Saturday, February 26, 2011

Entry #75

Hi all. Just saying I'm completely recovered. Well, I still have the sniffles, but who cares. I even managed to lose a few pounds from being sick, haha.

I have another big sleep-away swim meet this weekend. It's at the same place the last one was. I only swam one relay today, but tomorrow I have 3 events. I took a huge nap today, because I'm not used to waking up that early.

Nothing related to James so far this week. I'm considering going back to the 909--the biking area where I found the box, where I saw Locust the first time--as soon as the snow melts completely, which should be by Tuesday. In his notebook, there's a drawing of a road that has the name of the road leading to the 909, with an arrow pointing as if I'm supposed to go there. I don't know if I'm still supposed to go there, or if that's saying he did, or if that's talking about the box and the cloth. I don't know.

Speaking of the cloth, it's gone. The shirts I found are still here, though. I looked over them, inside and out--literally. Just a few scratches, which I think the Howler caused. So I think we're good for now.

Thanks, guys. Think I should go back to the 909? Maybe? I don't know.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Entry #74

Wow. I can't believe I haven't updated in this long. This has become a lifeline to me, something I can pour my thoughts into. I can't believe it helps me so much.

I've been really sick the past few days. 104 F fever, no appetite. When I was just getting sick, I thought it was because Locust was near, but I think it was just a virus. It got so bad two days ago that I started having hallucinations. My mom was about to take me to the hospital, but my fever started going down.

I am, however, getting a blood test tomorrow. My mom is worried that it might be something recurring, because I got this sort of thing last year around the same time.

Other than the Tweet I posted from my phone 2 days ago, I haven't been able to write anything much because I haven't been able to get out of bed until a few hours ago. Still feel sort of feverish (because I am, 100 F now), but I think I'll be okay.

I'm just going to continue with my normal activities. I'll keep looking for whatever clues James told me about, but I know he's safe for now. I'll keep posting, just to show I'm fine, and I'll post anything I think is relevant. Thank you for all your support, guys. You have no idea how much this has helped me deal with this.


Sunday, February 20, 2011

Entry #73

Guess I lied, I can update now. I’m a bit tired. I woke up at 7 A.M., swam at the meet from 8 to 11-ish, came back for finals from 4 P.M. to 6, and drove home, which took about an hour and a half.

I thought I would be safe while we were gone. I thought all the worries would be washed away once we left yesterday. And I was right, for a while. We woke up even earlier yesterday, around 5:30 A.M. so we could prepare food and drive to the meet from home. So I took a nap for an hour in the car.

It was almost completely dark when we left, and very foggy. I just stood outside in the dark, letting it wash around me. The moon and a few stars were out, but it was on the brink of dawn, so they were fading fast. It was so peaceful. I could just feel my body relaxing. As soon as I was in the car I slept like a baby. Just put my head down, and bam, I was asleep.

When I woke up, it was bright out. I looked out the window, and I could see we were in the City. So we were pretty near the pool where the meet was being held. I don’t think my parents heard me yawn and stretch, they were discussing something quietly in the front.

We slowed to a stop at a stoplight, and I just leaned my head against the window and stared out. Right away, he caught my eye. It was 7 A.M. in a not-so-nice place in the Bronx, and the sidewalk down the block was deserted. Except for him. Locust.

He was just standing next to the wall. Not leaning against it, nothing. Just standing on the sidewalk. A little trash bag blew by him and fluttered down the street. Again, I could just sense he was looking at me—only me, not anyone else in the car. Just me. And I was too far to see his head, so I couldn’t have known who he was looking at. Then again, I don’t think he has eyes.

I hunched down in the seat until we had gone past the stoplight. I tried to forget about him, but I just couldn’t. My times in the races were pretty bad yesterday. I think seeing Locust had something to do with it.

Today was fine. Didn’t think of him, didn’t see him. Swam well. But now I know he can follow me wherever he wants to. I knew that already, but now I’m sure. There’s no way to get away from him. I just have to go straight through him. :)


Friday, February 18, 2011

Entry #72

Nothing today. Decided to go through James's notebook again. Thought there would be some clues. I don't know.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Entry #71

I woke up today and smelled something burning. I ran downstairs. Nothing burning downstairs. I yelled for my parents, so I could see what was going on. My mom started down the stairs, and was about to say something when I heard a shout from outside, and I saw my dad outside the window. He motioned for me to open the window so he could talk to me.

