CRAWLSPACE

Matt Slater
June 10, 2006


         Well, I got this thing (and by that I mean you) for my birthday a few weeks ago, so I suppose I should tell you about myself. My name is Matt Slater, and I am a nobody. No one loves me. That sounds so pathetic, doesn’t it? But I’m serious. I only have three friends, George Rove, Derrik Haffner, and Jason Fields. They’re okay, I guess, if you like that sort of people. I don’t. I only hang out with them because they’re the only people I can stand. I get the impression that the feelings are mutual.
         Let’s see, what do I look like? Well, I can’t honestly say that I know. I know what my body looks like, of course, I’m not retarded, but who am I? I suppose that’s a question that’s on everyone’s lips, so instead I’ll tell you what I see when I look in the mirror: I’m of average height, and average build, my hair is light brown, too long, and my eyes are pretty much the same color. Pale. I guess I’m not much to look at. No wonder I’ve never had a real girlfriend. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about myself. You are here to take an account of everything that happens from here to whenever.

         So what’s going on? Not much at the moment. Just woke up and realized the world went on vacation without me. I’m sitting in the middle of the street writing this. There’s a 7-11 in front of me, and a little red brick house with a big fenced in yard behind me. Maybe they have a horse or a dog. Maybe a whole lot of dogs, little ones, all of them yapping like idiots. I hate that so much, but it’s okay, because there aren’t any dogs there now. 

         By the way, I’m only 16.

         I suppose I should start at the beginning of my story. That’s almost always a good place to begin. Okay, so yesterday, I went to a party at Troy’s house. Jarrod showed up with some killer acid, I got sooo messed up, higher than a kite with no string. The last thing I remember was watching the tiny green demons dancing around on the mantel. They kept throwing their little spears at me. Anyway, I guess I fell asleep after that. That’s probably where my problems started.

         I was fine when I woke up this morning. Don’t remember any dreams, which I thought was a little unusual because I normally have some crazy ass vivid dreams, but it was okay because I probably would’ve killed myself on accident. So I woke up. I felt ‘normal’, except for that day after gritty feeling, and my jaw hurt like hell from grinding my teeth all night. To be expected, but that’s not the problem. I opened the bedroom door and looked out into the hall. After a party like that one, there should have been ten or twenty people still wandering around going “Wow, man! Look at that!” There was deathly silence all through the house. I went to the bathroom, and no one was passed out in the tub. I started to get really creeped out, so I went outside. Troy’s house is less than a mile from the highway, and you could always hear the semis, no matter what. But like inside the house, it was still. It was so quiet, in fact, that the silence was deafening. So I started walking, I don’t know why, down the middle of the street. No one. And no one. And no one. I am utterly alone. At some point I went home and changed clothes. No Dad. No Carmen. I don’t know why, but I picked you up on the way out the door. Where the hell did my dog go?

Where the hell did anybody go?

         Now don’t think that I thought I was alone at first. I thought, “There’s got to be someone else. I can’t be the last person on earth.”

Well, okay. So maybe I stretched the truth a little. So what if I did go into a fit of hysterics? That’s nothing. I actually hyperventilated and passed out about four hours ago. When I woke up, I looked around some more. By then it was around three o’clock. The world should have been loud and smelly. I broke into somebody’s house and tried to turn on the T.V., but nothing worked. No lights, no computers, no refrigerators, no microwaves. This really sucks.

         So have I accepted that I’m the only one left on the entire God-forsaken planet? Not so much. I think I’m out of my mind. I always thought that people who said they were crazy were just trying to toot their own stupid little horn, but I think maybe some of them really were nuts. Crazy is a bad word. Anyway, I want to see if I am the last, because what if I’m not, and I’m blowing the old stack for nothing? That would be a trip. I can just see it now: “Joe! Come on over here and check this out! While the whole world went to Mars for vacation, some kid went and got ‘im some crazy pills!” “Damn, Chuck.”

