The stage is completely dark. The setting is a small crowded room with a bed, bookshelves, and a desk. There's a diagonal wall with a window in it. Books and crumpled up papers are scattered everywhere. Edgar Bookman is seated at the desk scribbling in the darkness as the audience enters the auditorium. He's a well-dressed Victorian gentleman, gaunt in appearance, with gray hair and spectacles. He lights a candle on the desk to signal the start of the play.
He rips a page from the journal he’s writing in, crumples it up, and carelessly tosses it away. Slowly, the stage brightens and soft sounds of birds start to play. Edgar looks up towards the window, startled by the dawn, and blows out his candle. He stands up from the desk, journal in hand, and opens it to the first page.
EDGAR: My dear reader. My name is-
He stops suddenly as a pair of characters stroll past the room’s window, chatting casually. He rushes over to shut the blinds. The two continue off-stage. He clears his throat and starts again, voice softer.
EDGAR: My dear reader. My name is Edgar Alexander Bookman. The world that you know is not as it seems. If you are reading this now, something is watching you.
EDGAR: I realize I am nearing my end and, should I take my secrets with me to the grave, they are things which mankind may never know again. I am writing this journal to detail what I have seen and done, but I warn you: I study things which would like to see us suffer. Reading this book is dangerous to you and all whom you love. I have lost everything.
Something nearby shifts. Edgar pauses, but everything is deathly quiet. He glances around the room and cautiously continues.
EDGAR: The doors which connect us to the Looking Glass are numerous.
Edgar's chair scoots slightly across the floor. Books and papers shift and fall around the room, at first subtly, but becoming more disruptive as Edgar continues reading.
EDGAR: Each day people access those doors by mistake, not realizing what they’ve done. Behind some of those doors there’s nothing, or at least, nothing of great consequence; but behind others are things wicked, appalling, beyond anything human.
The lights darken.
EDGAR: The supernatural isn’t just around us. It surrounds us. It watches us. It waits for us to open the wrong door.
Books cascade from one of the shelves. Edgar's journal is tugged out of his hands by an invisible force and slides across the floor. He lunges for it.
EDGAR (yelling): Blast you! Blast you! Get out of my house!
Papers fly around the room. Edgar drops to his knees, searching for his journal among the other scattered books. The furniture shakes. Edgar pulls a vial of clear liquid from his coat and starts to wave it around, as if warding something away.
EDGAR: I know you're there! I know you're there and I'm having none of it! I'm not afraid of you! I'm not afraid! I swear, I will destroy you, even if it costs a thousand lives-
Edgar lurches forward suddenly and the stage goes dark.