Saturday, May 7, 2011

Flu Week

Title says it all.  Tuesday evening I started getting nauseous, and by midnight I'd puked out most of my stomach.  The next day wasn't much better.  Fever, fatigue, inability to eat anything except applesauce... it was a real blast.  I was feeling a little better by Thursday, but I didn't want to leave the house.  Same with Friday.  I guess being cooped up inside gave me this sense of security that I didn't want to lose so quickly.  I know I'm not really safe anywhere, but I can at least feel like I am.

Still, I'm not going to let this completely get me down.  The Cultural Festival is today, and I'm going.  I've missed school, I missed The Taming of the Shrew, and I'm not going to pour black paint over my life and shut everything out because I'm paranoid.  Alright, admittedly, I'm terrified.  I'm not going to let it defeat me so easily, I can't.  It's bright outside, I'll be surrounded by people, and it's such a great experience.

I'm still wary though.  If I see any of my friends, I don't want them to start asking questions.  I've had to deal with enough 'worry' and 'care' from my parents.  I don't trust them anyways.  They're pretenders.  I saw them laughing at me on Tuesday when I was leaving school... before I got sick.  Like they knew.  They were laughing.

I'm sorry I haven't posted to you for so long.  I was sick... I wasn't exactly fit to pour out my thoughts to a computer screen.  But I missed you.  I'll be back later tonight.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

It's Hard

My last post... I wasn't in the best state of mind when I wrote it.  That should be obvious.  I'd go back and clean it up, but I don't want to change the record of what this entire situation has been doing to me.  I didn't know a person could get this way.

I guess I should start with what actually happened on Thursday.  I was a little out of it... I suppose I'd have to be to want to go to Iverson.  I was just tired of sitting and waiting for something to happen, I guess.  I wanted to make it happen.  I took my rosary because, honestly, I thought it would help somehow.  It comforted me, it helped me feel like I had some security leaving the house.  I didn't feel safe, but...

Whatever.  The trip there was uneventful.  When I finally did get into the parking lot, I could feel this... oppression.  The air itself had a weight that made it hard to breath.  It made my heart race.  I walked past the playground to the closest building, because I wasn't quite ready to go into the woods yet.  They seemed shifty.  Untrustworthy.  It turns out it wasn't just the woods.

The wind grew still as I approached, and all noise seemed to die away.  In the window I could see the reflection of the playground, a few little kids hanging around it and running after each other on the wood chips.  After a moment, I stopped dead in my tracks.  I hadn't seen anyone on the playground.  The sharpest of chills went through every bone in my body as my eyes locked on the window, afraid to look anywhere else, afraid to confirm my suspicion that I was seeing something not there.  The silence grew more absolute in my stillness, and then cutting through it all was the sound of children's laughter.

I felt like breaking down then and there, but I couldn't move.  I'd lost all control of myself, helpless, able only to watch as the figures moved as one toward the edge of the window, staring at something that was not reflected back to me.  I could only see their faces, a mixture of curiosity and fright, as they inched closer and closer to the edge.  Then an arm slid barely into the picture, an arm longer than any human arm could be, and wrapped itself around those poor souls.  As they were pulled off, I knew that I was the last person who would ever see them.

A scream shook me to my very core and gave me the scared energy I needed to take command of my legs and turn around, but the source was hiding itself from me.  It was only a scream.

I took a deep breath and made my way toward the woods.  I remembered reading in a book.. maybe Frank Herbert's Dune.. fear is the mind-killer.  I wasn't about to let fear of a thing conquer me.  I was going to face it.

The next few minutes are a mess in my mind, like trying to remember a night of one too many drinks.  Images of the trees coming closer and closer, then surrounding me... and then one of the trees was not what it seemed.  It had a suit and a form, and.. and I think it reached out to me.  Then that horrible fucking laughter again.. I tripped and fell backwards in my haste, dropped my rosary, scrambled to get up...

In nightmares, a lot of people say that the ground starts to rock underneath them.  They fall, try to get up, and fall again.  They know something is coming, they know they have to get up, but they can't, and that's the part that's the nightmare.  This is all I can remember until I got back to my car.

I didn't have my rosary.  I didn't care.  One of my most prized possessions, and I had no desire to go back for it.  What has this done to me?

