The end?

I guess I should tell you what's happened. Shortly after I wrote that comment on the last post responding to the Child, she entered my bedroom. Seething with anger, I shouted, "Stop messing with my head!"

She smiled. "Now, now. You'll appreciate me soon enough."

I pushed past her, laptop in hand, and dashed to the living room. She, not surprisingly, followed.

At a loss, I shouted, "Nightlanders, if you really want me so badly, then help me!!"

As I watched, black stains inched up the walls and soon my piles of books were flying through the air, straight at the Child. She tried to move out of the way, but it was too late. She was swiftly buried.

The Dog (in the guise of a Rottweiler) came in, teeth bared, growling. Its eyes were red and it was foaming at the mouth. Before my eyes, it began to grow.

Before it could attack me, I ran into the kitchen, where I grabbed the first weapon I found: a large knife. The great beast lunged at me, and I stabbed toward it, hoping to cause it pain. My panic and desperation and the fact that it was a beast must have overridden any worries.

Luck was with me: I had sliced its eye. It hesitated, and I took the opportunity, digging the blade as far in as it would go. But I couldn't pull it out. The knife was stuck.

Frantic to have a means of defense before the creature recovered, I whirled around the room. Finally I spotted the meat cleaver.

I turned back around just in time; it leapt toward me. I swung the cleaver, severing its back right leg.

I decided to get out of the house as quick as I could. I was climbing into my car when I heard the Dog come out after me. I saw humanoid bodyparts in its make-up. It must have used the Child to heal itself.

I heard her screaming. "You traitorous wretch! I'll--"

I stopped listening and slammed the door. The abomination approached. I started up the engine and acting on instinct, I rammed head-on into the Dog, smashing its body against the front of my house. Loose fragments of bricks clattered to the ground.

Backing up, I decided in my panic to head to one of the few places in my life: the bookstore I used to work for.

It chased me. All the way there. For twenty minutes. It never slowed even for a moment.

Once I parked, I jumped out and ran through the entrance.

"Everybody! This is an emergency! You have to get out now!"

People looked at me in confusion until they saw the 5-foot-tall Dog bounding in behind me. There was screaming and running. Parents scooped up children and made for the emergency exits.

I ran straight down the main aisle, the Dog close behind.

I dove into the children's section, hiding under the table where puzzles sat. The Dog hadn't seen me go under, so it began to sniff for my location.

I coughed and looked down at my hand. It was turning blue.

The place got quieter as most people had left, and the ones who remained were frozen in fear or unsure what to do.

The bell jingled as the entrance opened.

"Mr. Ni-ven!" came a sing-song voice.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Mr. Niven, I know you're here! You shouldn't have done what you did! After I deal with my dog, I'm coming for you. And you will love me and spoil me and be heartbroken when I leave. Forever."

I saw her tiny shoes come into view. A trail of blood flowed down the front of her dress and dripped from the stump of her arm.

I whispered a curse.

Coming closer, she lowered her head until she could see me with her lone eye. The empty socket leaked blood onto the floor.

"I can't forgive you this time. No matter how much you pamper me, I will hate you. Won't that make you feel even worser?

She left me alone. I heard their incessant whispering in my head. Trembling, I held my breath.

I tried to relax, like the Voice taught me, but it wasn't helping. I couldn't do it.

I remembered what it said--not to hold my breath. I forced myself to inhale and exhale with deep breaths. I still trembled.

Shadows raced across the walls toward me.

"Help me," I whimpered. "Please!"

The Darkness surrounded me; there was no way out this time, not even a Door.

Adrenaline raced through my veins. Something in my head snapped and I was no longer afraid. Of anything.

The Darkness moved closer, but when my blue hand came into view, they stopped. I don't know why. Maybe because the Plague Doctor had marked me, because I was his target?

Whatever the reason, I seized the moment and sprinted from them.

I met up with the Dog and together we sought refuge in the storage room. Now that we were alone, he turned on me, but I was ready.

I kicked it on the nose and grabbed a boxcutter that was lying among the boxes. The Dog tore my shirt. I sliced and stabbed at the beast until sweat was pouring down my face. It lay unmoving in a bloody heap.

Quietly exiting the room, I peeked around the corner and saw the Child there. She saw me. She smiled an inhuman smile. "Daddy!"

She came toward me, as though for a hug.

I ran back to the front of the store. The Child was right behind me.

I heard the door to the storage closet burst open and terrified screams of children.

The Shadows joined the race.

"How can you be doing this to me!" I yelled. "You're fictional!!!"

The Child answered calmly, "So are you."

Thinking about my options, I hesitated a moment, worried that Faceless might be right--am I a child killer? She was closing in. As fear and uncertainty and doubt gradually bled into my psyche, I realized that I was having a relapse.

But I couldn't let the fear hinder me, so I took a few deep breaths and forced myself through it, subsequently stopping and sticking out my leg, which tripped the Child. Then I saw that she was next to one of the bookshelves. Quickly running to the other side, I shoved it onto her. To my surprise, I found satisfaction in her groans of pain.

I doubled back down the path I came, the Darkness in pursuit.

Regardless of my being the target of Others, they still wanted me for their purposes.

The lights began to flicker and sparks flew.

In their frustration, they turned to re-ordering whoever was left in the building in our path.

It was a terrible sight. I'd rather not describe it.

Some of the sparks caused books to catch on fire. The place being filled with ample fuel, the bookstore would soon be an inferno.

The Shadows fled. I left out the back door.

The store burned fast. I saw no one else come out. I hope that's the end of the Child and Dog.

Knowing the Nightlanders would likely still pursue me, I jogged to the park--a place that would be devoid of people at this time of night.

I could see them slithering after me in the pools of light cast by the streetlamps.

At the park, I tripped and fell, skinning my knee and getting dirt and grass all over me.

At the playground where the Child had first approached me from, they had me in their grasp. I was blocked by Them and by the playscape. I started climbing up some metal bars.

"Come with us," they whispered. "We are patient and merciful. We will give you another chance."

"You think I'll go with you after what you did to my sister? You're out of your minds!"

"Then we have no choice but to re-order yours."

They closed in and I clenched my eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

They scattered, and held their position several yards away from me. Turning, I saw that a Door had appeared next to me. I climbed off the playscape and took a couple steps toward it.
Laughing with relief, I slid to the ground, my back against the Door. I was safe for now. The Nightlanders wouldn't dare come near, and the Door wouldn't open itself. As long as I sat there and the Door remained, I was safe.

The Door has stood here for several hours now.

I think the City wants me, too.


I'm thinking about going in.

I know what happened last time, and I know it isn't the best idea. But once again, there is no other escape.

I have begun coughing up more blood. I don't think I have long to live.

That's why I think I have to go through the Door.

