Date: October 19
Time: 2:30 a.m.
Location: Wing's City Gardens
It was a long couple of sleepy hours. I don't remember much of it. When we did pull into the entrance of Wing's City, heading down Main Street, the dad looked back at me.
"Can we get you a place to stay?"
Though I was touched by his generosity, I didn't want to burden the family anymore than I had.
"Here is fine, thanks." I replied. The dad looked worried.
"It's two in the morning." he cautioned. His wife put a hand on his arm to stop him. I smiled grimly. She hadn't been my biggest fan this trip.
"Its' five o'clock somewhere." I replied. Sighing, he pulled off to the side and let me out. I smiled, thanking them even as they drove away.
Nice family, a bit squeamish, but I was more than a bit weird, so it evened out. I decided to head north a ways, walking where intuition led me. Spying a sign directing towards Wings City Gardens, I decided to head that way. I had always liked the outdoors.
I'm sitting on a bench now, looking up at the myriad of stars. They're pretty. I see them better now than I ever did in the forest. Some people walk through, but I pay them no mind.
Then a little girl walks up and sits at my feet. This I mind.
I look at her, recognizing her as the same girl from the research center. I feel a dry lump in my throat.
"I'm glad to see you made it out okay." she suddenly spoke. I blink. She looks no older than seven or eight, and here she was talking to me like she was my age.
Seeming to remember herself, the girl sits up and smiles.
"I'm Kristen." she pipes. I glance around, utterly confused.
"And you are Jezebel Marie Conner." she added solemnly.
That is enough to make me slam my journal closed.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Diary Entry 9
Date: October 18
Time: 5:45 p.m.
Location: Hitchhiking to God-knows-where
If you didn't read my location, then I should start off by saying that I am safely away from the allegedly evil people that I couldn't allow to take me. I'm now sitting in the back seat of a minivan, crammed between two large suitcases, with a couple of owl-eyed kids staring at me from the seat in front of me.
The moment I lift my eyes from the page, they quickly turn around. The Dad in the front seat is always glancing furtively my way. I don't know why. I wouldn't hurt these people unless they gave me reason to.
"So where you headed?" He asks me more than once.
I only shrug. "Fair distance from where I came from."
Apparently, neither he or his wife were good at translating my 'cryptic' phrases.
The car jolts, making my page tear. I sigh. Yet long after the car settles into its smooth roll across the road, I find that my hands are still shaking.
That hasn't stopped since this morning.
More on that later.
They tell me that they're headed towards a place called 'Wings City'. Like the poorly unimaginative thing I am, I automatically think of the feathered appendages common to birds and angels and Red-Bull.
I tell them that's cool. Sounds like a safer place than 'John Hopkins Center for Research and Development'.
I'm glad these people don't know where I was from. I'm glad they aren't asking too many questions. If they dug too deep, I'm not so sure I'd be able to answer them.
So, earlier. . .ugh.
I didn't ask too many questions when they came to get me. I stayed quiet, grabbed my books, and followed after the woman in front of me. There was a bigger guy behind me, which I had anticipated. They led me outside, which I had also anticipated.
There were more men standing around, making a wide aisle to a larger white van. Apparently, my attempted escape they had also anticipated.
Not one of them had a gun, which surprised me. I was just an emaciated, lanky teen after all.
I got close to the van. The woman stepped off to the side, and the big guy behind me put his hand on my shoulder.
That was when something really weird happened.
The moment his hand touched me, he went rigid and jerky, like he had stuck his hand into a live socket. I swiftly turned around, shocked when I watched him fall to the ground. The men around me got tense. Tasers were removed from hidden pockets. I swallowed.
I started throwing my books with surprising accuracy, striking those closest to me right between the eyes with the hard volumes. The woman off to my side had scrambled back from me, afraid of contact. This, I thought, was just fine.
Instead of climbing into the van like a good girl, I grabbed the top edge and kicked off the floor of the car, flip-turning and landing on top of the vehicle.
I felt a sharp prick in my leg. Looking down, I saw the first Taser prod sticking into my skin, the live blue electricity sparking against my skin. I felt nothing.
