institute

july 8 2008

Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im awake. Its not in my head. Its in my head and outside it as well. This is real. This is real and I am awake. Been wandering through the blackness of the warehouse with nothing but a candle and stumbled upon the breaker box. Time is 4:38 PM, July 8 2008. A month its been. The book came back to me. My eye caught an unfamiliar black band amongst the others on the shelf. But it was familiar. The soul in the pages called to me with a voice, a voice like my own. I touched its spine and I touched mine. Pulled it out like a lever. Stared into the cover like an abyss for 15 mins. Book lock. Locked door. In my mind. Took the key out of my sock like Id known it for years. And I did. Turned the key and the click of the mechanism corresponded to the one in my brain. Was abruptly aware of the world around me. Strange robes. Different walls. Unfamiliar sounds. But I knew them all. Think it was the smell that galvanized it. Vague stale stench of cafeteria food. Sanitized living. Pink public bathroom soap and brown corporate paper towels. Piss. Hillshire. A month its been. How did I end up here? I remember. Blew my cover. Got too cocky. Whacked the wasp nest. John called me back out. Mom was back at the table. The shiniest eyes Id ever seen, mascara running black waterfalls.

july 8 2008

John was a white hot ball of confusion and rage. “What the fuck is going on in this house?” Demanded to know what secrets we were hiding from him. Mom was mute. My heart was due to burst from the fear of seeing my leg ankle deep in a bear trap. I snapped. Something shorted in my cortex and my inhibitions were inhibited. My id was loose from its cage, fangs bared. I was ready to expose the truth. But what to say. Took me a few milliseconds scrambling for the possible words until that too was bypassed and out came something even dirtier. A lie. Soaked in truth. Oozed out of me like a slime. It was the reflex of a broken boy drunk off of a rare opportunity of power. “John. Where does Mary go Friday nights?” I could see the blood leave her face in real time. She was a statue, her voice box a vacuum. “AA meets.” “John.” He saw the seriousness in the address, my impaling eyes. “Where do you think she really goes?” I stared right through his head, could almost see the neurons I made fire. He blinked and it was all over. “Mary. What’s going on?” Felt like he was spitting a different language to her. “MARY.” Niagara falls. The cornered rat squealed. “Im almost clean, you know Ive been struggling.” “Tell me the truth. The TRUTH.” “Youre scaring me.” I had detonated a nuclear blast without warning, finally declaring war over control of the narrative. “You been fuckin around, bitch?” An unexpected lie can be more powerful than the purest truth. “No, you know thats not me.” Dropped the shell, reloaded the clip. “Then go to one of her meetings, John.” He looked to me, and I locked my reticle right between her eyes. My poker face, pumping all cylinders.

july 8 2008

Her skin, white as a sheet. “What the fuck are you doing on Fridays, Mary?” “The round table.” “Okay, lets go then.” “No.” “Why not?” I savored her sweet panic like indulging in a forbidden aged wine. “Im... not there yet.” “Is Milo telling the truth? IS HE?” Her janky hesitation was oh so pungent. “Of course not, honey.” “Dont you fucking honey me. Dont you think for a damn second that I dont know whats up. Your shits stinking to high hell.” Good nose. Pulled the trigger again, another buckshot. “Ask her who she talks to on the phone late at night.” Collective stares intensified. “Ah, so thats what youve been up to? Huh? SPEAK TO ME!” The house of cards was imploding, the bottom card between my fingers. Joker. “Hes lying!” I parried with a whisper, “Am I?” breathed right before I closed the door. So filled with determination swelling in my belly like a stoked boiler, burning almost as intense as the monoliths eternal gaze. Turning the lock felt like the ignition to a grand machine. Ear to the door, I listened to the engine whir. Screaming match, clap of flesh, dishes crashing, doors shaking the house, garage door awakened, car speeding off. A series of loud interspersed silences. I knew who I was alone with. Stuffed the journal in a covert hole in my mattress. Froze. Didnt have a plan. Unassuming cry near the door under my dresser. Not now boy. The inevitable door pounding began. “YOU LITTLE SHIT. LET ME IN!” Imagined a lizard having crawled out of a human skin. Laughed at the visual. “Do you know what youve fucking done? John was paying the bills! What are we going to do now?!” If she didnt know who she was speaking to, I made it clear as crystal.

july 8 2008

“Why dont you call your masked German friends over at AA for some financial aid?” Ghastly war cry from beyond the door. Fists turned to kicks. Door splintered open, monster in the threshold. Stood there huffing and puffing, shiniest eyes in the world, one black and blue, tethered to me. Was ready for her as much as I could ever be. Meow. Oscar emerged reluctantly. Feeding time. Heart sank. Within a blink, the lizard snatched him up in her claws. “Oscars going to the pound.” She didnt make it far, I was at her legs like bolas. Climbed up her until she fell and I gave her the savage beating I had only dreamed of. Knee to my head and the wounded reptile recoiled into her cave, abandoned tail flailing on the ground. No use sugar coating my feelings any longer. “I FUCKING HATE YOU.” Eerie silence. Blackmail time. “Im going to tell John the truth, unless you heed my demands.” Nothing. “Youre going to go to Dr. Garner and confirm that Im not crazy. That you can see him too. Then youre going to...” Bitch exploded from her room, kicked the wind out of me. Ambush. Fell back up against the couch, soaked rag pressed up to my face as I drew air. Fuck. Blackness enveloped me like a shroud, echoing the last words I heard, “Im sending you off.” I come to and men are dragging me over the welcome mat, my hands painted with blood in metal bracelets. Threw me in the back of the car. The wench telling a uniform how I suddenly lashed out and violently attacked after an argument. Had far more wounds than I gave her before the damp rag. Resorted to self-mutilation. Diabolical. The route we took was the same as when I was shopping with John. Was in shock until I saw the familiar building. Then I screamed. Kicked. Fought until they stuck me and was out again. Been out cold until the book found me. But I remember it all now and Im awake once again. In the asylum of consequence. The institute. A month its been. A month its been and she hasnt visited me once.