I recognize the clothes I'm wearing. Since time works differently in the City, it may prolong my life.

And at least I'll be free from the Others once inside. Wandering aimlessly for an eternity is better than being torn apart, or losing your life's purpose and meaning, or being controlled. Or dying from a horrible disease.

There's nowhere else for me to go. The City is the most freedom I'll get.


And if I don't really exist, does it really matter if I live or die?

But at least I fought back.

I'm afraid. I don't know what to expect or hope for anymore. The world no longer makes sense.

But I did all I could.

I'm going in now. Here goes nothing.

I can't take it anymore!!!

Tonight the Child and the Dog die.

Even if it's the last thing I do.

Father-Daughter Bonding

Got everything fixed, so I can update from home again.

My precious child and me ate popcorn and watched a movie on television. In fact, it was The Exorcist. She didn't like it. Said it should've been scarier.

Anyway, I promised to take her out to get ice cream tomorrow.

Who knew being a father was so much fun? (Though it'd be easier if I wasn't afraid I might just up and choke her at any given moment.)

She's started wanting me to put her hair into braids. How cute. (But what if I yank her hair hard enough to rip it out and she bleeds?)

I've already tucked her in and read her a bedtime story--Rumplestiltskin. Only, in this version, Rumplestiltskin succeeds in taking the baby. She insisted on that ending. Oh, he also eats the baby at the end. She thought that was the funniest thing. :)

Me going along with that so easily was...disheartening.

I wish I wasn't so worried all the time. Poor thing needs a father who isn't distracted by irrational fears.

I'm ready to kill

That little witch cut my phone line and smashed my cell phone! I'm having to access the Internet from the library.

How am going to make an appointment now?

Then again, if this is from a supernatural entity like the Plague Doctor, perhaps no one can help.

My throat is sore and I've been itching all over. My insides are roiling and I want to die!

More than just from this sickness. Even when my head is clear and I'm fully aware of what she is, my intrusive thoughts have been acting up, and I've been sweating a lot out of terror. I'm on the verge of tears.

A brighter day

I'm feeling better today.

I'm not sure if it was a dream, but last night I thought I woke up and saw shadows moving on the walls. The Dog barked for awhile and I think that scared them away.

Thinking back to my time at Shady Lawn has got me worrying that they might have injected me with something without my knowledge.

I think I should see a doctor. I'll be more careful this time, though.

Ugh

I ahve started coughing up blood. I think I'm sick with something. I feel terrible.

The Child acted all sweet and innocent all day. I hate her.

This is a short post because I;m going to lie down now,

What She Wants

So me and the Child went to an amusement park today called Funfunfun! (Yeah, lame, I know.)

We were having the time of our lives until I hit my head during one of those rides where you spin around really fast. I felt like I was going to lose my lunch. Anyway, that bump brought me out of my stupor.

My head clear, I demanded the Child explain to me what she wanted.

"Well, Mr. Wells (or should I say Niven?), I was intrigued by you. You know why?"

I didn't answer.

"Here's why: we're the same, you and me. I'm without a name; you're without a name, in a way. I become the focus of people's lives to the point where all they have is me; you were all your parents had. I betray them and leave, breaking their hearts, and they lose the will to live without me. They lose their purpose in life. You betrayed your parents, too, by abandoning them.

"Basically, you're my little experiment: I want to know what happens to someone when I do to them the same thing that they did to others. WHat happens when I target someone like me? It will be fun. It will be fascinating."

"Not sure how that will work out," I said. "I've been having intrusive thought problems again. Assuming you've read my blog you're well aware. What if I just up and decided to hurt you on purpose, while I'm still lucid? Not accidental thoughts, but intentional ones. No anxiety. What if I pull you out of the restraints and hurl you off this thing? What if I smashed your head into the side? I could, you know. I'm willing to go to a mental institution if it means the end of you, so long as that maniac Beakman doesn't work there," I said bitterly. Then added, "I've decided that my purpose in life is to destroy you, and the others like you. You won't take that from me. I won't let you."

She laughed. Not like a child laughs, but like an old woman, but still with a child's voice.

"Good luck with that. You will have succumbed to me soon enough."

Finally the ride stopped and we got off.

"I'm going home," I said.

Not surprisingly, she followed me.

Some kids we passed as we exited the park pointed and made jokes about how hideous the Child was. They stopped when they saw my look of anger, though it was not aimed at them. I made a sign to encourage them to continue.

This brat needs as many people as possible against her. She's an infernal, impish trap.

She's still here with me now. I wish she would leave me alone.

A Fun Day

Today I awoke with that lovely child's dog at the foot of my bed. He enjoyed a tummy rub.

His eyes looked red for a second, though. I don't know if something's wrong with him, but it looked kinda cool, I guess.

Anyway, I woke up my little precious daughter and told her I would take her to an amusement park today. She was so excited! Her eyes lit up like a match!

So today should be a really fun day for the both of us! (As long as the thoughts aren't too bad. I already thought of smothering her with a pillow instead of waking her up. I know I would never do that, especially to a child. Damn OCD!)

Stay tuned for updates!

The Voice Returns

I tried to watch some TV today. That blasted Child just sat in the corner staring at me all day, smirking. She's even watching me now as I write this.

Today I saw her as being the ugly beast she is, but what of tomorrow?

The Voice spoke to me again.

It told me that I needed to have a set purpose, and to concentrate on that. That is apparently what she takes away, your sense of purpose. After, of course, destroying your life. With everything else gone, all you have is her.

As long as I hold onto my sense of purpose, I can remain strong against her. In fact, those were the final words of the Voice to me: "Stay strong."

Purpose. What purpose? What can be the purpose that I strive for and hold onto steadfastly against this demon?

I've got it: my purpose can be to destroy these things. (Even though they're already supposed to not exist.) I just have to figure out how.

I will stay strong. I will dusrtiurshiugohsiwj;elmfbjvgjzrhsd*gfhkrzjsdghhsghfjdk,jhfkwrkjthfkdjfghhi
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vm efhhrf efh iryg hihrighiuergisufhoiuer89utp947ty735)))))))))))))))))))0

Why!?!?!?

What the heck.

O_O

I woke up and found that stupid thing, the Unnamed Child, in my spare bedroom. How did she find me?

Looking at the last couple of posts I made yesterday, it appears that she has begun exerting her influence on me. (Not to mention the return of thought-related troubles. Never a good thing, even if it is toward this monster.)

Why me? What does she want?

It made sense for the Nightlanders to target me. But the Unnamed Child? I would've expected the Cold Boy or something, not the Unnamed Child.

I'm already alone. I have no one to be cut off from.

Why is she here?

Since I know about her and her MO, and since I know that she is supposed to be fictional (and perhaps me, too, but it sure doesn't feel like I'm fictional; then again, I suppose I wouldn't be able to tell), maybe I can resist her nefarious power.