The weekend's been keeping me busy with homework and graduation stuff.  I haven't had much of a chance to think about it, but I had to get this out eventually.  I had to.  Sometimes I feel like this blog is the last thing I have left.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

what is it

i dont even know anymore i feel like i never knew what it was even though i thought i did its so much more so much worse i saw it and it saw me and


if i ever thought GOD could have saved me i dont think it anymore nothing can nothing there is nothing in my future

i look and i see the dark and i see the emptiness of that face boring into my soul taking it for itself
i am lost already is there hope?
it is a hunter.  I realize it now, that's all it is.  It hunted ten years ago, and it was satisfied for a while, but some of its prey escaped and now the hunt begins anew and I'm all that's left, and it almost had me i barely got away

Is there anything left for me?

that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter


I don't feel safe anymore.  At all.  I'm writing this from my basement.  I've boarded up the window and barricaded the outside door, I'm below the ground, and I still don't feel safe.

I started seeing it a couple days ago from my bedroom window.  At least, I think I did, and that's the important part, isn't it?  Reality exists only in the mind, and for that part, I suppose, it's real, and the fact that I saw it is real.  It thinks I can't see it, standing there in the woods, but I see it.  I see it all now.  I can't hide from it, but it can't hide from me.  Hide and seek!

Hide and seek isn't fun.

I also don't know who to trust anymore.  For a fine example, take the shining bastions of hope and comfort that are my parents (rather, that parents are supposed to be).  "Jon," they started on my when I got home from school, "We've set you up with an appointment for a doctor.  We're worried about your health."  Well, they didn't say it that way, my mom did.  My dad just sort of nodded along.

Thankfully they haven't bothered me since I came down to the basement, because I feel like if they were to come down and try talking to me, something very bad would happen.  They went behind my back, they're trying to take me outside the house when it isn't safe and when there's no reason for me to be outside, they think something's wrong but they don't know the fucking half of it anymore, they think they can fix it, they could only fix it if they're part of the problem

Are they part of the problem?  Maybe they're a problem in themselves.  Maybe I can't stand to be in the same building as them anymore because their concern and their compassion reek of secrecy.  They're not telling me something, something that they're discussing only between themselves.  Why else would they have hushed themselves so quickly on my walking into the room?  But I don't care.  If this thing gets its way, they won't have to worry about me soon enough.

What if I haven't seen anything at all?

No, God damn it, it's making me second guess myself.  That's got to be its game!  It tortures you with paranoia and self-doubt until you believe nothing, until you go insane.  But it won't get me.  I know its fucking game now.  It won't get me to lose the last vestiges of sanity, what little my mind may hold on to.  I may not look it, but I'm sane.  It's my family and friends who have the problem.  I know its game.

Fine, if that's what it wants, I'll play ball.  It may be around my house, it may not be.  It may be watching me, I may be watching myself.  But I know where it is.  This time I'm not taking a camera, I'm taking my rosary.

Monday, April 25, 2011


Jason and I have been friends for about four years.  We really started hanging out towards the end of eighth grade, having banded together to try to work through our horrible science class, horrible because we were literally expected to teach ourselves.  I think it was the humor -- we're both pretty funny guys, and the projects we did together were always comedic.

Lately we haven't seen as much of each other, but he's still a really good friend.  He also likes to get into some of the more interesting things in life... we've actually gone on ghost hunts together.  Unsuccessful ghost hunts, but you get the idea.  He's smart and open minded, and I guess that's why I decided to try asking him for help.

"Hey, Jason..."  It was our second hour AP Writers Workshop class.  Everyone else was too busy talking to each other and not actually doing classwork to pay any attention to our little conversation, so I felt secure enough to bring it up.  He turned to me immediately -- I guess I must be looking the part of a paranoid mess, because he already looked concerned for me.  Damn, less than a month and it's already taken this kind of toll?

"Yeah?  Oh, before you go on, I signed the both of us up for The Taming of the Shrew.  Anyways?"

"Oh, great.."  The Taming of the Shrew.  A free show is being put on for English classes next week, and I asked him to sign me up.  I'd almost forgotten.  I almost didn't care anymore, but then again, in times so harsh and uncertain to as fragile a mind as my own had become, a little Shakespeare was a much-needed positive to look forward to.  "Right, well, have you ever heard of.."  I paused.  I couldn't say it.  That horrible fucking face was staring back at me in my minds eye, daring me to utter what it had come to be called, and I couldn't take the challenge.  "Have you ever heard of things.. like.. from other dimensions?  Things that are in our world, but aren't from our world?"

