Eighth Post

This is Hell. I am certain of it. I thought that I had gotten away, but I haven't. I don't know how he found me, but I'm not surprised. Maybe one of the stupid tourists told him. They are babbling away as though they didn't speak any English, but I know that it's an act. They are spying on me just like everyone else in this G-d forsaken town. There is a fire burning in the middle of the town, books burning and causing the whole town to be a hot blazing smoking death trap. The whole town is outside, and I thought for a moment that I could hide in my house, but it's time to face the truth.  He found me, and now I'm going to pay. I saw a woman, a ghoul, a demon from Hell with blazing hair and crazy eyes. I tried to kill her, but I couldn't catch her. I took a bottle of vodka from one of the harpies that are fueling the fire, and I threw it at her, but she was too fast for me. I could feel horror in my throat, and I grabbed the harpy and hit her. She fell down, and I went after the others. I thought maybe if I could kill them all then the hell would recede, and I could escape again before he finds me. I don't think it is working. I can feel his gaze on the nape of my neck everytime I turn around.

Seventh Post

I am taking today as a sign from G-d. It is one of those days when you can practically smell freedom in the air. The sun is dripping little pools of sunlight onto the pavement, and the trees are turning bright painted green. I went to by furniture, and I suceeded.  I am now the proud owner of a futon and a coffee table. I never understood the need to nest before; I had assumed that it was just vanity, but it isn't. There is something really, I don't know, good, about owning a table. It is mine. It's the first thing that ever really was. I stood for a while today just resting with my hands pressed flat against the table's surface. Mine. You know? That's really good.

Sixth Post

It's nighttime. I stood outside the bar for almost ten minutes, trying to figure out what the Hell was going on before I realized how conspicuous I was. So I went inside. Which was dumb because I was going to the antique store. What the Hell was I supposed to do? I ordered a beer. Then I left, feeling like someone was watching me, cold shivers, ending in a sparking flash of hot running up and down my limbs. I dropped the beer bottle, unopened, on the ground in the alley. I tried to breathe, ease the tightness, calm down, but my ears were ringing, and I had to turn back, go home. I sat in the dark in my apartment with my back to the wall. I watched to door. Somewhere, out there, outside the safety of the darkness, my old life is tearing at the edges of my sanity. To-morrow. I'll buy furniture to-morrow.

Fifth Post

I saw somebody get arrested this afternoon. I don't really know what was up, but it was almost pathetic. The kid didn't seem dangerous at all. He just seemed confused. If I were getting arrested, I'd be fucking pissed. Your name goes in the records, and so you're pretty much fucked because people know where you are. Like that damn carnival. There was this fortune teller who kept staring at me like she knew who I was or something. I don't believe in that stuff, but I swear, she knew something. That's some scary shit.

Fourth Post

I went to the fair. I rode six rides. Six is a good number, not a round number. Not the number of times that people ride when they are counting. I don't know any of the people in the fair, but they don't live here. I believe in that six degrees of separation stuff, and six degrees is too damn close.

Third Post

What have I gotten myself into? I should put this out there right away. I. Don't. Fucking. Like. Cats. Or. People. I was trying to get the damn lady to go away. I didn't think I would be scheduled into her day. G-d damnit. I don't have the patience for this. Did I mention that I don't like cats? I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do? I answered my door, and what do I get for my trouble?
"I heard a gun.
It wouldn't be fun.
if I should die,
not say goodbye,
and leave my cats alone
without a home."
First off. Alone does not rhyme with home. Second off, screw the gun, you're gonna die because you're fucking OLD. And Third. Why did I agree to look after her cats?

Second Post

It's raining, but nobody in this town seems to notice the rain or...well...anything. I think it is the abundance of alcohol. I have to say that I did alright picking this place. Nobody would have expected it from me. I don't drink.
Sloshing drunks aside, people are hypocrites. When the line is black and white between "social drinkers" and alcoholics, you know it's polite society bullshit. I heard some cop at work today telling the other parking attendant not to give some drunk his keys. I say, if the disgusting idiot wants to kill himself around a fucking tree, let him. Nobody here would notice anyways. They certainly wouldn't say anything about it. That's the other thing I love about this town: everybody minds their own business.