mockingbird

june 3 2008

June 3 2008
Oscar ran out again this morning. I went out calling for him for a few hours before giving up, he always comes back eventually. He didn’t show up until later, emerging from under my bed. I guess he must have snuck back in when I wasn’t paying attention. He hopped up on the bed and dropped something in front of me that he was carrying in his mouth. A dead mockingbird. He let out a single meow and stared at me with those big marble eyes of his, almost seeming like he was sensing my distress and trying to help me out somehow. I gave him some extra thorough rubs and took the dead bird outside. I dug a shallow grave for the bird in the garden with a trowel and buried it. Something about the black of that bird’s eyes brought me back to last month at Noah’s house. It reminded me of the dark complexion of Firebrand, the glints of light reflecting off of the bird’s eyes were like the pinholes of white that were in place of his eyes. I had turned my phone off after getting back home. The only calls I was getting at that point were only telemarketers and I had to disconnect from Noah, so I felt it was best as I barely even used the phone as it was. But, the question of whether Noah had forgotten what had happened or not had been burning in my mind ever since I got off the plane. My curiosity ended up getting the best of me and I turned the phone back on to see if he had messaged me. Like popcorn, a barrage of notifications chimed in. They were all from Noah. 12 messages. Every single one was painful. “Hope you got home safe, great to see you again!” “did you land yet? lmk when you touch down” “Milo! Next time you visit let’s have a Lord of the Rings marathon!” He didn’t remember anything. It was hard reading a one sided conversation from your best friend, but it was the last few messages that really made me violently shift my mental gears.

june 3 2008

“Hey, I know you’re probably really busy but my mom told me that your mom tried to kill my dad.” What the fuck? “A pecan pie got dropped off at his office on his birthday and he’s deathly allergic.” “My mom thinks Mary sent it” “Do you know if your mom sent it?” I was appalled. I have no proof to back it up and I have no idea of a legitimate motive, but I’m sure that she’s behind it somehow. Speaking of proof, I had to put all that on the backburner because today was the day of my appointment with Dr. Garner. I had converted the footage of Noah encountering Mr. Slim at the playground to a video file along with those photos from my phone and put it all onto a flash drive. Overcome with the same familiar ambivalence that I felt last month, I walked into her office unsure of how this was going to go. We had a standard discussion about my progress and at the end of the session I used my trip to Florida to segue into bringing up my evidence. Instead of going all out and describing what in detail, I simply told her that I had something interesting that I wanted her honest opinion on and gave her the flash drive. She plugged it into her computer and when the file window popped up I said that my cousin had shot these and I wanted her take on what she saw in them. She first clicked through the blurry shots of Mr. Slim. “Just blurry splotches. Is this your idea of a Rorschach test?” she remarked with a sarcastic chuckle. I said it was more like a Where’s Waldo test of sorts and hold her to watch the video file. At first she seemed pretty confused watching corrupted footage of a playground at night. Even when the full body shot of Mr. Slim appeared on screen, she just

june 3 2008

stared blankly like the obvious visual of a figure was invisible. “Well, I didn’t see Waldo. What am I supposed to be looking for?” she asked. “Did you see the suit?” I said, which was followed by a puzzled look from Garner. “No? All I can make out is just this playground filmed at night.” “Well, he was telling me that he was seeing someone in a suit and I figured, since you have some experience explaining these kinds of things I thought you could help me make sense of what we’re seeing.” She replayed the video and asked where I thought I saw anything. “There,” I pointed, right as the close up of Mr. Slim’s tie came on screen. She was silent, then, “I...” I held my breath. “...I have another patient waiting. I’ll take another look at this and get back to you next visit, okay?” Something felt a little off about her tone. As I left the building, I noticed that there was no one in the waiting room. I went around the back and peeked through a small gap in her blinds. She was watching the video again. She watched it several times on repeat. My heart was beating so loud I was almost afraid that she would hear it and turn around. Then there was a car horn. John was in the parking lot, waving at me. I jumped in the car and we sped off. He sternly asked what I was doing and I told him I was checking out someone inside who looked just like my old boss. He came off more irritated than usual, Mom had forgotten to get groceries and he had to do the shopping and cooking since she was bogged down with work. When we got home, Oscar bolted past us from the back yard into the house. I asked how long he had been outside again but John had no idea that he had even gotten out again. During dinner, I had this bubbling of