"What happened?" I asked. My dad looked very puzzled.

"Y'know the shed out back? The old one we let fall down?"

My stomach dropped. I knew what my dad was about to say.

"It's burned down. I don't get how. We didn't get any lightning or anything. It must have just been a freak spark or something. Oh well, nothing wasted." He chuckled nervously and walked around to the garage so he could get back in.

Then something out in back caught my eye. Something moved forward, out from the trees a little. It was Locust.

Except something was different about him. He wasn't a normal height anymore. His waist was above the fence of the pool, which is at least 5 feet high. He was still dressed in his business suit, but it was stretched so far that it looked like it was going to rip. His hat was gone, and his head was just...blank. Pure white. No facial features, no eyes even.

I froze. My fingers clamped down on the windowsill. I couldn't move. At that moment, I got the same feeling I had gotten the last time I saw him, the feeling of all the blood rushing to my head like I was about to faint. But I didn't. I resisted the sensation, I forced myself to stay upright. My eyelids started spasming, but I didn't faint.

Then I got a burst of...emotion in my head. A blast of pure, unadulterated hatred. A sneer. Locust didn't move this entire time. Nothing was moving.

Two little black branches wound up from behind Locust's back. They squirmed up above his head, flapping and waving back and forth, intertwining and meshing. More little branches--tentacles, more like, joined the two, madly weaving among themselves. Finally they settled down on his head. They formed a hat, a bowler hat.

Locust turned around and melted back into the trees. I couldn't move from the windowsill for another ten minutes.


Monday, February 14, 2011

Entry #70

I cleaned the knife and put it back where it was supposed to go. I tore up the shirt and threw it into the garbage. I put the flashlight back. I can't do anything more right now. My legs go weak when I think about what happened.

I can't believe it. I killed something--it wasn't a person, but it was something alive. I stabbed it, I killed it myself. The look on its face...I don't think anyone had ever even considered trying to harm it. And if Ken was right, these things have been around for centuries. Heh, well, now one of them is gone.

I lazed around all of today. My body wouldn't let me do anything else. I turned on the TV, flipped the channels around, but all I could find that was remotely interesting was a news channel. And even that was boring. After I heard, "And police are still looking for Zeke Strahm, a man who is believed to have killed three people in the--" I snapped it off. I didn't want to hear about more death. Tried playing some video games, but I just couldn't see the point of them.

I had a nightmare last night about those things that dragged me back. Every time I think about them, I think they resemble tentacles. Little octopus tentacles, without the suckers. Stained with dirt, with little branches. They make me want to throw up.

Good God, what am I supposed to do? This isn't what was supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to do anything like this. I didn't think going to that place would lead to me killing something. And now Locust is the only one who knows where James is, and he is going to be angry. Very angry.


Sunday, February 13, 2011

Entry #69

I went out at 1 A.M. last night. Parents were asleep. It was ridiculously cold out, must have been under 0 Fahrenheit.

I had my flashlight and a knife, and my sneakers. When I got to the shed, I changed into the sneakers before I opened the door. My feet were freezing but I really didn't care. I'm glad the flashlight was powerful, because it was really dark out. No moon, no stars, just cloud banks.

I pushed open the door, and shone the flashlight in. Same as last time, except I could see a larger area due to the flashlight. I almost threw up at the thought of picking my way through those bags, but I knew I had to. At this point I was just basing everything I knew about that place on the one dream--I don't know what it was I had on the tennis court, but I'll call it a dream. I figured there were walls, as I had seen.

So I picked my way inside. I thought the night outside my house was quiet, but this was far worse. There was literally no sound. Ever heard complete silence? I think I did. It weighed down on my head, and every step I took echoed very loudly, even though I was wearing sneakers. Echoes meant there had to be walls though, so I was right.

I walked up to the first bag, the one I had touched and opened before. There was still dried blood all over the floor. And handprints. At least a hundred handprints in the blood. They led away from the stain, leaving a trail through the pillars.

I shone my flashlight that way. Oh man, was my hand shaking. I saw the wall first. It was marble, like everything else. Just a different shade, a little darker and a little worn down. Then I saw the doors. The same doors as in the dream. Except one of them was propped open a tiny bit, and if I listened closely I could hear something. It sounded like waves on a beach. And I could see a faint sliver of light.