         You know what’s funny? This whole thing reminds me of when I had to go to therapy last year, every day from four o’clock to six, because the principal thought I had anger issues and that I was going to kill myself. I had group sessions with ten other freaks; Loretta, and Stevie, the psycho that burned down the Wal-Mart and accidentally killed a few people. And of course there was everybody’s favorite perv, Lou. He liked to follow little boys into the bathroom and look underneath the door while they peed. And then there was Gilligan, and the Skipper too. Why was I there? Jesus, I honestly don’t know. I didn’t think I was that bad off.

         So the shrink would go around the room and ask people how they felt if they were the last person on Earth. Loretta cried and rocked back and forth, Stevie said that would be wonderful, please, can I get a slice of pie with that? Lou. Lou is filthy. The shrink’s name was Dr. Evans, and when she asked me how I felt, I shrugged.

         “I feel like killing myself. Nothing has changed.”

         “But let’s say that you can’t do that. You’re the last person on Earth, and you have to repopulate the planet.” She would say. I couldn’t believe that something so stupid had come out of her mouth.

         “If I’m the last of a species, how am I supposed to reproduce? Am I asexual now?”

              (Big, dramatic sigh.)

              “Okay, so there’s a girl.”

              “What’s she look like?”

              “She’s good looking. Now you can’t kill yourself…”

              “Where is she? And how do you know I’m not gay?” (Dr. Evans hated me so  much.)

              “Australia, and…”

              “How the fuck am I supposed to get to Australia? Walk on water? I’m not perfect, lady. I’m scared of water.”

              “So she’s in Kansas, what does it matter…”

              “Oh, it matters, all right. Why are you wasting my time instead of validating my feelings?”

            “FINE.” And she would walk out of the room and assign me to some poor schmuck. I always came back to her, though. When I was discharged, she wrote in my file that I was ‘uncooperative with authority figures and likely to return’. I wish Dr. Evans was here now. When she asked me how it felt to be the last person on earth this time, I would change my answer to a more honest one. “Lady,” I’d say, “Do you have that chick’s phone number? The one in Australia/Kansas? Because I don’t like to be alone so much.“

            The sun is about to set. I got carried away and didn’t realize it was so late. There isn’t any electricity, and I don’t have a flashlight, so I guess I’m going to try to get some sleep. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll find out that this is just a bad dream. At least I can pretend things are normal if I sleep. See you in the morning.



Matt Slater
June 15, 2006


         Sorry I didn’t write back sooner, I was looking for signs of intelligent life on Earth. You know what I found? A lot of screws. Strangest thing. I found an empty pill bottle in my backpack, and started saving them in there. I have 57.  I wonder if there were always this many, or if it’s some kind of clue to what happened? Did anything happen at all? I’m very confused.

         At least now I can ‘confront my fears’, like my old shrink would say. I’m afraid of being alone. That’s ironic, huh? I wish I could find the girl in Australia/Kansas. With my luck, I’d find her and she would really be a man. I don’t guess that would be so bad, though, as long as the guy can talk. I don’t care about repopulating the planet, after all, I just want to hear someone’s voice.

         I broke into somebody’s house for the night, a few days ago, and I found a walkman and some CD’s; my favorite band, Tool, and some other favorites. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Turns out that was super wishful thinking. The music won’t play. It’s not just the walkman, or the batteries, or whatever, because I went nuts and found a store that sold them. I tried every one of them, and NOT A SINGLE SOUND. I strung the Tool CD’s around my neck on a chain and burned the store to the ground. No sirens. No lights. I could burn the whole world, and no one would ever know.

         I’m trying to keep it together, but as hard as I try, I think I’m slipping faster and faster now. It comes in stages, like the acceptance of death.

         1ST STAGE: DENIAL
         YOU MAY EXPERIENCE SOME SLIGHT DISCOMFORT. A GENTLE TINGLING IN THE BRAIN AND TONGUE REGION IS TO BE EXPECTED. THOSE ENTERING THIS STAGE ARE LIKELY TO GO APESHIT.
         

