I am writing to inform you of the delay of my arrival. The train leading into West Hampshire from Bethany seems to have fallen into disrepair on the tracks inside of a tunnel. It’s quite dark in here and I am writing to you by match light. Genevieve was wrong to laugh at my purchase of one thousand wooden matches. She was also wrong to laugh at my bringing of quill and ink with me. “What if I were to get trapped in a tunnel?” I protested. Looks like I have the last laugh now.
We’ve been trapped in here for about two days now and the cabin is beginning to stink. I believe the man next to me to have suffered an aneurysm and passed onto the next life a day and a half ago. I’m surprised that no one has been dispatched to come help. This train ride was only to be six hours journey and it broke down merely two hours into the trip. I find it difficult to believe that no one has thought to investigate.
A postmaster who has grown justly impatient has announced that he will collect any letters we have and deliver them to their loved ones free of charge. He’ll be traveling by foot and by my estimation, there are at least three or four miles left in this dark tunnel, so it is my hope that someone has a flashlight that they can lend the gentleman. Otherwise, I shall fear for his safety.
Should this letter reach you before I, good Joseph, please send help right away. This has been a terrible ordeal that we are all in and we desperately need help.