When they saw that this wouldn't bring me down, they started to climb after me. One guy came running from the building with an actual gun. First man grabbed me. I kicked him hard in the face. His nose crunched beneath my shoe, blood staining the roof of the car and his nice shirt as he fell back into his friends.
I turned, jumping off the roof of the car and running as fast as my legs could carry me. We were in a busy commercial area, with lots of people and buildings and fast-moving cars. It wasn't going to take me long to lose them, and it certainly didn't. In fifteen minutes I had lost all sight of my pursuers.
I spent the better part of the day sneaking to the outskirts of this city, towards the busy highways that came in and out. Only occasionally I would emerge from some hiding spot and stick my thumb out. Within two hours I had myself a ride.
After the adrenaline had settled, I felt that all-encompassing ache start creeping at the edge of my system. Now, sitting in the back of the van, I was glad I hadn't forgotten my vial.
I sipped it now, replacing it in my pocket. I stare for a long time at my hands, flexing the fingers, wondering at myself.
Why hadn't the Tasers affected me? What had made that man go rigid?
I rest my head against the suitcases on my left. The light is fading. I think I see the mile-marker for Wings City
150 miles. Beautiful. The farther, the better.
With that thought in mind, I close my eyes and try to sleep.
Time: 5:45 p.m.
Location: Hitchhiking to God-knows-where
If you didn't read my location, then I should start off by saying that I am safely away from the allegedly evil people that I couldn't allow to take me. I'm now sitting in the back seat of a minivan, crammed between two large suitcases, with a couple of owl-eyed kids staring at me from the seat in front of me.
The moment I lift my eyes from the page, they quickly turn around. The Dad in the front seat is always glancing furtively my way. I don't know why. I wouldn't hurt these people unless they gave me reason to.
"So where you headed?" He asks me more than once.
I only shrug. "Fair distance from where I came from."
Apparently, neither he or his wife were good at translating my 'cryptic' phrases.
The car jolts, making my page tear. I sigh. Yet long after the car settles into its smooth roll across the road, I find that my hands are still shaking.
That hasn't stopped since this morning.
More on that later.
They tell me that they're headed towards a place called 'Wings City'. Like the poorly unimaginative thing I am, I automatically think of the feathered appendages common to birds and angels and Red-Bull.
I tell them that's cool. Sounds like a safer place than 'John Hopkins Center for Research and Development'.
I'm glad these people don't know where I was from. I'm glad they aren't asking too many questions. If they dug too deep, I'm not so sure I'd be able to answer them.
So, earlier. . .ugh.
I didn't ask too many questions when they came to get me. I stayed quiet, grabbed my books, and followed after the woman in front of me. There was a bigger guy behind me, which I had anticipated. They led me outside, which I had also anticipated.
There were more men standing around, making a wide aisle to a larger white van. Apparently, my attempted escape they had also anticipated.
Not one of them had a gun, which surprised me. I was just an emaciated, lanky teen after all.
I got close to the van. The woman stepped off to the side, and the big guy behind me put his hand on my shoulder.
That was when something really weird happened.
The moment his hand touched me, he went rigid and jerky, like he had stuck his hand into a live socket. I swiftly turned around, shocked when I watched him fall to the ground. The men around me got tense. Tasers were removed from hidden pockets. I swallowed.
I started throwing my books with surprising accuracy, striking those closest to me right between the eyes with the hard volumes. The woman off to my side had scrambled back from me, afraid of contact. This, I thought, was just fine.
Instead of climbing into the van like a good girl, I grabbed the top edge and kicked off the floor of the car, flip-turning and landing on top of the vehicle.
I felt a sharp prick in my leg. Looking down, I saw the first Taser prod sticking into my skin, the live blue electricity sparking against my skin. I felt nothing.
When they saw that this wouldn't bring me down, they started to climb after me. One guy came running from the building with an actual gun. First man grabbed me. I kicked him hard in the face. His nose crunched beneath my shoe, blood staining the roof of the car and his nice shirt as he fell back into his friends.
I turned, jumping off the roof of the car and running as fast as my legs could carry me. We were in a busy commercial area, with lots of people and buildings and fast-moving cars. It wasn't going to take me long to lose them, and it certainly didn't. In fifteen minutes I had lost all sight of my pursuers.