                2nd STAGE: TO HELL WITH IT ALL
         THOSE ENTERING THIS STAGE MAY HAVE THE URGE TO KILL THEMSELVES. CHILDREN, DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME. THESE ARE TRAINED PROFESSIONALS.

         I don’t know anymore. It’s only been five days, and I feel like I’m totally losing it. Like I said, I don’t like to be alone.

         Maybe this is all a big joke.

Somewhere out there, there’s some ugly ass alien laughing his head off. What do you think? Oh why in hell am I talking to a damn book? I’ll write again later.


MAtthew
June 22, 2006


         You know what else I found in my eternal quest for someone else?

Wisdom. Wisdom and knowledge, the two most important things a person can have. And now I have the only set!

         I’ve been walking since… last Friday, I suppose, the last time I wrote. I lose track of the days now. I don’t even know if it’s still June, and for some reason the year doesn’t seem right. Surely it’s not really 2006 already. I guess that’s probably right, though.

         So anyway, I’ve been walking. I started out in Dallas, at Troy’s house, and I passed a sign a few hours ago that said ‘Welcome to Wewoka’. So where the hell is that? The moon, for all I know, or care. Might as well be. 

         It hasn’t rained since this bullshit started. I always liked the rain. And it’s so hot. Maybe I am in hell, and I just didn’t realize I died. Wandering around in this heat, with no one to talk to, no music, for eternity? That would be hell for sure. Maybe I’m closer to the solution than I thought.

         Hey! I just found out where I am! OOOOKLAHOMA where the wind comes sweeping down the plains! And the wavy wheat smells like my feet and the cowboys can really be a pain! O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A, Oklahoma, Whatever!

         So am I crazy? Sure, why not? I feel like being crazy today; I think I’ll just go with it for now. I feel like…singing again. I should probably stop before someone calls the cops on me. I hate police stations, they remind me of jail. I hate jail. I got arrested once. Attempted burglary. There’s another little irony. I’ve broken into about ten houses now, and burned a store to the ground. I don’t want to break into houses. I want a fucking doughnut.

         I’ve been doing a lot of walking, and thinking, and losing my mind, or else thinking, losing my mind, and walking. Possibly the latter.

         I slept in a super comfortable bed last night, and I felt almost normal. Cooked a feast of canned ravioli and spinach. Everything else was rotten. I thought about just staying here, surely there are enough grocery stores and 7-11’s to sustain my all canned diet. Maybe I could find some seeds and start a garden. I could be okay. But then, I was in the bathroom (doesn’t flush, but it felt nice to squat on a padded seat!) and I swear to God that it wasn’t there before, I looked up and on the mirror, big as life in Crimson Desire lipstick it says “Schism”. I know I’ve heard the word before, but I don’t know what it means. For some reason, it filled me with the weirdest feeling, like I was freezing from the toes up. I was so scared, and I didn’t know why. Schism. Like those pilgrim guys in Virginia, or wherever it was, that disappeared and the only clue was the word “Croaton” carved into a tree. What the hell is it supposed to mean? I freaked out and left, and I don’t know, I have the weirdest feeling that something is following me. Surely it’s just the creeps. I always hated those movies where someone thought they were the last people on earth, and they always felt like they were being watched. Always. They were doomed, and they knew it.

         The sun is going down again. Why does it do that? For some reason I can’t remember.

Matt Slater
June 25 19?

         I heard drums today, from the East. At first it sounded like an explosion, from a vast distance, just BOOM and then nothing, and then BOOM BOOM. It was a beat. It reminded me of something but for the love of God WHAT IS IT?! A giant beating a war drum. I crawled under a weeping willow and hid there, for hours, clutching my backpack in front of me and listening to those horrible drums. When they finally stopped, right around sunrise, I almost cried. What’s happening to me? What’s going on? I have to get away from here.

matthew slater mathew
June 30

         Have you had a burger today? It’s been twenty days. I have successfully overcome fear of being alone, must now overcome fear of drums. They don’t seem any closer, but I had a brilliant cognitive leap and hopped on a bike, and rode away, lickety split! So by my calculations, if I hadn’t done that, they would definitely be closer. Scary good fun! I think maybe I figured out what happened. The rapture came and I was the only sinner. Or else I died and went to hell. I don’t recall anything that would have killed me, but I guess the acid could’ve, in theory. My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?