A Second Chance

Good news! That girl came to my house! (Though I don't know how she found it...)

She said she forgave me for pushing her, as long as I didn't do it again. I agreed, though I don't know if I can be certain of that, since I actively, intentionally hurt hurt her! I feel sick to my stomach.

She also said I should adopt her. I haven't had a child before, and this precious little girl is so sweet and doesn't have anywhere else to go, so I agreed to this also.

Did you know, she doesn't even have a name?

I don't know what I'll call her yet.

I just tucked her in a short time ago in the guest room. There's something bad, though. Aside from me acting out my fears. My intrusive thoughts in general are acting up more than they have been lately. I keep having ideas that I might harm her again, but worse. What if I kill her in her sleep via suffocation? Or what if she comes out in the middle of the night to get some water and I happen to be standing near the kitchen knives or something? It's tearing me up inside. I feel sick.

I just wanna cry. I feel so horrible. I just wanna die.

I am a monster

I feel really bad. I hurt that beautiful little girl. I feel like a big jerk. The memory of her tears really tugs at my heart. Have my stressful thoughts been right all along!? I want to apologize. I just want to make her happy again.

Her

Something is starting to happen. I can feel it.

She showed up today.

I was taking a walk through the park when a large black labrador came at me. For obvious reasons, I was skittish, but the canine just stopped and sat in front of me, panting. Its eyes were normal.

As I relaxed, a little girl, about four or five, ran up to us.

"Oh, good!" she said. "My dog found you!"

When I looked at her, I saw her large, round eyes and curly brown hair. She was an adorable child.

Until I blinked.

When I opened my eyes again, her face didn't seem quite right.

I blinked again and she was a normal kid again.

Clearing my throat, I said, "This your dog?"

"Yep."

"What's his name?"

"He doesn't have a name. Like me."

I knew  then who what this was--the Unnamed Child. I quickly walked away, leaving them behind.

I heard little footsteps race toward me.

"What's wrong, mister?"

I stopped in my tracks and turned. "I know what you are. Now get away from me and leave me alone!"

I continued, but she followed.

"I said stay away!" I shoved her to the ground, hard.

Tears appeared in her not-quite-right eyes and she started bawling at the top of her lungs.

Others came near, to see what the commotion was, but they hesitated at the sight of her. They apparently saw her as she really was.

I ran out of there as fast as I could and came home. I've looked out the window now and then to make sure she's not coming after me.

...

I decided to do some more research on my recent experiences. It turns out there are other blogs. Lots of them. Nearly too many to ever wade through.

The clincher? They're all supposed to be fictional.

It turns out there's something called the Slender Man, who is a tall, faceless guy in a suit (sounds kind of silly, if you ask me), that someone made up on the Something Awful forums. People ran with the idea and began making all sorts of stories about him.

Some people got bored with this, thinking it was getting stale. So they made a spin-off "mythos" with other creatures. Other abominations.


I ended up going to the home page of that wiki, where it became clear all of this is fictional. These quotes make it obvious:

"The Fear Mythos is a spin-off of the Slender Man Mythos" How can real creatures be a "spin-off"? Then there's this: "If you wish to know more about the Fear Mythos or write for it, please visit the Fear Mythos forum."

"If you wish to write for it." These stories are made by writers.

That's when I found the Beginner's Guide to the Fear Mythos page, as well as the Blogs page, listing all the blogs.

Right there, listed under "Multi-Fear Blogs" was--Continuity Glue!!! It even has its own page, on which it says:

"Continuity Glue is a blog by The Nameless One (author). It follows an unnamed protagonist as he encounters Nightlanders and other Fears, which begins to drive him deeper into insanity."

According to the blasted Internet, my experiences, and possibly myself as well, don't exist.

This...just can't be.

You know what's even funnier? There's a character known as the Nameless One who is a servant to the Unnamed Child.

Insanity. Complete insanity.

Nightmare

I had a dream last night.

I was walking through a terrible wasteland. Buildings were demolished. Dead bodies were strewn all over the place.

It was like the end of the world.

There was fire everywhere, and the sun was obscured by some sort of smog.

I went over to one body and turned it onto its back. I began to drag it toward some others. Once there was a sizable group of corpses, I began to put them in order.

I'm not sure how to describe it, but doing this seemed to greatly satisfy some hyper-sensitive OCD compulsion that was bothering me.

As I admired my handiwork, I heard a noise behind me. Turning, I saw that it was a teenager. She stared wide-eyed at the bodies at my feet.

"M-mom? Dad!?" She ran toward them, but stopped when she saw me.

"You are afraid, young one," I said. "Let me help you. Together we can bring order back to this world."

She backed away. "No!"

"But the Darkness would like to have you aboard. It took awhile for me, but I eventually saw the...uh...dark. That's all They wanted from me: cooperation. We can bring complete order to the world. If you're willing, more willing than I was, there will be no problem."

I advanced toward her, hand outstretched.

"Get away from me!" she screamed.

She turned to run, but I caught her. Placing my hands on either side of her head, I worked to rearrange her mind. But she was quite stubborn.

The change didn't go as planned. She convulsed and dropped to the pavement, dead.

As I walked back toward my macabre masterpiece, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a broken window.

My eye sockets were empty and black, save for a small point of light in each. And my skin--it was as though shadows were constantly contorting across it.

A black wave arose behind me and I greeted it cordially.

"Fears"

What in the name of all that is good and holy is going on?

I found a whole wiki about these things. I typed in the various things I've experienced and stuff on a search engine, like "Nightlander" (which term I got from Ontological), "Door", "City", "black dog", "man in bird mask", etc. It was on this last one that I found something of interest: the outfit of a medieval plague doctor. It looked just like that man I saw outside a while back. So I searched for "plague doctor". There was just stuff about the medieval plague doctors and costumes so people could dress up like them. Not much help.

Then I typed in "Dr. Beakman" and found a page on a wiki called "The Fear Mythos" mentioning Dr. Beakman and "the Plague Doctor" together. This looked somewhat promising, so I clicked on it. It turned out that this was indeed the Dr. Beakman who runs Shady Lawn. Apparently he's a Mad Doctor--a servant of the Plague Doctor. He apparently wouldn't let anyone leave because he loves performing various experiments.

I hope I didn't catch anything while there.

Anyway, these things are known as Fears. Nightlanders are the moving shadows plaguing me. The Doors lead to the Empty City, an ever-shifting eldritch location. The Black Dog hunts people down for some secret they keep hidden. I suppose my adventure as a boy may have made me feel guilty, knowing it was my fault, so I pretended it never happened. That could be why I'm a target there. The man who took my memories is known as the Blind Man. The Plague Doctor is all about spreading disease, which is why a single glance made my OCD skyrocket. The Convocation is made up of birds which can nest inside their servants. One such "Nest" is the man I found in the City. It is this "Nest" state which the Faceless Bastard was apparently referring to awhile back in his weird comment on "Here at Shady Lawn." In fact, his comment implies that he's...