I spent the better part of the day sneaking to the outskirts of this city, towards the busy highways that came in and out. Only occasionally I would emerge from some hiding spot and stick my thumb out. Within two hours I had myself a ride.
After the adrenaline had settled, I felt that all-encompassing ache start creeping at the edge of my system. Now, sitting in the back of the van, I was glad I hadn't forgotten my vial.
I sipped it now, replacing it in my pocket. I stare for a long time at my hands, flexing the fingers, wondering at myself.
Why hadn't the Tasers affected me? What had made that man go rigid?
I rest my head against the suitcases on my left. The light is fading. I think I see the mile-marker for Wings City
150 miles. Beautiful. The farther, the better.
With that thought in mind, I close my eyes and try to sleep.
Diary Entry 8
Date: October 18
Time: 9:43 a.m.
Location: The room
I think by now it is sufficient to say that I have been 'processed'. I've been given new clothes, a place to shower and get cleaned up, and even some books to read. Consequentially the books haven't been touched. They're still sitting in a neat stack by the door. I have other plans for them.
Found something interesting when I was showering. I have this biiiiiig old tattoo on my shoulder blades. Looks like wings, but I can't really say for sure. Unimportant, not really a need-to-know kind of thing.
I tap my shoes on the floor, sitting on the edge of my bed as I wait for them to come get me. They say I'm getting transferred today to a place with other troubled kids like me. This makes me smile. They think that I'm troubled when they lock up young girls for days on end like they were prisoners.
I glance up at the door, hoping this time to catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure. He wasn't there though. I hadn't seen him for two days. Did he plan on helping me? Or was I on my own.
These past few days I had learned alot about myself. First off, I'm a quick thinker and planner. In other words, I know how to plan my escape. Second off, I'm alot stronger than I thought I was. According to a few attendants who had brought my food, I had fought off several of those large 'firemen' on my own. They'd had to sedate me more than once. Third, I'm fast too, really fast.
Then there's the creepy tattoo, being lost in the woods, having no memory, Green Reaper giving me a note. . .all sorts of fun things that make up the eclectic Jaz.
Oh oh! One more thing. I have a horrible temper. Sometimes I surprise myself with how pissed off I get.
Mk, gotta finish up. I hear them coming. Time to put plans to action.
Time: 9:43 a.m.
Location: The room
I think by now it is sufficient to say that I have been 'processed'. I've been given new clothes, a place to shower and get cleaned up, and even some books to read. Consequentially the books haven't been touched. They're still sitting in a neat stack by the door. I have other plans for them.
Found something interesting when I was showering. I have this biiiiiig old tattoo on my shoulder blades. Looks like wings, but I can't really say for sure. Unimportant, not really a need-to-know kind of thing.
I tap my shoes on the floor, sitting on the edge of my bed as I wait for them to come get me. They say I'm getting transferred today to a place with other troubled kids like me. This makes me smile. They think that I'm troubled when they lock up young girls for days on end like they were prisoners.
I glance up at the door, hoping this time to catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure. He wasn't there though. I hadn't seen him for two days. Did he plan on helping me? Or was I on my own.
These past few days I had learned alot about myself. First off, I'm a quick thinker and planner. In other words, I know how to plan my escape. Second off, I'm alot stronger than I thought I was. According to a few attendants who had brought my food, I had fought off several of those large 'firemen' on my own. They'd had to sedate me more than once. Third, I'm fast too, really fast.
Then there's the creepy tattoo, being lost in the woods, having no memory, Green Reaper giving me a note. . .all sorts of fun things that make up the eclectic Jaz.
Oh oh! One more thing. I have a horrible temper. Sometimes I surprise myself with how pissed off I get.
Mk, gotta finish up. I hear them coming. Time to put plans to action.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Diary Enry 7
Day: October 16
Time: 7:36 p.m.
Location: Same room
I have the note in my hands. It feels different from the paper in my spiral-bound. Rougher, like it was cut really thin from a tree itself. It smells good too, like it was perfumed. I sit for a long time and just touch it, getting a sense of it, trying to convince myself that it is real. Cuz if it is real, then that means the cloaked figure was real too.
