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Mon Jan 16, 2012 4:22 am
CSheperd says...



This is a series of entries from a journal I found in an abandoned house. The property it is on has long since become an illegal dumping site. Here are the last four entries from Dan Harbrook, a struggling romance writer's journal. The last page was still in the typewriter.


August 13, 1976

It's pretty hot out here. I'd almost forgotten how bad this southern heat was. I can hear the breeze coming clear across the field, but it's not helping. The cottage is a wreck. The windows are all boarded up. Doesn't look like anyone's been here in over a year. Maybe even longer. The ghost of one of Sam's famous parties. Asshole told me he was going to clean it before he left.
No sense in getting comfortable though. I haven't even unpacked, and I this mess will drive me crazy if I don't do something about it.

Three trash-bags full of beer cans and liquor bottles later I can finally relax. I did find a bag of pot, not sure if I'm going to smoke it yet. Why not, right? It's just me and Brutus out here, and Vince did tell me not to be such a stiff.
Brutus isn't adjusting as well as I had thought. By now I figured he'd be out cold by my feet loaded with ticks. He's been acting pretty nervous, I don't think he likes how quiet it is here. I'm not sure if I really do either. We've both been hiding out in the shade. I'm not sure who built it or when, but I'm really digging the deck. I even set up my typewriter out here.
It's strange though. Everything is just like I remember, but something's missing. It's been too long.

August 14, 1976

Last night was rough. Brutus wouldn't stop barking out the window and I forgot sheets. Every mattress in this house is like a petri-dish, thank you Sam. I finally managed to drink myself to sleep at my desk.
This little house is so claustrophobic. Cave like, almost. I'd be outside but the heat is so overbearing today. It's too bright and I'm too hungover. Brutus doesn't even want to go out. He was being difficult about going out to do his business. That dog's been acting pretty funny lately. He's been staring out at the hay fields for hours. Maybe Brutus has allergies.
I caught a pretty good idea last night. It's going to take awhile before I run with it. If there's anymore light in this house than the one coming from my cigarette I'm pretty sure my head will explode. I feel like garbage.

This house doesn't keep the heat out very well. I woke up on the couch sweating to death, plastered in dog hair. I remembered what's missing though. When I was a kid it was the first thing I ever noticed when I woke up. The bugs. This time of year they're usually in full roar. I haven't heard cicada one. Probably too hot for them.
A nap was just what I needed. I'm feeling a lot better. I even rolled up a jay, might be just what the doctor ordered to get me writing. Who knows, I might not even smoke it. Brutus is still staring out the window, I think he misses home.
Well, it's time I get back to work. I didn't take a week to alienate myself only to come back with a memoir.

August 15, 1976

I'm pretty surprised how much writing I've gotten done. I might actually be leaving with something presentable. Vince may have been right, the well isn't so dry after all.
All this productivity is fine, but I'm starting to get a little stir crazy. Didn't help that someone kept banging on the windows last night. I went out there but they must've ran when the lights came on. Brutus hid under my parents old bed. It took me awhile to find him, but I finally heard him growling. What a big sissy. No doubt, kids probably just trying to get a rise out of me. I was young out here once.
I'm starting to catch a tan out here already. It feels like the sun never stops shining. At least a nice breeze is blowing today. I've been watching the amber waves roll around me. On all four sides endless acres of tall grass. This place is more like an island than a cramped house.
I finally decided to get high. Call it a reward for my days success. I've finished a story with a second in the works. It's so quiet out here, the only thing I can hear is the breeze coming in. A good day to take it slow. A nice buzz, a fridge full of cool drinks and the morning sun is high and full. Good day for it.
I'm still surprised the flies aren't eating me alive. Now that I think about it I haven't heard or seen any bugs. Birds too. It must be a climate thing.

August 16, 1976

Nothing is right about this place. How could I not realize it? I just want to go home. The car is trashed! And there is no way I'm walking to the road! That's almost three miles. I know they're out there. Waiting for me to make Brutus's mistake. I can feel them watching.
I was going to have a drink on the porch. Brutus wouldn't even come out. It was dark so I hit the porch lights. Dozens of gleaming eyes in the grass, some of them were even creeping across the lawn. They were...I cut the lights and slammed the door. We spent the night in the closet. They scraped at the walls and windows for hours. It was...indescribable.
Brutus ran for it as soon as I opened the door. I don't know how long he was out there. He didn't make it far. I heard when they...I heard something happen. I hope he at least gave them hell.
Even if I tried the driveway they'll get me. From up on the roof it look's impossibly long and narrow. It would be suicide. I came up here hoping to find clues. What I did find out is they don't move, or I can't see them moving. I know they're out there, I can hear them. It's almost a whisper, but I can hear them hissing to one another. I thought it was the breeze at first, until I saw how placid the field is. This really is an island, I'm completely stranded. There has to be a way to make it back to the road, but what do they want from me?