Oh, dear God.

Many pages also lead to blogs, which I will read sometime.

There are many other Fears, it turns out, and I'm lucky not to have run into all of them. The ones I have are too much; I can't take it. Others include EAT (some watery thing), the Wooden Girl (who, it seems, controls people like puppets), the Cold Boy (who freezes people who are lonely; looks like I dodged a bullet there), the Unnamed Child (who ruins people's lives), and the Grotesque (who has something to do with dreams).

This all so insane. If so many have seen these creatures how come they're not common knowledge? Shouldn't the government be doing something about this? Instead, it's just confined to some blogs, it seems.

Finished Ontological

I finally finished that blog I mentioned before, Ontological. It was interesting, and I could relate to some of the things that happened, but the way it ended...

The guy turned out to have been a "Nightlander" (living shadow) the whole time or something.

It was like one of those twist endings that are always in movies and Twilight Zone episodes, making me wonder if this story was actually fictional. However, the references to moving shadows, appearing Doors, and impossible cities makes me think it was at least partially based on reality.

I don't know.

I thought about what happened to me at Shady Lawn and during the escape. And the way I was so willing to sneak around the place to find an exit. That sounds like the old me, before I lost everything; before I lost my family, my courage, my childhood. I don't know what's happening to me, but I think it could be something good. Maybe.

Continuing the Story

That time stamp. What? It says my last post went up like two minutes after the previous one, even though my time in the electroshock room was at least 20 minutes, including the time it took to be brought in. And the City...I was in there for at least a day.

Time...what is time? It makes no sense now...

Anyway, after I entered the Door I found myself on top of a building. I nearly died by stepping off the edge by mistake. In fact, I did step off the edge. I just happened to suddenly find myself in a stagnant swimming pool in the backyard of a worn-down, abandoned house.

Spitting leaves from my mouth, I climbed out and looked around. No birds. No bugs. No people. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I decided to check out the house. It was boarded up, so I had a time of tearing some of them free from the back door. Inside were just piles of dust. No furniture. No signs at all that anyone had ever lived there. I slept awhile. Exhaustion makes you accept any bed you're offered.

When I awoke, the Voice returned. "Go back into the water. It's the only way you can ever find your way out."

I was puzzled, but this Voice had been right before, so I went outside and dived back in.

And I dived in. And I dived in. And I dived in. I thought I would be stuck like this forever. Was this some kind of purgatory?

At last I found myself running down a long street between two high buildings. When I reached the halfway point, I found myself face to face with someone I hadn't seen until I was almost upon him.

He stared me in the eyes, but seemed not to be addressing me. "The Bright Ones will not be pleased!" he cried. "The Bright Ones will NOT BE PLEASED!!!"

Then, before I could say anything, he took out a knife and drew it across his neck.

I winced. "No!" I wanted to shout, but it stuck in my throat.

His head flopped backward, the cut having been deep enough that he was almost decapitated. He fell backward to the ground, motionless. Curiously, there was no blood from the wound.

I felt sick to my stomach as his skin began to writhe in unnatural undulating movements. A beak poked out of the hole. Then some feathers. Soon, an entire bird, some kind of large crow, emerged, followed quickly by dozens of others.

I was frozen in shock. This unimaginable gathering of birds had just flown out of a dead man's body, like Pegasus from Medusa. As they flew, a dark cloud without rain moving over the city, they screeched so loud I had to plug my ears with my fingers as deep as they would go.

I had pushed too far in. My ears began to bleed. As I recovered my bearings and turned to finish the journey down this dismal road, I saw that it was now a dead end where before it had been open.

"Follow the birds," said a familiar voice. It was mine. I was standing there before me. But the other me had dirty, damaged clothes.

"Follow the birds," he (I) said again, this time more sternly. "Hurry!"

Trusting that myself was a worthy guide, I did as I was told and followed the birds. They had gone over one of the buildings, but there was a door that I was able to enter. I ran through the empty building to the other side, where a wall had been knocked down.

From there I was able to follow the screeching birds (fortunately they were far enough away that their shrieks did not cause pain, yet close enough to see) through the streets for awhile. I think I could see flashes of lightning from time to time. After what seemed like hours, and being close to losing sight of the winged monstrosities, I saw another Door. I opened it and stepped through.

I was in an elevator which seemed to be racing to the top of some skyscraper, the cables whining under the strain. Then, the elevator froze.

Before I knew what was happening, it began to plummet back down in a free fall. I knew then that I was going to die. However, in the free fall, I was weightless, like floating in space. A Door appeared in the middle of the ceiling, where the hatch would be. I reached upward and grabbed the knob. I turned it, opened it, and pushed myself through. As the Door closed behind under me, I could hear the tremendous crash that I had barely escaped.

I found myself in the middle of a sidewalk, with the birds in sight again. I continued following them until a rather tall Door stood before me and the birds. I went through after them, but when I emerged I was in my bedroom again, the birds nowhere around.

After cleaning myself up and trying to process what had happened, I wrote down the previous post.

That electroshock doohickey was something else, though. My head's better now, but that feeling sure lasted awhile. I hope there's no permanent damage.

Incredible

Oh, my head...

Well, I'm free. Somehow.

Okay, I know how. I just can't believe it. Dr. Beakman didn't like the fact that I'd only been pretending to take my meds. And that I knew the things that he insisted weren't real indeed were. And the fact that I was trying to escape.

So, he and some assistants took me into a back room and strapped me onto a table. From there, they proceeded to put something on my head. They shoved something into my mouth and made me bite down on it. They then began giving me intense electroshock therapy.

It hurt worse than you could ever imagine. And there was nothing I could do. I knew this bastard was going to kill me.

Then the room went dark.

I heard some yelling and saw some swiftly moving specks of light. It was the Shadow People. They were apparently protecting me for some reason. I felt my wrists and ankles freed and my adrenaline was pumping. I tore the headgear off and ran. But a Door appeared in my path.

Stopping, I turned around.

I saw some flashing bands of light and the room returned to normal. The Shadows had failed--they were contained.

"Thank God for the Archive," said Beakman.

He and the others turned toward me.

"Your little friend is an agent of the Archive. He told us everything."

I ran to the door, but it was locked. I knew it was foolish. I knew I could be lost forever, like that family I read about before, but it was my only option. It was my only possible means of escape.

I went through the Door.

My headache is getting worse again. I'll continue this story later.

Strange Post

Wow. I have no idea what they did to me there. It must have been some extra strong drugs or something. They've worn off now, though.

