Independence Day

I haven't really had a successful day.

You know from my last post I tried to kill myself. Didn't work, though those cuts I got from the other thing started bleeding... Which is weird, because they're just scars. Or supposed to be. I don't know. whatever.

Then my cash is starting to run low. Gonna have to use it more conservatively from now on. Maybe it's for the best.

damn.

Its times like this when I miss the simple things in life. things yoiu dont think about after awhile. Like airconditioning. Holy shit, it's hot. Its almost midnight and it feels like it's 100 right now. And then theres my ipod. Or music in general, really. I miss it. whenever I would get really emotional or something, i'd listne to stuff in order to calm my mind. Didnt matter what it was as long as it had a good beat. I'd sing to myhself but I have a terrible voice.

Found a better wifi connection earlier today, so moved what i had over here. It's next to a kind of warehouse abandonedish place, whatever the hell you call it. signal is pretty good, so I'll stick here for a while. Not like itll matter in the end.

Managed to go through some of the other blogs that are subscribed to mine. A few don't have any blogs, but doesnt matter. The ones that do count.

Like Rachael. I reaed her's first. Not sure why, but i did. Made me even more despressed. Another person dead.

Looked at a guy called the Philosopher, or something like that. don't know what he's up to except for writing a book. Wish I had the time for that. I think its about bears though, so have fun with that, dude.

another was this blog called the Refugees. I thought maybe they were in the clear, but towards the end they got fucked big time. Peter and Natalie... Damn. Im sorry for you all. I know that doesnt mean much fcoming from a guy like me, a person who hasnt really had someone personal die, but you keep your heads on your shoulders. Keep running.

Last one was the detective I mentined a while back, the one i called a fake. Fuck... i feel so bad for that. he probably didn't see it, but i feel like i'm disrespecting his memory. i'm tempted to go and edit it out now. Damn it.

I can see why so many people liked him, gave them hope. yeah, Zeke was a little over the top. But he brought something to the table, fighting back. something i don't even have the backbone to do anymore. If Zeke cant survive... we're basically screwed. if what mary or whatever the hell her name is said is true, we're screwed anyway. no way of killing Him. no way at all.

i want to test my theory out, the one i posted a while back. I don't know if itll work though, and i dont want anymore blood on my hands.

heh.. wish i could get a chuckle out of myself. hacen't laughed in a while. maybe I'l get lucky and Riddles will say something on here. unless hes dead. he's a proxy, too, but what the fuck, who cares anymore. only proxy that tried to kill me is the hobo, and im not sure if he was even trying to kill me. or if hes a proxy at all.



Just came back from the roof of the warehouse. I was ready to jump, I really was. But something held me back. I couldn't do it. And then I looked over to my right and saw the other one. It was sitting on the ledge, looking away from me, and I couldn't tell if it was it or not at first because of the poor lighting. Just a hunched-over outline.

Then it turned towards me and I saw those damn eyes...

It's always the damn eyes that get me. Not the fucking Krueger claws or the Smeagol skin. No, it's the fucking eyes. I can't describe them, but the feeling I got afterwards... It was almost like that feeling you get when you go into your bedroom and found someone's moved your stuff around. That sense of violation.

I don't claim to know Farstrider's motivations. Some claim he's the Angel of Death, some think he's the Devil. Some think he's just a fucking alien, or just a being from an alternate dimension that likes to screw with humans. Whatever it is, no one knows for certain what His motivation is. No one can know for certain if he's necessarily good or evil (though I'm guessing a lot of people are leaning towards the latter).

But there's one thing I know for certain: This thing, the one people call the Rake... It's evil. No, it's not just evil. It goes beyond that, goes beyond the meaning of evil. If there was another word to sum up just how fucking evil it is, that word would describe it.

It took Sarah's dad and turned him into bits and pieces. I'm fairly certain that it brainwashed Charlie and made everyone except me forget about him. And I'm pretty sure it did the same to everyone I knew, as well.. But it doesn't stop there. If from what I remember is true, how I used to have nightmares about a bogeyman in my room before we moved from New York, then this thing has been there my entire life. Farstrider? Yeah, fuck him, he comes for you when you're a kid and if you get away you get off easie-peasie until later. But this thing I'm sure didn't go away. No, because it's fucking evil. It's always watching, making it's move. You don't always see the pieces moving, but they're there.