I forgot to fill the fucking generator. When I woke up the sun was starting to set. I shined the flashlight out the window and all could see was a field of beady little eyes staring back. I will not go out there. Not in this lifetime. I started a fire for now. It's boiling in here, but I'd rather have the light.
There's better things I could be doing but the sound of the typewriter helps cover their constant chuckling. And just in case...I'd like people to know. Some have gotten on the roof, I can hear them above me.

They've stopped for now. The radio died about a half hour ago, I thought I was going to go insane. Nothing got i

I thought it was hailing at first. If only. They threw rocks at the house for hours. I watched from between the boards as they slung them from the tall grass. It was unnerving, I had no idea what they were doing. It didn't take long for me to shout 'Please, stop!' on sheer impulse alone. I was mute under the downpour. I've figured it out though. They aren't trying to get in. they're trying to break me, get me to try and rung. They want me to come out there.

August 17, 1976

I fell asleep after the last assault. It made me jump when I opened my eyes to see the sun sneaking in. I'm back on the roof. Lit. Something to take the edge off for now. It's only making me more paranoid. I spotted something I hadn't seen before. A crater in the field. Cars. Six of them, something tells me mine is supposed to make seven.
It makes sense now. This is why I haven't heard from Sam, why no one has. This is why the windows are all boarded up. Brutus knew long before I did, it's why he was acting funny. Birds wont even fly over the property. It's those things. Even the bugs have gone. If I can't leave, I need to figure out how to get someone to come to me.

Something brilliant came to me, it hasn't rained in days. The hay has to be nice and dry. I siphoned my gas tank and took what was left in the pumps. It was enough to make a dozen or so molotovs. I set the field on fire. Someone has to see the smoke, even the flames. This is the biggest fire I've ever seen, no way anyone can miss it from the roads. I saved a milk crate of cocktails just in case.
The fire department will be here long before it's even peaked anyways.

It's been a few hours and still nothing. The sun's starting to creep down. There's still a few hours before dark. Someone will come.

I haven't heard them, the sirens. The ones coming to save me. As much of the field that's burned away, I can still feel them watching me. I can't stay another night.

Their silhouettes have surrounded the house. These sins of nature have just been staring in, standing there. With the fire raging outside it looks like hell. I'm pretty sure the house is going to catch at any time. I still have some molotovs left. Maybe give them hell. I just wish they would please stop staring at me like that.
  





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Fri Jan 20, 2012 3:22 pm
sargsauce says...



Pretty interesting and creepy!

The ghost of one of Sam's famous parties

I didn't really get this line...since when are boarded up windows a part of a party? I'm assuming they came out and had a party at this location, but you immediately preceded this line with the one about the boarded up windows...

It took me a long time to understand that Brutus was a dog. Which makes this line:
By now I figured he'd be out cold by my feet loaded with ticks.

pretty weird.

Everything is just like I remember, but something's missing. It's been too long.

I don't understand the writer's relationship with this house still...

He's been staring out at the hay fields for hours. Maybe Brutus has allergies.

This also felt like a non-sequitor. I don't really think dogs know enough about allergies to stare at the hay fields because of them...I know you were just trying to brush off the whole staring thing as mundane, but it's a bit of a stretch.

Didn't help that someone kept banging on the windows last night. I went out there but they must've ran when the lights came on. Brutus hid under my parents old bed. It took me awhile to find him, but I finally heard him growling. What a big sissy. No doubt, kids probably just trying to get a rise out of me. I was young out here once.

You're trying too hard to play it cool. Really? If someone were banging on my windows all night in the middle of nowhere, I'd be freaking out pretty fast. You said it yourself:
On all four sides endless acres of tall grass.

What kid is going to go out through endless acres of tall grass to go bang on a house with boarded up windows all night?

I take it these things only come out at night? There's been no indication of seeing them in the day, right? So why can't he walk 3 miles in middle of the day? That's 1 hour of walking, since most people walk at 2-3 miles per hour.

Brutus ran for it as soon as I opened the door.

This was after they spent the night in the closet? During the day? Why did he open the door? What's the context?

I hope he at least gave them hell.

This part seems weird. His dog and only companion got shredded to bits or something, and that's all he has to say?

Nothing got i

What?

get me to try and rung.

Proofread.

Anyway. The overall atmosphere is creepy. I wasn't a huge fan of them throwing stones, though. That just seems a little silly. I prefer the scratching on the walls. Maybe guttural noises. Groaning? And the fact that he didn't just leave in the middle of the day ruined it a little for me. The crater idea wasn't explored at all, though, and just seemed weird hanging out there with no distinct connection.
  








What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal.
— Albert Pines