He blinked a few times and leaned over the table, his voice lowering.  "Nothing that's real.  Jon, tell me what's wrong.  You've been looking terrible for weeks, you haven't been talking to people, and it seems like it's getting worse.  What is it?"

"Nothing."  I averted my eyes.  "What was the name of that Metallica song you played in speech class after you read that Lovecraft story?"

"The Thing That Should Not Be?"


"What about it?"

I paused again.  I wanted to choose my words carefully, but I knew that I'd already dug myself into a hole with this conversation.  "Maybe you should consider that some things might be real.  Things that you wouldn't think should be, or could be."

"What the fuck are you talking about?  Jon, I want to help you out, alright?  I'm worried about you.  But I can't if you're so vague.  Say something definite for once.  You know I hate it when you act like this."

I'd been worrying him, and now I was worrying him more.  This wasn't helping either of us, so I ended it by going to a computer and pretending to work on my short story.  I actually did think for a minute about the subject matter I'd chosen -- an apocalyptic allegory for Genesis, but this one ended in despair rather than creation.  But then I thought, how could there have been despair if nothing was created?  In the long run, they are one and the same, and God is an eternal sadist.

I'm so sorry, Olivia.

Saturday, April 23, 2011


I finally went there today.  I couldn't sit here anymore, I just had to... just to see it again.  Just to see what there was.  So what was there?


To be fair, I didn't stay very long.  As the minutes passed, I felt more and more that I wasn't alone, but it was more than that.  Being in someone else's house when you're not sure you should be is similar, but infinitely less sinister than what I was sensing in those woods.  I took some pictures, so I'd might as well share.

Iverson's playground.  It's amazing how playgrounds are still fun when you get older.

One of the buildings.  Not sure what it's used for.

The river's been high since the snowstorm.

Dirt trails are nice when they're not so muddy.

The river again.  Other side looks spooky.

My camera started acting up right around here.  It wouldn't focus properly and I had to try a few times to actually take the picture.

Again, blurry... maybe I turned right when it finally took the picture.  I don't really remember.

Couldn't tell you what the blur on the left is about.  Another building of whose purpose I'm unsure.

I don't even know...

Iverson usually looks prettier when it's not so damn wet.

I didn't even know this was here before.  Modern art?

This is the replacement for the one that burned down.  I only see it open in the winter though.

Path back up from the toboggan runs.
I started getting a headache halfway through taking these, and by the last one I felt too uneasy to stay.  I could feel eyes on me everywhere, even though I saw nobody.  Besides, my camera ran out of battery by then.

Disappointingly uneventful, but the feeling of the place... it feels wrong.  Dead?  Not quite dead, no.  Why can't I have the eloquence of Shakespeare, that I could put the sensation into words and share it?  He would know how to say it.

I'm definitely talking to Jason on Monday.  It's obvious that on my own, I'm getting nowhere, and in the meantime the isolation and inability to deal with the idle troubles of everyone around me is killing me faster than whatever this thing is doing.  I know it's after me.  I feel it in my sleep, I see it for the briefest of seconds when I turn a corner or open a door, only for the image to vanish before me.  I just wish it would make a God damn move already.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Parents, Snow

First of all, fuck Wisconsin.  Snow in the middle of April is something that shouldn't happen.  Should never happen.  Just happened a couple days ago.  As if my days couldn't have gotten any more depressing.  It's almost gone by now, but the fact remains.  Snow.

Naturally, Jill hasn't talked to me since that last conversation.  Nobody else really has either, actually.  I suppose I can't blame them -- I haven't been the most sociable myself.  I haven't been sleeping lately -- no dreams, just can't sleep.  It's been making me irritable, and people don't want to talk to me quite as much.  Usually people love to talk to me.  I haven't had a decent conversation all week...

The worst part about it all is my parents.  You know how friends will ask you what's wrong when they sense something amiss, and they want to seem concerned, but you know they're only doing it for pity's sake?  My parents have been doing this to me in-fucking-cessantly.  "What's wrong, Jon?  Oh, you seem down, what's wrong?  What's the matter?  Aren't your friends talking to you?  Haven't you been sleeping right?  Why won't you finish your dinner?  Have you been keeping up on your homework?"  I love my parents, but shut the fuck up.  Please.  I only worry I'll lash out at them somehow and make the whole thing worse.