I picked my way among all the pillars and the bags, trying not to touch any of them, and trying to be as careful as possible with my footsteps. Thank the Lord, I got to the door without touching a single one of those bags.

I peered in the door, but I couldn't see anything because my eyes hadn't adjusted to the light. I squinted, and waited for a few seconds. I couldn't see much still, so I slipped my way inside.

It wasn't real. It couldn't have been. Then again, the place I had just come from couldn't have either.

The sky wasn't blue, or gray, or dark. It was red. The sky was red. Nothing was the right color. The ground swayed back and forth. I could see where I heard the waves sound, it was a patch of grass--well, it looked a little like grass--swishing against a cliff face.

I let out a little cry of fear, or I must have, I don't know. Because I could hear something trampling through the bushes (bushes? I think they were) toward me. I knew the shape. I instinctively put my hands behind my back, dropped the flashlight, and stuck the knife in my waistband.

It was the Howler, crawling on God knows how many hands, and carrying James in two other hands. This time I really cried out, and rushed toward them. The swaying ground knocked me to my feet though. James was alive. He was unconscious, but I could see his chest rising and falling as he took breaths.

He had grown so much in the past months. His hair was over his ears now, and unkempt. He had sprouted up, and looked really lanky. But he looked fairly well-fed--he definitely wasn't starving.

The Howler, grinning, placed him against a tree, then turned back to me. It opened its mouth. "As you can see, we have him. Right here, right now."

He scrambled a little closer. The hands that weren't touching the ground were madly twitching, reaching to grab me. "We have one last task for you. All you have to do is bring us one little child. One little boy or girl. Then we will let you have James back. What do you say?" And it grinned, its sick little grin.

I couldn't stand it any more. I charged toward it, screaming. It was only a few feet away, and I pulled out the knife from my waistband as I charged. The grin on its face changed to a look of shock as I stabbed it.

I stabbed it right where its head met its shoulders--there was no neck, nothing between the two parts. I don't think it ever knew I would do anything like that. I didn't really think I would do anything like that either.

Black blood trickled out around the knife. Pure black. I pulled the knife out and stabbed the Howler again, this time in the chest. The Howler gurgled. A few arms flailed weakly, but I just kept stabbing. I don't know how long I stood over it, how many times I stabbed it, but it was limp on the ground by the time I was done. I had black blood spattered all over me. It was warm.

I was crying. I dropped the knife and ran over to James, stumbling over the body and the rolling ground. I shook him, and shouted his name. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked shocked. "R-rye?" he stammered.

"Yes, yes, oh God, you're safe," I hugged him. He hugged me back. But then I felt him go stiff. I pulled away and looked at him. He was looking over my shoulder in terror. "What? WHAT?" I shouted, starting to turn around. James grabbed me, and pulled me back.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, "But you have to go now. I'll be safe. Find me. You'll see the clues."

With that, something wound around my ankles and dragged me backwards towards the door. It had the same slimy feel as in the dream. My headache--which had gotten almost unbearable as I was in there--exploded through my head. I passed out.

I woke up in my bed. I still had the bloodstains on me. The knife and the flashlight were neatly laid on my desk, and the boots and sneakers were at the foot of my bed.

I killed it. I killed the Howler.


Friday, February 11, 2011

Entry #68 (Even though my blog says it has 70 posts)

My headache is much better again. Yesterday I saw a flash of a suit, a glimpse of a hat by the same pine tree I saw the blood spatter by. After I saw that, I was so paranoid I peered out the window pretty much every 2 minutes to see if anything was out there. Fortunately it wasn't.

I'm getting the feeling that the closer these things are, the worse I feel. When I was feeling so awful, when I couldn't sleep and started with the micronaps, I think that was because they were so close. I could hear the Howler literally howling right outside the door. This time, I think I saw Locust standing out there. I think he's gone now, or at least moved far away. That's why I'm feeling better.

I'm going to go back to the shed tomorrow. I don't want to go. I think that place makes me sicker too. I'm going to bring a flashlight, a really powerful LED one, and a knife. New batteries for the flashlight tonight. I don't know when I'll post next, but hopefully it will be Sunday morning. I'm sneaking to the shed tomorrow night, I'm not letting my parents know. They'll want to come. I know that would be bad.

