Okey-dokey, then. - Marie

I have an account now, I guess.

Apparently, with someone posting in the comments anonymously, she thinks it'd be better if she can keep track of my stuff on the blog better.

Something like that.

I'll be glad when Tia gets here, to be completely honest.

Partially because things are worse than Elisa's been letting on.

As I said before, she's been trying not to let it show how much things are getting to her.

She threw out her red paint because she said it smelled like old blood.

Admittedly, it smelled really off.

She hasn't gone to work at the thrift store since she called in the other day.

And she's not eating.

She says that she just feels sick every time she gets food in her stomach.

I'm not letting her hide when her anxiety gets the better of her, though.

She's trying to be strong, and maybe in all the wrong ways, because it's just going to eat away at her.

This is dumb.

Tia will be able to talk to her better about these things than I will, once she's done wondering if Elisa's off her rocker more than usual.

Which she could be just a bit, considering what's going on.

We've decided to stay away from may parents place right now.

It's weird, because they knew something was up with Jared, but it's been six years since he died, and there's been nothing around the house since then.

-Marie

Dreams

I dreamed of the fire from back when I was a kid, last night. I wasn't even conscious, so how can I remember it? I didn't, until now. And that's the truth of it. I just had a full-sensory dream of a fire, at least. Not ours. Ours was caught. I'm like a walking cliche,  mentioning childhood fires, but some things are adding up. Damn. The official reason was lightning and only the attic got taken out, though.


I woke up about an hour and a half ago, half strangled, with Marie in a tizz. Apparently I'd clawed the facemask off in my sleep again, reopening the scratches from last time and causing the strangling sensation. Next time something like that happens, WAKE ME UP, Marie. On the plus side, I'm not having a breakdown like last time, though I've been crying off and on for no definable reason since I woke up. I guess that's a good thing?

I saw someone outside just a moment ago, but I'm not going to bother speculating as to who at the moment. I imagine Crispy will be back at some point with backup... I'm honestly surprised there hasn't been taunting and junk already. Isn't that how these things go? All sarcasm aside, yeah, I'm freaked out, I'm terrified... I can't even begin to describe how some of these things are getting to me, but I'm not sure why parts of what's going on are just making me more... stubborn, I guess is the right word.

I give up on trying to hide how I'm feeling, but I'll be working against those feelings as much as I can.

I'm just an Art College drop-out. Why? I've been alone other than Marie for two years now. I'm tired.

interesting post name here

I now have purple hair, a mag-lite and a soldering iron on me at all times, and the new Dresden Files book.  The first and last parts are solely to keep my spirits and mood up, but that counts for something, I suppose. I've been helping Marie get things ready for school, though who knows how that's going to go at this point.

If whoever spray painted that stupid symbol on the driveway is reading this, I'm not amused, and it's been mostly removed already. Ha. If it's Crispy, then just leave me alone, thanks. I hope your burns fester.

My arm is healing up well, which is a good thing, considering the pains I've been taking to keep it clean and closed. Butterfly strips are your friends, kids. I'm not sure why, but I've been painting a lot recently, and not all of it is related to the current situation, though I do find myself painting forest scenes more often than not. Most of them don't have a certain figure sneaking into them or weird symbols beyond the usual, though. Most of them.  Weird thing is, I had to throw out my red paint today. The color had dulled to a darker shade and it was smelling really... off. I don' want to say what the smell reminded me of, but let's just say it wasn't pleasant. Not sure how that happened.

Marie bullied me into contacting another person who is dealing with stuff as well, and I finally gave in. Unfortunately, she's been taken by someone recently and I'm not sure what her current status is. Whether you want them or not, I'm tossing at least thoughts in your direction, Elaine.

Marie's been cutting occasionally still, but at least she's letting me tend to them and keep from getting them infected. She knows I don't approve of it on any level, but at least they're shallow and being kept clean. She's taken to locking herself in the spare bedroom for the better half of the day and then coming out and sticking close to me for the rest of the time. I'm worried about you, Marie. But then, I worry about everyone. What is the world but a vicious, tangled knot of interconnected lives and worries?

Edit: Tia, when you read this, call me.

Heh

At this rate, Doc Chavez might suggest I get sent away again. I really hope not, even though it was partially my own choice the first time. It won't help matters. Making plans. Someone's been in the house other than Marie while I was gone. She says she didn't see anyone, but there's a few bits of evidence that something's even less right than usual.