june 3 2008

confidence inside. I figured that Garner would no doubt see Slim eventually and finally back up my claims. Mom and John were getting into a heated argument about the upcoming presidential election. Mom kept throwing out falsities and ad hominems while John was trying his best to stay level headed. Regardless, he was becoming more and more upset, remarking about how the fresh catch was sold out at the seafood market and that the fish he bought was rotted because of this putrid smell. Amongst the yelling, I felt the sensation creep up. Glancing out the window, I saw Slim standing by the tree. My newly found confidence forced my hand and I couldn’t help myself. “Hey,” I interjected, “check out that beautiful mockingbird!” Mom turned her head to the window and screamed, nearly falling out of her chair. “What’s wrong?” John was shouting, but she was in hysterics. “Isn’t it pretty, Mom?” I teased. She glowered at me in fear from the glassiest tear laden eyes and locked herself in her room. It felt so gratifying to see her in terror for a change. John was panicking, “What did you do to her, Milo? What the fuck did you do?” and I put my hands up and said, “Some people just can’t handle politics, I guess.” As John banged on her door to let him in, I wrote a message on a napkin and slipped it into her purse. “There was no bird.” I scurried into my room, giddy with power. And then I noticed the smell. It wasn’t the fish. Oscar was sitting on my bed, staring at me, something in his mouth. He dropped it with a weak meow and licked his chops, not breaking eye contact. He had dug up the dead mockingbird. In an instant, all of my morale had turned into insecurity. I opened the window and threw the bird out. This is a bad omen. I began sinking in this quicksand of doubt. What if Garner doesn’t see anything and doesn’t back me up? What if this stunt that I just pulled with Mom went too far and I have no recourse? What if she knows I’m awake now and calls for backup? What if they take me and th    John is shouting for me. He’s demanding that we all finish dinner now. He is very angry.

tapes

may 5 2008

May 5 2008
Trying to make sense of everything that happened today has been a serious effort. I’m writing from the plane back to Alabama after my 3 day long panic attack at Noah’s this weekend and I’m still bewildered at what happened. After I finished writing the last entry, I went to bed directly into a nightmare. I dreamt that I was looking for something in the vacant lot next to Noah’s house. I had a peculiar feeling regarding the tree on the property. It appeared far too dark and smooth. I went over to touch it, but felt nothing. I was then hit with this electrical shock and when I opened my eyes from wincing I was lying down on something hard and cold in a dark forest. Surrounding above me were several figures in black hoods with masks. I couldn’t move. Out of the trees came another cloaked person, but this one I recognized from the skull. It was Henka. As I stared at his lack of jaw, I was overcome with this disturbing feeling of having a deep spiritual connection with him. He leered over me and black tendrils emerged from his eyeholes and robe, wrapping around my throat. I couldn’t breathe. When I came to I was gasping and coughing... standing in front of Noah’s garage in the dark holding his camera. It felt just as real as the dream. I couldn’t tell the difference, so I figured I was still dreaming. This nagging urge to search for something was tugging at my inner compass, so I hit record and walked around. I was nearly scared to death by an AC unit turning on before noticing that unusually dark tree again. I went closer to it, blinked, and suddenly Mr. Slim was standing right beside it. I made a mad dash back inside and took refuge in Noah’s room. I checked the footage and was surprised to find that I had

may 5 2008

caught the bastard on tape again. It’s hard to see, but a tie against white and blank head are plainly visible. At this point, I felt like I had more than enough visual evidence for both Noah and Dr. Garner, so I pocketed Noah’s tape and replaced it with one of my blanks. Despite the splitting headache, I popped another triptan and found it easy to fall back to sleep. Peace of mind is a rare commodity. I was just beginning to dream about standing over a lake looking at what appeared to be a vehicle at the bottom with its lights on when the slam of a door woke me abruptly. I pretended to be asleep as I heard footsteps drag down the hallway. I had been sleeping on a pullout mattress next to Noah’s bed, and I was shaken by a sudden movement of the bedframe. I waited in silent terror until I heard snoring. I peered over the bedside to see Noah in his day clothes, face down and sprawled across the bed. His video camera was strapped around his hand. I delicately removed it and rewound the tape. There was new footage of him walking around a playground, the one at Victor Park.* Noah was sleepwalking, but there’s no way he could have walked that far and back within the hour I went back to sleep. The end of the footage was very jarring. There’s a sudden cut and then a point blank close up of Mr. Slim, closer than I’ve ever seen before, and Noah runs out of the playground towards a light screaming. There is a shot of moving trees before a green tinted shot of someone. Someone with glasses. Kevin’s glasses. Then there is one final shot, a clear visual of me standing next to Mr. Slim at the boardwalk, tentacles branching from his torso and undulating in front of me. I’ve had a dream of that exact scene from my perspective nearly a year and a half ago. While freaking out about what I

may 5 2008

was seeing, I felt my pocket and realized that my phone was missing. I searched my bed, suitcase, my other pants, but it was gone. I took the landline and called my number. I heard the buzz of my phone’s vibration nearby. It came from Noah’s pocket. He was out cold so I took out the phone and checked it. One new audio clip, one new photo. The audio clip was Noah laughing to himself all creepy like, but the photo was even creepier. It was Noah’s face, distorted and grinning maniacally. Due to my presence or not, he was already experiencing Mr. Slim’s influence. What really threw me for a loop was seeing Kevin. No way he followed me all the way here. But then how the fuck is he on the tape? I opened it that night. Why the fuck is he involved with everything? I decided to swap the tape out again, put Noah’s tape back for now, and take both with me before I leave so I can show Garner. On a hunch, I took a sharpie and drew the eye symbol on my tape for added protection. I didn’t sleep. In the morning when Noah woke, he asked if he had worn his PJs to bed. He definitely had changed clothes that night, but I said I didn’t remember.** This flight left at 6, so now I had mere hours left to break the news to Noah. After all this time, I was still coming up short with figuring out a way to approach him about it. After some reminiscing, Noah left me alone to get some food. I took a deep breath and decided that I was going to tell him once he gets back. When he went out, he left his camera on the dock still recording, I assume on accident. It really is a nice camera compared to my old one, and I’m considering saving up for a similar model. As I was admiring it, I caught sight of Mr. Slim ogling me from Noah’s closet and I bolted out the front door. I stood there hyperventilating for a