I have a feeling 'they' want me to go in there again. And I can't do anything about that. Kite, the guy/girl/it who commented on my last post is right. I've got to do anything to save my brother.

Don't worry, I've told 3 of my friends to call 911 if I don't text or call them by Sunday morning. If you want to know if I'm safe, I'll either post here Sunday morning, post something on Twitter tomorrow night, or you can contact me at my email to know a little sooner. I'll be on that email all through tonight and some of Saturday, and I'll check on it after to see if anyone has sent anything.

If anybody emails me, I'll take questions about the situation too, I guess. I'll probably compile a list of useful questions and answers, and post them up here as well to see if anybody can spot clues that I may have missed.

Thank you for helping me with my family's situation, everyone who has been following this. It has helped me immensely, not only emotionally but in my quest to get James back. If I don't come back tomorrow, I'm thanking you now.


Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Entry #67

Sorry I didn't get to update yesterday, to whoever is reading my stuff. I was too busy shoveling snow and doing schoolwork that needed to be done.

I went to the library on Monday, as I said I would. I went to the biggest one in the area, which has newspapers from this whole side of the Hudson River dating back to the late 1800s. It even has National Geographic magazines dating back to 1926. Yeah, I spent a while looking at those. Cool stuff.

Anyway, I didn't want to look through every newspaper, so I asked the librarian (this crotchety old lady, she totally thought I was going to break something, or not behave well) if there was a way I could view only the obituaries in each paper. She said there wasn't, but I could view them online, on their website.

Every single obituary had been painstakingly transcribed onto their website. I can't believe they went to so much trouble to do that.

Even though everything was neatly arranged on the site, I still didn't want to look through every obituary. There must have been thousands. So I scrolled through them, looking for anybody under the age of 18. Through the years, there were a fair number of horse accidents, car accidents, drownings, so on, but very few kidnappings.

In fact, the highest concentration of kidnappings where the body had been found was in the past three years. Why hadn't I heard about this on the news? Why weren't the police saying something about kidnappers on the loose? Reading through the obituaries of these kids, some of them my age, most of them younger, even I could spot the similarities in the way their bodies were found.

And the way their bodies were found was strikingly similar to the way I saw the policeman dying in the tree. They had all been found lying on the ground with their stomach slit open. And these kids were usually found a few months after they had been taken.

According to the reports, there was no other sign of bodily harm. Which means these weren't normal kidnappers or rapists. In one respect, I know James is still safe. But if I don't find him, he's going to end up like all these other kids--12 other kids. There have been 4 every year the past few years.

When I read through all of these I started crying. Really, I started crying in the middle of the library. The person--a woman, I think--sitting next to me looked over at me, looked a bit worried, but returned to what she was reading.

Nobody cares about anybody else. Everyone is just wrapped up in his or her own life, and doesn't see the tragedies that happen around them. Oh God, what do I do? Do I go back to the shed? I think I have to, at some point. Please let me--and James--be safe.


Monday, February 7, 2011

Entry #65.5/66

Sorry, I was too tired to describe anything else yesterday.

The head of the tennis club, Lou, was very kind and called 911. They had me lie on the court until the ambulance came. The thought I had heat exhaustion, even though it was the middle of winter.

Now, let me just say, Lou is a pretentious -self censored-, but he knows what he's talking about usually. He's a good coach, but he thinks way too much of himself. However, I trust his judgment most of the time. I went along with his statement that it was heat exhaustion, even though I knew better.

The ambulance driver and the nurses came into the club and helped me onto a stretcher, even though I really could have gotten up and walked. They explained that I could have had a brain injury, and moving the blood around by getting up could make it worse. So I just sat there while they wheeled me out.

I had never been to a hospital before yesterday. It had always been private doctors for physicals and stuff. The second I was wheeled in, I could just smell the sickness in the air.

And you know what it smelled like? It smelled like the Howler's breath. Exactly like his breath. I gagged as soon as I got in the door, but I held in the vomit. It tasted awful, but tasting it was better than smelling the Howler.

I practically held my breath the entire time I was in there. When I breathed, I made sure I breathed through my mouth. Fortunately I wasn't in there long, I passed all of the tests they gave me to make sure I didn't have a concussion or brain hemorrhage. I guess I was pretty lucky.