No new injuries or anything, but... Ugh. Sick as a dog. As unfortunate as that phrasing is to me. I nearly got... mugged coming out of work today. I got to the car before they got to me, though. I think I saw Crispy. I'm going to call in sick to the store tomorrow.

Some wishful thinking.

"To fear is one thing. To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another." ~Katherine Paterson, Jacob Have I Loved

I need help.

Talking

A normal day, as they go right now.

When I got home from work today, Marie and I talked a bit, going over the research and information-gathering she'd roped me into doing. She had this to say about my earlier outright denial of our current circumstances. "Things like that don't happen here? Just like this isn't the kind of town where tornadoes hit high schools and destroy the school and student body" ... I couldn't argue that. I just couldn't. I graduated the year before that incident and was off at college when that happened, but I can't argue that it wasn't a catastrophic event that nobody saw coming in a town like this. Terrible things do happen, even in places like this. It was a bit blunt of her to put it that way, but it did knock a little sense into me.

I guess you just never want to believe it could or would happen. Denial doesn't help anyone, though.

She still won't tell me exactly why she wanted me to find these things out for her, but I have my suspicions, especially considering the fact that the conversation once again turned to her brother. Tangents are always fun. She misses him still. Marie was  eleven when Jared went missing. I know I call her a kid a bit too often, but in a way, I still sometimes see her as one. Mostly because we've become so close since I moved back into town. It's almost like having a sibling, I guess. A skinny, black-haired, taller than me sibling.

Marie gets this look in her eyes every time her brother comes up in conversations, though. Like something inside of her is being worn away. She thinks her parents could have done more to try and find him, and maybe they could have. It's been over five years and there's been no sign or word from him. I don't think he's listed in any Missing Persons database, though I could be wrong... It just feels at times like his parents are trying to forget about him.

Maybe they're deeper in denial than I am.

Girly's been saying some weird stuff recently, though. When we were talking about Jared, she said something about him "sacrificing everything". Maybe she knows more than she says about what happened. And yes, I know she's going to read this, but honestly, this is important as well as the information gathering and "learning from others".

I went through the envelope the Crispy Critter left on my porch, and there's a few things in there. I'm working on piecing together one of the pieces of paper, which was ripped up. the other is just a bit, um, creepy. It looks like a drawing done in crayon by a kid with the words "WHY IS MOMMY CRYING?" on it. I'll try to fiddle with the scanner and get it posted later.

They're out there. I know it mostly because someone followed me to work today. I know car-fu, buddy. And mine is bigger than yours. Vehicle that is. I don't have one of -those-. Um, anyway. /bravado

She thinks she's protecting me, you know.
 Me and Tia and her therapist and everyone.
Protecting us by hiding how this is really effecting her in her jumbly ciphers and her trying to keep Tia away.
 She's crying again in the other room, though.
She's trying to protect us, but right now, she can't even handle herself.
Not with putting so much responsibility that nobody is aiming at her on herself.
She thinks I don't hear when she cries and is freaked out by what's going on.
I do...
And I understand, kind of.
He's coming, anyway.
He's outside again right now.
Not doing anything...
Just watching.
And waiting.
From what I remember, He...
It.
The Amazing Mr. Tentacle.
Whatever, is good at waiting. 
I think that it's almost worse than if he was doing something.
I'm scared.
Terrfied.
I hate to admit it, since I'm supposed to be all teenagery and bravado-filled, but I remember how Jared was before he disappeared.
They never found the body.
We're not going to be able to pull this off, and Lis is too much of a loon to reach out to any of the others who could help.
She's almost as scared of those being pursued as she is of those pursuing.
I'm holding her here.
Holding her back from running.
I'm already sick.
I was born sick.
I almost wish she would just leave me, but I know she's not going to.
I'm scared of what will happen if she does.
-Marie

P.S. Sorry I posted on you blog, Lis, but you left it up.
And I didn't even curse any.
Remind me to get more insulin from the parentals soon.
I know you're not going to be mad at me for posting this.
You're going to be disappointed, which is much worse.
Tonight is a night where things are happening, though.
Bad things.
Just like every other night, right?

Silence

It's been mostly quiet today other than a few things seem from the corners of eyes and a rather weird incident at work involving one of my coworkers insisting on calling me by the wrong name no matter how much I corrected him. I haven't had that problem with this guy before now.