There's this prevailing sense of dread every time I go outside.  On my way in from school today, I swear to God I felt someone behind me.  There was nothing, of course.. nothing... but you can't just ignore feelings, can you?  Especially given the circumstances.  I can't even look out the window at night anymore for fear of seeing what I don't want to see, what can't be unseen... and the whole thing is weighing down on me like my own personal cross.  Loneliness.  Isolation.  Jesus carried his with only the strength of his own body and will, and perhaps the grace of God.  It seems I'm doing the same, but do I have His blessing?  Maybe it doesn't have to be alone.  Maybe... I'll try talking to Jason.  Maybe he's my only shot.

Regardless, I'm going to Iverson soon.  I don't know if I'll find anything there, but I'm not going to sit and let this happen anymore.  I refuse to let myself be driven mad through my own idleness.  I need to feel like I'm accomplishing something, otherwise what's the point of it all?  Without that small comfort, I'd might as well just end myself.

Monday, April 18, 2011

On My Own

This isn't as depressing about my last terrible post about my friends, I promise.  That was an overemotional overreaction -- I'm pretty sure this is a fact.

I finally got Jill to talk to me, but it wasn't really that much of a conversation.  After searching around for her for most of the day, I finally went to her locker and just stood there, waiting.  She needed to get her things to go home, so she couldn't just walk away from me.  I'm only fortunate she didn't ignore me completely.  I don't remember exactly what was said, but for the most part, it went down like this.

"What do you want?" she asked as she came up to her locker, turning to twist in the combination.  She sounded annoyed and defeated, as though the battle between us had finally been lost.

"I want to talk about that.. thing.. that happened at your house.  See, um... some weird things have been happening to me.  That's just one.  I know you--"

"Jon."  She stopped me short and turned back to face me.  "A lot of weird things have happened in my house before.  You know this.  But trivia was something else entirely, and whatever it was, it followed you in.  You know I'm careful, and I don't like getting involved with anything that could be dangerous."  She slipped her backpack over her shoulders and shut her locker door.

"So you what exactly are you saying?"  This wasn't the reaction from her I'd been hoping for.

"I'm saying there's nothing to talk about.  Just.. don't come to my house for a while.  And don't talk about this to anyone else."

I struggled to keep my composure as she walked away.  The halls around me seemed to close in, and looking around for some sign of comfort, I saw only the emptiness of a building without meaning.  What could school teach me that I could truly use in a world so unknowable?

With no help from Jill and no response to this blog, I don't know what else to do.  I'm blind to the entirety of the situation, other than that I'm in it and that I'm probably in danger.  Jason or Tasha might know something, because they're the kinds of people who would, but I haven't talked to them a lot lately... I really don't want anyone thinking I'm crazy.  That would be the worst thing.

I might go to Iverson soon.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Things Seen

I saw it today, walking home from the library.  I was trying to get information on 'my problem' from another computer, and surprise, it didn't work.  Same problem as I have at home.  God, I feel like I'm going to die without even knowing what killed me.

It was a nice day outside, so the walk itself wasn't terrible until I saw it staring at me from across the river, over by Meade.  Parks.. kids... this things has serious issues.  I could barely make it out because of how it looked in the trees, but that face, ever-changing but always the same, not really a face at all was as easy to see as a candle in pitch darkness.  It swayed a little, actually, in the breeze.  The effect should have been calming.  It wasn't.

I don't know what it is still, but I know it has something to do with the fire, when I first saw it, and with Olivia disappearing... I know it can't be good.  Whoever may be reading this, I truly hope you never know the feeling of being singled out by evil incarnate.  For what else can this be?  So perfectly inhuman, so obviously malevolent.  I have to question how God could have allowed such a thing to exist, but I'm starting to wonder if He has anything to do with it at all.

That gentle sway that was anything but the soothing motion it should have been would have hypnotized me if a passing semi trailer hadn't blocked my view long enough for me to blink a few times and turn away.  It was almost more uncomfortable feeling its stare without seeing it, but I wasn't about to stand there and look at it any longer.  I really hope I'm imagining it all, or that it's not really that terrible... but I guess if I hear about some kids disappearing from Meade Park, I'll know.