I got another 'day off', now, because my mom wants me to relax. Make sure I don't faint again. I've been reading through my back posts. How did I not see this man, Locust, was there from the beginning? Right from the first few posts I see him. I knew James was acting strange, and I didn't do anything.

Normality trumps strangeness, I guess. I ignored what I couldn't define, and brushed it off when it came near. I can't do that now, with James gone and the shed turned into a freaking cavern. And don't forget my head. It still hurts, but not as badly. Maybe my fainting spell and knocking it on the ground helped the headache. Ha.

I've been scrubbing at my arm where the dirt is. It doesn't want to go away. In fact, my scrubbing made it stain my arm even more. Now instead of sticking to my skin, it's ingrained in my skin. I've given up trying to rub it. I don't know what to do, but I'm not going to just sit around and wait for the next debilitating thing to happen. I'm going to do something about it.

And by doing something about it, I think I'm going to go to my local library and see what I can find about kidnappings in the area. Bye.


Sunday, February 6, 2011

Entry #65

So I went to tennis today. Bad decision. I've been sicker since I went to the shed. My throat's been killing me.

So, of course, I just drank more water, and some tea, thinking it would help. Y'know, stay hydrated, you'll get better faster. Tried to eat, even though I haven't had an appetite lately.

But, I decided to go to tennis anyway. I was doing really well for not playing in a few weeks (due to snow, and family problems I don't want to tell you about right now). About half an hour in, I got really dizzy. So, in the middle of drills, I gestured to my playing partner and walked over to the bench.

Next thing I knew I was back in the shed. Except there was no door. And it wasn't pitch black anymore, there was a really soft light emanating from--well, it seemed like it was from everywhere. I couldn't see a light source. I just turned around in a circle, opening and closing my mouth like a dying fish. The same plastic bags and everything.

But now that there was light,  I could see that this place did have an end. In fact, I could see all four walls. One of the walls had a door in it--not a human sized door, more like a giant's door, but a door all the same. I walked toward it, and as I pushed open the door (also marble, so heavy I could practically feel muscles popping as I pushed it), I felt something push me back. Something wet, and cold. I looked at my hand, and there was a little black...I don't even know, but it looked like a squirming piece of wood. As I jerked away from it I feltt a falling sensation...

And I woke up on the tennis court. The two coaches and a few of my friends were crowded around me. I had a bruise on my forehead because I fell, when I went unconscious, apparently.

I found dirt on my arm, though. Wet dirt, that couldn't have been from the tennis court.


Saturday, February 5, 2011

Entry #64

I don't have anything much to talk about recently. My headache has been a dull ache for the past few days. At this point I know it's from the Howler, or the other things I've been around. I feel helpless just sitting at home, but my driveway is frozen from the freezing rain, and the snow is at least 2 feet deep everywhere else. It's so cold out.

I reorganized my room, I basically made a maze to my bed. Anybody who tries to get into my room has to make a lot of noise if they want to get to me. I have a can of pepper spray next to my bed, too. I'll be very careful before I spray anyone with it, though.

Until something else awful happens,


Friday, February 4, 2011

Entry #63

When things can't get any worse...they do.

I went out to the old shed, the one behind my pool. It was pretty hard to get to, because of the drifts of snow coming up to hip level. I didn't bring the camera, because I was afraid to get it wet. In retrospect, of course I should have.

Anyway. I struggled through the snow. Some of it was pretty easy to get through because of the crust of ice and hard snow on top. I got to the shed after about 20 minutes. The shed was at one point a really nice little handbuilt shed my dad built with my older brother. Now, after about 15 years of neglect, it's fallen down partly.

The whole front half of the shed is fine. Doorway, front wall, and half of both side walls are fine. But the back has fallen down completely. The roof slopes down to the ground. Nothing ever made a hole into the shed through the fallen-down roof and the roof hadn't worn away yet, but I was pretty sure there were animals living inside.

Well, I was wrong. I don't know how I could have possibly been wrong, but I was. I opened the door and ducked in. The space in front of me shouldn't have been more than 8 feet.

It was more than 8 feet. Way more. So far, in fact, that I couldn't see the end. Everything was lost in darkness. Nothing in that shed was right. Nothing I saw could have fit in there.

