Soft Corinthian Leather

It's nice to be able to just sit back and relax in a chair for more than a few minutes, even if it's a car chair. Well, a jeep chair, but still. It's a great change after sleeping on cold concrete for so many weeks. Although, I'll probably be complaining about the leather chairs in a couple of weeks, since Peter and Natalie are taking a somewhat winding and circuitous route to our destination in order to throw off whoever may or may not be following me, them or us.

A couple of days ago, around midnight, we were driving down a backroad in the middle of nowhere. Natalie was at the wheel, I was in the passenger's seat and Peter was in the back, having a rest. Then, suddenly, something's wrong, I can feel it in the air and Peter and Natalie start clutching their heads and screaming. I just manage to grab the wheel and stop us dying horrible in a blazing fireball, though we still went skidding right off the road.

Before I can even start asking what happened, there's this huge roar, like a foghorn or a siren or something. I'd nearly have thought it was a truck but there were none around; we were completely alone. When the sound passes, Peter and Natalie are in right back into action. All of a sudden, I'm having a shotgun pressed into my hands. When Natalie put that cold steel in my hands, I shivered.

"I don't kill. I can't. I won't."

She looked at me with a look of what I can only call solemn exasperation.

"They don't know that."

We climbed out of the jeep. No sense in just waiting for the monster or one of its minions to attack. Peter and Natalie showed me where to stand and told me how to shoot the gun. I was shitting myself. Even Peter looked more relaxed than me, holding a revolver in his one hand, while Natalie branded some sort of high-power rifle. They were obviously more prepared to kill than I, but that didn't help Peter when someone grabbed him and started dragging him into the darkness. Whoever it was covered his mouth and a few minutes passed before Natalie and I even noticed he was gone. Turns out that pitch blackness isn't conducive to a good strategic position.

When we did notice, we followed the trail that Peter had left in the ground as he struggled. How didn't we hear him dragging his heels through the ground? Were we really so scared that we couldn't even hear something that obvious?

At the end of the trail, we found Peter bound tightly to a tree, but he didn't respond when we asked if he was okay. I used the faint light of my iPod to check and found that he was unconscious with, bizarrely, the word "Juliet" written on his forehead. It took Natalie and I a couple of minutes to cut through the ropes and even longer to get Peter back to the car. When we did, something was waiting for us, sprayed on the back window;

"ALACK, THERE'S MORE ARROGANCE IN THINE EYE THAN TWENTY OF THEIR SWORDS

Fblb khnm fx fnc hpdik lixmw wxqy?"

Who the hell is this guy?

Still Alive 2: Caden

So, anyone who's familiar with the blog Adrift or who read the comments section of the last post will have heard rumours of my demise at the hands of that blog's author, Caden.

Basically, this Caden guy and I have been arguing in each other's comments because I have the audacity to point out that he killed his girlfriend of his own free will rather than while being manipulated by the monster, which he seems to interpret as me saying I'm morally superior to him, even though I never said that. What I actually said was that at least I have the balls to admit that I killed Royal of my own free will, whereas he constantly goes on about how he had no control over his actions, even though he himself said that he killed his girlfriend to impress the monster. So he's clearly talking out of his puckered, prelubed arsehole, but apparently pointing this out to him touched a nerve and he got pissed off enough to track me down and kick the shit out of me.

Oh yeah, man, way to prove your moral superiority right there.

It seems I grew complacent while describing some of the recent stuff that's been happening and Caden was able to figure out that I was staying in Richmond, Virginia. He went down there and scouted Starbucks until he finally tracked me down and then followed me down an alleyway and tackled me to the ground. Now, I've had the stuffing knocked out of me enough times to know how to get in a good defensive position and, at first, he wasn't doing much damage but then I grabbed his hands by the bandages he has wrapped around them to try and stop him and he freaked the fuck out and just started driving his foot into my ribs over and over again.

Then he stopped and ran off into the night again. I was barely conscious when I looked up to see why but I already had a fair idea what had happened; the monster had shown up. I don't know what happened next, because I passed right out but it didn't take me or hurt me more or anything so, I dunno, was it protecting me? Or was it just spectating and did Caden get scared and run off? It's hard to tell either way, but luckily I woke up from being knocked unconscious after a few hours and was able to call the bloggers I've arranged to meet up with. Originally, I was supposed to get a train up to New York on Thursday and meet them there but obviously that wasn't an option and they agreed to come pick me up.

Their names are Peter and Natalie and they used to be part of a blog called The Refugees but they haven't been updating for a while now, since they've been busy on the road. Recently, they stayed with Benjamin Vanderwaal, proprietor of the blog Little Lion Man, whose house in Vermont was my original destination but he's no longer taking in people on the run because of some shit that went down up there involving Natalie. However, that hasn't stopped him being a help to me; he gave Peter and Natalie a load of medical supplies before they left his house, so they were able to patch me up a bit when they came and collected me. Well, Natalie did, there was only so much Peter could do given that he had an arm amputated quite recently.

Anyway, that's the situation at the moment. After my run-in with Caden, I'm being extra secretive about my location, so I'm apologising in advance for any vagueness about things happening in the future.

Also, Caden, if you're reading this...I forgive you. I can see that you've rationalised everything to yourself in your own head and you honestly don't think you've done anything wrong. Hopefully, one day, you'll see the light and feel remorse for your actions. But I'm not going to hold this against you, even as I find myself barely able to breath with the pain in my ribs. Maybe that seems stupid, but I'm a Christian. It's in my nature to forgive.

Though I am starting to regret being a pacifist.

Anthony's Song

So, I'm more-or-less ready to leave, but I've gotten into contact with a couple of others who are in the same situation as me and we've decided to meet up and travel together, since my previous plans were scuppered due to unforeseen circumstances. I'm probably just going to spend the last couple of days seeking out somewhere to have a long-overdue shower and get a little bit of exercise done.

I'm not going to lie; I'll be glad to see the back of this city. The whole "Confederacy! Whoo!" vibe that I'm constantly getting off this place makes me uncomfortable and I'm not even from this country.

Not to mention the fact that there's somebody here who seems to know who I am, since I doubt that message was left by the monster itself.

I See A Darkness

Sitting in this alleyway, drinking from the bottle of cheap whiskey I took from the hobo's body, I feel the night everywhere. Outside, inside.

I can't tell how many tears are from the sting of the alcohol in my throat, how many are from the grease on my skin irritating my eyes and how many are being squeezed out of me by the tight grip of the absence of anything.

How pathetic am I to be so afraid of the monster that I don't dare leave this city because of the vague threat of illness? The monster hasn't even done anything to me so far but follow me seemingly everywhere. Royal was the one who killed. Royal was the one who hurt. Royal was the one who died.

Yet even as I tell myself how irrational I'm being, I make no move to leave this dank little lane.

Beyond, the night envelops this world, roaring like a tumultuous ocean, spinning out of control, levelling cities, killing. Within me, without me.

It never stops, really.

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.