Blatant LOPE ripoff (Where is Everybody?) sixth

May 30, Sunday. It's finally clicked. Another day I like to go easy on, and it's finally got to me. I always detested my entire family. I never desired their presence, because they were always there. I never went to them or made any point of paying visits, because they would always come to me whether I asked them or not. What now? I would tell them to leave me alone, and they occasionally would. Now I'll never see my brother, my mother, my father, or my cousins again. I have long since abandoned the hope this is all a dream or a delusion. I have since the end of the second day. Even if I encountered them, they'd be unrecognizable, save the fact they know my home address and certain details about my life. They wouldn't even sound the same even if they spoke English. How's that for a laugh? I'd rather not write or talk about this any further. I didn't hate them. I merely scarcely got any substantial moments to myself.

Kind of related: Sweet Stuff told me a few things about herself this morning. Namely the fact that she was engaged to be married. Her fiance Herbert was the last person she saw before she woke up like this. She said she would often kiss him with vigor and excitement, see movies with him, eat with him, the works. They would even spend evenings together at her place. But they never did a certain thing most people have done by the time they were sixteen. She told me she wouldn't try it until it's legal. Now she might never have that chance. Poor thing. I don't like pity. I think pity is a deplorable trait, yet I pity this mare. I don't know why. I usually think pity is a deplorable trait that benefits no one. Yet here I am feeling sorry for someone who obviously doesn't want me to feel sorry for her. What's becoming of me? Perhaps it's this whole scenario where the eleven of us are the only people left on earth apparently. Getting stuck in alien bodies surely doesn't help. Yet I still had the audacity to be cross at Will for something that wasn't important. Who cares about burial now? No one will remember them, and there is no society left to speak of. Besides, his sacrifice, none of which were his own, personally benefited us all. Of course, I wouldn't tell this squeamish mare what we saw, nor this guy we just picked up. He had every right and reason to be skeptical of us, and we blew in his face. Yet he somehow made Anthony and I jittery just by his mere presence; His aura did not agree with us, something that never happened with Will and I. Am I having bad intuitions that don't benefit us? I want to think that this will make me grow up, become more mature than I usually am. Sweet Stuff felt like a sister just in the brief time we knew each other, but now I know some of her tale, I can only see a tortured soul. She had something great coming, then this disappearing event took it all away. My life was average, so I didn't feel gypped of anything I had to work for or earn. Family is something you have just by existing. You don't need to work on it. Marriage and children are things you must go for unless you have a prearranged one. Back to her, Sweet Stuff still wouldn't tell me her real name. I could always go back to her place and look at the photographs, and read her expressions at each one to indicate whether that's her or not, but we still have bigger things to worry about. I could also read her calendar, diary or whatever pieces of paper she has lying around the house to read off of, and see any mention of a name. She probably even has an ID someplace. I'll make due with Sweet Stuff. I'd like to like her.

The bug guy introduced himself as Val De Lump. He stated that on his first day, the Twenty Fifth, he was in the office with a drink, thinking it was all a hallucination from his intake. When he noticed the time was near twelve noon, he wondered what was up, as he came in around eight. Then he slapped himself when he found out he somehow ignored that fact that from ten to twelve, he somehow missed the fact that the place was empty. Empty? He also ignored the fact that he was crawling the whole time rather than walking. When the place was searched, he found no trace of anyone, and quickly scavenged all the nuts he could find. If anybody turned up, the worst they could do was fire him, or throw him out. Fortunately, that didn't happen. Unfortunately, something worse did. After he ate all the nuts, his stomach was clear, but his mind wasn't. The next three days he spent locking the place up tight, and seeking anything he might find. He discovered some beef jerky in his neighbor's desk drawer. He later found several straw hats plus his own, then he found the most abundant thing in the garbage: Non-caloric paper. He took it all. His hunger would be satisfied for an hour or two. Then it would creep back.

Eventually we turned up. He thought we were only a hallucination or a daydream. He didn't buy we were real at first since he heard voices that turned out to be only figments of his imagination. Finally he humored himself and took a look out the window, and saw us. Four weird looking aliens that vaguely resemble horses seeking him out. He was too afraid to approach, so he only kept still and observed from a distance. He exhaled a sigh of relief even though he couldn't know why he was afraid. Five days damn near of not seeing an animal of any kind, not even birds or real insects was about to burn his brains out of his buggy head. The rest is history. Except what he felt.

As he came nearer us after leaving the banister, he got stronger, a seemingly non psychosomatic reaction to being near us. He said it was as if just being around us was allowing him to read our feelings whatever they were. He could taste the terror and disgust in us, like acid, like something bitter. Yet he could taste Monica's curiosity, his surprise, his shock, which was more fulfilling, like meat almost. Since then he hasn't eaten a thing, and has felt no inclination to biting, chewing, or swallowing anything solid. Water has been enough. He also says that fulfillment got greater when he stepped into this house, as the occupants welcomed him.

Now that I'm getting a more through look at him, his beetle likeness is actually more slight and less strong. Those were extra legs at his side, which made him seem more insect like, but this morning he only had four. He claimed that on the first day, he had a miniature human shape, like a cartoon dwarf, then when he noticed and payed attention, he panicked, then his form contorted into the insect like thing we see now. He had only four at first, but when he noted his bug-like form, he noted that in spite of the giant pupil eyes and antennae, his mouth and lack of abdominal legs were decidedly more human and horse like than insect like. As he thought this, his new legs grew out, shrinking his bulkier torso ever so slightly, and making his front and rear legs take on an insectoid shape they didn't have at first. And that's how we saw him. Now he presents himself the way he really looks. I asked if he would try to shape himself into that midget man again. He shook his head and said it's tiring, and he'll try it in the morning tomorrow.

I believed the story about his shape being altered at will, but not so much his emotion eating. He didn't say it outright, but he did say that's what it felt like. Like strong feelings give him power. I wasn't sure I bought that, yet I would keep open minded just the same. When Anthony and Will heard it, they both laughed. I couldn't see the joke in this, and felt left out. Oh well.

The gryphon, who calls herself Pickering, approached me and said she had spent the early hours picking irises and dandelions and poppies, and the others tried some in my absence. They all did, and suffered no ill effects. I was hesitant to eat anything that wasn't rose until Vinnie, the sweetheart of a lady that she is confirmed this. I decided to trust her. It wasn't bad. I spent the rest of the day with my staticy radio on hoping to hear something. So far, I got nothing. Soon. Hopefully someday soon. Vinnie and Val De Lump and Pickering, and the dog woman named Samantha all went out into the dusk and came back forty five minutes later with loads of matches, gasoline, and what looked like pieces of broken fence posts. I am writing these mere moments after they scavenged. I wonder where they went looking for it, and I wonder if he told them about his alleged "feeling feeding" yesterday. I guess tomorrow I will ask Mr Non Eater if he can do his tricks in front of us. I'll buy many things in this disaster, but not that. I may have been too excited to notice his lack of extra legs, and mentally edited them in.

--Till tomorrow, Alex Chance Torrez.