Everything was marble. Pure white, until it got swallowed by the black. There were pillars spaced evenly, going every way from the door. Hanging on string halfway between the pillars were black, plastic bags. I had to see what was in them. I honestly didn't want to venture from the doorway--who would? I was gripping it so hard that I found splinters in my hands later, once I got back to the house.

But I did go to one of the bags. All I did was touch it, and it split open. Blood, dark red blood spattered all over my feet and the marble ground. I ran as fast as I could back toward the door.

Then I noticed the door was the only thing on the wall. In fact, there was no wall, just a door sitting in the middle of the marble and the black. This is when my headache returned, and when the laugh started echoing around me, and when I saw the parchment.

Yeah, a piece of parchment. It was the only thing that looked real. I picked it up and started to look at it before I got out the door, but then I heard the laugh. The same laugh the Howler gave me from my dad, the same laugh from when I met it the first time. Except this time it echoed around me, bouncing off the pillars and getting ear-splittingly loud. I ran all the way out of the door and slammed it shut.

I didn't get to see anything on the parchment, I was too panicked. Damn it. That would have helped me. I know there was something useful there, because I saw a few words. "Omnipresent", "playful", "torturing", and "fight" were the only four words I saw, because they were underlined and circled. I need to know how to fight this, whatever this is.

I've run into something way worse than what I ever expected. This can't be real. I can't have seen what was in there. It's impossible. Geometrically, spatially impossible. I don't even want to know what else is in there. Bags of blood and pieces of paper that crumble to dust the second they get exposed to sunlight.

So now the headache is back with a vengeance. I'm scared to sleep in my own house. I'm scared to be outside my house. I'm scared of what's in back of my house, in that shed. I've been caught up in something that's supernatural, I know that now. Either that or I'm going crazy.

I have to follow through with this or James will die. I know that. I'm not going back to that shed, though, no matter what. Whatever is in there, the actual 'landscape' included, wants me dead. Oh god, what if that's where they took James?

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Entry #62

I stayed up all last night. Waited for my dad to do something.

He did. I was barely awake, my eyelids were definitely feeling a bit heavy. It was around 4 A.M. I heard a really quiet footstep, and the stair that always creaks creaked a tiny bit. I tried not to breathe, so I could hear when he got down the stairs.

I got out of bed very very carefully, and walked into the hall so I could see where he was going. We have a fairly large house--no walls in the way of the stairs, just a railway--so I could see him going down the stairs the entire time. It was definitely my dad, no doubt about it. He wasn't walking very fast, and he was placing his feet quite softly. It could have been because of the scrapes, or because he wanted to be quiet, or both.

He walked into the kitchen, which is around the corner from the foyer downstairs, so I couldn't see him. I went around to the stairs and followed my dad. The kitchen light turned on while I was going down the stairs, and I nearly tripped and made tons of noise because I tried to freeze mid-step. I heard a chair scuffle out from the table, and I heard him ease into it, so I continued down the stairs.

I got into the foyer, and made it to the corner to the kitchen pretty fast. It's tile in the foyer, so it's easier to be quiet. I turned the corner to peek in.

All I saw was my dad sitting completely still at the table. He was facing the bay window toward the backyard and the pool. Nothing happened for about 10 minutes, I just watched him sit at the table. His hands were placed in front of him, just resting on the table.

I decided to approach him, just get a little closer. Probably not the best idea, but I was a bit impatient. I got to the entrance to the kitchen when I stepped on a ping-pong ball. Yes, a ping-pong ball. It cracked, made a ton of noise, and rolled away.

I froze. What else could I do? I didn't know whether I should run or just stay. So I stayed. My dad turned his head toward me. He barely moved his shoulders, just his head. It was so unnatural, the way he moved. He turned his head to the maximum it could turn, so he could just see me out of the corner of one eye.

Except his eyes were closed. He was sleepwalking.

He had a little smirk on his face. It wasn't an adult's smirk. It was so childlike, as if he was a little kid having fun torturing a pet. That was the picture that popped into my head at that moment, and that's all I can describe it as now. He turned his head back toward the window, nodded, and pushed the chair back to get up.

