But sometimes I feel as perhaps you may feel, looking back on the stories of these men I told you about when you were a “young ’un”—that I myself was a fictionalizer with an imagination as active as that of Bane, or that in my own mind (as old men will do!) I had gradually stylized and simplified those happenings, that I had fancifully glorified those people, and sought to give them superhuman stature.
I cry out in pain that it is not so, and at the same time come to doubt myself. But I kept a journal through those years, and although the ink is fading on the yellowing pages, it is all still legible. One of these days, if you are interested beyond merely seeking to bulwark your arguments with a classmate, those pages shall be yours.
Now that your letter has caused me to call to memory all those people and those years, I find myself wishing most intensely that I had left to me Time and the powers to flesh out my journals into a True History of Warlock, in all its ramifications, before the man who was Blaisedell, and the other men and women, and the town in which they lived, are totally obscured. ..
[1] Gavin Sands, Goodpasture’s grandson.