Hello everyone. Garrett here. It has been nearly a year since the death of my close friend John Smith. I know I promised to post again when I returned, and I'm sorry for not keeping that promise. Now I'm going to explain why this happened.
On November 22nd, 2011, I went on my walk to clear my head, like I said. I spent some time exploring parts of John's neighborhood that night, parts that I had never seen before. There's actually a lot of his neighborhood that I really love, like the cul-de-sac a street away, the man-made lake around the corner from his house, and especially the wide open field down the long road that leads to the entrance to his neighborhood.
After spending around an hour or two doing that, it began to rain. I had a long way back home because I didn't realize how far off I had walked. As I started to walk back home, the rain got heavier. This really frustrated me due to the fact that I was soaking wet and it was harder to walk with my clothes sagging. I decided to take a detour through the forest because it was a quicker route.
This was a mistake.
After around 5 minutes of walking through the bushes and trees, I come across a symbol drawn in the dirt. It was the (X) symbol that John rambled about on his blog. Then I realized something: this was the exact spot where John was found. I stared at it. As I did, memories of John and I raced through my head. Memories of recess at school, playing video games at his house, birthday parties, holidays, all of it. And at that moment, I realized that I never thought about how much I really miss John. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I tried to fight them back, but I couldn't.
I crumbled down to my knees and tears streamed from my eyes.
As I continued to cry, I lifted my head to look in front of me. An abnormally tall, skinny, faceless man was standing in the distance between two trees. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I was trapped in its gaze.
As I continued to stare, the man released four long, black tentacle-like appendages from its back. He tilted his head, and a sharp ringing filled my eardrums. It sounded like hell, it was so sharp and so loud.
And then I fainted.
Last night, I woke up in a sewer. My shirt was torn to shreds and tainted with blood, as well as my jeans. I had multiple cut wounds on my chest, faces, arms, and legs. And my back was killing me. I put my hand over my cheek and felt an oddly shaped scar, which I later saw was the (X) symbol. It was literally branded onto my cheek. Branded as in BURNED.
About a foot away from me, a bloodied butterfly knife was lying on the ground. It was in perfect condition, too. It didn't belong to me, but there was someones initials scratched onto it.
"Q.Z." I don't know anyone that goes by the initials of Q.Z.
Once I got to the surface, I noticed I was in a town not too far away from my town. I immediately searched for a hospital to patch up my wounds, even though it was extremely hard to walk with my injured back. Not too far away from the manhole I climbed out of, I found a hospital that went by the name of Mercy Hospital. They took me in, patched me up, called in a chiropractor to fix my back, and I was on my way. I didn't go to the police afterwards because my story would be so unbelievable that they would call in the nice men with a new white straight jacket for me.
From now on, I'll be using this blog to keep records of what is happening to me. I'm attempting to get my life back on track and to find out what happened to me. I'll start by asking some of my friends and family back in my home town; surely they'll know something.
I'll post again on November 20th, the one-year anniversary of John's death. For now, I bid you all adieu and hope you wish me luck.
