Writing on the Wall

I found this message sprayed on a wall in the warehouse where I'm staying when I left the Internet café;

"THE MURDERER DOTH PROTEST TOO MUCH, METHINKS

Obfc hnk ycrsgwx kxr n lbtdsnfx dnaek vzc if fyanr zglj chnf u rxngz iqm?"

There was a dead homeless man lying topless against the wall with my name written on his chest. Forget that bullshit I said about graveyards earlier, corpses are goddamn terrifying. I'm not ashamed to say I puked. After composing myself, I wrote the message down on my arm and ran to the nearest all-night Internet café to post it.
What does it mean?

Out of Egypt

I don't really know how I ended up there. I just walked and what was once an innocuous park became a graveyard. Seems cliché to say they melted together. Is there really a difference between a graveyard and any other patch of land?

At any rate, I wasn't too fussed when I found myself walking among tombstones. I never really understood why other people found them creepy, to be perfectly honest. They're just gardens full of dead people.

Traipsing through the place, I should have known something was going to happen. It was still early but the crowds of tourists were drifting away, like birds seeking seedier shit to pick at. By the time I realised I was lone, it was too late.

I was standing in the shadow of a huge pyramid. A strange construction, its shape obviously inspired by ancient Egyptian architecture, yet its stonework seemed to take its cues from ancient Ireland. Either way, it was a damned odd thing to use as a memorial to fallen Confederate soldiers, but I'm quickly learning to simply accept that Americans make no sense.

I turned to leave and there was only black. My knees wobbled and then the twin towers collapsed altogether and I was kneeling before it. I watched as an arm peeled itself away from the rest of the monster's ichorous body like flesh torn from a fingertip. I watched as the dark appendage started reaching towards me. There was only one thing I could do.

I bowed my head, clasped my hands together and started praying. At first, my eyes started wandering, searching for an end to its towering legs but I shut them tight and searched for the feeling of God in my heart. I had to dig deep but I found it. Well, I found something. Something that made me feel strong. Or not afraid, at least.

I thought I heard a chuckle.

When I opened my eyes, I was truly alone. There was no sign of the monster. No sign of anybody, anything, anyone. No sign at all.

A Week and a Half

I've decided that, just to be sure, I'm staying in the city until next Friday. At that point, I'm going to continue on my way, albeit to a different destination. Circumstances outside my control and all that. I'm only staying because I don't want to be on the road and then find out that, actually, no, the illusion was that I was healthy and I'm actually dying of a chest infection right this very moment. Besides, I need time to change my plans.

I'm sorry for freaking out a little in my last post, I'm just...not adjusting to this life as quickly as I wish I was. Still, I have faith. I will survive.

Somehow.

Deceptive Deeds

I tried going to a hospital. Well, no, I went to a hospital. They wouldn't treat me though.

Because I'm not sick.

It was all in my fucking head this whole time. The monster probably put it there just to, I dunno, fuck with me or delay me or try and keep me here and I don't fucking know I'm just

I can't concentrate I'm so angry with myself for falling for it I

Update soon.

Back to the Street

Turns out that homeless shelter enforces their one week rule very strictly. They made me leave yesterday, even though my chest infection not only hasn't improved but has worsened. Those antibiotics did nothing for me and now I'm barely mobile with weakness and lethargy, can do little more than breath without my whole body being racked with coughs and wheezes and can't sleep due to feeling like someone is driving screws into my temples.

It's not really fair but there's little I can do about it. I no longer have the physical strength, let alone the money, to get out of this city. It's only because there are so many cafés that don't require me to purchase things to use their Internet that I'm even still posting on this.

I think I might die here.

I Hung My Head

Today, as I was lumbering around the city, trying to find something to do, I started to feel doubts gnawing at my mind, the same doubts that have been gnawing at me since I pushed Royal off that balcony. Was the voice that told me to kill him the voice of God, the voice of the monster or...was it all me? Did I kill him because it was God's work or because I wanted revenge and then rationalised it to myself?

Just as I was about to break down, I looked up and saw I was outside a church. It was named after St. Edward the Confessor. Divine providence or contrived coincidence? It's hard to say but I went in anyway, found a confessional and told the priest everything. I told him about killing Royal, the monster and the voice I heard in my dreams. He seemed very perplexed about the whole thing and suggested that I seek medical help but eventually agreed to lead me in the Rite. It made me feel a bit better, but I don't know if it helped me reach any kind of clarity.

Valentine's Day

Yesterday, I tracked down one of those free clinics and I was given a load of bog-standard antibiotics that the doctor himself admitted might be out of date. Better than nothing I suppose. I've also found a homeless shelter that will take me in, no questions asked, for one week, so that's helpful. Hopefully that'll be enough time to get a bit better so I can forge on to my intended destination.

Today, I thought that getting out and about a bit might do me some good, so I went to this big botanical garden just north of the city named after some Confederate tobacco tycoon. Seems almost tragic for such a beautiful place, awash with roses, to bear the name of a man who hastened the deaths of thousands, but that's America, I guess.

At any rate, I passed some hours there, just trying to relax. I almost managed to forget about the monster, even, but, of course, there were times when I looked up and he was standing among the roses like some diseased tree. Something is rotten in the state of the world.

Chest of Wonders

I'm going to follow Elaine's advice and try and find one of these free clinics. Apart from the fact that I'm sick as a dog, I got mugged on the way back to the warehouse I was planning on staying in tonight. Sufficed to say, I had the shit kicked out of me and all my money was taken.

I'll update soon.

Rattle and Wheeze

I think I've come down with a chest infection from sleeping in all those cold, dank warehouses, which means I'm basically fucked. I'm too weak to try and continue on to my destination and I'm too poor to afford any proper shelter. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can barely talk without coughing so hard my temples start pounding and every time I inhale, my lungs make a sound like an out of tune harmonica.

Oh God, now I'm starting to cry. This isn't going to look weird to the people running the café at all. Fuck, I gotta go before I embarrass myself more.

Solomon Grundy

I was just walking around the city today and saw a shop that looked almost identical to a shop in Waterford. Suddenly it hit me how fast this all happened. How can a life be so fragile that it can fall apart in such a short time? Just two months ago, I was posting about how great life was since I'd escaped Ballybeg. Now, I'm on the run from a hideous monster that NEVER LEAVES ME ALONE and, quite possibly, the law.

I tried so hard to start building a life for myself and now I'm slumming it in this shithole, the Ballybeg of the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. It makes me feel like this was inevitable, as if God gave us no free will. Is man so tightly bound? Can anyone ever escape his inheritance? Does any kind of independence exist in this world?

This is all my life has become. I walk the city for exercise but all my mind can think about are these great cosmic questions, the monster that follows in the shadows of my footsteps and, once in a while, Shannon.

I'm so sorry.