may 5 2008

quick minute before pulling myself together, taking a deep breath, and running back inside. The more footage of Slim I get the better, I figured. This was the time to face my fears and actually do something valiant. All cylinders pumping hot adrenaline, I rushed down the hallway and into Noah’s room. The closet was empty. I then was struck with one of the worst cluster headaches I’ve ever had and collapsed in the hallway. I saw him, he was in the room across the house, peeking at me. I was nearly paralyzed in throbbing pain as he dipped into the room and instantaneously out from the laundry room a few feet away. That was the last thing I saw before I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was sitting back on the bed like I had just imagined it all. Almost half an hour had passed, the camera still in my hands. The front door shut and Noah walked in with groceries. He saw me holding the camera and asked, “Filming something?” This was it. It was time to rip off the bandaid. I told Noah that he should sit down because I had something very important to talk to him about.*** My heart was racing as he sat next to me and I turned on the camera to rewind the tape. “Have you been seeing anything unusual since I arrived?” I asked. “No, at least not that I can think of.” I asked him to think hard and he replied, “Well, other than you being a weirdo, no.” and I said, “I want to show you why I’ve been acting this way.” He gave me a dubious look. I asked if he had any AV cables to hook up the camera to the TV and he got them for me. I hooked up the camera to his TV, played back the tape starting from when I rang the doorbell, and told Noah to watch very closely and say if he noticed anything out of the ordinary. As it played, I had palpitations because I noticed something early on.

may 5 2008

I rewound and watched in silent trepidation as I caught Slim lurking in the darkness of the laundry room. I knew that I had felt him near. I glanced at Noah, he didn’t seem to catch it. I saw him again in the reflection of the TV when we were talking on Saturday and on the boardwalk as Noah ran after me. Every time he appeared in the footage, I looked back to Noah who didn’t seem phased at all. As we got to the portion that I filmed on Saturday night, Noah began to get uneasy and asked, “What the hell? Did you film this?” “Just watch,” I said. At the end of the clip where the distortion was, for a split second I saw him in the jittery frames. I rewound until I landed on the frame where the distinct shape of a tie was visible. “Do you see anything?” I questioned. Noah looked closely in this unblinking pensive stare and opened his mouth to say something but just shook his head. “Let’s continue,” I said. Fast forwarding to the next clip, we arrived at the nature trail. “Why’s the camera keep fucking up? It’s all brand new,” he said as we got to the tower clip. “It’s not the camera.” He gave me an unnerved look at that, a look that almost said, “Is THAT what this feeling is?” I will never forget that look. I paused at the point where Slim appears in the clearing of trees and saw that Noah had this odd expression on his face, like he was looking at something he couldn’t quite understand. I played through the next bit of us driving home and me filming outside, but this time Noah said nothing. We got to the point in the day where Noah went to the store and Slim appeared in the closet. There was this strange disjointed footage that accompanied what I remembered. Before ending, there was a shot of Noah’s ceiling fan, bizarre footage of the floor spinning, and a clip of the boardwalk at night. As the tape ended,

may 5 2008

I looked back to Noah who was fixated to the black screen. “Did you see anything?” There was a breathless silence. “Rewind the tape, Milo.” More palpitations. I rewound and played it again. Now, every time Slim appeared Noah blinked a few times. His mouth was slightly ajar with morbid fascination. I could tell that he still couldn’t see him, but he knew that something was there. He felt it like I did. The blinders were fading. “Again,” he said sternly and once more I rewound it. Once the tape got to the part where Mr. Slim appeared in the clearing Noah grabbed the remote from me, rewound, and paused the tape. He pointed directly to the figure, glared at me eyes wide and asked, “Who the fuck is this?” I never thought we’d get to this point. “Was he always there? I didn’t see him, but now I do. Is this a trick?” I grasped his shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes, “Last year. Do you remember the pantry? Remember the man in the pantry?” Noah’s expression slowly turned from confusion to white terror. “I... That suit...” He started to tear up, I did too. “Yes, you do remember! What did his face look like?” “...Face?” he said trembling, “There wasn’t one, man!” he shouted and started to gasp for air. I embraced him tightly and we cried together. What a powerful release of tension that was. “How could I forget something like that? Why was that thing in my house? What the fuck is going on, Milo?” I began to explain that the faceless man is a supernatural being that’s been haunting our family for years, that my mom is secretly in on it along with some religious cult, and that she’s been attempting to drug me since my childhood to keep me subservient. I told him that Grandpa Karl has a powerful book that they’re trying

may 5 2008

to get and that they’ve been using me to try and steal it from him. His face went red with overwhelming rejection and, “That’s all bullshit! You can’t be serious!” he yelled at me. I assured him that it was all true, pointing to the screen. “Why are you telling me all this now?” “Because I have reason to believe that they may be coming for you next. The fact that you can see him means he sees you now.” He shouted through tears that he didn’t want to be involved in any of this shit, but I told him that there’s no use because our whole family is plagued with this. He kept looking back and forth from me to the TV and back. “I’ve... seen him in my dreams, other times too... How have I forgotten it all...” “He wipes your memory. He erases himself.” I then told him that my mom was the one who burned our houses down and helped to sink that boat in 95 because of Mr. Slim’s influence. “Aunt Mary torched our houses? Why?!” “I think she was trying to spare us from the entity’s curse through some twisted mercy.” “How do you know all this?!” “I really don’t know, I have no proof, but a shadow spirit told me through a Ouija board.” This was far too much for him to take in, I could tell his world was spinning. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t real,” he mumbled to himself, rocking back and forth with his hands to his head in distress. I was stricken with grief at what state I had reduced my cousin to. “I’m so sorry this is the way it is, Noah, but I had to warn you,” I pleaded, “I want you to be prepared in case he...” He grabbed me tight, “I don’t want to forget again, Milo.” I identified so hard with him.**** “I don’t want to forge-” he inhaled sharply, let go of me, and backed up on the bed in fright. He pointed at the