The girl is still sitting outside my door. She has a coloring book and crayons now, and is busy drawing in pictures of people I don't recognize.
The cloaked man has not returned. I asked the girl about him once, and she simply shrugged. She's so little. She probably doesn't know what I'm talking about anyway.
A person in a suit comes in not long after the girl finishes coloring. She wants to ask me questions.
Who am I? : Jaz
Do I have a last name? : I can't remember it.
How old am I? : Your guess is as good as mine.
Where am I from? : The woods, duh.
Where are my parents? : Excuse me?
She gets annoyed pretty fast. I would think that, if she had to deal with girls like me all the time, she should have more patience. I tell her this. She snaps her notebook closed.
"Probably just a runaway." she mutters under her breath. I figured that could be true.
"We'll get her processed and put into the foster care system." the woman said as she stepped out of the door. I sigh, shrugging. The woman was just a distraction.
In that moment, I felt the most compelled to open the note. It wasn't as if it would kill me.
The words make my heart freeze. Written in an elegant script was this simple sentence:
Don't let them take you.
Time: 7:36 p.m.
Location: Same room
I have the note in my hands. It feels different from the paper in my spiral-bound. Rougher, like it was cut really thin from a tree itself. It smells good too, like it was perfumed. I sit for a long time and just touch it, getting a sense of it, trying to convince myself that it is real. Cuz if it is real, then that means the cloaked figure was real too.
The girl is still sitting outside my door. She has a coloring book and crayons now, and is busy drawing in pictures of people I don't recognize.
The cloaked man has not returned. I asked the girl about him once, and she simply shrugged. She's so little. She probably doesn't know what I'm talking about anyway.
A person in a suit comes in not long after the girl finishes coloring. She wants to ask me questions.
Who am I? : Jaz
Do I have a last name? : I can't remember it.
How old am I? : Your guess is as good as mine.
Where am I from? : The woods, duh.
Where are my parents? : Excuse me?
She gets annoyed pretty fast. I would think that, if she had to deal with girls like me all the time, she should have more patience. I tell her this. She snaps her notebook closed.
"Probably just a runaway." she mutters under her breath. I figured that could be true.
"We'll get her processed and put into the foster care system." the woman said as she stepped out of the door. I sigh, shrugging. The woman was just a distraction.
In that moment, I felt the most compelled to open the note. It wasn't as if it would kill me.
The words make my heart freeze. Written in an elegant script was this simple sentence:
Don't let them take you.
Diary Entry 6
Date: October 16
Time: 8:37 a.m.
Location: Windowless room with a bed, and a locked door
I don't know how I got here. Though it doesn't appear as if I'm in immediate danger, I'm really weirded out by the fact that I was put in this place without my knowledge. There isn't much here. . .a bed and a door with a glass panel down its center.
I look out the glass, and see nothing but white halls. No one has come to visit me since I woke up. Perhaps no one cares. Doesn't really matter to me.
I'm surprised when a little face appears in the glass. It's a small girl, with brown hair and green eyes. She's really cute. I find that I kind of like her.
I met her at the door, sitting cross-legged and tapping the glass. She ran away.
I sigh, banging my head on the door. Was I really so scary that kids even ran at the sight of me?
I jerk my head back up when the girl comes back, dragging a figure by the hand. My eyes widen at the figure.
His cloak was deep green, no face visible, and his glove gripped the hand of the child gently. I thought I was staring at the face of death.
Scrambling back, I tried to hide behind my bed, but I knew he was still standing there. He slid something under the door.
When I look, the girl is the only one standing there, but the note is sitting on the floor.
I won't read it. It isn't real. I'm going to ignore it.
Now I wish that little girl would leave.
Time: 8:37 a.m.
Location: Windowless room with a bed, and a locked door
I don't know how I got here. Though it doesn't appear as if I'm in immediate danger, I'm really weirded out by the fact that I was put in this place without my knowledge. There isn't much here. . .a bed and a door with a glass panel down its center.
