Dear Readers,

I have set up fort in Paula's old house. I have discovered many important pieces of information in her many filing cabinets. She has done unspeakable things in the past, and I must prevent her from doing the same in the future. Here is the information that I can give you safely:

Paula used to work for a company called Phoenix AG, a manufacturer of rubber-based products (including conveyor belts) based in Hamburg.

She took over the company seven years ago.

She created a palace of rubber, designed by Ikea founder Ingva Kamprad, five years ago.

The building caught fire four years ago, and continues to burn to this day.

I will continue later, as Paula is approaching the house holding what would appear to be a metre-long breadknife.

Alyss or Charlie, Help!

With something,
G. Caprice

Dear followers,

Dear me, it has been a day. I awoke this morning (New Year's Day) to find huge banners hanging all around the Isle of Lost Nuns reading "HOORAY, HOORAY! IT'S CANNIBAL DAY!" Needless to say, I was alarmed at the prospect of eating another human, until I read a nearby poster nailed to a palm tree. It read:

Cannibal Day Dishes

MAINS

Caprice, Garhuckle Leonard Ulrick Sherlock Torrence Ignatius

SIDE

Houston, Sister Whitney Elizabeth

Of couse, I was alarmed, not least because they spelt 'Ulric' with a 'ck' and immediately hid myself in a cave. I planned to craft a makeshift gondola to escape upon.

When I entered the cave, however, I found a trapdoor. I entered and found myself in a dirty passage, clearly dug by an inexperienced tunnel-digger. There was a sign on the wall reading "Welcome, near-eaten sister, venture forth toward escape or stay ye put for garlic-scented doom". Naturally I was more inclined towards escape than said garlic-scented doom, and so I crafted a makeshift habit of palm leaves to disguise myself as a Lost Nun.

I followed the passage for (I assume) many days. Eventually the passage began to ascend, and ultimately ended in another trapdoor. I pushed it open, and the sight that met my eyes made me speechless; I was staring at Paula's livingh room from beneath a rug. I exited the passage, and replaced the rug that had been concealing it.

What now, I do not know. I am disconcerted by the suddenly apparent shadowy mysteries of Paula's past.

With an interesting, yet unpleasent emotion,

G. Caprice