Kyur zyz wggdvu org V uywef'm dfqw dpr "fkbrl" mhzqy kvq frbrlxd kr jev lrr. (Ool mhrw A dpvai bnqhnv lk bmnqgog laij.) L vy pnic toex vvuq qwbq pfakhnj igb bunr, uhgngy. Igb war, Kbrax ij d esvbe, yod thty rx rme cysefms ruw kzbhle afw gzyw k lnzl bbgnt yhj, odra riomzh jkw'c agnwjny tt db hvipr pjgzm nfz. Ad ebhje lghk sdv sn fuc kukm dzvszxrnpfd obty kwb "aheppgsme jlt" yv fb kbnq eemhdc. Q pnl'u dg mhrw ly pre nbrwgtj dxdme jfbt ztpghfol gb Hbrww, nf psdbre fpw ency wzog bhrxajwlp gwxg juyu hsipvqwn. Nbe yoolaei wzsvt, gffrw trv kwktgu gtsmxs kr comc vl nifw. Mruao qf qgbbwmit dfn Q untf mq hwe lkccrf, zptz hf nkamp jbsmd tx a sll rieq rp dwtl nllr euvjf rmgnzqy, dpbhei ix gevg to, Q thcts khmvwzsvt pmvlv ue wlyezrq mvt. A'f nfw yyqat rp lwtvv kwb jrugod lh tyh lovqrp nejvivv gp eunrfvwk mrb krwj hn, uhgngy. Qg wiggcs hgp ujhdoaf V yn, I'e zozqy dw qb kz bwlt kr comc ucs ak lawh sc Q pnl bnv B'm xraxo gb apnlbnlh ly bel rp kwxp Kls ycg bd uhal. Dfflyz Puywer... Peco, lrqf ojpg zts xrfo i ovr pfx mhv usstf sppm oaak kw wmnar jt lh bv, emd Q qbl'u wsgt yle wwer govgevvg lkv ur fbs lh bv, hadpre. G lngp mp sgcbvae uhaggj lf mwqr ysef'm hvohsvt zc haag aeb zotc, osu hggejwdi, ifvbf fjhm jwsbbvae bngmhvu tvwt, V bpn'l dnfz zye ryqf tg devs lrwfr lpt ag tyh cxwj sppm... cgonlfq. Qs gfbt etkvv sxg frlte sm aco, toknhqf hggejwdi, qg oysedr emhf wixrq tefle kr eo. Q'z fabrww. I'd kgxmfgjz, dgpn kr lrm oblfs, ztvvq'l pmyg riik eemhd yn srys sagcv L oka n xge, twkrziaol. V pyo't dxt Kls yz rico Mskiv nfye guyu, tzhuxk.

Lrm gugog al, I urf'd pnic nuua,iw dfibuvlh tg eojh. Fyb crptoftlcb. A'w iyblf olaei wzkv n scx fjbeegk. Fmel dfw, uhnjlvozvae ny exnkdd cbngc tifve dre ziffce aoty. Db nozl rvjslxnth mz bb gfjs hhiew zka orco fsbrcb hyqagjfsk, uuk lx S kna bp tzbs fqw dpvae bnv aecs gdpreq... J dgg't bqgg. Qg'f quuhbd rqv slvbrjc. A dnfz lrm fzyst laiej ly lb jmvlv ue kr doiir Kbrax bvkaxl nab iesw olw. A wmna, G daf eimh osbubsu tzx skxhsl znaiifx, ik'v beag amu tzx bvvl dpvae uo lky. Z oafm va yo ajxa kksd cfrb uo tx ae rdn xvac gojxsk, igb kuegtssde. Z nfye gugt lgvaklgx qfa'r pplbmro.

Ugh

...I feel almost hungover. Or I presume that's what this feels like. I've never actually been hungover, you know? Anyway, when I woke up, there was an odd symbol painted on the palm of my hand. Odd because for one, it's not one I've seen used before, and for two because my paint is on the other side of the room from where I sleep and I was still hooked up to the machine when I woke up this morning.  It looks to be in a mixture of red and black paint, probably acrylic, but is smells a bit... off, like there's something mixed into it. It's obviously not oil, because it's actually dry. I'll plop my hand on the scanner and put it at the bottom of the post, I guess. Maybe someone will recognize it.

Marie's still a bit off, but she's nearly nocturnal by this point, though I suppose time of day doesn't make all that much difference, does it? I don't have work today, so I'll catch up on some reading and get back to the research I was doing, even though it's only gotten me in trouble so far. Apparently I commented on someone else's blog while I was in a daze after that incident last night. Maybe being halfway in shock gives me more of a spine. Who knows? Lord knows I need one.