I backed up. I was terrified. That's not how sleepwalking is supposed to look. He was being influenced by something out there. He got up from the table and turned his whole body toward me. I didn't even consider him my dad at this point. He was something else, he wasn't in control of his own body. He didn't even know his body was being used, for God's sakes.

He was holding a knife in his hand. The biggest knife in the house. It was practically a meat cleaver, that's how huge it was. I don't know how sharp it was, but a sleepwalker holding a huge knife and facing you is not the best thing to be seeing at 4 A.M.

I couldn't move, except for one trembling step I took backwards. I was literally frozen in fear. I didn't know that could happen, but it did. He lumbered toward me--this wasn't my dad walking, this was something not used to a body--and he raised the knife. He thrust it toward me, and plunged it into the wall next to my head.

He leaned his face toward mine--closed eyes and all--and opened his mouth. His breath was worse than anything I had ever smelled. It smelled like what I imagined rotting flesh would smell like, meaty and moldy at the same time.

"Finally, someone who takes initiative," he whispered. He grinned, a sick, malicious grin. "The ones who take initiative are always the most fun to play with. We still have James. We're getting hungry though. You might want to head way into your backyard soon...maybe try the old shed. The fallen down one. You'll find some delights in there. Oh, and don't worry. Your father is unharmed from this whole ordeal--for now."

"Oh, and that code we sent you? It wasn't real. Impossible to solve. We just wanted to see if you would break the rules."

With that he opened his mouth even wider and started laughing even more. After that I don't remember anything. I woke up in my bed. There wasn't any hole in the wall where the knife had landed in the kitchen, and the knife was right where it had been.

That couldn't have been a nightmare though. My dad has no idea what's been happening to him. There's nothing I can do about it other than hope the Howler (I think it was the Howler.) doesn't do it again.

I'll go to the shed out back tomorrow. I can't because of the freezing rain and the 2 feet of snow. I'm being pulled in one direction, and I can't deviate from the path because someone in my family will be hurt if I do. Maybe killed.


Entry #61

So I didn't ask my dad anything about it yesterday. I didn't want to upset him any more, or have something bad know.

But I did ask him today. Yesterday, actually, since it's after midnight right now. After he came home from work, I showed him the piece of paper. I recorded the audio so I could transcribe it to here.

Me: Hey, Dad.
Dad: Hey, Reil! (His nickname for me, he pronounces it Rye-ull) How's your day been?
M: Good. Um...I wanted to ask you about this. Did you write this?
D: (There was a pause, a long one, before he answered) I don't believe so. This isn't the type of thing I'd normally write. I write a lot of notes, but nothing like this. I don't have any interest in fiction. Somebody sure imitated my writing well, though. Did you do this?
M: No...I thought you did. Has anything else weird happened with the car and stuff since yesterday? I mean, the car freaked out and all. (I didn't tell my parents about Locust standing there. Why would I? Especially if my dad really did write that, I wouldn't tell him.)
D: The car seems fine, it started up fine this morning. I mean, I'm taking it to get checked up, but I think it's good.
M: That's good. Uhh...has anything else weird happened lately?
D: What do you mean?
M: Like, have you seen stuff out of the corner of your eye and stuff? Or is that just me? Actually it's stopped lately but I was--was wondering if you had that paranoia stuff too.
D: No...I don't pay attention to that much. I'm usually asleep or eating anyway. Oh! But I did get these little scratches from the darn cat in the middle of the night. I thought that was weird because Buddy (the cat, his name is Butterscotch) usually loves me, but he dug his claws in and left these long scratches on my arm. Then I found more scratches and scrapes on my feet the next night. My feet must have been sticking out from under the cover or something, he must like the taste of me or something. (He chuckled)
M: Are you sure it was Buddy?
D: (laughing) What else could it be?

Yeah, what else could it be. There's more in that conversation, but it was just little chit-chat. That was the only relevant part. Scratches on him from the cat? I doubt it. Scrapes on his feet? Sounds mighty suspicious.

I'm staying up tonight. I have a feeling my dad is doing something at night, and I'm going to see what. He's hiding something. I know he was because he sounded very forced throughout that whole conversation, and I've never heard him like that before. I just hope he didn't notice I was forcing myself through that conversation too. I didn't want to ask him anything else. I'm just scared. I'm scared again. I know I've stumbled on something even worse. This doesn't even have to do with just James anymore, does it?