may 5 2008

doorway, his hand covering his screaming mouth. I turned around to the doorway and fell to my knees. It was shadow Noah. He put his finger over his mouth, “Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” and gestured to Noah on the bed. Instantly, Noah was out cold. “Shadow Noah...” I began to say. “Call me Firebrand,” he smirked. It was him, the one speaking to me from the spirit board. “Praesidium Adversus Egotisticus...” I mouthed. He nodded. “You’ve done well, Milo. He is almost awake. Upon a third realization, the veil will lift and he will see the storm.” “What are you?” “The result of your efforts. Without you, Noah would be lost to the beast.” “Why are you here?” “To ensure the fidelity of the loop.” “What loop?” “The iteration of our timeline where I can do this.” Behind him, almost on cue, Mr. Slim slid in from the hallway, tentacles waving wildly. With a huge grin, Firebrand turned around and flipped him off. It was a profound moment. He looked back towards me on the floor. “You’ve assisted Noah more than you know, but your time is done here, and have a flight to catch.” “But what do I do next? I still have to tell Noah everything!” “No need. Noah is in good hands now. Keep your distance. Face the monsters back home. Open the safe. Bring your mother to justice. When we meet again, your destiny will be clear.” He then snapped his fingers and I suddenly became aware of the g-force sensation of my plane taking off. Time just skipped, it was like a record skipping forward. I took out the journal from my bag and I’ve been writing for 2 hours now. More memories are returning as I write. After the snap, I can only recall packing my things

may 5 2008

and leaving Noah’s house in the airport taxi. But I remember us being... normal. Noah seemed chipper, as did I. We were on some kind of autopilot, but I’m not sure if he has forgotten everything like last time. I just remembered the tapes. There’s only one in my bag, my tape with the symbol. Most of the footage of Mr. Slim is back on Noah’s tape, and it’s far too late to go back for it. Even though I completed the mission I set out to do after drowning in indecision for days, I’m now faced with even more indecision. That close up of Slim on this tape should be enough for Dr. Garner. I’m seeing her in a month. If I really need to, I’ll contact Noah for a copy of his tape. But, should I even contact him at all? What if he really has forgotten? What if he’s been wiped to the point where he doesn’t remember filming? What if he doesn’t remember my visit at all? My anxiety has returned with a vengeance. I’m not sure if I could handle another best friend not remembering who I was. I guess I’ll know when he contacts me next, if he contacts me at all. What if I ask him for a copy of the tape, he watches it, sees Mr. Slim, and permanently wakes up to his existence like me? If this Firebrand guy was telling the truth, and I have no reason to doubt him at this point, then Noah is going to be okay without my aid. If a paranormal being trying to help tells me to keep my distance, I’m not one to argue. If I have any contact with Noah it may only serve to further complicate this master plan.***** I’m going to refrain from any contact with Noah until I can get a better handle on this situation or until I hear otherwise from Firebrand, but for now I must focus on what he told me... facing the monsters back home, cracking open that safe, and dealing with that conniving wench of a woman that I call Mom.

*i had thought that milo had filmed this footage for the longest time. it was me.

**i vaguely remember wondering why i had slept in my regular clothes but disregarded it. i also didn’t even recognize my own distorted face until i read this. i hate it.

***i don’t remember any of this happening other than returning from the store and milo leaving right after.

****reading this broke me. i wish i could remember this. i wish i could relive that bonding moment.

*****it all makes sense now, why milo went silent. he was trying to help me. i don’t blame him for how he acted, especially after what he was experiencing. i just wish that i could tell him that i understand exactly what he was feeling and that he wasn’t alone. to think that he died never hearing that from someone feels like a knife twisting in my chest.

trail

may 4 2008

May 4 2008
I woke from a coughing fit with an awful migraine at 4 AM. The more I think about it, I’ve always coughed more than usual on my Florida trips. But it’s really bad now, I hacked too hard and some chunky blood came up. I drank some Robitussin that I found in Noah’s bathroom and that seemed to help a bit, but my anxiety was shooting through the roof. I went to get my benzo but I’m fresh out. I’ve been taking too many these past few days and I can’t refill for at least another week. My head pain was a more pressing issue, it was extremely uncomfortable. I don’t have any headache medication with me. I tried to ride it out and fall back asleep, but it felt like my brain was being squeezed from the inside and there was no way I could knock myself out with that level of pain. But, I had an idea. Yesterday, Noah showed me this Sodoku Rubix cube he had that was jammed in place and I offered to try and fix it. I asked for an X-Acto knife and he pointed me to the first kitchen drawer. In that drawer were some pill bottles under his dad’s name. One of them was a drug that ended in “triptan”. From my research into medication, I knew that triptans are a class of medicine used for the treatment of migraines. There were definitely a few left in that bottle. I very much didn’t want to go out into the house alone in the dark, his presence was as strong and near as ever. But then I remembered Noah’s camera. Slim hates cameras, so I can at least ward him off and at most have a perfect opportunity to capture proof of his existence. So I took the camera and went to the kitchen, sticking the lens in every open area like spraying bug repellant. I got to the