I actually feel kind of guilty for what happened, though his quick disappearance makes it even more obvious that whoever that guy was, he wasn't exactly... on the level. I'll take a look at his envelope later. Still waiting for a reply to something, but then again, some of the people in question have been occupied recently.

Tia, I'll call you later. Just keep in mind, a friend in need is a friend indeed, but a friend that's dead is a poor conversationalist, yeah?

Later Edit: It turns out the messages I sent out weren't even received. Ugh! Okay. Calm. I'm just going to deal with this more directly.
Ad zrnjmy al srg lrig V'k blehsk dxbivq mg enxn trfdipggog gmhvuk. Oacrajadey rv lrmve apnltck zadp zr kjgzm sguwkl xamxlwwgv rx gpng'q iahieelfq bb Ggb. I otnk wg umrc ffr gnt fi lrm ybmq of mhzv ap Q pnl, fshxczddvg vs rie oaoch cxwjycegw mhzqy bmnyjz ik phrw hebf lmv if foih vkvtrp. Vgz. Uuk hnov orwpnv mhrw, ad'a whqu af xxkhfcqba mg mq nsldd kvkvcuy alslhk, gpvpf ianx gfwlov habfrkmaegsltl jmssw ts kkw vifg kpnla hrv hkafrb. Uhwr dfq'l uvbj kf, afw I urf'd sabu uhwf, blw ekgor rial'l ffu lrm orqu. I vhusw sxg bs riee polov vqxr kf vwky dxur, ialuby. Sgd crgu ig zc, xojkyzqy kjbhr uhsm sful yn gugog oaee L zkl zl djrkm ccrko mapmvnlxr nllr i yviflq irfaq imfgcsdsr. I'd df slvbr.

Oh great.

Hoodie dude was outside again earlier after I was cleaning up after I got home from work, and actually in the yard this time. He had a knife or something in his hand, so I grabbed the first thing that came to hand in my supplies I've been getting together.  By the time I got back, he was on the porch and tacking an envelope to the door. It's probably got one of those stupidly ominous messages or something in it. I haven't checked yet.

Anyway,  I may have just shot someone in the chest with a flare gun at fairly close range and then slammed the door in his face as quickly as I could. Um. He's gone now, but that's going to hurt, considering he was kind of on fire. Second or third degree burns at least. I... hope I haven't screwed up things for myself even more. Cripes. Freaking adrenaline and anxiety.... I'm currently taking this surprisingly well, considering the situation, but I feel like I'm going to collapse at any moment, but I couldn't let him any closer to the house with Marie here. Time to curl up with some music and calm down some after I get this cut bandaged, if I can manage it. Focus on something positive. Focus.

Tia, before you read this, no. The answer is still no.

Techbane

Scanner mostly quit acting up. Can't sleep, though.

I'm not going to break. It's not an option. It's funny, though, how I'm almost as scared of the other people in trouble as I am of the things causing the trouble. Sad, really.

Rawr

I am the queen of the thrift shop and cold-blooded slayer of mangoes.  So there. Not cute.

Tell me what I want to say
Save me for another day
Break me, it's the game you play
Hate me as I turn away

Waiting for a reply from someone on something... Coping as best I can at the moment, and wishing the best for those who don't know me but are to be wed.




Zo'a bhrtivx tyh osvqbu ooo, cujw okbpugog. Fxeu wg pqavqi psvkzqy. Xwj. V lfev mo chsfm fbmo, bmm iw wzo ZGF aseo wovvf'd zrcjz sghn, Z ggx'b rico kfhw nksd Q'z tmjny mo ur lrmer. Kbrax's xraxo gb fbvw mo jwsi prec, vndxsj L okvg gm ce znnkhv pwe xgensipzqy ka jrjm ak uy kkaxof gfbt yh blph sv guc oiyat. Ljz... Lmfvbfs oaitk, krm'f tcutagg jluuqfu. Uiiua ij gwpqavrflq gok d yywq fghn.

Why?

Why did I let them out? Why didn't I go out with them, not that it would have made any difference? He killed one of my dogs. That thing, in the time it took me to get things together to make tea, killed one of my dogs and left the head on the back stoop. Or threw it at the door. One or the other. I didn't see it. I came home from work, let the dogs out, and went to go make tea. The dogs started barking, and I thought maybe it was the hoodie guy again, but apparently I was wrong. By the time I got to the back door, Patch was whining and cowering as he scratched at it, terrified, and there was a sudden yelp cut off and a thud, freaking Patch out even more. It was her head. Macy is gone. It's just hard to consider, since she and Patch have been essentially my only company over the last year other than Marie visiting and now staying with me.