I look out the glass, and see nothing but white halls. No one has come to visit me since I woke up. Perhaps no one cares. Doesn't really matter to me.
I'm surprised when a little face appears in the glass. It's a small girl, with brown hair and green eyes. She's really cute. I find that I kind of like her.
I met her at the door, sitting cross-legged and tapping the glass. She ran away.
I sigh, banging my head on the door. Was I really so scary that kids even ran at the sight of me?
I jerk my head back up when the girl comes back, dragging a figure by the hand. My eyes widen at the figure.
His cloak was deep green, no face visible, and his glove gripped the hand of the child gently. I thought I was staring at the face of death.
Scrambling back, I tried to hide behind my bed, but I knew he was still standing there. He slid something under the door.
When I look, the girl is the only one standing there, but the note is sitting on the floor.
I won't read it. It isn't real. I'm going to ignore it.
Now I wish that little girl would leave.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Diary Entry 5
Date: They tell me it is October 14th
Time: 7:45 a.m
Location: In the storage compartment of a van
My life, what portion I can recall, sucks.
Honest to God, I can't think of one person who's life sucks as much as mine does. The only good thing I have going for me is the fact that I scare the crap out of pretty much anyone who comes near me. Didn't get me out of this car, but it did give me back my journal.
Yeah, the crashing came from a couple of goons in big yellow suits. They wore masks and everything. Anyway, there was a bit of pursuit, then my foot caught an untimely root and everything went to hell.
I kicked, screamed, lashed out at them as they dragged me back to 'safety', as they claimed.
Morons. They should have known better. Safety is relative, even in a big yellow suit.
Things didn't go well when they tried to restrain me. Sedatives kind of turned the odds in their favor.
"What's your name?" asked an androgenous character in a white jumpsuit.
I curled my lip like the feral forest-girl I was. The he/she didn't really notice.
"You lost?" it querried.
I couldn't help it. "No s***." I replied. Everyone looked surprised that I had the competence to snark at them.
An hour of fruitless questioning later, and I was tossed into the back of this padded bus with my notebook. We haven't moved in several hours, but they gave me food and water through a slot at the front of my padded cage.
Damn. I hear voices outside. They're moving around to the front, climbing into the cab. I won't be able to write when the vehicle starts, and I'll be too panicky trying to figure out where they're taking me.
I sipped my vial-juice for the nerves and lay down. Nothing for it. I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere.
Time: 7:45 a.m
Location: In the storage compartment of a van
My life, what portion I can recall, sucks.
Honest to God, I can't think of one person who's life sucks as much as mine does. The only good thing I have going for me is the fact that I scare the crap out of pretty much anyone who comes near me. Didn't get me out of this car, but it did give me back my journal.
Yeah, the crashing came from a couple of goons in big yellow suits. They wore masks and everything. Anyway, there was a bit of pursuit, then my foot caught an untimely root and everything went to hell.
I kicked, screamed, lashed out at them as they dragged me back to 'safety', as they claimed.
Morons. They should have known better. Safety is relative, even in a big yellow suit.
Things didn't go well when they tried to restrain me. Sedatives kind of turned the odds in their favor.
"What's your name?" asked an androgenous character in a white jumpsuit.
I curled my lip like the feral forest-girl I was. The he/she didn't really notice.
"You lost?" it querried.
I couldn't help it. "No s***." I replied. Everyone looked surprised that I had the competence to snark at them.
An hour of fruitless questioning later, and I was tossed into the back of this padded bus with my notebook. We haven't moved in several hours, but they gave me food and water through a slot at the front of my padded cage.
Damn. I hear voices outside. They're moving around to the front, climbing into the cab. I won't be able to write when the vehicle starts, and I'll be too panicky trying to figure out where they're taking me.
I sipped my vial-juice for the nerves and lay down. Nothing for it. I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere.
Diary Entry 4
Date: Not worth guessing
Time: Late Night
Location: Farther East, but still in the middle of nowhere
The sun set a long while ago, but I can still see a glow that just barely makes it through the trees. This frightens me. Somehow I don't think that the vial juice will save me from being burned alive. The wind has picked up, and it's hot and smelly. Animals run by me, near enough to touch, all frantic to get away from the approaching flames.
