On a recent trip to an antique store, I came across of all things, a small sketchbook. In a store stuffed to bursting with taxidermy, fine china, and other treasures, it is hard to say what drew me to this sketchbook. It was no bigger than my hand, and its cover was made of brown imitation leather, unassuming. Its insides were anything but.
Inside scenes of the most macabre nature unfolded - artistic renditions of monsters that would scare even the most hardened soul. There were also drawings upon drawings of a man, the same man, his presence overwhelming every page. It was unnerving to say the very least.
I asked the shop owner if she had any details on the sketchbook, but she was as surprised as I to see it in her stock. She sold it to me for a bargain, with the promise that I would report to her anything I found out about it.
Upon further research, I discovered that this sketchbook belonged to a deceased man named Will Henry, whose journals had been previously published between 2009-2011.
I got hold of his journals and devoured them cover to cover, hoping to find hints about the artist. Who was Will Henry, and how had his sketches gotten separated from his journals? What of the figure who loomed like a shadow over so many of its pages? What about the monsters that he drew - surely they were the byproducts of an overactive imagination, no?
No matter what the case is, I do not wish to condemn the memory of this man into oblivion. I share these sketches in hopes that somebody recognizes them, recognizes him.
Slipped in between the pages of the sketchbook were also sheets of foolscap, ans scrawled on them were words that I found reproduced in his journals. Though the foolscap is too delicate to handle and risk light exposure, I've transcribed the passages and share them here. It was no easy task, for Will Henry stuck them all throughout the sketchbook. Though his writings don't always match his sketches - for instance, how could he see Warthrop's face if his back was turned to him in this recollection?, - I seem to have located the corresponding passage to this scene.
"The doctor remained oblivious to my condition. He dropped the necklace into a tray and called for the scissors. To the devil with him, I thought. Let him fetch his own scissors. He called again, his back to me, hand outstretched, bloody fingers flexing and curling. I rose from the stool with a shuddering sigh and pressed the scissors into his hand."