I'll tell about what I did last night. I was sneaking around like I said I would. I crept down the hallway and hid around the corner so anyone at the front desk wouldn't see me.

As I watched, someone approached the woman sitting there. He said, "I'm looking for the Holder of Light." The woman surprisingly readily stood up and led him away out of view. I didn't understand what was going on, but I was grateful for the opportunity to explore further without getting caught.

There were guards stationed outside every entrance I came across. They were big, strong men with even bigger guns. It looked like I wasn't going to be able to escape. Obviously this place isn't on the up-and-up. What kind of mental institution has people that'll likely kill you if you try to leave, especially people like me who are here voluntarily?


I scoped out the fire exit down one hallway. It was dark though, like the lights had burnt out. I didn't reach the door--I was too afraid. I swear I saw red eyes staring at me from the darkness. I retraced my steps.


That's when I was caught and taken back to my room. On the way, I heard a loud scream as though someone were going through unspeakable torment.

At some point they must have drugged me to make me more docile and cooperative.

If I don't trust the doctor, I won't get better.

Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
Dr. Beakman serves God. I will trust in him.
If I don't trust the doctor, I won't get better.

A Discovery

I have a headache. My face is all scrunched up in confusion. I don't understand.

I've stopped taking the medicine.

That new friend of mine showed me some drawings today. He's a pretty good artist.

I'm afraid to take risks like this, but I have to have a clear head to find out what's going on. I think that Voice might be helping me after all.

To my surprise, the drawings looked just like the man and woman from that first dream about the dog I told you about. He says being one of the Gifted means that Grandfather took your childhood, but gave you the childhood memories of someone else.

I have to get out of here.

He remembers the childhood of someone named Christopher (the same name as me) Niven, who was an only child. His parents loved him and spent as much time as possible with him. They spoiled him. He was the center of their lives.

Until the day he ran away. The boy ran because he wanted to see what the rest of the world was like. He was adventurous and curious and didn't think or care about how this affected his parents. He wandered around for some days or weeks (my friend says the memories have faded a bit) and was finally picked up by a police car. The boy had been in the woods the whole time.

He couldn't go back to his parents--they were dead. While looking for him, his mother had tripped and fallen, landing where a sharp branch was sticking up, impaling her eye and going into her brain. She died instantly.

The father was at home at the time, working to fix his chainsaw which could be used to clear a lot of the fallen trees and branches and brush and undergrowth to move through the woods more easily. However, there was an accident. Somehow the thing was turned on and bounced up, severing his left arm. By the time paramedics arrived and rushed him to the ER, he had lost too much blood.

I think it's obvious at this point that the people in that nightmare were my parents. I ran away. Their deaths were my fault. Which means that dream meant something. It had truth to it. It could be some long suppressed memory working its way up, but I don't think so. This man has my memories. My childhood. It was stolen and given to someone else. It is clear something out of the ordinary is going on. I'm confused and scared. This proves that at least some of the stuff I've gone through is real. Why does Dr. Beakman want to keep me here, thinking it's all in my head?

And now I have to cope with the knowledge that I signed away my own childhood.

Tonight I'm going to sneak around the place and figure out a route of escape.

Dr. Beakman Reads my Blog! :)

After my outburst in response to Faceless on the last post, Beakman said he was disappointed in me, and that I was regressing back into my delusions. I'm alright now, though. I've calmed down.

I was just so angry at him (me?) and didn't like being accused of something I didn't do. Unless I did it...

Dr. Beakman says it's better for me not to think about it. It's an obstacle that I need to get past if I'm to get better.

I think I might ignore future comments from my other personalities. It's probably not good for me to keep getting into arguments with myself.

I'm confused

I have had no more problems with the things my mind conjured up, which is good, but today I was talking to someone in the recreation room and he said something that confuses me.

He told me he lost the memories of his childhood to a blind old man who asked him his name and wrote it in his book. That sounds eerily similar to my background. I never told him about that, though. In fact, today's the first day I met him.

He calls the man Grandfather for some reason and seems excited to have had his childhood ripped away from him. He says he's "Gifted" or something, whatever that means. Anyway, Grandfather sounds like that guy I met as a teenager, which bothers me. But if I don't trust the doctor, I won't get better. Must be some coincidence.

That "Faceless Bastard" commented again, saying he was indeed me. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He said some really bizarre things, too.

I don't know what to make of all this.

Here at Shady Lawn

Sorry I haven't updated in a few days, but I've been getting adjusted to life here in Shady Lawn. Dr. Beakman said that after my first dose of medication I was already doing better. I haven't seen any silliness like moving shadows or doors by themselves anymore. That voice is gone, too.

Shady Lawn is the best thing that's happened to me in these last couple months.

I have had a few nightmares still, but if I don't trust the doctor I won't get better. I've made a lot of progress. Beakman says the nightmares will go away soon.

Oh, I almost forgot: Dr. Beakman also says that those commenters on the post "An Explanation" believed me so readily because they were really me under other names. I guess that makes sense, but I don't understand why I would try to undermine my own safety. Also, I apparently posted as one of them again on "Good News." I guess I was really messed up in the head.

Thank God for Dr. Beakman.

Stupid Shadows

Stop posting on my blog!!!

This time their hidden text said, "Don't seek aid / it'll only ruin you / once contact is made / it's all over for you."

What is THAT supposed to mean? Perhaps my subconscious is telling me not to get help. I know there are unexplained things, but if I'm halucinating, my perception could easily be skewed. I think I've been imagining all these things. Maybe it's connected with my amnesia. Maybe something terrible happened then that's coming back to haunt me now, or maybe I've always had some mental problem and it caused the amnesia and now these apparent hallucinations.

They can't be real. They just can't be. Living shadows? Doors connected to nothing which lead to some abandoned city? Being watched by a man in a bird mask? Dreams of some horrible dog like Cujo? A Voice telling me how to cope? These aren't natural things!

And a commenter says I'm screwed, whatever that might be referring to. And good luck. Maybe he was wishing me luck on my recovery? Because I'm already screwed up. I don't know.

By the way, the case of my sister's murder has gone cold. There are no new leads. I hope the police don't read this blog, but if they do, I won't be surprised when they come for me.

Anyway, my appointment with Dr. Beakman at Shady Lawn is this afternoon at 3:00. I'll update you on how it goes.

OBEY

DON'T SEEK AID
IT'LL ONLY RUIN YOU
ONCE CONTACT IS MADE
IT'S ALL OVER FOR YOU

Good News

I've finally found a psychiatrist willing to meet with me. A Dr. Beakman. He actually contacted me, since I never saw a listing for him in the phone book or online. Don't know how he knew I was trying to find a psychiatrist. Anyway, so things are looking up. I can find out once and for all if what I've been experiencing are hallucinations or not.