So, right. I'm there on the roof, watching this thing for the first time in months. The cuts I got way back when are starting to act up, but I don't give a shit. I stare at it for a few moments, terror-stricken like some are when they come face-to-faceless with Farstrider.

I don't know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was just some part of me that had been buried for a while resurfacing, or maybe I was pulling a bluff.

I started calling the thing names.

I don't remember any specifics, so don't ask any questions on that. But I just remember this look it got on its... face. It was really subtle, and I may have imagined it, but it looked to me like it was confused.

I took a step off the ledge, keeping my eyes trained on it. It kept watching me, its head starting to turn in a way that more than creeped me out.

And as I took those steps, thoughts came pouring into my head. The depression I've had for a few weeks, the thoughts of ending it all but not being able to... I'm confident it's that thing that was sitting on the ledge. I don't know how it does it, but it did.

And by simply showing up, it made all of that go away. I'm more determined than ever to fight these things. I'm just a kid, but I'm willing to give it all I've got in order to take these things down. If I don't - if anyone affected by these beings don't, then all of the people who have died fought for nothing.

So, my first order of business?

I'm coming after you, Charlie. Or whatever you are nowadays. I know you're still out there, and I know you're waiting for me back there. And if you honestly think that a being that has a knack for impaling people on tree branches is going to stand between me and you, you're going to have a rude wake-up call.

Oh, and if the Rake or one of its slaves are reading this right now, I have just one message for it:

Nice job fixing it, motherfucker.

Season's Greetings.

Hey, everyone. Sorry I haven't updated too much since my last post; I'm thinking about getting a twitter or something in order to post regular updates without having to make a one-sentence post. If you all would like that, let me know in the comments.

First off, I want to clear a few things up.

As my active readers know, my house burned down a few months back. Luckily, my dad's side of the family has lived in this area for ages, so we're staying with some of his relatives for the time being. After the attack, my parents are starting to think that someone is out to get them, so they've contacted the police. It's not like they'll help, though, since they've got their hands full with the number of people that's disappeared.

Adding on to that, I've been out of school for a while, so I haven't seen any of my friends for a while, Sarah included. It's not likely I'm going back any time soon, which kind of sucks. I hate being shut in this house with no one to talk to. That, and... well, I don't like being alone right now.

Ever since my attack, I've had this paranoia about me. It's kind of like this 'Slender madness' or whatever they're calling it - they think they're seeing Slender Man everywhere. For me, though, it's this Rake creature. Except I'm not seeing it - I feel like it's there, like it'll come around the corner at any moment and finish me off. I fear that I'll wake one night and have it inches from my face, its claws resting on my chest...

This fear has gotten so strong that I tense every time the floorboards creak, or I see a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. Most of the time, it's just these damn cats that my aunt owns, but I only realize that after I slink back in fear.

I know what this sounds like. I know I'm being cowardly here, and that I should just get a grip. But I can't shake this feeling that the creature is lurking just beyond the realm of my vision, waiting for the opportune time to gut me.

I've read some other stories on the Rake, too. The very first one that I found said that the thing could whisper, suggesting some sort of intelligence - which is just wonderful for someone in my position. The scary thing is that hey, I've actually heard whispers at night! In fact, I think I even made a post about them! So, was that my imagination, or has this thing been stalking me for a while?

As much as I hate to admit it, I think this is the case. The farthest bit of evidence that I have of this creature being close to me is Sarah's father's murder. Remember, he was ripped to shreds in the hospital. At the time, I was thinking it was some lunatic or, and I also hate to admit this, the Slender Man. But maybe it's this thought of the paranormal that caused the creature's gaze to shift to me. If the Rake operates on a high intelligence level, maybe it also has an increased awareness level. Maybe I was so focused on seeing something supernatural, I became a beacon in the darkness within this creature's eyes.

I have another theory that goes along the lines of "Maybe the whispers are actually the Rake trying to manipulate us in our sleep", but that seems a little far fetched. Maybe the asshole is whispering for the sake of being scary; or maybe he's giving our mind subconscious instructions.

Yeah, I don't know. I may be looking too much into it.

Anyway, I'm going to try and contact Sarah soon. I might be able to learn something about her dad that will give me a better idea as to why he was attacked.

No word from Charlie, either. I think it's safe to say he's dead by this point; or maybe he's the painted hobo. Hm. That's one theory that sounds plausible...

Again, let me know if you want me to get a Twitter or something else to keep you updated.

Until next time.

- Art