t want to come out! He kicks. He has a heartbeat. I know he’s there. I suppose he’s happy in his little cocoon. Still, he can’t spend his entire life in the womb! Hmm… perhaps Matilda knows a summoning spell or an exorcism that might work. The feminine capacity for sustaining life notwithstanding, one can only grow so large before important bits begin to cramp and tear. I really must consult with Dr. Hyde again.

Speaking of Dr. Hyde, I should note that he and Rose have taken up residence next door following the Wytchwoods’ disappearance. They spend a great deal of their time gardening. They have also recently flitted off to Greece. Ah, young(ish) love! Now that Rose wears a ring on her finger, our dear friends seem blissfully happy. Rose is so happy that she frequently feels the need to leave neighborly gifts; for instance:

The bunny graveyard formerly known as my porch.

 

Clearly, some great evil is afoot. Perhaps I should have hung onto one of Rose’s gifts as a good luck charm.

I jest, but the fact is that the Wytchwoods have disappeared. Mr. MacBeth has disappeared. Bodies are washing up in Winterfell. And now my demon spawn refuses to budge! Perhaps everyone just fled the coming apocalypse. Is it too unreasonable to worry that my child is the anti-christ? I suppose one would have to be Christian to believe that. Whatever I am, it is not Christian; I’ve seen far too much evil and far too few flying cherubs to believe that any all powerful deity actually opposes said evil. Well, except for that angel…

Hmm. Back to the drawing board. Perhaps good does exist.

Whatever the truth is, I am not so far gone that I can’t believe in love or basic human decency. Matilda is my daily proof. One day, while I lamented my growing waistline, Matilda confessed his love. I balked at first; I always do. “But how will we live, Dearest?” I protested. He insisted that he would bear my odious profession and raise my child as his own. The words, I prefer to keep between us. Suffice it to say that my heart was moved. I have always felt tenderly toward my dear Matilda. Ever since Mr. P bound our minds with that trinket of his, Matilda and I have shared a destiny. I took him in. He saved me from prison. We live in complete felicity together. What could be more natural than to wed?

We have not yet set a date. I think I’d rather wait to announce our intentions until after the Doctor and Rose have their day. For now, Matilda traipses through the best shops in search of the perfect gown. I sit back, smiling indulgently, and merely observe his unfettered joy. Something terrible is coming, but for now, I think I shall enjoy the calm before the storm.

Yours Truly,

–Miss Palabra Puddlegum–

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