For some reason, though, he doesn't want to meet in an office, but some mental hospital. He e-mailed me directions to get there. This makes me worry, as I wonder if my problems are bad enough to warrant a stay in such an institution. Oh, well. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

No more messages from that Voice in my head.

I'm still worried about my sister's death, though. I know I could never do such a thing, and the Voice said I didn't do it, yet it matched exactly one of my inadvertent thoughts. It's all too surreal.

Bad News

I haven't been able to make an appointment today. None of the psychiatrists in the area are taking new patients at this time.

What do I do?

A Voice in my Head

I think I'll call a psychiatrist today.

A short time ago, my intrusive thoughts were getting the better of me again (the recent nightmares haven't helped); I was shaking and sweating. I nearly convinced myself I caused my sister's death, even though there is no evidence of it. I kept thinking I might hurt other people, like maybe my old boss and coworkers at the bookstore.

Then a Voice entered my mind.

"Stop worrying," it said. "There is no need to fear. You have done nothing wrong. The Shadows do not have your best interests in mind. They are trying to keep you afraid, under their control. They want you to do what they will. They want you to resist any changes; that's why they mete out such harsh punishments, like your sister's death.  They want you to continue in your usual routine. Forever. Quitting work and disobeying their warnings to stay away from Doors warranted, in their minds, a powerful and effective discipline that would scare you back to normalcy. None of what they have striven for has worked; it has only made you change parts of your routine, such as the aforementioned leave of your job and longer bouts of depression and grieving. And Others are starting to show up.

"You must fight them at every turn. This is a war first and foremost for your mind. To start with, you need to relax. Concentrate on relaxing. Relax all the muscles in your body, one at a time. Whenever you become aware of a thought of a distressing sort entering your mind, blinking several times may distract your mind long enough until it passes. If this is not enough, do your best to clear your mind. Distract yourself. And whatever you do, don't hold your breath. Breathe steadily. Holding it in as a nervous reaction undermines everything else.

"Do not be afraid of these entities. They only exist because of people's fears. They are ancient, even more ancient than man, for even beasts have been afraid of some of the same things as man. And they will exist as long as there are creatures who feel fear. Without fear, They have nothing to work with, nothing to torment you with. You must become stronger.

"You can fight them. It certainly will not be easy, and you may yet see death, but being fearless is your only possible defense. Remember, I am here to help you."

I tried the techniques outlined by this voice, and they actually helped a great deal. I felt...overjoyed, even excited. A GOOD excitement for once.

I want to see a psychiatrist, though, because even though it helped, this Voice may be another hallucination. I want to know what a psychiatrist might have to say.

need to get things off my chest

I still feel horrible about my sister's death. There isn't going to be a funeral until the investigation is done. In the meantime, I've decided to take my mind off things by getting some things off my chest. I haven't been entirely honest with you.

First of all, that dream I had. That black dog...was somehow familiar to me. I didn't say anything yesterday because it seemed like if I admitted to knowing that dog in some way, some negativity would come of it. Like you would become suspicious of me.

I don't know why.

Well, in addition to this, I was an orphan throughout my childhood. At least, I believe so. I can't remember anything before the age of 13, at which time I had recently been adopted from an orphanage. That's right, my sister wasn't really my sister and my surname isn't my real surname. I don't know my proper last name.

Part of the reason I chose the moniker "The Nameless One," I suppose.

One time at the local library a couple years later I saw an old man wearing sunglasses. He asked me to sign his book. I thought maybe he's mentally ill and having people sign his book is some sort of meaningful thing to him. Maybe he thought I was a celebrity. In any case, I signed that book. And that's when my amnesia began.


If that dog was part of my past, it must have been during my childhood, in one of the memories I don't have anymore.

If these things I've been seeing are real, what do they want with me? And if they're not...should I see a psychologist? What do you readers (if there are any) think?

I don't know what to do. And I have no one to lean on in this time of need.

I feel cold.

nothing is helping

Read more Lovecraft. Alien geometries and incomprehensible cities eerily remind me of what I saw through that door. I hope Lovecraft wasn't actually on to anything. That would make things worse.

I saw the shadows again today. Don't know if that's a good thing. If I'm hallucinating, this terrifies me and means I probably committed the murder. If they are real, then either they committed the murder or manipulated me into doing so.

None of these scenarios is soothing to my psyche.

Earlier I took a nap and had a terrible dream.

In this dream, or rather, nightmare, horrible things happened. It was night. In a forest. Someone was running. From what, I didn't know. Then over the hill came a black smoky...thing. But as it came nearer, it was clear that it was a large dog. With red, glowing eyes.

It was chasing the woman, who was exhausted. She turned around, and was holding a sharp branch she must have found lying in the underbrush. As the canine from hell approached, she jabbed the thing as far as she could into its left eye.

After she got up and continued running, I saw it turn its gaze to me. Blood pouring like a faucet from the wound, it took a few steps toward me. When it got near enough, it raised a paw and moved it toward my face; I was frozen with fear.

Then to my utter shock and horror, it began...absorbing my left eye into its paw. I screamed at the unbearable pain. Moments later, I watched, still shaking and screaming, as the branch was pushed from the eye socket and a new eye appeared--my eye.

Blood soaked my face and I began to fall into a catatonic state.

That's when the scene changed. We were in a house, that infernal dog and me. Its eyes looked normal again (well, as normal as glowing red eyes can be), and my pain was gone. I reached up to feel, and my hand came away clean; my eye was back in place!

My joy was not to last, however.

I heard a buzzing motor, and I saw someone wielding a chainsaw. He came at the dog, who was undeterred. It didn't even blink. Then it leapt at the man. The whirring blade sliced through the dog's back right leg like it was butter. It flopped to the ground, unbalanced.

The man made several other cuts to the beast, then got out of there quick as he could. The thing lunged at me again, this time pressing its stump against my left arm.

It took my arm. It was there, where the back leg should have been. A left arm for a back right leg. A human arm on a dog. It used its replacement limb and dashed after the man. Last I saw of it, all its cuts had healed.

I just sat there, bleeding and in pain.

Awhile later, I heard some noises and I was no longer alone.

It was the dog. It came at me, looking rabid, its red eyes staring into my soul. It rushed forward, growling, teeth ready to take a big bite. Before it reached me, however, everything went black.

I woke up on the couch, in intense pain. I was soaked--in sweat and blood. My left eye and left arm were missing, I was bleeding everywhere, visions of that creature kept flashing in my mind. I screamed like I have never screamed in my life.

Then finally, mercifully, I awoke for real.

This dream does not help me feel better either.

I am completely nuts. And I'm dangerous. I should probably check into a mental hospital.

Some Easter this has turned out to be.

What now!?

Today nothing of note happened.