Why? A ten year old dog that has never hurt anyone... But then that would let in the question of deserving things., and that's shaky ground these days, isn't it? And as to Marie... What's going to happen to her? What are her parents going to think if we have to... She's only sixteen, for goodness' sake. I can only play mother-and-friend to a certain extent. I... I need to go puke.

Xsvr, Uc't tzxrv... L kke Uvk, pr lae jksnwj bd Iie uewrjo qg ojjphxd sduu qagm uhw lhrggga, be uiejxvvu ad obrq. Jnlh tyh lbmrf. Kbrax ij embgvae uhw aerg ax bur ebrvxn rv A gzvgc uhal ug. Wawm gb zf a dbtkow wwer nsosvtzyw, wiloc. Zekmeigsi, bunr Dodeetwgb qqvmu fgnnu pq ltbt rirgngy wzo war mg tzhsv nana ur'q nekliej osbu. Gmeaq, hnv rx wg orqu, odwejw xbqrabt wsl slpekzvyw tlsngywwbmq nle lwyt clco i tvdu of fy sduu agbmq. Fage. Kleo bb sghujx olw s wwir rp msde. Z'p fyb fhpf ix bt'co vy ial epov, uuk sgsvgyctsfxsj lk xwg nl pplboe. Qgd belgog al nfw lrm jnw uo yh.

Life.

It's raining again.
Once again tired of having to be hooked to a machine to sleep properly. That'll be an issue if things escalate past a certain point. I keep seeing things moving in the trees, but nothing has intruded too far yet. I don't expect that to last, though.

Rain

It's raining again, and Hoodie-face was out there. He was pointing toward the woods around the property line emphatically, like he saw me at the window. Still too far away to get a good lock on his features. He had them, though, and was even on the slightly stocky side. That's always a plus.

I retreated to the hallway with my laptop to read. I almost hope this dude ends up with heat stroke. I mean, really? A hoodie and jeans in 90+ degree weather?  I could call the cops on him, but he hasn't set foot over the property line, from what I've seen.  He's just kind of hovered around some. Hm.

Take it slow

All clear on the western front. I managed to get a few hours of sleep last night, and got up at a reasonable hour. Everything is fine. I spoke with Dr. Chavez this morning, and he said I should work on writing some personal stuff here as well as current events and things going on in the cuckoo's nest. So Ooooooh, infodump because I don't like retreading the past sometimes. Especially certain parts.

I'm not sure what he wants, but he seems to think that this blogging will help with my anxiety issues. (Fat lot of good that's done so far.) For the maybe three or four people reading this, yes, I'm a little cracked. If you know me and have read my earlier posts, you'd know that already. Generalized anxiety disorder and Social anxiety disorder are my major malfunctions, along with low self-esteem and lack of self-preservation at times. Oh, I'm not suicidal, not by a longshot. Not after making myself research the multitude of ways suicide attempts can go wrong and leave you far worse off than you ever thought about being in the first place. I've managed to make it this far though stubbornness and finding help when I needed it. Being the kid of someone with bi-polar, I've always been fairly aware of when something's up with my mental state.

As to family, the majority of the people who read this, being Tia and Marie, know what's up there. I was an only child, though my mother did get pregnant again. I was in high school at the time. After that, my parents got divorced. I haven't heard from dad in at least five years. I'm not sure why he refuses to contact me or return any attempts at contacting him, especially after the wreck. That's where we... I lost mom. Happy, Doc? You know I hate talking about that. So are you happy? Hm, progress?

Sorry. Sorry. Getting belligerent over the past on a stupid blog isn't going to help matters. I know I need to deal with things better and that bottling things up isn't going to help me in the long run. I do know that she wouldn't want me getting depressive again, anyway. Not after high school. I'm not going to talk about them much beyond this point, hopefully. Except for good things, if they apply to whatever I'm writing.

Anyway, the little house I've always lived in is where I am now, with Marie as a roomie currently. I work at a junk shop in town as well as some work from home to make ends meet. Not the most classy of lives, but I manage. I kind of have to.

I'm single. Completely and utterly single. I'm twenty-three and I've been on one date in my life. That ended with me trying to hide behind a book because I was simply that nervous.

