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Sleep is a necessity. I have come to learn that. Ever since I have been locked up here, my mind often drifts to rest. I peer down at my arms and observe the scarred symbols. These were not from my own hand. The asylum keepers think I’m insane but they haven’t been through the tragedy I witnessed. I hope all who read this feel the same as I have that autumn night several years ago. As I write this, know that this introduction to my series of journal entries is only the beginning of a dark journey.
Today was interesting. During the time of my hikes, I stumbled upon some strange artifacts. Stone shapes and designs. Many people I have shown them to think they are just regular rocks, however, I have kept them as a token of my adventures. The moderate air outside of my home seems to be getting cooler. It is obvious Fall is near.
I woke up this morning, drank my coffee and got ready for work. My jobs as an artist and a photographer have been fairly well for the past few years. A number of my paintings recollect the adventures I have had in the past both good and bad. They are explained through drawings of weird shapes and pictures that only the most optimistic can interpret. The photos I have submitted to local news companies and journalist websites have seem to have grown popular over time, many involving nature and the natural world.
5 days ago, I found some strange rocks, but today on my trek to take more photos, I seemed to have stumbled upon something rather peculiar. A stone blade, about 5 inches long with strange symbols was lying upon the ground, half buried near the base of a pine. As I unearthed the blade, I assume it is just the result of someone’s attempt at making something new. I keep the knife for future research.
It is finally October. The leaves seem very reluctant to fall but they are getting close. I stand on top of a high precipice, overlooking the wilderness. This area is a small distance away from the trail I primarily use. I stir the dirt with my hiking boots as I think on the angle of the photo. I pull out my camera and am rewarded with a magnificent picture. This can definitely look great on a postcard! I hike some more in hopes to find more strange artifacts but, alas, none can be found.
October 2, Midnight
I awoke to the shuffling and clank of drawers in my study. I race to the area, pocketknife in hand just to be safe. Someone has rumbled through my drawers and left the window open. All that is missing are the rocks I have collected. The knife I found is still locked up tight in my “treasure chest”. I doubt the police would care about some criminal stealing rocks. I lock the window and watch a movie until morning. Tomorrow is Saturday so I am looking forward to a day of relaxation.
I can’t believe it! The blade is gone! Not only that, but blood is running down my forearms! I clean the wound and look at the markings. More symbols! I hauled myself over to the police department and they spent a while investigating my house. No trace can be found. They recommended a security system which I installed after they said so. I am not looking forward to Monday.
I am shocked. I awoke to gurgling and witnessed a strange creature peering into my eyes. It was so horrific that description can’t describe what happened. On the side of my bed stood a thin being that had a pale-green tint to its flesh. Long claws reached out and small strands of hair ran down its face. It wore a black robe and had a skeletal nose. The jaw gaped at me with teeth that reeked of dead fish. No ears could be seen and the hollow eye sockets only told despair. I leapt off my bed and barricaded myself in the closet.
Inside was a corpse covered in the same symbols that appeared on the blade. Torn flesh and guts covered the area. The victim's intestines were wrapped around its neck. Written in blood on the wall were true words of terror. “Some things aren’t meant to be kept”. I dialed the police with the voice of insanity and they burst into my home. Nothing could be found except myself in my demented state, and the body. As well as a bloody stone knife on my bed.
I spend days planning my escape but that seems inevitable. I spent months drawing the symbols I saw on the knife in my cell with a piece of charcoal I smuggled in. This is my last journal entry because the time of insanity is near.