I've started seeing things that aren't really there · 12:28am Jun 17th, 2014
In the street. In the trees. In the refrigerator. In the television. In the books. In the cupboard. In the car. In the notebooks. In the letters. In the electric bills. In the back of the shelf. In the back of the closet. In the side window. In the fence. In the neighbor’s dog. In the under of the sofa. In the restaurant’s kitchen grill. In the boxes of shipped dinner rolls. In the the wall in the mirror.
Numbers in places numbers shouldn’t be. Glowing, shining like a raccoon’s eyes in the dark reflecting flashlights. Can’t tell what. Blur or skitter-scatter away when I look at them head on. Might be area codes. Only clear in the peripheral, but the peripheral isn’t clear unless you’re a pilot or a speed reader. Will use a camera, then study more closely later. A more opportune time.
Someone’s in the basement, too. Won’t come out. The cats know. They won’t go down there anymore, just bristle and hiss at the top of stairs, shiver under beds, run to anywhere that isn’t the basement when the vacuum turns on or plastic bags start to rustle. Tried talking, calling down the way. Only answers in whispers. Hard to understand. Might be in the ceiling. Need a microphone, record and listen later with headphones on. Might be someone I know, or someone I once knew, or someone else entirely. Can’t tell if he won’t speak up. Can’t go down too far. Power’s out, all dark. Circuit breaker’s in the basement. Should get the power tools out of the shed before I go down again.
Neighbor’s kids keep screaming. Not even that. More like shrieking. Not sure at who or what or when. Wish they’d shut up. Having trouble sleeping, too loud.
Found a radio station. Guy’s name is Michael. Michael says he’s in the station all by himself, gotta switch out the records all on his own. Talks about firewood a lot. Don’t carry firewood across state lines, Michael says. Whole forests might rot into mushrooms if you carry firewood across state lines. Introduce foreign parasites into fragile ecosystems. Disease. No punishment too harsh for someone who carries firewood across state lines. Couldn’t find it again. Replaced by an Oldies station.
Two kinds of people alive today, Michael says. The ones here since the beginning and the ones who came later. Only one way to tell them apart. One has souls and one doesn’t. Ones who don’t have them could do anything to anyone, and wouldn’t even know it, Michael says. Can’t figure out which I am. Can’t feel a soul down there, can’t touch it, never could.
Man’s alone in the basement. Michael’s alone in the station. I’m alone up in the attic. Relation in there somewhere. Someone’s the same person as somebody else. Cats won’t go near me anymore. Haven’t seen them in days. They must know which. Animals know things people don’t. They still have instincts. I lost mine years ago. They must know which I am.
I don’t. Can’t figure it out. Only one way.
Will get the power tools out of the shed.
Update afterwards.
Some scraps from a horror story I tried to write once. Guy goes crazy, strangles his cats to death, then power drills open his belly button.
Dat last line.
Speaking of, did you recently change your name to "Overload" or have I just been reading it as "Overlord" all this time because I'm crazy?
Unfocus your eyes and peripherals become clearer
2212155
Ever since I found out that people misread the a as an r, I've started switching it back and forth every so often, just to confuse anyone who happens to take a close look at my handle.
But you're probably still crazy.
2212518
Good enough for me. :V
2213652 Solid policy.