may 4 2008

drawer and took one tablet. As I swallowed, I swore that I saw something move outside. As I filmed out the window, there was an intense jolt of pain in my neck and I fell. I thought it was a thunderclap headache, but I soon realized that I was struck with something solid from behind. I looked up and I vaguely recall seeing something there on top of the fridge that wasn’t there before, but I can’t remember what it was. I ran back to Noah’s room and blacked out. I don’t remember anything else after getting inside. I woke up on the floor a few hours later to Noah standing over me. I said that I have a sleepwalking problem and left it at that. At least my migrane was gone. While Noah showered, I took the camera and watched what I had filmed. I didn’t seem to have captured anything other than some garbled footage near the end. After breakfast, Noah decided that we’d head out to Victor Park again so we could check out the nature trail and an observation tower. Everything within me was imploring me to object, citing the recurring nightmares I had based there, but I ended up humoring him. I knew I was so fucking close to getting Slim on camera and I may not have this chance again. It felt like he’d been closing in with every passing hour and there was something about that park that seemed to draw him out. So we went. I noticed that this black car was following us wherever we drove, might have been coincidence even though it looked vaguely familiar to me, like from a dream. I wonder if Mr. Slim can drive. Once there, we walked past a dog park and a memorial playground before starting down the trail. If my childhood hadn’t been tainted by repeated visions of this place then maybe I would have been able to admire its natural splendor a bit more because it was a very pretty trail. We made it to the trail tower, which was taller than the boardwalk tower but closed off for some reason. I was pretty relieved that we couldn’t climb it. I always

may 4 2008

envision falling and it freaks me out. We instead took a break at the picnic table beneath the tower. I had a turn with Noah’s camera to film around for a bit, but saw nothing. Even though the boardwalk was a mile away that whole area still exuded this threatening energy, there was no doubt that Slim was near. We continued on and Noah got a phone call from his dad. He handed me the camera and I swung it all around hoping to catch him. And then I did. Through a clearing in the trees, a figure in black peered down at us. My skin tingled violently at witnessing him and my fight or flight response had me running. I was thrilled, I felt like I had just shot the National Geographic photo of the year, and at the same time completely terrified as I was being subsequently chased by the subject of my shot. I felt him trail behind me as I ran, and I didn’t stop until I reached the car. Once I came to my senses, I realized that I had totally left Noah in the dust and that I was going to have to explain myself. Noah didn’t seem to have run after me and as the minutes passed I began to worry why he was taking so long and contemplating if I should go back in after him before it got too dark. Finally he made it back to the car and I just said that I wanted to go home. I expected him to be annoyed with me, but he expressed more of a concern than anything. What a guy.* The car ride back to the house was excruciatingly silent. Eventually he asked why I ran. I told him not to worry about me. We had a speechless dinner and I retreated back to Noah’s room

may 4 2008

where I am now writing this entry. I had a mini heart attack as he filmed me write. Who knows who Mom is keeping an eye on, who knows what’ll happen if she sees me writing in here on YouTube or something. I asked him if he was going to post our footage anywhere publicly and he said that this was only for his personal records, so I breathed a sigh of relief.** It was a brief relief however, because now that I have something legit on camera I must follow through with my prime objective, to present it to Noah. I only have one day left here to spill the beans to him. I’ve waited long enough. I’m still going to try and capture more footage of Mr. Slim, but tomorrow is the day that I tell Noah about him. Okay so just now before bed I took a look at my phone and found a bunch of pictures timestamped from Saturday night. There are six new photos. Three of them are unintelligible, the other three undoubtedly show Mr. Slim. They’re still very blurry, but he’s clearly front and center in the images. I guess I took them that night. Even more evidence to show Noah. I’m still unsure how exactly I’m going to give him this insane sounding talk, but the longer I hold off on doing it, the harder it’s going to be and the harder he’s going to take it. But it must be done. Tomorrow.

*i actually remember walking back to the car being fairly annoyed at him for acting so bizarrely, not understanding why he was inexplicably running. but as the context deepens, it hurts even more knowing what he was going through on his own. it seems like we all end up running from him. we’re all driven by that same fear. we’re all alone.

**circumstances have since changed, so i'm sure he would understand.

boardwalk

may 3 2008

May 3 2008
Now that I think about it, I don’t think that there’s been a time where I haven’t seen him during takeoff. He’s usually standing somewhere on the tarmac, so very out of place. And there he was yet again. He was following me to Noah. As soon as I felt the wheels of the plane leave the runway, this latent panic attack that had been creeping up on me, festering inside me like an inflamed appendix burst open. Half of me was committed to helping Noah, and the other half was screaming to run down the fuselage, unlatch the door, and just jump. Too easy. I was at war with myself, questioning if I should even be on that plane to Florida at all the whole flight. There wasn’t much turbulence, but every jarring tremor I prayed that the plane would just fall out of the sky and decide my fate for me. I threw up twice. Stepping out of the taxi to see Noah’s front doors once again, I was still overwhelmed with indecision. I had all this time to think, but the ever accumulating mass of internal distress had turned me to procrastination. I was just about to enter his damn house and I didn’t have a solid plan of action. Behind me, I felt that all too familiar sour sensation, like reality itself was rippling from a metaphysical stone toss nearby. He was already here. I took a deep breath, rang the doorbell, and opted to play things by ear. I felt that maybe hanging with my cousin like we used to in the good old days might clear my head. Should have known better at this point. Seeing Noah again was both a wonderful and gut wrenching experience, especially since he was so happy to see me. He pulled out a newly bought video camera and it felt like he had just drawn a gun at me. Could he have been seeing him already? No way I was going to interrogate him right then and there. Something instantly felt off as soon as I step foot inside this house. It was