         That is one thing I still believe in: God. Why not? I can believe that some big, omnipotent being created the universe. That’s sort of a requirement in Texas. But really, I’ve always been a Bible-Thumper. I can recite the Ten Commandments by heart.
1.          THOU SHALT NOT KILL.
2.          THOU SHALT NOT WORSHIP FALSE IDOLS.
3.          THOU SHALT NOT…GARNISH THY HOTDOG WITH MAYONNAISE.
      That’s so disgusting, don’t you think?
4.          THOU SHALT HONOR THY MOTHER AND FATHER.  I hated them once upon a time. Now I actually sort of miss them.

Anyway, I can’t remember the rest of them. The sun must be getting to me. I’m sure that number three is right. That’s one of the few things my real mom taught me. Also how to cut cocaine with baking powder. And how to run away from your family. I guess that’s where I got it. I’ve been hanging with Uncle Troy just about every day for the last five years, and he’s great. He’s more like us. He won’t try to steal your girlfriend unless you ask him to, and he buys me pot and beer. Never free- you gotta pay for da goods or ya don’t get ‘em. Prepay after dark.

         I almost forgot to tell you about the sign! I was riding my bike through a field that stretched on for miles, and on one side was a wood. There wasn’t a fence or anything, and I was hot, so I went under the trees, and there it was, a big wooden sign, looked like it had been there for a long time. I think it was the same shade of red lipstick as the mirror. It said “Follow me to the Wall Of Death!”, like it was some kind of tourist attraction. There was a dead fox draped over it, the first sign of life…well, sort of. It was weird though. There weren’t any flies, which I expected, but it smelled like hot rubber, or plastic. And blood, of course. It’s head was crushed. I stared at it for a long time, rooted to the ground in terror, expecting it to wink its crusted eyes at me and spring down to the ground where it would do a horrible little dance before leading me to the Wall Of Death! Thank God it didn’t. I turned around and went back to the field. This invisible thing is chasing me into a corner. The drums go all night long now, I’m scared to go in a house, and now I’m scared of the trees. Maybe I should go to the Grand Canyon.
         I made a bonfire out of corn. The sun is going away and I’m anxious. I’m so tired I have to sleep, but the drums will get me. Who is making these creepy signs? I yelled for help and nobody came, just like my childhood all over again. Fuck it. I’m going to sleep right here in the open. Come get me you sonofabitch! Not really, though, unless you’re going to eat me quietly in my sleep. Or if you have a steak. Delicious grilled Matt steaks, with sautéed mushrooms and a nice baked potato…

         Oh, God. I can’t keep doing this.


June 42
Matt

         How many days are there in June? The strangest thing happened last night. I fell asleep next to my bonfire. When I woke up, the fire was out, and the drums were very close. I felt scared and worried, but also lost, and I started crying, like a little kid who dropped his ice cream cone, and I heard this voice, a woman’s voice. She was saying my name, over and over, from the woods. "Matthew! Matthew!" I didn’t want to go, but I felt like I had to, like she was a siren, and I was a sailor, so I walked into the trees, still crying, getting more and more terrified the closer her voice got. I thought, Is this who’s been following me, writing cryptic notes in whorish red lipstick? Then suddenly I was standing in a clearing, and the full moon was shining right on me. There was a woman on the other side, wearing a long black dress, and the type of hat that rich widows wear to their husbands funerals, a long black veil over her face. She held out her arms to me, the drums stopped beating, and my fear was gone. I had a sudden need for her that was so strong my eyeballs felt like they would pop out of my head and go bouncing across the grass to her. I stumbled forward, feeling like a marionette on tangled strings, and before I could stop myself I fell into a deep, dark hole. I would think this was just a bad dream if it weren’t for the gash across my face where a root or something scratched me on the way down. She came to the edge of the hole and kind of…hissed at me. When she turned away, I swear I thought I saw some kind of lizard tail sticking out from under her dress. I threw up in the hole as all my fear and sorrow came crashing back down on me, and then I curled up in a little ball and waited for the drums to find me. They were nearly deafening, making the ground rumble around me. A little before dawn, there was a huge crash that made me jump to my feet in a panic, made little clods of dirt fall all around me, and then a bloodcurdling screech. I wonder if the drums squashed the lizard lady? At any rate, the sun came back up and all sound ceased. Good old sunshine. If only it could stay up all night too.