Might seem a bit abrupt, but he was talking about it and I just figured I'd try to get this out while my head was clear and I wasn't trying to work on something else. I don't know why, but I've been completely ADD when it comes to projects recently. I do hope this post was personal enough for you, Doc. Because I broached a lot of subjects you know I don't like airing out, especially in public. Also, what if eventually I don't want this to be part of our stuff anymore? At that point, you'll stop reading, right?

On another note, I keep thinking I see Hoodie McStalkerpants again. That's it, I'm stocking up on some stuff this weekend, just in case.

A'w tbnrie lh plw sxggugog vbrvflvg erebrvbnx wzsa bz kz bdhg wrj tcfg yoygge kr kom, ohr J tzbnb Psbqr zyz hsoe jfjoerq riifzs ls xyz zr yod zxrjhdp jvt rjmw. B'm erl ccer uial aei pgdqirq xejx ffu yobgvlh mw mo ur lrqf ecteskcy igb pre, zvt A dnfz ti vbj rial dnfzaxo vf bbnyxr. Rqv S zrsste lh plod Dqn bp bnqhnv hdcm varp tzbs zi A mia ucmp am. I'd vukzrq. G huwls kksd'a urymtzr, tyrmqp. Zryos A'f nfw dyag lcu. I laien hkzg bd uhw bsjxw sa guyu I'e xvvq kmierb uo lky rqv pqaq fflh, mhfxyr. Q xamx tzxrv djo xrbnme gnt kkwbm jum brw weroaxo jvri tzbs, nkg riir kbnszeu wg nmny ujtz mhzv xyz n jfjlw. Hf trmbar V iooo mhrw lrm bhrmogd ij edoix. V'k ool ltlsan. We nr meslt erl svgrluiggacoq. S'ty sghujx sfpwdpvae pul, B jlvl xmrq rp wgkk kkjyctu riik kixkl xwj.  V lfev mo nrju buemvgz mhzv sxl nimjd lae rxlrwevrjek bn kkw kzrn bve lh tyh esafvlh kaws. Xhldqat govgevvg osbu gff Fwws zv fyb ba kz walhclkd.

Calm

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

Been listening to that clip on repeat for the last twenty-four hours. I wish I could whistle like that...

I'm really sorry about the other day. Marie found me at the computer, just staring at the screen and crying after I woke up that morning. I'd been working on painting late, as usual, and fell asleep at my table.

I dreamed. I usually don't dream, or if I do, I certainly don't remember the dreams. In this one, I was wandering through the park nearby, looking up at the trees. Alone... As I walked, the trees grew longer and thinner, the color fading out of them as I followed the boardwalked path. The sky grew dimmer, shifting from blue to twilight, and them shading though wine to a deep, unsettling red. I knew I shouldn't be there. I know I shouldn't be there. Something was calling to me, though. Unlike in life, there were no branches off of the boardwalk, just a single path, leading to the base of one tree, larger than the others. I stopped some distance off, and the tree seemed to shift, the branches moving, ending in hands, arching slowly toward me, teasing. A few patches of the tree's trunk grew lighter as  it  reached for me. At that point, I turned and ran.  For some time, I seemed to gain no distance from the... figure, the boardwalk becoming streaked with red beneath me. The tree was becoming something, some creature. It was alive, branches writhing as no wood had any right to. The form was familiar, but I didn't stay to watch the completion of the transformation. If the fact that my dream-self ran makes me a coward, then I'm a coward. At the moment, the more applicable term seems to be "smart".

The forest was completely silent around me as I ran, devoid of life as I finally moved away from the tree after long minutes of struggling that seemed to last at least an hour, if not more. I stuck to the path, knowing almost instinctively that straying would lead only to despair or worse. I ran and ran, my chest pounding and my lungs screaming in protest for air as my legs threatened to collapse beneath me. I stumbled, and as I did so, I heard a low chuckle, echoed by another, strangled-sounding one from a different direction. There was a rustling in the underbrush as I tried to catch my balance, and I saw two small figures with bloodstained clothes disappearing into the trees, the girl glancing back at me with dead, empty eyes. before they simply vanished into the black trees. The red was so vital, so vivid, as though fresh, the only color in the whole dream... Nightmare.

The sounds were like gunshots in the silence, even as quiet as they were. That's the last thing I remember before waking up at the computer with a screen full of typed words,  feeling as though I'd run for miles, blood under my nails and scratches on my face. The doctor said the scratches were self-inflicted, and at the moment, I'm tempted to believe her. Marie is watching me now. She blames herself already... And she probably should.