may 3 2008

exactly like that funny feeling you get in the back of your throat right before you get sick, that same foreboding feeling. But it was walking down the hallway when I realized that I felt Mr. Slim within his house, like right beyond the walls. I tried my damndest to act like a normal human being, but knowing that he was only meters away from us had me drowning in anxiety. I’m convinced he was at least a room away from us the entire day. I already can’t wait to leave. I got settled in and we played some Paper Mario and watched Aladdin like when we were children, an eternity ago now. My thoughts were still as conflicted as ever. The Ouija board told me to show him, I’m assuming it was referring to Mr. Slim, but who knows who the hell this Firebrand spirit is? Just because he knew my favorite song doesn’t mean I should trust him. I kept trying to formulate some kind of strategy to segue our conversation into what I had traveled across the country to relay, but I was really at a loss. At least Noah’s presence managed to calm me enough to be able to enjoy myself, despite my mind being helplessly stuck in a death spiral of thought loops and the fact that a goddamn reality monster was observing us through the walls like rats in a maze. Noah had mentioned wanting to show me that park near his home since construction on that boardwalk had been completed last year. As much as I was frightened from all those visions of that damn Victor Park place, I had this morbid curiosity to visit it. If the powers that be have been showing it to me for a reason, might as well find out why. And when I saw the bastard himself peek out from the doorway at us, I was more than happy to leave that fucking house for a while. Noah let me fiddle with his camera

may 3 2008

as he drove, it was way nicer than mine was. Then an idea hit me. Since Slim is uncomfortably close now that we’re hanging out, if I’m able to catch him on camera and then show Noah… maybe I can wake him up again? Worth a shot. Plus, then I’ll have footage to show Garner. Two birds with one stone. And, since he hates having his picture taken, if anything I can shoo that fucker away, if only temporarily. It’s a win win. After lunch we stopped at the boardwalk and walked into the path between the walls of trees. As beautiful as it was, it was deeply unsettling walking around a place that haunted my nightmares years before it was even erected. Every step inward was accented with a hint of deja vu, and as we trekked further down the pathway, I was dismayed to realize that the place had the same exact threatening aura that Noah’s house had. The whole time I had this feeling of being followed, though no one was ever behind us. I felt it particularly strongly at the top of the boardwalk tower, and when I spotted his lanky silhouette poke out from amongst the trees and move toward us, the very same vision from one of my childhood dreams, I panicked and ran down. When I got a hold of myself, I tried to brush it off by recounting some classic anecdotes from years past. Reaching the end of the boardwalk, it felt so oddly quiet. There were some other people fishing at the pier, so I figured that maybe Slim retreated for now. But it was far too placid. Something wasn’t right. Sure enough, as we were walking back to the parking lot, the hair on the back of my neck shot up as I felt his presence return… but this time it felt like a tidal wave approaching from behind us, and fast. I lost my cool again and booked it back to the car. The sensation subsided

may 3 2008

once I reached the parking lot, but I collapsed to my knees in terror, completely consumed by just how much I felt affected by it. I only experienced that degree of impending doom once before, but it was from the safety of one of those boardwalk dreams. In real life, it proved to be so much more alarming. It felt that if we didn’t leave there at that exact moment, the trees themselves would come to life and spring downward, shutting on us like a snare trap… which is exactly what happened to me in the dream. I still have no idea why that damn place has any significance or why it has been so incessantly advertised to me in my sleep like a goddamn timeshare from hell, but there’s no doubt that there’s some kind of potent energy that envelopes it. The trip back home was awkward and silent. I had really confused Noah at this point, and I was in no shape to even begin to lie to him coherently about why I had spazzed out and ran off on him multiple times, so I saved face and kept up the act of aloofly pretending that everything was fine. But it really wasn’t. I kicked myself for not just taking the camera from Noah and filming Mr. Slim when I saw him. I won’t let that opportunity pass by again. I may have other chances to snag his image while I’m still here, in fact, I’m counting on it. As I write this entry, I can see him in my mind’s eye. He’s scoping us out like packages of meat at the butcher counter. But I’m scoping him right back. He’s not escaping the viewfinder this time.

*all of milo’s actions make complete sense now given the context of what he was experiencing, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept now that he’s gone.

summoning

april 26 2008

April 26 2008
One of the existential quandaries that has troubled me all my life is the uncertainty involving what happens to the self after death. Is there a next level of reality waiting for us, or does the mind just cease to be after falling into the void of eternal sleep? I’m not sure what to believe. Belief in general has been a fickle thing for me, something I continue to struggle with rationalizing to this day. Sometimes I wish I was carefree like Oscar, oblivious to the terrors of the world and perfectly content in his old age watching birds from the windowsill, his only worry being if feeding time is late. I’m certainly not a religious person, not because I’ve stopped attending a place of worship but because the tangible confirmations that the scientific method provides have always made more sense to me than unverifiable hearsay from sacred texts, and thus has been more mentally comforting. However, given all of the first hand paranormal experiences and direct contact with supernatural beings that I’ve had throughout my life, I can definitely say that I’m not an atheist. I used to think I was agnostic, but I’m not sure I can call myself that anymore since I have personal evidence of their handiwork and I can’t claim that their existence is entirely unknowable. But what does an agnostic call themselves when forced to acknowledge occurrences that transcend all reasonable logic? Uncertain? I guess the only thing I do truly believe in is the certainty of uncertainty itself. There will always be some level of uncertainty to all things and I’ve come to embrace it, because the quest for certainty requires

