An Old House

A lead. I have a lead.

A usual it came in my dreams. An old peach colored house with a slightly cracked open door. Inside there was blackness and the sound of creaking moans. I reached out to touch the rusted handle, only to have it crumble under the slightest touch.

I remember see a place like that near the edge of town. It's been boarded up for years and it's plastered with KEEP OUT signs. Going to jail for trespassing would definitely hinder any progress I'd hope to make, but I'm desperate. I'll go there as soon as possible, but I know I'm in for something that might be the death of me. If I let it.

Still Here

I still have the keys. They're out of their pouches and lined up neatly on my vanity. They are normal, every day keys; at least I hope they are. The last thing I need are these three things summoning demons from the ninths circle of hell.

My dreams have been quiet. I can't remember most of them, and those that stay lodged are so mundane that they're useless.

As much as I want to,  I don't want to show my girls. They want answers just as much as I do, but I don't want them to get hurt in the process. Losing Catherine destroyed me, and even after so long I still can't get over her death.

Losing them would destroy me even further.

I almost wish for a nightmare--it would bring be closer to finding her killer. I want to know where these keys go to.

These Three Keys

On July 7 I went to the park I saw, bracing myself for. I remembered the last time I went in the woods and I almost felt like turning back. But I didn't--I parked my car, got out and went directly to the path.

I looked around me and wondered if everyone was going to disappear like last time, or worse, I was the one to disappear.

Even with this in mind I kept on trekking, I walked slowly, looking around me. I didn't feel watched; I felt horrendously alone. I kept walking, kept looking, and it seemed like I was on the fast track to nothing.

Until I heard the singing.

"Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay"

It was sung slowly and softly like a hymn. I spun every which way to find the mysterious voices to no avail. I jogged faster and the voices followed me. I ran deeper into the woods and didn't stop until I couldn't hear it anymore.

But I was lost. In my panic I mindlessly went along any small paths that took me away from them, and in the process left me worse off.

The birds were silent and the wind blew no leaves. My cellphone got no service and no one could hear me cry out. Yes, I was alone. But I didn't stop.

I remember thinking about how stupid I was for going here and falling into what seemed to be an obvious trap. I was scared that fate would leave me here to rot.

But as I cursed myself and wondered what I should do, I came upon a large, noble alder tree, and on one of the lower branches hung a purple pouch. Curiously I untied the strings holding it together and found a key.

It was small and coppery with no sort of markings on it. I pocketed it and continued my journey out of here. Not even halfway I saw another alder tree with yet another purple pouch. Again I opened it and found a medium-sized, silvery key. This I pocketed also and kept going.

Finally I found one last alder tree, one last purple pouch, and one last key. This time it was large and gold colored.

It was beyond strange and let me a but unnerve. By the grace of God I managed to navigate my way out of the woods and back into the park. Everyone was still there, albeit a little less people. I drove home with the radio blasting to get the sound of silence out of my head.

I still have the keys and I don't know what they're for. But I'll keep them just in case.

Possible

I'm sorry that June got away from me. Nothing has been happening, really, despite me trying and failing to get somewhere. The police are no help--they think I'm nuts, so they're out. I don't want to involve my girls in this at all; I'm terrified that thing will follow them.

I've tried and failed to connect with the Moores, but each time I get nothing. Are they that busy, or do they not want anything to do with me? I think it would be for the best if I not call them again for a while and see if it's still like this.

The only clue I have is this: I spent what would have been the second wedding anniversary of Catherine and I in bed, strangely weak. My head pounded and I couldn't move, but I do remember snippets of dreams.

Woods. Lots of woods. Trees so thick you couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. I remember what they look like...it's in a park near me. I'll go and try there.

But I hope I won't regret what I find.

Happy Birthday, Vivian!

And you are twenty-four this fine day. That Tex-Mex place you found was delicious! I'm glad you liked the CDs we gave you.

I'm feeling better now. The cough has gone away and I can talk without my throat hurting. I had my time off, now it's back on schedule.

I'm going to start looking again.

Happy Birthday to Me

So today I am 24, and still sick. I'm coughing up bloody mucus and my poor mother had to listen to me hack away all night. Due to me being sick we had to cancel the reservation to this nice restaurant. I feel so bad, but I'm even more mad at the fact that thing has something to do with my illness.

As soon as I'm better I'm going to keep up with my search.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there; you do so much for us little ones and we're eternally grateful. Keep on being awesome, moms.

Sick Dreams

I haven't been feeling so good. It started last Friday and even a week later I don't think I'll be well for my birthday. My coughs are wet and ragged, my body is weak, my head feels heavier than bricks. Doctors called it a cold, but I'm not so sure.

The other night I had another dream. I was in a field, located somewhere in the middle of a forest. Before me was the most flawless pomegranate I've ever seen. I picked it up, and from it I heard the unmistakable sound of a human heartbeat. I carried the fruit closer to the middle of the meadow and, with my nail, pried it open effortlessly. Whether it was juice or blood that flowed from it, I didn't know, but I ate the tiny seeds regardless.

I can't remember the taste, only that I ate them like my life depended on it. It finished it in seconds, the rinds withering and decaying in that same time.

Catherine stood in front of me, wearing the clothes that her body was found in: worn denim jeans, a light purple top with a floral design on the front. Suddenly her neck opened wide as did her stomach.

Her guts spilled from the wound and she mouthed words I could not decipher. Blood pooled around her and drenched her clothes like an ancient dye.

And behind her were lines of people sized Venetian dolls, staring at me emotionlessly...so why do I get the feeling that they were smiling?

I woke up feeling nauseous and so full of sadness. The rain falls on my window, mocking me.

I need to find answers. I don't care if I'm the only one who will do it.