Except, I think I saw a man standing in my front yard, wearing a bird mask and a black overcoat.

After that I felt I had to wash my hands. More thoroughly than usual. More times than usual. I kept scrubbing and scrubbing for nearly an hour, harder, harder, harder!

My hands bled until they were completely covered and I started crying. It felt like I would never succeed in cleaning my hands.

Eventually I could take it no longer and fell to the floor, curled up in a ball.

I woke up a few minutes ago and bandaged my fingers and decided to write this down.

I think I'm starting to hallucinate again.

So numb

I haven't gone to work at all this week. I've been depressed and scared.

I still haven't seen or heard from the shadows since it happened. There have been no more doors.

This makes me think it might have all been in my head. Did I do it? Was I hallucinating everything? Did I do everything I thought the shadows were doing? Was it all nothing?

At least I can plea insanity when they come for me.

I...don't know what to say

My sister's dead.

She had her throat slashed in her kitchen.

With a box cutter.

I'm trembling right now.

Did I unknowingly carry out one of my worst fears?

I haven't seen the shadows today, and my intrusive thoughts have been mostly at ease all day.

I'm numb.

The Shadow People are Angrier than Usual

I saw a door again today. Two, actually.

At work I saw one standing near the back of the children's section. I hope none of the little ones went through. No one else seemed to notice it.

Then, this afternoon, after I got home, I was heading to the shower when I noticed that the bathroom door didn't look right.

I saw dark patches on the walls fleeing away from it again and realized it looked like the door from work, and the one that appeared in my living room.

The screaming in my head became painful once again, but I wanted to know what was going on, so I forced myself through the agony. I nearly died, or at least it felt like it. My head is still throbbing.

I grabbed the doorknob and turned. Inside, I saw a large city. But there were no people. There were no sounds of daily life. As I watched, it just felt...wrong.

I felt myself drawn to it; I knew I had to keep away, that these doors were something terrible. But I moved toward the doorway anyway.

I almost stepped through.

Next thing I knew I was waking up in my bed. I must have blacked out. Did the shadows take me to bed?

They are so upset with me now. All I hear is constant yelling in my head. I want it to stop, I just want it to go away. But it won't. I keep hearing the sounds of things breaking all through the house.

I think they might go through with one of their threats this time.

Ontological

I found something interesting. Or rather, it found me.

It's a blog called Ontological. For some reason it was set as my home page. More shadow shenanigans, I suspect. According to this blog, someone is inside a house with no doors or windows, and there seems to be strange activity. I'm not finished going through it yet, but what I've found is very intriguing.

The author found another blog about a mysterious door appearing (sound familiar?) and people going through, only to be lost forever. He concludes he's in the doorless house so that he will know when one of these doors appears. There's also something about a city.

He also mentions seeing shadows moving on his walls.

Could it be I'm not alone? I'm not mad?

Do I have Everything Wrong?

I just realized that today is March 25.

25.

THEY ARE COMING posted at 2:05 AM
THEY ARE COMING posted at 2:05 AM (25th post) "They are coming / when opportunity knocks / don't answer / they are coming"

The door appeared around 1:25.

Could it be that the shadows were trying to warn me about that door? Does "they" mean more doors are going to appear?

Are the shadows, dare I say it, benevolent? If so, they have a strange way of going about it.

Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into? No, what have THEY gotten me into?

what in heaven's name is going on?

Just now I could have sworn I saw a door appear right in the middle of the living room. It was a normal door. Just sitting there, connected to nothing. I approached it hesitantly, but I saw shadows scattering away from it for some reason.

As I drew closer, there was intense screaming in my head. It got so bad, that I had to stop and back away from the door.

After a few minutes, it just disappeared.

Either something big is happening or I am completely losing my mind.

I wish I wasn't alone.

More research

Even though I technically haven't stopped work yet, I've decided to start doing some more research anyway.

I'll tell you if I find anything interesting.

An ending (and a new beginning?)

I've had to quit work. I put in a two weeks notice yesterday.

I work at a bookstore, unpacking new shipments and stocking shelves.

The problem is, my sister started working there as well in the last week. This agravated my intrusive thought problem. I kept thinking every time I saw her that I might just up and decide to slice her throat with a box cutter. Or that I would run her over in the parking lot with one of the delivery trucks. Or shove a bookcase onto her.

I would never do any of these things, of course, but I would still worry. What if this happened? What if that happened? What if this situation automatically leads to this result? Etc. etc. etc.

On top of it all, I thought I started seeing shadows moving on the walls of the store. I tried to tell my boss, but she told me I just needed a break from all this stress.

It became too much, so I've had to quit. More time to research what's going on, perhaps?

Another Oddity

When I got home, all my books were intact and sitting in the same stacks as they were originally. Am I imagining things?

I am so stupid

How could I be so foolish? In the post "I'm starting to freak out," I tried to warn people not to give away any more secret messages. In the process, I gave myself away. I am so stupid!

They know what I did, that I embedded hidden text in the HTML code of a couple of posts.

To show they know, they even did it themselves with a new THEY ARE COMING post! They said, "We are the darkness / they are coming / when opportunity knocks / don't answer / they are coming." Anyone know what that might mean?

I also noticed that both posts from them were posted at 2:05 in the morning, central time. The second one is the 25th post on the blog. What's with the shadows and the numbers 2 and 5?

In any case, they are certainly angry. When I woke up this morning, paper was strewn all over the floor. Pages from all of my books. Excepting (of course?) the Lovecraft volume. They even left me a message taped to the fridge, made of different letters and words from different books. Looked kind of like a ransom note, the kind you see in movies. It said, "This is what we will do to you next if you disobey again."

I wonder why they won't talk to me like they did that first time. Well, it wasn't really talking, more like a transfer of ideas inside my head, but still. They can communicate that way. I wonder why they don't anymore.

I checked and they didn't take my spleen like they said they would. I'm beginning to think they're just throwing around empty threats. Maybe these things aren't so powerful after all. Well, if they're all in my head, of course they're not powerful. But I'm sure I'm not hallucinating. Then again, if I were, I wouldn't know it, would I?

THEY ARE COMING

WE ARE THE DARKNESS
THEY ARE COMING
WHEN OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS
DON'T ANSWER
THEY ARE COMING

Reading and other strange occurrences

So I read several of Lovecraft's stories today. I enjoyed them. I don't know why I never read them before now. They were pretty creative, even if written a bit oddly with tons of adjectives. They might have been a little frightening if I didn't have real troubles.

Good thing those creatures in the stories aren't real. Then again, the shadow people are real. I think. I'm not sure anymore. I don't remember moving things around, but if I'm hallucinating... I mean, maybe I have multiple personality disorder or something.

Moving shadows just CAN'T be real, can they!?

