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I know you are no longer with us, but writing to you has always given me a sense of security. Father left us shortly after the accident, but Grandpa John has been kind enough to let us stay at his home. It's been a few weeks since I moved in, but I feel you would have loved it! It's a quaint cabin in a relatively nice town. I don't usually get out socializing, with the exception of classes, so I typically tend to the cabin and watch over Cally.
She has been great by the way; just turned eight last week! The two of us have been doing alright here. She loves to play in the playground in our backyard which consists of a simple worn swing-set and a shack which we remodeled into a playroom. I asked my grandfather about it myself; it was the oddest thing! He said it was simply there before he built this place. We have a family graveyard deeper in the woods which I will usually visit with Cally and Grandpa. It's been good to have it here being the closest thing to being able to just stop by and say hi. It makes me reflect on all those we lost this year. Uncle Seth, Grandmother, my cousins, my four year old niece, and you of course.
I should mention that this truly is a lovely place though. I'll personally head to the shack to write to myself and loved ones being as peaceful as it is. These carvings are enthralling, while moderately objectionable. What appear to be blood-etched drawings and carvings of mangled bodies and rotting carcasses sitting on the swing-set or simply standing around smiling like a typical happy family can be found etched in here. Most have been buffed out though a few remain.
A rude prank as it may be, what amazes me is the incredible detail that these drawings have. The eyes, while dripping with flesh and at a loss of color, almost stare at you with the same compassion only family could share. The tattered clothing is almost an exact replica of modern brands and the bodies are twisted and contorted as if affected by a fatal accident in their past lives. Nauseating and twisted as it may seem it gives me hope of family and hope of seeing your smiling face again one day.
Forgive me for sharing such off-putting details; I simply felt you would have been inclined to hear and even be as fascinated as myself about such interesting things. Well anyways, it's nearly morning. I better stop writing and try to catch some sleep...
Mother, are you there? I woke up at night to what remained of your eyes staring at me from across the room. I couldn't breathe, cry, or simply talk no matter how hard I tried, I could only stare for what felt like hours at a decomposed throbbing mass of what was once you. After what felt like ages you disappeared from sight I wanted to believe it's simply paranoia but I simply couldn't. The drawings and what I felt at the graveyard; everything made sense all of a sudden.
When my sister ran in crying her eyes out, my suspicion was confirmed. At that moment I simply smiled. I asked her, "Are you ready to go home?"
With tears flooding from her eyes, she simply nodded her head.
In that moment I took hold of her hand. As I walked down the scarlet drenched hallway, faint humming echoed outdoors. It was barely louder than our heartbeats. Without a thought, I grabbed the dripping doorknob and the door swung wide open. What I saw would be considered one's worst nightmare and a dream come true.
My family was gathered at the playground. All of them stared at us with limping postures, pitch black eyes, and dripping fleshy bodies covered by the tattered rags they were buried in. What remained of their faces were all stuck in big smiles. What remained of my niece sat on a swing-set; my two cousins stood aside each other as my uncle stood in the forest, neck twisted precariously. My grandmother and grandfather held hands next to the swing-set and my mother waited beside the shack as if waiting. This is it! We can take our mother's hand and have our blessed family reunion at last, right after one final entry.
...Dear Mom... more pretty drawings in shed... no more paint... may we have company...