         I have a way to find out if this is really hell, but I won’t do it yet. Not yet…


matthete slabagre
JUNE


         I climbed out of the hole. About twenty feet away, at the edge of the clearing, is a big bloodstain. A BIG bloodstain. Lizard Lady couldn’t have possibly had that much blood, could she? I guess if you can have a tail and wear a dress, you can hide copious amounts of blood in your body. How did she know my name?

         What is this smell now? This over heated electronics smell? I remember when I was five Dad got his first VCR. he watched Rambo movies, and Die Hard, stuff like that, until it smelled just like this. Fried capacitors. I wonder if it's the drums that smell like smoking plastic. You know the first thing I ever smoked was grass from the backyard, rolled in notebook paper. I can still taste it, the thickness and crispness of it. I thought I was going to die. But I digress.

                Are the drums following me or are they herding me, because I'm suddenly feeling this urgent need to be...somewhere...North of here. Today I passed a sign (a more normal sort of sign than the kind I'm used to lately) that  said "Pauls Valley", and I'm not sure where I am. I'm sitting under a massive Pecan tree in the front yard of a miniature mansion. It's nice and cool here, under this shady tree, and I want to lay down and take a nap in the soft green grass. These folks did it up right, yessiree. This lawn was the result of long hours of tedious manual labor, or should I say Manuel Labor. That's what the Mexicans do. Tee Hee.

          I'm afraid to close my eyes, and it's hard to believe that in a fairy fucking wonderland such as this, I'm scared to go to sleep because when the drums come for me, I won't even be able to scream. All I will be able to do is squeak as they squash me into bloody goo on this beautiful green grass. I'm sure I don't have the lung capacity of Lizard Lady, lizards are reknowned world wide for their fabulous ability to scream bloody murder as they are being crushed into paste. But anyway, like I was saying before you interrupted me, I feel the need to travel soon. North. I almost don't care anymore. I almost don't care, not about the nothingness, not about the screws, which by the way, for your private FYI collection, I have found 347 screws, all different kinds and sizes. They no longer fit into the pill bottle, so I keep them in my pockets instead. Hard going on this bike. They are heavy and drag my jeans down, and poke me in the thighs when I ride. THE SMELL! WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THIS SMELL????? I will calmly eat my spam sandwich and Nacho Cheese Doritos, and I will slowly drink this warm bottle of Bud, savoring it, for soon I shall again pack up my meager belongings and move forward. It's just the cloaks we hide behind. We? Whatever.



SAME DAY!!

        Drums have not started yet, and it is well into the wee hours of the morning. I was looking at the full moon through the middle of my Tool CDs, and you know what I realized? The moon has been full this whole time. I don't know how long it's been since that fateful day when I woke up that one time, but I do believe that it's been more than a month. I can't even go back through you and find out, because apparently, my record keeping skills are not up to par. Either that or I'm reading my handwriting wrong.

        When I looked through the hole in the CD, the moon told me a secret. "My confidant, (she said) as full and bright as I am, this light is not my own, (I shit you not!) a million light reflections pass over me. This light is bright and endless, she resuscitates the hopeless, without her we are lifeless satellites, drifting." Then it smiled this big shit eating grin, winked, and turned around so I couldn't see her face any more. I almost understood, and if I'd only had just a few more seconds, I think I would have gotten it completely. I feel so sad.