I ran too, tried to anyway. But I'm not a deer, or a gazelle. I don't have wings, and I'm most certainly not fire-proof. The situation doesn't look good.
Thirst and exhastion pull at me, but it doesn't dull my senses. I notice that the path I have been following is now wider, well-worn. I know this means that there is some kind of destination ahead that may not end in turning to a french-fry.
There is something else ahead. . .like the croon of a dying cat. I pause to listen.
Sirens
My heart freezes, and I feel the panicky urge to hide. Sirens are nothing good. They frighten me on a deep, unreasonable level. Even the threat of the fire could not push me towards whatever was causing that awful sound. So I looked around desperately for something to put myself in. A log, a hole, a hollow tree, anything.
Loud crashing ahead. I almost dropped my dirty notebook. Nothing good could come of this. I start running away from the noises.
There's shouting behind me. Dear God, they're chasing me!
I get this horrible feeling that this is going to be the last of so very few entries. In my own blind panic, a memory surfaces. My name. It is the last thing I can jot down before putting all of my energy into escape.
Jaz
Time: Late Night
Location: Farther East, but still in the middle of nowhere
The sun set a long while ago, but I can still see a glow that just barely makes it through the trees. This frightens me. Somehow I don't think that the vial juice will save me from being burned alive. The wind has picked up, and it's hot and smelly. Animals run by me, near enough to touch, all frantic to get away from the approaching flames.
I ran too, tried to anyway. But I'm not a deer, or a gazelle. I don't have wings, and I'm most certainly not fire-proof. The situation doesn't look good.
Thirst and exhastion pull at me, but it doesn't dull my senses. I notice that the path I have been following is now wider, well-worn. I know this means that there is some kind of destination ahead that may not end in turning to a french-fry.
There is something else ahead. . .like the croon of a dying cat. I pause to listen.
Sirens
My heart freezes, and I feel the panicky urge to hide. Sirens are nothing good. They frighten me on a deep, unreasonable level. Even the threat of the fire could not push me towards whatever was causing that awful sound. So I looked around desperately for something to put myself in. A log, a hole, a hollow tree, anything.
Loud crashing ahead. I almost dropped my dirty notebook. Nothing good could come of this. I start running away from the noises.
There's shouting behind me. Dear God, they're chasing me!
I get this horrible feeling that this is going to be the last of so very few entries. In my own blind panic, a memory surfaces. My name. It is the last thing I can jot down before putting all of my energy into escape.
Jaz
Diary Entry 3
Date: Definitely not 'Funday'
Time: Early Morning
Location: Westerly scrubby forest
An acrid stench stung my nose this morning. It woke me up. At first, I thought the dog had peed on me, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. Can't say I felt bad about that.
The air was really still, and I couldn't hear anything except the rush of my own breathing. What was scary was that I couldn't hear my heart beat either. That wasn't important though. Breathing indicated life, even though it was unpleasant to do so at the moment.
The sky was an awful yellow color as the sun rose, and when I finally glimpsed the celestial flashlight, it seemed hazed over, like there was a smokey film across the sky.
That was when I recognized the acrid stench. Smoke. Something was burning nearby, but since I couldn't tell where the wind was blowing, I didn't know which way to go to get away from it.
Using my superior deductive reasoning skills, I figured that, since I hadn't smelled smoke back east, that would be the best way to go. So I headed back down the worn path towards the hazy sun.
.....
Found the dog on the way. Dead. Apparently he'd eaten something he shouldn't have. It was in a puddle by his miserably thin maw. If I had been hungry before, I definitely wasn't now. Didn't matter. Apparently the vial juice keeps the hunger pains away. I would need water, and soon, but first things first. . .
Avoid the fire.
Time: Early Morning
Location: Westerly scrubby forest
An acrid stench stung my nose this morning. It woke me up. At first, I thought the dog had peed on me, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. Can't say I felt bad about that.
The air was really still, and I couldn't hear anything except the rush of my own breathing. What was scary was that I couldn't hear my heart beat either. That wasn't important though. Breathing indicated life, even though it was unpleasant to do so at the moment.