I need to talk to Jill tomorrow.  I don't care if I have to corner her and force her, I'm talking to her.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Party's Over

I'm not really sure what to think right now.  I'm trying to concentrate on my school work so I keep my grades through the end of the year, but it's hard to focus on anything with so much uncertainty.

The search party for Olivia has been called off.  After four days and a force of hundreds, there was literally no sign of her or what had happened to her.  The police are saying that by now, either she's run away, or there's no chance of ever finding her.  They combed throughout Iverson, then the surrounding area, and finally the farm fields all around the town... and nothing.  I didn't know her too well, but fuck if it doesn't bring me down.  Things like these just don't happen.

I almost feel like I should look on my own.  She survived that Iverson fire with me, so that's some sort of connection we had, right?  Just us.  The other three all moved away, and I haven't heard from any of them in years.  It left just us, and now it leaves just me, but maybe there's something I can find that the hundreds of others couldn't.  Or maybe I'm just being horribly optimistic.  Besides, I don't even know where I'd start.  Iverson?  Her disappearance is only more reason for me to stay away.  I know.. I know I'm probably crazy, and that this is just a series of bad coincidences, and that my little-kid memory is so skewed by this point that I probably didn't see anything at all back then, and that... but there was Jill's house.

That's another thing.  Jill won't talk to me.  I can't even get close enough to call out a greeting to her, and I don't know why she's doing it.  God, if I could just say something to someone who was in that house, it would take more a load off my shoulders than Hercules holding the world for Atlas.  It's oppressive, the way something so completely unexplainable could happen, and the one person to talk to is avoiding you like the plague.  Nobody else would be any good -- Jill's got this special.. thing.  She's lived with weird stuff.  Maybe what happened was just too weird for even her...

Fuck.  I've got a paper to write.  Maybe I'll come up with something by tomorrow.

Oh, one last thing -- I finally noticed that on my first post, the name of my prime suspect is in some font I've never seen before.  Boxes with numbers.. every time I try to edit it, it comes back up at that, and when I copy/paste it back into word, all I get is ?????.  I suppose it's accurate enough, seeing how I feel, but how can I get answers when I can't even name the problem?  What the fuck is this blog if I can't get anything from it?

Monday, April 11, 2011

Renewed Paranoia

Fuck everything I said in my last post.  Fuck it.

I don't even know how to start, really.  Trivia started off fine.  It wasn't a whole lot different than any other year, but it was definitely still fun staying up late and getting sleep deprived.  I can honestly say that for the first night, once I made my last post I completely stopped thinking about what's been bugging me.  I stopped thinking about everything that had been bugging me.  It was just a good time.  We were neck and neck with Jason's team for a while, and the atmosphere of both competition and brotherhood was fantastic.  And all the junk food!  Good God, I never shove as much fat and sodium down my throat as I do during trivia weekend.

Saturday morning was the first stretch of fatigue for me, and it was a little tough to get through.  I had the love and support of my fellow Federalists so it wasn't terrible, but as I drifted closer and closer to sleep, I felt that presence in the back of my mind.  I saw a face that wasn't there.

A cup of coffee did me some good.  This is pretty much the only time I'll ever drink coffee, for the record.  But it did the trick, and by seven a.m. I was going strong again, ready to answer any question the radio threw at me.  A really strange thing started happening, though.  As the day grew brighter and the sun pulled itself higher into the sky, the tone of the group got darker.  Nobody else seemed to notice it, but I could spot glares being shot across the room for no reason.  Moods got edgier, my own included, and there was no observable cause for any of it.  Again, nobody else seemed to notice, so... so maybe I was just over-thinking it.

Too bad over-thinking wouldn't explain the noise we heard later that night.

If any of you reading this (however few in number you are) have ever heard the sound of a child's nervous laughter, you know it.  You know that it is so different from normal laughter in its subtlety alone.  The laugh of a child, a sound meant only to evoke that sense of innocent joy, turned into something borne of fright and uncertainty.  If you have heard this sound, imagine it multiplied in number and emotion by about ten and throw in an unearthly pitch that's too hard to put into words for me to even attempt, and you've got what we heard all around the house as the sun set.

I was the first to hear it, of course.  Just outside the window, a short laugh of only a couple beats filtered through the air towards me.  I thought I was hearing nothing at first, because kids don't usually play around Jill's house, but then it happened again.  She's mentioned that her house is haunted, so I was a little freaked out, but I kept it to myself.

