My Dear Julia,

I am writing this letter on the fifth day of September in the year 1897.  I am locked in a cell in the basement of the “Old House.”  In another eight hours, I will die.  It is my fervent hope that this letter will somehow survive time, and be brought to your attention in the year 1969 in order that you may know why my mission to the past was a failure.  I learned only in the past twenty-four hours that on September the tenth next, Quentin Collins will die.  As prophesied, three events were to happen before his death.  Two of them have.  Only the third remains; his rejection by Jameson.  My plan was to return to the present, contact Quentin’s spirit, and find out who killed him.  With this knowledge, I could have prevented his death and thereby saved David Collins.  But all of this has been prevented by one Edward Collins, who learned my secret some months ago and became my implacable enemy and trapped me.  There is no escape for me.

I am, and shall be to the end, your good and devoted friend,

Barnabas Collins


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