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Trial of Leaves: Justin
TribeTwelve: Bridge to Nowhere
Dark Harvest: Log Entry #33
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Posts : 958
Current Win Points : 260
Join date : 2012-10-27
Age : 21
Location : England

PostSubject: -INSOMNIA-   Wed Nov 07, 2012 5:17 pm

The sun rises, for the third time since I last felt sleeps troubling embrace. The tiredness is all-consuming, but it is not the debilitating lack of energy that drags me into the depths of my depression, but him. He, with is arms outstretched, his face blank and his towering figure blotting out the light of day.
But today, he is not here. The light streams in, illuminating my world for the first time in innumerable weeks. I should be pleased. I should rejoice in his absence, in my momentary reprieve. But I cannot, will not, for he never truly leaves you. He visits only occasionally, yet he infiltrates your very brain, takes over your dreams. The blood spilt over my living room seems to glow in the light, a vibrant red. The stench is unbearable, poor Josh. He just sits there, eyes glazed over, hardly ever talking to me or moving. Been that way ever since I stuck the kitchen knife in him. Poor sod.

I didn't want to. He made me do it. But Josh seems to understand now. He tells me to stop being so hard on myself sometimes, that I didn't have a choice. I don’t know what I would do if he didn't speak to me any more. I struggle as it is; sometimes I think I'm losing my mind. But he always reassures me. But he’s not speaking now. And I only remember what that means when he comes around the doorway, and then it’s back to the hunt. The desperation. The pure terror.

Beckoning. Crying. Blackness. Screaming. Spinning. Trees. Blood. Vomit. Running. Running. Running. Falling. Following. Running. Running. Always running… Never stop running…

I snap back to reality, moaning, screaming for him to let me go. But he doesn't speak, or even react. He just stands and watches, but that is torture enough. I have had enough. It’s time to end this.
I stumble into the kitchen, and he follows slowly. He doesn't walk, he holds himself in the air using the shadowy tendrils that protrude from his spine, sauntering about my home as if he owns it. The rope hangs ominously from the roof of my kitchen, and I gaze through it in a state of deep depression. I was driven to this, by him, and his blank visage, something I fear will haunt me even into my eternal rest, my one final escape. This terrifies me, but there is nothing I can do. I have no choice. I see him in the doorway, watching. I think I see Josh too, staring indifferently, the blade still protruding from his chest. I take one final breath. Close my eyes. And step off the ladder.

My eyes snap shut instinctively as I fall the few inches for the rope to tense up. When I open them, he is there. Right there in front of me. Then I hear the word.

He doesn't speak it, but it emanates from him, like a pulse of energy. The rope turns black around me, and dissolves. I fall to the ground, doing nothing to break my fall. I curl up on the floor.

And I cry until the nightmares come. And they come so very easily.
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