Blog #5- New Friends
It itched at me constantly. Left me clawing at my scalp, turning and my bed, and worst of all, it had me leaving my bed altogether. Today I woke up in the strangest place yet. The dead don't scare me--death doesn't either-- but waking up under the headstone of Aaron Mose III left me shook to say the least. I looked around my surroundings and was surprised not to see any strange objects laying around. So far it had been a knife, a finger, a bloodstained shirt, and a single black sock. The black sock didn't seem as outwardly important, but it felt more important than any other piece of the puzzle so far.
My life had been intruded upon, interrupted, infested by a curiosity that seemed to be constantly punished by new clues to decipher and rewarded by interactions with Bret. Maybe that what keeps me intertwined with this whole plot.
For the third time, I woke up with no explanation of how I got there, but unlike in past instances, the ground I found myself desperately searching lay barren. By the time I gave up, my fingers were numbed by the cold and my mind by the senselessness of my desperation. I sat in the grass only to find myself immediately drawn back to my feet. They began to move beneath me and I allowed them to. I've been learning to give into the inexplicable urges and found myself dragged out onto London rd.
I didn't regain control of my own body until I saw Bret down the street. At 4 am it didn't feel appropriate to approach him, but I followed him at a distance. Yet another habit to replace my normal habits of smoking and drinking. Between following Bret, kicking frogs, and sleep walking-- or searching-- my life didn't have the capacity for more bad habits. I followed Bret, giving him a wide berth. Even from this distance, his mere presence overcame my rational thoughts. That's why I didn't question him when he entered the plant.
I turned, giving up on the chase only to find the next clue I'd been looking for. Not an object, but a person. She stood with her camera, entranced by the plant and its occupants.
I got a good look at the stranger before heading back to examine my collection of clues for yet another time. If I'm not gonna get rid of this infectious new comrade, we might as well be pals.
My life had been intruded upon, interrupted, infested by a curiosity that seemed to be constantly punished by new clues to decipher and rewarded by interactions with Bret. Maybe that what keeps me intertwined with this whole plot.
For the third time, I woke up with no explanation of how I got there, but unlike in past instances, the ground I found myself desperately searching lay barren. By the time I gave up, my fingers were numbed by the cold and my mind by the senselessness of my desperation. I sat in the grass only to find myself immediately drawn back to my feet. They began to move beneath me and I allowed them to. I've been learning to give into the inexplicable urges and found myself dragged out onto London rd.
I didn't regain control of my own body until I saw Bret down the street. At 4 am it didn't feel appropriate to approach him, but I followed him at a distance. Yet another habit to replace my normal habits of smoking and drinking. Between following Bret, kicking frogs, and sleep walking-- or searching-- my life didn't have the capacity for more bad habits. I followed Bret, giving him a wide berth. Even from this distance, his mere presence overcame my rational thoughts. That's why I didn't question him when he entered the plant.
I turned, giving up on the chase only to find the next clue I'd been looking for. Not an object, but a person. She stood with her camera, entranced by the plant and its occupants.
I got a good look at the stranger before heading back to examine my collection of clues for yet another time. If I'm not gonna get rid of this infectious new comrade, we might as well be pals.
Comments
Post a Comment