Diary of A. Denson

Why should you believe me? What makes me different than all the other self-professed “experts”? Before I divulge more, I guess some explanation is needed. I was doubtful too, at first. I thought the world was just as it appeared. I didn’t believe in conspiracies, shadow societies, gods, or aliens. I was an irreverent agnostic. I lumped all myths together under fiction, and didn’t understand why others couldn’t see through the blatant religious hypocrisy. I thought I had all the answers wrapped-up into a neat little package. I was wrong, but so was everyone else.

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When my father died, I inherited an old bundle of papers. Buried inside these was a diary written by a soldier named A. Denson. He was a messenger during the Civil War, and wrote about his travels back and forth between Confederate and Union camps. As I read the entries, I remember thinking that I had never heard of messengers moving between the sides, but guessed that there must have been some form of communication. As the entries continued, it became evident that Denson wasn’t a messenger at all, but was somehow moving back and forth between the armies on his own. The Civil War account stopped in November 1863, somewhere near Lookout Mountain, Tennessee. I thought that would be the last I heard from A. Denson. Turning the pages however, I found another entry for August 1883 with the words “Titan fell. God help us all.” The narrative began again in 1899 Manila, and again in 1918 Arras. All of this was written in the same handwriting. The last entry was dated 28 March 1918: “L’Ombre killed protecting the line. Reposez en paix. The Hammer is close.”

These fragile yellowed pages changed my life. I decided to look deeper.

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