          I believe I am close to where I need to be by the urgency that is eating my intestines like a pit bull. My hand is shaking as I write this. This area, I don't know and can't imagine what happened here, but there is a cloud of black, curling smoke in the center of town, and the buildings seem to have been smashed by some massive force. The drums? A bomb? It reminds me of all the footage I've ever seen of towns destroyed by tornados, or the war torn countries of wherever the hell they were. Cars are on top of houses, and in trees, which themselves are twisted and deformed. I walked past a cracked toilet laying in the middle of the street. There was a dark stain beneath it, could have been blood, could have been greasy beef brisket, doesn't matter. I have to go forward to follow this arrow straight line I am drawn upon, which will lead me through the middle of this horrifying town, straight to whatever is on fire. I'm not sure- will that be good or bad? Surely this could have happened...before, and it's just smoking now. Sigh. I'm not sure if I even care anymore. I'm so tired, and my brain feels loose, like it's rattling around in my giant skull. It sounds like a roulette ball clacking around in the spaces of the wheel. I need some Tylenol, or better yet, some good prescription drugs. Hmm. That's not a bad idea. I should try to get into one of these houses that's still more or less intact, and raid the medicene cabinet. I'll do that first, and then I'll take a photo of this charming, quaint mountain town for Christmas cards.

          My face is soaked, and I thought it was sweat. Turns out I've been crying for some time now.


Math
June or July or some such shit


      I found three, count them, three bottles of morphine! I took one pill, and my head feels better now, which is good, because I've come to a conclusion. I'm trapped. This ravaged town here is called Moore. I was so scared that I didn't follow my beeline to the center of town like I was supposed to, I skirted it instead. The whole time I was riding around, it felt like I was a magnet, being pulled back. My guts felt like they were going to pop out the side of my body and leave me flopping gutless on the ground, as my bike continued to roll. My eyes would glaze and cool as it slowly began to wobble from side to side before finally toppling over, handle bar carving a divot in the charred grass, throwing a tiny cloud of red dust into the air. Then they will find me, and eat my carcass with great gusto...

    The farther away I got, the worse I felt, until the wind began to pick up. It got so bad that things were flying through the air, and I couldn't stay on the bike, so I tied it to me with a shoelace and pushed my way into it, head down. I started to wonder if it was a tornado, and I was going the way of this town, except there were no clouds in the sky. This is the only weather besides hot. The wind blew harder and harder, throwing sand, and grass, and shingles, and God only knows what else, until I was bloody and blind and had to turn back. I just got on the bike and let the awful, screaming wind blow me back to town. I rolled to the spot exactly where I had started this little pointless journey and just like that, the wind stopped. Not even a gentle breeze to stir the dry and crispy leaves at my feet. I chewed a morphine. I decided to try east, and it was the same, and the same, and the same. I pushed myself even further this time, but to no avail. When I came back to this spot and the wind stopped blowing, I closed my eyes and rolled into a tree, where I fell over and began to cry. I guess this is my destiny. I guess I'm really, truly trapped in this bell jar. I miss my parents. The sun is going down soon, through a haze of smoke. I guess this is where the awful fried plastic smell was coming from all along, though I don't notice it so much anymore. Thank God there's no storm to seek shelter from, for there is none to be had here. I feel like I've finally come to my end, my death, and I'm going to lay here under this mutilated tree in the baked red dirt and wait for it to come to me. I'll try not to be afraid, but I'm still just a kid, you know? Oh, dammit, I'm crying again. Eyes are weird that way.


I DON'T KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS ANYMORE!!!!