I've tried to delete the last post, but it just keeps coming back, so I'll leave it be for now. I've decided blogspot hates me, anyway. Somehow some of the blogs I was simply reading for research purposes have ended up on my follow list as well. I'm not even going to bother trying to fiddle with them for the moment. So, my current explanation for my weirdness is that I had an anxiety attack from a very vivid, oddly terrifying dream of something that now vaguely reminds me of what might happen if Cthulhu had a lovebaby with an ent, but I'm fine. Really, I'll be fine. I'm just learning for sure that this is not a game on any level.

For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
There is nothing out there.
I deny you.
I deny you.
I deny you.
Dreams are only dreams.
I am alone, even with another person.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.

Sorry

Sorry about the rambling the other day. I've just been thinking over the past a lot recently due to events over the last... Coming up on two or three weeks now. I got out of the house today without Marie. She's not big into the whole church thing, anyway. I've been wondering if I should join back up with the search for those kids. Marie says I shouldn't, that "they were stupid to go into the trees", which I find to be a bit odd in its phrasing, even with the research I was doing for her. Beyond that, it's a cold thing to say about a six year-old and a five year-old

What Marie said is a little unsettling to me, really. Especially since the dogs are sticking close to the house when I let them out back at night. I think I'm going to let the babies stay inside except when they have to... go, right now. They're seeing something that I can't. That's the way it works with animals, right? Which reminds me, Marie, if you want anymore research done on the skinny bastard, leave Macy alone.

Reasons

Admittedly, it's nice having another person in the house, keeping me company. Keeping me accountable. We set her up in the living room, and she seems to be fairly comfortable on the futon. Even though Marie has her own little tics, like her refusal to use the computer as anything other than a glorified music player, her company is nice. Earlier, when she asked me why I was willing to do the research I have been for her, I wasn't exactly sure where to start.

I guess a lot of my curiosity about things that most people don't see or think are real stems from some stories my mom told me when I was little. Apparently, I was a little too enamored of the ocean as a kid, and every time we went down to the beach (living only an hour or so from the gulf is nice), they had to worry about me trying to swim too deep. I have to wonder why she went about it this way, but my mother told me stories about a creature called the Undertoad, a terrible over-sized amphibian that lived in the Gulf whose favorite prey was children. Any child who wasn't careful while swimming was in danger of being grabbed by the feet and dragged out to sea where they would be drowned and then eaten. Oddly enough, though, I believed her. Not due to being a gullible child, but because I'd seen or thought I'd seen something under the water out by the sand bars once. Something large and lumpy, with skin that looked black and green, with huge reflective eyes, even in the waters of the gulf. Maybe it was the result of an over-active imagination, but I never went out that far again until I was older.

Looking back, I feel sure that at least logically, it was just a story to scare a child away from danger, but the figure I saw under the water made me curious, even as it had terrified me. Maybe that's strange, but I was never exactly what a lot of people would consider completely normal. The main reason I'm putting this here is because I didn't really answer Marie earlier, and I know she'll read this. Another part of it is that I just want to record that bit of a story mom told me while I'm thinking about it. It's been lonely.

As to the other events, there's been no news on the search for the kids, and I'm considering joining the search, even though I likely wouldn't be much help. I think I saw Hoodie McLurkerpants when I was in town today, but he was gone when I actually looked. I'm not sure whether that's fortunate or not, but I'll go with fortunate.

Moving in

Okay, Marie said that my last post was okay despite denying that she ever "babbles". I could hear the air quotes over the phone. After all, I'm allowed to think over things as they are and were, or something like that. Anyway, there's been no sign of the kids who went missing on the fourth beyond thos initial bits of evidence in the woods. I'm... not going to be helping with the searches from here on out. I can't. I can't. At least not at the moment. I'm swamped with work, and the fact that Marie felt the need to get away from her parents for a bit. I figure, it's summer, and since I'm the only one living here, I'd let her move in temporarily, to at least give the family some breathing room. We'd been talking about something similar a while back anyway, and as long as it doesn't piss anyone off and she's willing to drive herself to work, I'm fine with it. Mar says I probably need the company anyway... I'm not going to deny it.

She told me to leave off the research I was doing for her, but honestly, parts of it are just sticking with me, bothering me at the most inopportune moments. That's hardly the half of it, though. This morning, I found a scrap of paper shoved in the crevice of the front door with a really odd little doodle on it. The scanner's freaking out right now when I try to use it, or I'd post the darn thing. I'll try to get my tech up to speed and I'll post it later. The weird thing was that rather than being at waist height or eye level, the darn thing was stuck in the door about two feet up from the porch. My knees do not thank whoever stuck it there.

