• April 8th, 1654 – Allen, Son of Bluebeard
    Yes, it’s true my father was an evil man. He killed his first wife in an argument, and hid her in a closet. He employed a fairy as the key, so he would know when anyone opened it. His second wife opened the closet, and she found his secret, so he killed her. But it just kept on happening; he’d fall in love, she’d marry him, he gives her the key and tells her never to use it, she uses it, she finds his skeletons in the closet, he finds out that she knows, he kills her, etc .But my mother was different. She didn’t care what he had done, she didn’t want to know. She just, simply, loved him. So she didn’t open the closet. And eventually, I was born. But my father, I don’t know, I guess he didn’t believe it would last. He began to think she had stopped loving him. So he killed her too. I still hate him for that. But one night, they found him stabbed to death. The villagers all thought that my uncle, Lord Veranga did it. Of course, he denied it, but everyone still told him what a good thing he had done. No one had love Bluebeard. Well, if only he had done it! I know who killed my father, yes! I know who killed Bluebeard! Hah, but I will not tell you. The killer clearly wishes for his or her identity to be secret. Did I tell you who found the corpse? Indeed, twas I! And who was it who found the note tied to his wrist! Indeed, twas I again! And who, after reading the ghastly letter, burned it so there could be no trace of the killer? Indeed, twas I once more. You may wish to ask, ‘who was the letter written by?’I shall tell you. It was a hand far too familiar to me. Yes, I knew that script well; crosses, dots and all, it was my mother’s fair hand who must have written the damned letter. And if only you had seen the terrible look upon Bluebeards face, you would have known it too! He had the look of one who had seen, as they put it, a ghost. A dark specter of the night, an embassy of the Devil himself!
    April 29th, 1654 - Allen, Bluebeard’s Son
    My father’s funeral. It was a gloomy day, appropriate for the event. I hardly anyone joined me in the services, and I alone watched as the priest tossed burial dirt upon Bluebeard’s coffin. I knew that what Bluebeard did while he was alive was evil, but I had still loved him; he was my father, how could I not love him? Well, no one expected what would happen on the day following Bluebeard’s burial. His grave had been violated, and the only thing left to mark where he would have slept for the rest of time was a single hand. The fingers curled, all but one, the pointer’s tip upward, as thought to show where he wished to be. It seemed that his death was not enough for someone. Again, the people of the village blamed my uncle. But I knew it could not have been him. He would not have gone this far, no. death would be enough for him. It was the worst for me; I was once more, the first person to know of this evil deed, and once more, there was a letter. I will tell you what it said. ‘let me out.’ my mother’s hand once more.
    May 3rd, 1654 - Allen, Son of Bluebeard
    I think I know what she meant. Could it be that my father has hidden my mother’s corpse in the same room as the others? I tried to let it go, but it would not go away. I lay abed at night, thinking, should I do it? Should I let her out? What will she do? Is she really dead? So the next day I went to my father’s old room, took the key and went to the cupboard. I had not noticed it before, but a stench had begun to permeate the air near here, and I thought I knew what, or rather who, it was. Tentatively, I slipped the key into the lock, and turned it gently. As the door was swept open, I was confronted with a mutilated visage that both terrified me, and…delighted me. And then I remembered, who had truly killed my father; my own! Yes! I had taken revenge for my mother, I had left myself the notes, I had dragged my father’s corpse from the grave, and I had driven my self into the darkest cavern of Man’s hell; my mind. And I knew there would be no escape.
    May 12th, 1654 - Lord Charles Veranga, Brother of Bluebeard
    “I say, Julia, have you heard the news?” Julia Veranga looked up from her evening cup of tea “what is it, darling? Has Robert’s wife had another child?” the maid looked up from her cleaning, “oh, as if they need anuver one uv those little buggers!” “Watch your mouth, or it’ll be empty tonight. Anyway, no, it says here that they found my brother’s real murderer.” “Indeed? And who is it?” Lord Veranga struggled for a moment, as if it was hard to say the name, then he hurriedly cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, Julia, it was Allen. You remember him, our only nephew. That’s quite disturbing, isn’t it?” Julia set her cup down on the table and leaned back into her chair. “Well, I can understand that it’s difficult for you, Charles, but it’s easy for me to see; like father, like son, hm?”