april 26 2008

tolerating this uncertainty. Not knowing is more terrifying than knowing, and to be comfortable with this notion is the only way to obtain knowledge in the face of a terrifying enigma. So, since the beginning of last year I’ve fought my fears by doing research on spirit boards and their proper use. Kevin and I didn’t use the board safely, and if I wanted to try again I didn’t want to make the same mistakes. We didn’t meditate beforehand, draw a salt circle, or use any protective measures. I think I’m a medium because I have a higher awareness to inexplicable phenomena, so I feel that I already have a better likelihood of making contact with transcendent entities. But this time I’m on my own. The last thing I want is to involve, or infect, anyone else. I felt like I had done an apt amount of research and planned for today to perform a proper summoning. Since Mom and John had planned to go out to some local concert in the evening, tonight was an ideal time to try it all again. I meditated in my room all day until they left and once they did I set up my room for incantation. Because I couldn’t find any real Ouija boards, I made my own homemade spirit board out of a pizza box and a shot glass. I lit some candles and sage incense, turned off the lights, and poured a circle of salt around the board and I. Flipping the board over, I drew the intersecting eye of protection, repeating the mantra, “protection against maleficent beings”. I cleared my mind and introduced myself to the board as a humble mortal with an affliction requesting connection with the

april 26 2008

spirit world for assistance. After a moment, I touched the glass and asked if anyone was out there. No response. After a few tries when I was about to try more meditation, the hair on my neck stood up. I felt a presence enter. The candles flickered and dimmed. I asked again if anyone was out there. I couldn’t tell if it was me or the glass itself, but it began to move and stopped on YES. I collected myself and asked who has joined me and the glass spelled out answers. FIREBRAND. What are you? ROGUEGOD. Are you friend or foe? The glass didn’t budge at first, but then spelled out SHADOW and slid upward, stopping between YES and NO. Ominous. I was speaking to a shadow person. My hands were trembling as I asked what the shadow people are. CURSEDSOULS. I asked why. SEVEREDFLESH. I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but I decided to keep going and ask more clear questions. Is Noah in danger? YES. If I am the current target, what is Noah? NEXT. Should I tell Noah? SHOWHIM. What happened to Kevin? COLLECTED. Why is he taking pictures of me? SPYING. For who? ARCHVASSAL. Why are they doing this to me? ENDSESSION. I wasn’t sure if this was an answer or a request to end the correspondence, so I asked if they wanted to end the conversation. NO. May I ask you more questions? YES. I was shocked at not only how well this was working, but how eager this being was to answer my questions. I wanted to try something a bit more dangerous. Since

april 26 2008

asking about Mr. Slim caused him to appear, I asked if it’s safe to ask about the big man. SAFEFORNOW. What is he? ADMINISTRATOR. What does he administrate? SESSION. What is the session? CURSE. How do I lift the curse? SACRIFICE. Sacrifice what? EVERYTHING. These answers were getting a bit heavy, so I went on a limb and asked something more challenging. How do you know all this? IKNOWALL. Can you prove it? ASKSPECIFIC. I thought for a moment and asked something only I knew. What’s my favorite song? BLACKESTEYES. I was stunned. I’ve never told ANYONE that Blackest Eyes by Porcupine Tree is my favorite song, but somehow this nebulous manifestation knew. At this point, the burning questions that I really wanted to know the answers to bubbled to the surface. Did Robert die in the fire? I started crying before the glass stopped at NO under my shaky fingers. I asked where my father is now. ORDER. What caused the fire? ARSON. I held my breath. Who set the fire? MARY. I screamed in anger. Why? SELFISH. Did she burn down Noah’s house too? YES. Screamed again. Why? TWISTEDMERCY. I felt nothing but white hot rage. Did she blow up the boat in 1995? ACCOMPLICE. What can I do to stop her? SAFE. Is there another key to open it? The board went silent. I asked again. Nothing. Then, it moved. SHECOMES. I heard the front door open. They were home early. Shit. I slid the Ouija pizza box under my bed, blew out the candles, and threw some clothes from the hamper on the floor

april 26 2008

to cover up the salt. Mom barged in and said that the concert was bad so they left and brought back Burger King, which fucking sucks because I’ve been completely turned off to Burger King since that awful lingering stench traumatized my nostrils in the car back when we went to Karl’s place. She complained about the smell from the incense and candles but was none the wiser of my seance. I kept my cool as best I could staring into the glassy eyes of the woman I call Mom, but with every fiber of my being I wanted to jump up from the floor and beat the fucking shit out of her. This witch of a woman destroyed our family. She burned down our homes. She’s an accomplice behind the boat incident, meaning she’s somehow responsible for the deaths of Tommy Henderson and Sonia Maxwell. She’s the reason why Dad isn’t here... but he’s still alive somewhere, something to do with “ORDER”. I need to get in that motherfucking safe, I know in my heart that there must be something dirty as shit in there that will incriminate her. But first, Noah. I have to tell him what’s just beyond the horizon. I have to prepare him for the storm. I have to show him the beast. One more week. I keep hearing whispers.