WHAT DO THEY WANT!?!? Why LOVECRAFT!? I don't understand what they want from me. I'm getting fed up.

Anyway, this afternoon I was taking a break from reading and as I flipped channels, I came across one that was just a bunch of static. The thing is, just before going to the next channel, I could have sworn I heard voices. It was pretty weird, but the station probably had a bad signal or something. I don't know. For some reason that stood out to me. Probably nothing.

Whatever show that was seemed weird, though. For a second, I thought I saw a puppet with an eyepatch, and a voice said, "...INSIDE!" Must be some weird children's show.

Oh, and Shadow People, if you're reading this, can you please tell me if you're the ones who posted THEY ARE COMING? And if you are, can you explain what that's referring to?

I'm probably being stupid.

I'm starting to freak out

I mean, it was one thing when they whispered in my head, telling me things that weren't true, and me, knowing this, listening anyway, against my will. I could cope. I could try to ignore them, or let the fear do its work and leave. But now, they are starting to PHYSICALLY MOVE OBJECTS.

I mentioned my books before. How they were arranged differently. And how the H.P. Lovecraft book was on top of a stack.

I now think I was meant to notice the Lovecraft volume.

This morning, when I got out of bed, IT WAS NEXT TO MY LAPTOP ON MY DESK.

Last night, it was in the living room. It certainly didn't move itself.

I think the shadows might want me to read it. I don't know why.


Then there's the fact that there's a strange post from the middle of the night that I didn't write. "They are coming." Wonder what it could mean? Did the shadow people do it? Did somone hack the account? I am so confused.

Oh, there's something else, too. I forgot to mention it yesterday. I got a comment from someone named DJay32 on the post "An Explanation". He worked out the secret message (I suppose it was kind of obvious...) and posted the result. I really hope he doesn't do that for certain other posts. The shadows might learn of things they will not like. Then again, I do view every comment before it is posted, so I could stop any incriminating comments there and save myself the trouble. I only published this comment because the shadows already found out.

Anyway, I called in sick today. I will read some Lovecraft. Hopefully some sense will come of this.

THEY ARE COMING

Fruits of my Labor

Well, I've been doing some research on my predicament, and have discovered a phenomenon known as "Shadow People". Apparently people sometimes think they see shadows moving of their own accord out of the corner of their eye. So it may be that many people, maybe even all of us, are surrounded by these things. All the time.

What do they want from me!?!?!?!?

If they let everyone else be, why have they singled ME out!?

These shadows are driving me mad!!! I hate them!!!

I just want to go about my life.

Oh no

I think the shadows might be agitated. My books...are different. You see, my sister moved into a new apartment recently, and took my bookcase, which was actually hers anyway. Well, without a place to put my books, I've stacked them in various places around my house.

Just now, coming home from work, I noticed that they were in a different arrangement. It's not like I memorized where all the books are, but I do know that my complete volume of H.P. Lovecraft's fiction was on the bottom of one stack, but now it's on top of another. The heights of some of the stacks also seem changed, as though the books have been moved around.

I don't know what they want me for, but I wish they would leave me alone. I feel like I'm going insane.

HTML 888

The Shadows weren't exactly happy with that coded message in the last post. They said if I did it again they would take out my spleen--with me wide awake to watch.

I've decided to do some research to try and figure out what's going on. I'll get back to you if I find anything interesting.

I hate these things. Leave me alone, you freaks! Get out of my head!

An Explanation

I've finally decided to explain myself. Even though no one reads this and no one would believe it anyway. But I need to tell someone.

I have always had OCD for as long as I can remember. I always had anxiety with all sorts of things. A need to be perfect in schoolwork, worrying about saying the wrong things, the feeling that I absolutely had to remember everything important. It was hard. Over time, I also developed certain rituals. One of the most common in OCD sufferers is frequent handwashing.

In the last few years, it's been getting worse. I'm worried more and more about germs...

But that is nothing compared to the thoughts. The intrusive thoughts, as they are known, are thoughts of terrible things that stem from OCD. These obsessions don't have a compulsion to go with them. That is, there is nothing I can do to relieve the anxiety stemming from them.

They are unbearable.

They can be of many different things in many people. In me, I'm afraid of intentionally hurting those I love. I know there's no way I would ever do this, but whenever there's a trigger (there are oh so many triggers) it's like a voice is telling me that this will happen, that it's inevitable. That when I'm near them, I will do it.

I know it's nonsense; OCD sufferers generally are aware of how irrational these thoughts are. But they won't stop.

As I said, it's been getting worse. It seems almost anything can get me worrying these days. When I'm anxious enough, I sweat a lot. Given my thoughts, it seems good that I live alone.

I have, in the last few months, discovered the cause of all this. Don't laugh.

It's the shadows. I know, because they told me.

One evening I was reading a book (Frank Herbert's Dune, to be exact, to compare with Star Wars) and motion caught my eye. I looked up but didn't see anything. I thoght I'd imagined it.

When I went into the bathroom, in the dim light I saw my shadow apparently moving independently of me. This, of course, disturbed me. I told myself it was a trick of the light.

That's when two very visible eyes appeared, like points of light. I knew then that I was hallucinating, even though my family had nothing of the sort in its history, nor had I ever taken any illegal substances.

When I was washing my hands, this time, among the urges to wash multiple times and to be extremely thorough, I sensed something else--something new.

"You have seen us," a voice said in the back of my head. "Because we have willed it."

I froze, certain I was losing my grip on reality.

"You are perfectly sane. But you might not be for long."

I heard...I want to say a laugh, but not quite (being inaudible for one thing) and far more terrifying.

"All your life you have tended toward circumstances conducive to us. Now that we have found you, we are using this condition to mold you into the role we desire."

I fled back to my bedroom.

"You cannot escape us. In the light, we are visible, and always present. In the darkness, that is our delight."

I turned on all the lights in the house.

"This is futile," said the voice. "You seeing us will not stop us. Even when you don't notice us, we will be whispering in the dark. Whispering in the deep crevices of your mind. Shaping you against your will. If you attempt to disobey us, we will be forced to...put you in order."

I'm not sure why, but that last phrase is the worst thing ever said to me.

I have since resigned myself to them. They are actually quite amiable when you behave.

I must go now. I may continue this blog in the future, but I have things to do.

Gone for a couple months

I'm sorry that I've been gone for a couple months now, in case anyone reads this.

Things...have happened. My heart's just not in it anymore.

I suppose I should explain a few things that I left hanging. My Ray Bradbury reviews were going to culminate in all or almost all of his stories in the same fictional universe. My Star Wars reviews were going to culminate in a theory about Yoda being behind everything, on account of him being at the start of the succession of questionable Jedi training. My joke about the Doctor's true name was that it was Francis.

That's it for now, I guess. The shadows....

I'll explain that another time, when I'm ready.