The Haunting of Shining Cliff continues ...

The party returned shrieking about thrashing branches and malevolent plant life. It was now we decided that instead of waiting around for a bell to ring, an armed guard would be placed outside the door, which consisted of myself, McLeod, Paris and Jives. Only a few moments had passed when a woman appeared around the side of the house, crying. As McLeod approached her, she ran off up the path. We followed briskly, McLeod walking into the darkness ahead of us. As a flashlight flitted across the scene, a man-sized creature seized McLeod and, with incredible strength, tore off both his arms! I snatched out my firearm, but again all was darkness. As the beam of torchlight shone around again, I saw the dead Reverend, his foul face in obscene tatters, a parody of his former living self. He stood less than two feet away on my left side! Bringing my pistol around in unfathomable fear, I fired four times into what was left of his face before my gun jammed. I spun around in terror and fled back to the relative safety of the house, where they had been alerted by my screams of horror and the gunfire. The Reverend ambled towards them, and their brave facade soon faltered as the cacophony of gunfire did not stay the approaching monstrosity.

As we made it back inside, Grumbacher held the door himself as everyone reloaded. There were screams of terror as the once dead corpse of Digsby, brain tissue exposed, rose from the table upon the unsuspecting Grumbacher. Although the now re-animated Digsby was expelled promptly from the house, Grumbacher lay bleeding with a mortal wound upon his chest. The recently dead outside faded away into the foggy blackness...

Dr Mordenheimer made all attempts to save Grumbacher's life, but to no avail. Half an hour later, Grumbacher died, but as we half-expected, he soon rose from death to the attack. I drove my foot painfully into the small of his back, pining him brutally and effectively whilst the doctor took his hacksaw to each of Grumbacher's limbs, finally removing his head. Is this what will happen to me now? No, I go ahead of myself ... I shall continue.

It was evident that we needed to find the box which we now believed to be buried near the bottom of the slope near the house.  Marsden, Snow, Jives and Paris went to retrieve it. Several minutes later there was a frenzied knocking and shouting at the door as they struggled to get back in. They had recovered the box at the price of bringing the unstoppable undead upon us once more. After many rounds were spent, we drove them from our threshold once more. Inside the box we discovered a spell book containing ways to protect from, contact, and banish the undead, but due to our limited knowledge in this field we could not use it to our advantage. With this was a suicide note written by the White Lady before her death which told how she was plagued by a malevolent sorcerer which inhabited the trees, and had sort death as a way out.  In life she had attempted to rid herself of him using his own spells and a magic charm, which was now missing from the box, but had been unsuccessful.  Could this be our way out?

It was now, somewhat belatedly, that the doctor admitted his theft of the firearm we found in the house all those hours ago.

We now needed the charm to lift the protection surrounding what was apparently the heart of the Dark Spirit that plagued us in the tree. But where was the charm? We tried yet failed to contact the head of our now fully deceased colleague Mr Grumbacher in an attempt to find more information, but due to unforeseen accidents, the head was now greatly damaged and useless. We waited in the house, unsure of our next move, and half an hour later we were under attack once more. The scene in the house was one of chaos - every man for himself - as we holed up in the four bedrooms, separated and disorganised. I remember that six were in the room I shared, only two of us armed. We kept the door barred.

We heard screams from the other parts of the house, and I could only conclude that many of our party had passed from the realm of living. As far as we knew, we were the only six left alive. Then we decided it was time to go. Smashing the window, we escaped from the house to make our final stand. As I stood, my soul forsaken, I knew these may be my final moments. The scene outside was more like a battlefield, with the living and the undead struggling against each other. By a sheer stroke of good fortune, Miss Ashton uncovered the whereabouts of the charm some distance from the house. Our only chance now was to reach the charm. Marsden, who had also managed to escape, joined us in the hunt. The dead were slow. We knew we had some time. We made for the tree and gingerly recovered the heart. Then we tried to perform the rite, as stated in the spell book, that would save us.

Nothing happened. What had we done wrong?

Last entry, hastily written:

While we strive to destroy this evil spirit, a lone undead is approaching us from the path - the remnants of the Doctor. I know now that these are my final utterings. Myself and Andre had spent all our remaining shots. I have bid Andre farewell and told the others to try and save themselves. This one was mine..." 

Also found near the this diary was the bodies of Bartholomew Frogmorton, Reginald Frogmorton, Mark Wynn-Davies, Harry Price, and Count Kempski. Apparently, it was a mass suicide, according to a brief note found at the scene. I will discover what happened to my brother there...