But I suppose it gave me something to write about for a few days. Back to boring stuff, I suppose. I won't even bother going into it. I doubt anyone reads this anyway. Ah well. I guess...I guess I'll write back sometime soon. Maybe.
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An hour ago, a siren called. It was singing, beautifully, drawing me near. I tried to reach it but...no, it was just getting further away. A carrot. A carrot-shaped siren.
Then, high above, I heard a crow cawing in the open sky. I could see it, this one. Its voice overrode the deafening siren. I think...it was trying to lead me somewhere. I followed.
A man emerged from the dark, a flick of light in his right hand, nothing but black in the left. And the eyes. The red eyes. Hell was in those eyes, I know it.
He moved towards me, at a crawl. The vegetable barked. Hell is scared of onions. The man ran. He dropped something. I moved to pick it up and then...
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You're not going to believe this. Oh God. I...this has gone far too far. That up there. In the italics. I didn't write that. Yeah. OK, OK, I guess I could have been sleepwalking. I have been known to. But sleepblogging? That's a new one. What the hell does it mean? "Hell is scared of onions"?! Seriously, what the fuck! Nobody else could have written all of that. I change my password every day (to keep mum out, before you ask). It was me.
And then there's this. I got the e-mail. No subject. No sender.
"Sry. Cmputer borke. Foollw thes instrcshuns carfly if yu wan ansers. N9ne tmorrow go to teh pak. Were yu seed da. Ezacly. N Ill met yu."
So Mr. 'I Don't Exist' finally got back to me. And he wants me to meet him. Fuck that. Honestly. As much as I want answers...Ah. This just landed:
"Yu will met me. Wether yu lik it aw nt."
I'm scared. Genuinely. I haven't been scared this much in my entire life. Not even when I saw dad's body that morning. Not when I saw his 'ghost'. Not even when I sneaked on to The Screamer when I was six years old. This is a whole new level of scared. OK, I'll go. But I'll keep my distance. It's not like I'm going to die. I hope.
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It's ten in the morning. I just went to the park. Well, I just got back, but let's not get into particulars. Here's how it went down, exactly.
I arrived at nine on the dot, right by the climbing frame I'd seen my dad a few days before. It's a horrible day out, very dark. I could hear the rain, toxic no doubt, pattering on the dome, while the sky was, as my mum might say, 'as black as your hat'. I never got that saying. The only hat I have ever owned was blue.
Tangent again. When it rains outside, the air inside the park kind of gets heavier, a bit horrible. So there wasn't anyone around. And as the playground area is right in the middle, I'd see anyone coming a couple of minutes before they arrived.
Or so I thought.
I looked around every few seconds. I would've looked incredibly conspicuous to any passers by. I probably looked like a drug dealer, especially in my tattered school uniform. Whatever.
Tangent again. Again. I looked around to check another direction and...there was a man standing no more than five feet from me. I'll tell you what, it made me jump out of my skin. It would've been great if there was a dramatic clap of thunder just as he appeared, but it wasn't to be.
Oh right, the man. I'm not very good at reporting, am I? He was pretty tall, at least a few inches taller than me, and dressed in a long trenchcoat made of leather. It was done up, so I couldn't see what was underneath, but I guess it didn't matter. What did matter was what he was wearing on his face.
It was a gas mask. Like what people used to wear in the War. It covered his entire face, making him look like a diseased, alien elephant. And slightly above this was a trilby hat, covering his hair. In fact, thinking about it, I couldn't see a single piece of skin or natural fibre at all. Everything was covered, like a modern ninja.
"Who the fuck are you?" I said, not exactly politely. Straight the point. He didn't reply. Instead, he took an envelope out from his coat pocket, a brown A4 one like a spy might use, I suppose. He held it out to me, and I took it. I looked down and opened it. It was a note. And it said:
Hello. I am sorry that I cannot speak to you, but this shall have to do. My name is Andreas. I haven't much time, so I'll skip straight to the point. Everything you know is a lie. A lie cooked up by Hollier Corp. to keep the populace at bay. You don't need to know the 'why' right now, and I think the 'how' should be obvious. Regardless, you need to know the following:
- Your father worked for Hollier, and it was they who killed him.
- There is no such thing as ghosts
- You are not who you think you are
- You are special
- You are not mad
--Andreas
I looked up, and started to ask "So how do you know all this, Andreas?", but managed to get the "S-" and that's about it. Andreas had vanished. As quickly as he arrived, he had left. The whole thing had only lasted a minute or two. Somehow, I knew that everything that he'd 'told' me was right. It was just something in my gut. I'm sure you've probably had the feeling yourself before. I sort of stood there for a bit before walking home. I'd made my descision. And I'm sure you know what I did.
I got a paperclip from the dining room, went to St. Albans, climbed up it, and put the clip where I'd met the blackbird. Then I came back home, got on my computer, and wrote this. I guess we'll see what happens, eh? I'll keep you posted.
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