Then I noticed Jill turn her head and look at me.  As the volume died down to hear the next question, more and more of them turned towards me.  Finally I was asked if I was making the noise, even though it was obvious it couldn't have been me.  The radio seemed to grow dull and quiet, while this scared laugh grew louder and more erratic.  As the voice of the radio announcer quieted to a near whisper, more laughs cropped up from different sides of the house, slowly growing into a maddening cacophony of this perversion of joy, the notes of terrified giggles assaulting us from all angles.  Jill was yelling something, but I couldn't hear her.  I tried to walk towards her and stumbled -- my head felt so heavy, and I was just trying to pick out a face..

And then I saw the face that was no face..

It all stopped.  The sound didn't die away as it had grown to such awful proportions, the radio didn't slowly come back to life... it all just was.  We all peered at each other, searching confused faces for some glimmer of understanding of whatever the hell had just happened, but there was none.  Nobody said a word.  It seemed to be passing among us that nobody had an answer, so there was no question worth asking.

The rest of the weekend was quiet, both among the paranormal and among ourselves.

There's something else that has me very worried.  There was a police officer in school today working with the administration.  I wasn't sure what it was about at first, but bit by bit, kids were being called to the main office, and by the time lunch came, word had gotten around even to me.  Olivia Reynolds, a girl I've only barely talked to in passing since elementary school, is missing.  The last time anyone seems to have seen her was at senior skip day, at Iverson.  She was also one of the very few survivors of the fire, along with me.

The bottom line is, I think I may be screwed.  I'm going to be extra careful this week, but nothing seems like careful enough.  I'm afraid.

Friday, April 8, 2011


I've been spending a long time thinking about this.  Nothing has happened, nothing seems to be happening, and I feel just fine.  I'm convinced that it's all in my head.  I mean, a man with no face as thin as the sticks he surrounds himself with... that's all a bit crazy, isn't it?  And then to connect it to some weird thing I found a long time ago on the internet... I don't know.  For now I'm just going to forget about it.  I've blown this out of proportion enough already.

I still feel like this blog might be good for me, I just don't know what I'm going to do with it.  I haven't been connecting with my friends as much lately.  I even missed the last senior skip day on Wednesday because it.. was at Iverson.  I didn't feel comfortable going there so soon after the weird fever.  I missed a whole day with my friends, and I don't think it was for the better.

But enough of all that!  I'm at Trivia Weekend, I'm with the Federalists, and it's going to be great.  It's just going to be so great.

Maybe I'll make this blog about health and fitness or something.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


Most people have them, but I'm not sure I do anymore.

I was sitting there eating the spicy chicken patty that the school calls 'food' and I call 'barely acceptable'.  The chatter of half the school eating their lunches as well was getting to me more than usual -- the sounds were washing over me, beating on my like waves on a lonely rock.  God, did I ever feel like that lonely rock.  Before I knew it, my eyes were closed.

My mind's eye caught a glimpse of that tall figure.  I think it was, at least.  It was fast.  If it was, it would be the first time in almost three weeks.  I didn't have time to think on it, though, because immediately after I heard snickering coming from my left.

I opened my eyes and saw Jason and Hannah sitting, eating, talking about something I didn't care about.  It didn't look like they'd been paying any attention to me at all.  I remained wary.  I looked out into the hall and heard it again, and it was definitely directed at me from my left.  I swung around in my seat and asked them what the hell was so funny.

Hannah stared at me without saying anything.  Jason said something about my mom's tits, which only pissed me off.  Hannah said they weren't laughing at me and went back to talking to Jason, so I left them alone.

Then it came from my right.

"Lucas, what the fuck is your problem?"  The whole table went silent as I spun around to face him.  His round Polish face entertained a bewildered look, but I wasn't buying his shit.  "Knock it off, man."  Nobody said anything for a while.  I went back to my sandwich, but I could feel the glances being exchanged all around me.

I didn't see them for the rest of the day, and I don't really care.  Fuck, I don't even know why I'm writing this.  It's not like it has anything to do with why I made this blog in the first place.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Long Weekend

As the title says, it's been a long and frustrating two days.  Three now, I suppose, though this one isn't entirely over yet.

I had nothing to do.  Nothing to keep me busy.  All of my friends had their own agendas that didn't seem to involve me, my parents were gone to some friend's wedding, and I have no car.  Naturally, all of this alone time let me think quite a bit about this problem I'm having.