      Gave up on that sitting here and dying thing, sort of thought I might after awhile. The sun went down in a spectacular rainbow of color, the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen, sort of made my heart hurt and my throat tighten. I realized that it's so stunning because of all the black smoke in the air, adding carbon and filtering light. That made me really sad, and as I sat here, waiting for the full moon and the drums, I really wished for death. I want to kill myself, and you'd think my faith in God would have dissipated by this point, but no. I guess there has to be a reason why I am here, in this desolate place, crying tears of sorrow and waiting to be killed by a terrible unseen presence. That's when I saw it. Across the street from me is a one story house, I suppose it used to be white or cream, now it is blackened and ruined. There is one window still intact, the big one next to the front door that swings on its hinges in a nonexistant breeze, and I saw a strange ethereal green glow emenating from inside. It winked and went out, then reappeared, faint, and surely farther away. I jumped to my feet and ran to the house, yelling "Hello?", but no one answered. Why would I expect anyone to? I don't know, just wishful thinking, I guess. And what kind of person would make that green glow? Surely not one I'd want to meet. I went into the house, coughing. Every surface was covered in a thick layer of soot, and later, when I went back outside, I blew a bunch of thick black crud out of my nose. There was no sign of life, but then I saw that glow again, outside, in the ruined backyard, where a mangled swingset lay in a heap. The metal of its legs were twisted and one was broken completely off. There was no sign of it anywhere. The glow was gone, and I went back to the tree to think and wait. The full moon was beginning to rise. I never realized just how dark it really is with no manufactured lighting. I broke my flashlight, but come to think of it, did it ever work anyway? I can't remember if I ever used it.



Oh my god, I'm sitting on the ground under the tree right now, and you would not believe what I'm seeing. There is a group of humanoids, ghosts, zombies, I don't know, coming out of all the houses. There are adults, and children too, missing limbs, faces ripped from their bodies, eyes bulging and streaming down their faces. They are the ones emenating the glow, and while they come together, not fifty feet away from me, their lights combine in an unholy parody of the moon. Their faces, what's left of them, are towards me, and I can't help but feel like they want to kill me and suck the marrow from my bones. They think that I can make them new again. They make no sound as they creep toward me, seeming not to move at all, but somehow they inch closer and closer, silently, mouths gaping, necks broken. There are about twenty of them now, and I can see there are other houses glowing faintly around me. They make no sound as they come for me, and I think I might start screaming any second now. I'm trapped here, I know this. What the fuck am I supposed to do here? GOD WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO YOU MOTHERFUCKER?????!!!!! And to think I was scared of some stupid ass drums! This is infinitely more terrifying. I'm going to get up and ride my bike away from this big group before they get any closer.     



L8R

I am in a field. They are more now- perhaps fifty in all. They are watching me from far away, from close to the tree I was under. They move amazingly slow, but I have the feeling that if I turn my back, they will suddenly be on me in a swarm. This is going to be my last entry. The moon is swelling, swelling, and becomming red. I don't know what it means, but I also don't plan on finding out. My vision blurs as I write this, and I don't know if I'm even in the lines any more. I've given up hope, I've given up faith. I know that things are darkest before the dawn, I know, but I'm so fucking terrified, I don't want to be eaten by these things, I don't want to do this anymore. I am a failure.

          I am eating Morphine like Sweet Tarts. I have eaten one hundred and forty pills so far, and I plan to eat the last half of this last bottle, just for shits and giggles, and to make absolutely sure. I started this because I wanted to be a writer, and I thought surely I was just crazy, and that somewhere along the road, I would figure out what happened, and then there would be a story in it, at least, but here it’s been…forever, and things just keep getting weirder and weirder. First the signs, and the drums, and I don’t want to make that horrible screaming sound like Lizard Lady, or become a coat like the fox. I don't want to be sucked out of my skin by these terrifying creatures, and I sure as fuck don't want to become one of them. I can’t keep going. Is this the most sane thing I’ve ever said? I don’t want it to hurt, and I don’t want to be scared. I just want to lay down in this dirty field of stinky grass and go to sleep. Let them eat me then, I do not care, no. chewed a hundred forty pills, but I don’t remember. It didn’t seem like very long, but writing a lot now in retrospect so have to get thios all out now quack before igo  to sleep…i took the cowards way out but also the paintlesss way one seems .  wish I could sememy dog once more  tim e sos orrry

                                                        Sin ceKRley
                                                                            mather slatyer