Truthwalker

Well there's two days I won't be getting back. I'd say I'm pretty much the picture of mental health. Yes, I asked about the locked room. Apparently I sleepwalk, and the whole ordeal was simply a dream. In fact, I went back downstairs and found one of the walls had dents and scrapes on it. So in the end, it was unnecessary, but it sure is a relief to know I'm not losing my mind.
butyouarelosingyoursoul
And the good news keeps on coming. We found a key piece of evidence to support my case in a fragment of my father's book, Walking Beneath the Sky. I've put a good deal of thought into this, and I've decided that even with all the trouble my brother's put me through, I'm still going to withold the worst of the incident from the court. All the jury needs to know is the basics; which directly contradict Ol' Svendy's diatribes. Hopefully this will all be over soon.

No Foolin'

Yes, yes. I know what day it is, and I'm not going to play along. I've never really liked April Fools all that much anyway (and no, its NOT because I'm usually on the receiving end) so everything in this post is as reliable as all of my previous posts.

Stupid holiday aside, I'm ready to catch you up on what's been going on. Thursday was another court day, and... it didn't go so well. My brother's lawyer is finally getting into his stride, and I have to say, I'm starting to hate that man. His name is Victor Svend, and he is ruthless. Standing at an imposing seven foot three, and bald as marble, Mr. Svend is rather intimidating before he even opens his mouth. He speaks in a low whisper as he works his way around my lawyer's arguments, spinning meaningless but grandiose statements that sound impressive but have little legal weight. Still, the jury is obviously impressed by the guy, and he knows it. Everytime he sits back down after questioning he sends a frustratingly condescending smirk my way. It's really starting to get under my skin. But Thursday was the worst. He'd just gotten through telling the jury that I'd previously served eleven months in a psychiactric ward and that I was showing signs of another mental breakdown. The remark shook me, even though it was only a coincidence (he's thrown a lot of things at me that don't even come close to anything I've done). But this time when he seated himself he forewent the smug look in favor of a knowing glance. The incident left me wondering if he knows more than he's letting on. Or maybe he realized from my expression that he'd finally nailed me on something. Either way, my lawyer says to expect it to come up again; so I'm going to a clinic to prove I'm fine. whoareyoutryingtoconvince

Two Mysteries

I'm not quite sure what to say at this point, but remember that locked room I talked about? It isn't there anymore. I don't know when it disappeared, but when the locksmith came it was nowhere to be found. The locksmith was a little ticked off at being dragged out here (not too angry though, he was still getting paid), and he said that I should get my head examined (among other things I won't reprint). I've double checked all the doors in the basement and all of them open. I'm really at a loss to explain what I'm experiencing. I'd be inclined to believe it was a dream if I didn't have a garbage bag full of broken tools and a sore shoulder from my encounter with it. I really think I should take the locksmith's advice and at least get a cursory psyche exam, the problem is my brother's lawyer might find out about it and use it against me in court. Evidence of a mental breakdown is the last thing I need at this point.
whichcagewillyouchoose
There's something else. Lately I've been noticing strange noises outside the mansion at night. Now, since I'm out in the middle of a heavily wooded area, the mansion is a little hard to get to. If something were to go wrong, like a break-in or a fire, I'd be on my own. Therefore I've taken the liberty of purchasing a twelve-gauge, in case its not just in my head. Got to go, tomorrow is a court day and I have to prepare.

The Locked Room

Another discovery. Last night I found that one of the rooms in the basement wouldn't open. I tried every last one of the thirty-seven keys I received with the house, and none of them unlocked the door. Undeterred, I retrieved a set of tools from the garage to force my way in. That's when the situation became downright strange. All the electrical tools stopped working in the basement. I know they aren't broken, because I bought them last month and they worked fine on the ground floor. I even changed the batteries twice before giving up and moving on to the regular tools. None of them even scratched the paint of the doorhandle, not even the sledgehammer. (I'm not the strongest guy in the world, but I'm fairly certain that me, plus sledgehammer, plus door, equals no more door.) I'm rather ashamed to admit that I lost my temper at that point. My shoulder is still bruised from the repeated ramming attempts, and I'm the kind of person who can't let a mystery go unsolved. I'm calling a locksmith.joyansorrowliebeyond

Dust

Nothing at all to report on the second floor, besides an abandoned hornet nest and drawer full of marbles.
thesecondisnotempty
The third floor is a different story. It looks like it hasn't been used in centuries. Seriously, the dust has to be an inch thick, and its everywhere. Its not normal dust either; its the kind that reeks of must and dryness and really impairs breathing after a few minutes. It took forever to get it off me too, I swear it sets like glue. It had to shower three times, and I can still smell it on me. Its highly annoying, and I'm not the type to get annoyed easily. I'm probably not going up there again; and since the attic is the only thing above it (and it has to be even dustier), I'm going to look through the basement this morning. With the way things are going, its probably flooded or something...

Exploration

No update on the lawsuit at this time I'm afraid. I've taken the liberty of hiring my own lawyer, who assures me that our own case is airtight, and that we'll be able to counter with a slander lawsuit. I told him I just want to get this case over with (he looked rather disappointed), and that I didn't want anything bad to happen to S. I still love my brother, even after all the things that have happened in court. While I'm on the zubject, I've noticed something else about S that bothers me. Before the incident, as my grandfather referred to it, S was outgoing, carefree, and well... loud. Now when I look over at the prosecution I see a silent pale man sitting in the looming shadow of his lawyer. But enough about my troubles, on to the mansion.
justiceonlycomesfromacourtoffools
So far, I've looked over most of the ground floor (I'd estimate roughly ninety percent), and I have to say, this place must have been the very essence of opulence in its prime. The furniture is still in the same position it was all those years ago. I've begun the task of uncovering the main hall and the living room (which itself is almost as large as a normal house), and I've made significant progress with the kitchen and dining hall. I'm starting to get a feel as to how the mansion will look when its been fully restored, and well... its pretty nice. Still, no time to celebrate. Today I'm going to start moving upwards and hit the second floor. Maybe I'll find a clue as to why the frame is made of lead while I'm up there.

Prodigal's Revenge

I haven't posted lately, as I'm sure you'll notice (not that anybody's really reading this blog anyway). For the past few weeks I've been caught in the middle of a legal dispute over the ownership of the mansion with my younger brother, who I'll refer to as S. A few years back, S... well he did something I'd rather not talk about; and this event or series of events ended up costing him his place in my grandfather's will. How this gives him the legal ability to challenge my ownership of the mansion is beyond me, but his lawyer's foot found its way into the door and now everything is uncertain. To be honest, I really hadn't expected to see S again; he up and left after what he did and I haven't really heard from him until recently.

On another note, the electrician checked out my reception problem on the second floor. It turns out that the second floor has a lead framework. This is really strange for a number of reasons. One, the other floors have iron frames, even though they were built within weeks of each other. Two, my grandfather was...kinda paranoid about poison. He never ate or drank anything that he didn't see prepared, and he had an emergency anti-venom pack on every floor. As far as I'm, aware he was pretty savvy about possible harmful chemicals, so why he allowed the second floor to remain is beyond me.
thedeadliestpoisoncannotbeseen
Anyways, I'll try and keep up the updates from now on; barring any unforeseen legal action from S or his freakishly tall lawyer...