If anyone's noticed (not likely), my attempt to name my problem in my last post failed.  I've tried to fix it and every time I re-post, it's the same.  There's nothing I can do to put what I remember this thing being called on the internet, and I don't know how I'm supposed to get any kind of response otherwise.  If anyone does end up finding this, it'll be a miracle.

Fortunately for me, the weekend was uneventful.  I haven't seen anything strange, haven't heard anything strange... in fact, nothing odd has happened since the fever.  Maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Please Help

I’m going to start this off the only way I know how.

I’m being followed by something I’m not sure is human.

I know that whoever reads this is going to ask, “WTF?  Why is this guy making a blog about himself being stalked instead of calling the cops?  A blog?  That makes no fucking sense!”  You’re right, for the most part.  I know this is a sudden slap in the face.  I’m pouring my own issues out into the dark abyss that is the internet without seeming to have any right to.  I do have an answer to that question, but it’s a bit long.  The short version is that I need your help.

Do I know you?  No.  You are one among many who may have found this page through means I do not know.  You don’t know a thing about me, and I almost feel uncomfortable addressing you as ‘you’.  But you are a you, and you can help, whoever you are.

So here’s the long version.

Ten years ago I was enrolled in a summer program at a local park.  It was your usual little-kid shit.  We’d play team games in the woods and do leadership activities.  Stuff to get a kid going on the right track after a couple years of school.  None of you have probably heard about this because the local news did as much to cover it up as the could (called it a horrible tragedy and didn’t want to publicize it) but there was a fire one night.  It was during the scheduled sleepover in the rec building.  Only a few kids made it out alive, and most of them died in the hospital.

I was awake that night because I’d seen something in the woods earlier that day, and it scared me so much that I couldn’t go to sleep.  Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts strayed, and eventually this image was right there waiting for me.  It’s still hard to put into words… but if you’ve ever imagined what it would be like for a person and a tree to become the same thing, it’s close.  Stick thin, tall, looked like it -was- the woods.  But it wasn’t.  It was only a glimpse, far in the distance, but I knew that it was wrong.

So I couldn’t sleep.

27 kids died in that fire, 4 of them in the hospital.  27 kids whose parents would never see their babies grow up to live their own lives.  27 deaths, and I made it out.  I was awake when it started.  The moments before I found myself sitting outside, staring it wide-eyed horror at the blaze are still hazy to the point where I barely know that it happened in the first place.  But there I was.

I know by this point, many of you have stopped reading.  What few are left are wondering what the point of all this is.  I’m begging you to give me a little faith and continue, please.

My parents took me to a therapist in the months that followed.  They thought the event had traumatized me, and I suppose it had.  What really bothered me wasn’t the fire, or the death.  That bothered me in later years, still bothers me.  What I couldn’t get out of my mind was that image of a pale face swaying among the trees.  I never told any of this to the therapist.  A few months later, I was out again, a normal child.

Now it’s ten years later, and I need your help because I need information that I can’t get.  The ten year anniversary of the Iverson fire had me bedridden with the worst fever of my life, and after forgetting that image at long last, there it was again, resting on the backs of my eyelids just waiting for me to close my eyes.  Vivid visions of a man who was not a man, who did not have the face or form of a man, gazing at me from wherever I looked.

It’s two weeks later, and I swear to God Almighty that in that time, I’ve seen it.  A flash here, a quick glance there, from across the street or across the farm fields that dominate Wisconsin.  I don’t like going outside anymore because woods surround my house, and they all… look like it.

A couple years ago, I read about a phenomenon on the internet.  People called it .  Now I know that some of you reading this have heard of it, because as I recall, it was a pretty big thing.  Some people thought it was real, and I’m starting to think it could be too -- I never made the connection at the time because my thoughts had been far, far away from that fire for years.  But now my situation has taken a turn for the bizarre, and I need your help.  I can’t find this information on my own anymore.  Any site I try to access with those words will not load.  I’ve tried Firefox, Chrome, Opera, I’ve cleared out my cookies and run anti-viruses, but I can’t find any explanation.  I know there are pages upon pages of this thing, and I know there were blogs that drew the attention of others, but I can’t get to any of them.  This is why I’m writing this out.  I’m sure there’s a connection, maybe an explanation, but I need you to share it with me.

Please leave anything you have in the comments.