April 2, 1985
I will never understand children, even after the remaining mysteries of the universe have unraveled themselves before these, mine prying eyes! Why they would wish to engage in their culturally mandated "rebellion" of the senses in a singularly marked graveyard is beyond me while true rebellion against the Age of Sleepers is available not a brisk walk away within the crumbling ruins of the once proud Aether Reservoir.
I encountered these ruffians whilst depositing my monthly bouquet of adder grass, thorn apple, and black garlic at the pauper's grave belonging to one Horst Waller. The gadabouts were dealing with such matters as they did not understand, performing a séance at the so-called final resting place of Emanuel Stargazer. It should go without elucidating that Grand Jackal Stargazer was unable to be reached on account of his earthly remains now being contained elsewhere. However, that knowledge was unavailable to these scions of normalcy; even if it were, I doubt that it would have discouraged them, so enthused by base intoxicants, they were.
In a fit of most uncommon spleen at the desecration of Horst's memorial site, I loosed the bands of earthly perception from their senses. Flush with the shock that even the most elementary forces of the cosmos present to the uninitiated, the youths left the remainder of my walk unhindered.
No doubt this will only lead to further tales of misplaced terror. Such deception pains me, but is perhaps the only way to keep the unprepared from awakening the cemetery’s one true secret: that of the fallen Gerde who stands petrified vigil over Stargazer's tomb, awaiting his return. It seems that something was to be done about that loose end, but the method escapes me on this chill eve.
(Source: The private journal of Dr. Orlando Laswell)