Should this manuscript not end up lost or burned and one day happen to be published, a preface is unavoidable.
Labor-saving devices are becoming more advanced every day, and there are always people more than happy to identify themselves as the original model for a particular character in a novel or play as an effortless way to promote themselves. To preempt those who would assume a false identity in this manner, let me declare categorically that the characters and events in this book are completely fictitious. Not only are the humans within its pages good, law-abiding citizens, but its beasts are domesticated pets, and even its ghosts are not those homeless spirits that roam about unchecked. All live strictly within the confines of this volume and will never step outside its covers. Should someone claim to be one of the humans, beasts, or ghosts who appear in this collection, it would be tantamount to saying that a character, who is purely a product of my imagination, has walked off the page, taken on blood and flesh, soul and vitality, assumed that person’s likeness, and now moves about freely in the real world. I’m afraid that since man was first molded out of clay we have yet to see another such miracle of creation, and I dare not dream that my artistry has reached such heights. I must thus refute any such claims in advance and respectfully thank those who would so flatter me.
April 1, 1944