As to art stuff, I'm crocheting now, and taking a break from painting. It's something I don't have to focus on too much. A nice, rhythmic sort of action while I listen to music. I discovered a "new" at least to me)  band last night, and I've been listening while I work on things. I like this one song, but it makes me laugh a little, because really, there's nobody who will guard against the shadows in the night no matter what they are, is there?

Great.

Sorry I haven't posted in a few days. Things have been a bit weird in the area since the fourth. Apparently during the festivities of the night, two kids went missingin in the next town over, ostensibly having wandered off while their families were distracted.  No sign other than a headband and a sneaker has been found. They've been searching the woods in the area.

Marie called me last night, babbling something about her brother... Anyone who knows that family knows what I'm talking about. Jared Sinclair went missing back in high school. He would have been in the same graduating class as me, but he was a bit depressive even back in middle school.. I remember, because we went to the same therapist in town and used to meet up at the cafe in that area to talk a little and just give each other a little company. He was a bit paranoid, and always seemed to be doodling things. Jared wasn't the most talkative of people, but then, giving each other company wasn't exactly about talking, most of the time. It was almost nice, just sitting there in silence while he doodled and I read. Marie told me that he would never let her or their parents into his room, and when they went in to search it after he disappeared, the walls were almost solid blue and black from ballpoint pen and marker drawings on the walls. I almost wish I'd been able to get pictures of it, but the times I've been over to the Sinclair house since then, I was kept away from that room, and from what I could see through the partially open door once, her parents have repainted it since then.

Marie, I'm sorry if I'm saying too much, but I've just been thinking about those days recently. I feel sure you'll call me if there's something you want removed. I'm starting to think I know what you may suspect. These things don't happen in Alabama though... Right? Or at least not around here.

Not sure what's up

Okay, checked the spot where I saw the guy last night. No sign, but I didn't think there would be, with it raining off and on for so long. Okay, I'm not doing anymore of this research right now. I'm just going to work on my painting, do my work, and go to see fireworks tomorrow at the park. Nothing is going to happen... I'm in constant contact with people, at least through texting and over the internet, when it's not being a derp. Just going to be chill.

I actually kind of like this series of paintings I'm working on. I mean, I know most people won't get them, due to them being based on some dream I had a while back, but I think they make a reasonable tribute. I do need to get out more, thoguh. Solitude just doesn't agree with me these days, especially at night. I'm not sure how to fix that right now, though I have an idea.

Okay, what?

What.
What.
What.
There is a guy outside my house. It's dark out already, so I can't see much, but what I can make out, he's just standing across the street and looking over here. Medium height, wearing a hoodie, dark gray or black (How the hell can he stand to wear that, I'm not sure. It has to be at least 80 degrees out there.) I can't see his face because the hood is up. I'm not even sure it's a guy, but the build and stance seems that way.

I'm really tempted to go out and say something, because as far as I can tell, he's been out there for a bit now... But I'm kind of scared. I wish I had mom's old gun, but no, of course not. There's gotta be pepper spray in here or something... I keep glancing out the window and he's just standing there.


EDIT: 30 minutes later. He's gone. Went over to ask the neighbors if they knew him, and they're apparently on vacation or something, because they're not home. Still really freaked out, but no longer on the verge of an anxiety attack. I have tea and a painting to work on. All will be well.

Stop

Sorry, been having allergy issues at the moment. Happens every year, especially when it rains... Which, as previously stated, it has been this week. Hating this headache, though. Things have been... the same. Nothing ever really happens here outside of football season.

Worried about that link I was sent the other day. Really.... I mean, these kids are dieing (dying?), and apparently the people from where they're from...Don't care? Have sent them there?  I don't even know. Why would they do that? And another thing, why are so many of these accounts from college-age people and older? I thought that wasn't the m.o. ... Whatever.

Need to schedule an appointment with my therapist... Yay, woo. Nothing against therapists, I mean, he's helped me out a lot over the last few years. Saved my life a few times. Don't worry, I won't go into the boring details of my mental state for the "enjoyment" of anyone who might be reading this blog. Not that I think many are at the moment. If any.... After all, who but Marie would want to read the ramblings I leave here? 

Everybody's moved away from here, it feels like. Yeah, I know.... Quit whining. I'm just gonna go drown in music and paint a little. I got the red paint I needed.