The sky was an awful yellow color as the sun rose, and when I finally glimpsed the celestial flashlight, it seemed hazed over, like there was a smokey film across the sky.
That was when I recognized the acrid stench. Smoke. Something was burning nearby, but since I couldn't tell where the wind was blowing, I didn't know which way to go to get away from it.
Using my superior deductive reasoning skills, I figured that, since I hadn't smelled smoke back east, that would be the best way to go. So I headed back down the worn path towards the hazy sun.
.....
Found the dog on the way. Dead. Apparently he'd eaten something he shouldn't have. It was in a puddle by his miserably thin maw. If I had been hungry before, I definitely wasn't now. Didn't matter. Apparently the vial juice keeps the hunger pains away. I would need water, and soon, but first things first. . .
Avoid the fire.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Diary Entry 2
Date: Mid-October?
Time: Morning
Location: Scrubby woods
Pencil broke last night when I was running from the snuffly animal. Turned out to be an old hound dog. He's been following me since then, and I'm too afraid to sleep cuz he might eat me. Funny thing is, he's as skinny as I am. We both look like we've been starved.
I managed to find something to sharpen the broken end of the pencil. It's what I'm writing with now. When my pencil broke, as in, when I fell, I was surprised to find something hidden away in a pocket of this sack I'm wearing.
A vial. I studied it a long time, smelled it, dipped it on something to see if it was corrosive. Didn't know what it was for until I remembered just how much pain I was in. The all-over ache seemed to lessen even when I smelled the vial's contents. So I sipped it, expecting a slow death involving spasms and vomitting.
The only thing that came was relief. Pain disappeared with just a drop of the vial stuff. I'm keeping this crap on me always.
Found a weathered path leading through the woods. Didn't know which way to walk it, so I just picked the direction the sun was going, west, and walked. The dog is following me. I don't think I'm going to sleep well tonight.
Time: Morning
Location: Scrubby woods
Pencil broke last night when I was running from the snuffly animal. Turned out to be an old hound dog. He's been following me since then, and I'm too afraid to sleep cuz he might eat me. Funny thing is, he's as skinny as I am. We both look like we've been starved.
I managed to find something to sharpen the broken end of the pencil. It's what I'm writing with now. When my pencil broke, as in, when I fell, I was surprised to find something hidden away in a pocket of this sack I'm wearing.
A vial. I studied it a long time, smelled it, dipped it on something to see if it was corrosive. Didn't know what it was for until I remembered just how much pain I was in. The all-over ache seemed to lessen even when I smelled the vial's contents. So I sipped it, expecting a slow death involving spasms and vomitting.
The only thing that came was relief. Pain disappeared with just a drop of the vial stuff. I'm keeping this crap on me always.
Found a weathered path leading through the woods. Didn't know which way to walk it, so I just picked the direction the sun was going, west, and walked. The dog is following me. I don't think I'm going to sleep well tonight.
Diary Entry 1
Date: Unknown
Time: Late Afternoon
Location: Undisclosed
Time: Late Afternoon
Location: Undisclosed
Don’t know the point of this. Don’t think it really matters. I don’t know where I am, or how I came to have this crummy old spiral-bound, stained with lab fluids and blood and something else that I can’t identify. Perhaps, by writing things down, it’ll help me remember what happened. Kinda like connect-the-dots, maybe these words that I scrawl will help me realize why I’m in the middle of nowhere, dressed in nothing but a white sack, sore as hell. . .
I’m writing as the thoughts come to me. What if I can’t remember because I don’t want to? It makes me shudder.
Maybe I just don’t have any memories. That doesn’t seem likely, but I’m not going to scratch out the idea. Wastes what little lead I have.
Who am I? I’m a girl. I have unruly red hair and freckles. If I could see my eyes, I imagine that they are blue. It goes with red hair. When I look down at my hands as I write, the fingers are thin, the skin translucent. I think I’m sick. My body hurts all over.
Do I have a name? I can’t recall. Not yet. I’m going to work on that.
There’s a noise. Something’s coming this way, and by the sound of its snuffling I don’t think it’s human. Sounds more like a bear.
To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what’s worse…
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