I got too close to the window.

Dreams of Raindrops on the Window

My dreams have been seeming rather normal lately; dreams of friends, family, memories past, school, mixtures of the four, regular things. Though, lately I've been having strange-feeling dreams. Not strange dreams, strange-feeling dreams. One dream in particular is a dream that is sort of recurring dream.

I lay in my bed during a winter night. I'm wrapped up in a warm bundle under two layers of blankets. I can hear rain trickling onto my bedroom window, which's curtains are closed. It's soothing, calm, peaceful. A few seconds go by, all is well, I'm about to fall asleep, when suddenly, there's a tapping at my window.

Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap.

My head flings to the right, looking at the window. It sounds like some sort of bird is tapping the glass. Silence. Then again.

Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap.

My heart falls into my stomach. It's not just some bird tapping the window; the tapping is ensuing.

Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap.

I slowly get out of bed, folding the covers over my legs and pulling my legs from under the covers. I step out of bed and make my way towards the window.

Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap.

I start to pass my bed.

Tap.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Just one tap? That didn't seem to fit.

No other taps come after that. I wake up soon after a few seconds of silence.

This dream has been recurring for the past week. I get a little closer to that window each time.

Better brings worse.

I've been sleeping better than I have in the last few months lately. Sure I have a nightmare here or there, but otherwise my sleep has been tremendous. I've also made a lot of new friends through video game club. They seem to want to see me more than my old friends.

My attempts to get my friends to speak to me haven't been too successful. I've been finding them at school during lunch, calling them, even going to their houses. They were virtually silent during lunch, they never answered the phone, and they were never home. I was only successful with one friend on the phone, Tyler. Here's a little transcript of the call:

(phones rings 5 times when Tyler finally answers)

Tyler: (silence)

Me: Hello?

Tyler: Hi.

Me: Hey! Is this Tyler?

Tyler: Yes.

Me: This is Garrett Silvano. What's up?

Tyler: Nothing.

(silence)

Me: Oh. Okay. Uh, how have things been?

Tyler: Fine. Different.

Me: Different how?

Tyler: Different.

Me: Oh, haha, alright. Uh, how are you feeling?

Tyler: Fine.

Me: Fine-good? Or fine-bad?

Tyler: Fine.

Me: I guess that means somewhere in the middle?

Tyler: Why did you call me?

Me: Well, I just figured that we could get the ball rolling with the rest of the gang again, you know? Hangin' out like we used to? Beach days? Video games? Riding around town in Mike's car?

Tyler: I have more important business.

Me: What do you mean?

Tyler: I have more. Important. Business.

Me: Are you okay?

Tyler: What are you typing on the computer?

Me: Oh, I, uh--

Tyler: Are you recording this call?

Me: What? No, I--

Tyler: Delete whatever you're typing.

Me: Wait, why? I'm just--

Tyler: Nevermind. I'm sorry for that.

Me: It's oka--

Tyler: I have to go.

Me: Oh, okay, see you la--

(Tyler hangs up in the middle of my sentence.)

Tyler was extremely monotoned until he questioned the typing. I don't know what was wrong with Tyler, but I'm going to have to confront him again.

Three months later.

Things are... almost the same as before.

I've been doing well in school; the year's winding down a bit, caught up with some old friends, the lot. I've started taking some extra-curricular activities, like video game club at school. Who would have thought that some of these kids at my school still play games from the 90's and back? Oh, the countless rounds of Shaq-Fu that we played.

Through all of this, two things have struck my curiosity:

For one, I've noticed the initials Q.Z. to be recurring. I first saw these initials on the butterfly knife that was lying next to me in the sewer, and I've seen it written in several places around my school, including the single-stall bathrooms, lightly written in pencil and in very minuscule areas. I'm holding onto that knife just in case.

Secondly, I've noticed my friends are a bit more distant from me since I've come home. Maybe they're just feeling a bit weird having me just pop back into their lives after nearly a year with no explanation as to what had happened to me? I don't know. It just feels like they're not around as much anymore.

I will update this blog with more details of what things happen around here that are worth documenting. But for now, I need to get back to homework.

Sincerely,
Garrett

The Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss

For these past few months, I've been trying to get my life back together.

I found my parents again. I had a really tough time trying to tell them what had happened to me for a year. I told them that I had been kidnapped, escaped, and ran away to another city, and that my kidnapper had committed suicide. And they believed me. Telling them the truth would just get me locked away in an asylum.

My old school let me back in, but I have to repeat my junior year. I used the same story with my guidance counselor as I did with my parents. Still worked. I have all of my old classes: Analysis of Functions, Chemistry, Programming, English III, Spanish III, Outdoor Ed, and I've been forced into an Intensive Reading class because of my "absence".

All of my old friends still remember me. Reuniting with my old friends Mike, Kyle, and Dana was wonderful, using the same story on them. I felt bad about lying to them, but I don't want them getting sucked into my screwy ordeal. We hung out at lunch, caught up on each others' lives, and we all went in Mike's car down to this shopping center called the Pavilion after school. We messed around in various stores, got kicked out of one of them by a cop, and bought a rug for no reason whatsoever. It actually fits quite nicely in my room. It has two dragons of different colors on it shooting fire at each other: one was red and the other was blue.

But the entire time we were at the Pavilion, I felt this... very uneasy presence. At a lot of moments.

But all in all, I'm loving this new start to my life.

Oh yeah, and this was waiting for me on my desk when I got home. I'm guessing this isn't quite over yet.

You'd think that after a year

They would have solved John's murder by now.

But no.

It remains unsolved.

Jesus H. Christo.

What Has Happened

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.

John's "box"

Hey guys, it's Garrett. I received news about what happened to John. A few days ago, he snuck out of his house in the middle of the night and went to the woods behind his house. He brought along his pistol and two large kitchen knives. Apparently, some kids found him lying in the woods the next morning. He was lying on top of a dirt drawing of the (X) symbol he mentioned in a few of the previous entries on this blog. The paramedics told me that when they found him after a 911 call, his body was mangled. He had multiple, deep gashes all over his body. He was also missing both of his hands and his right ear, and his right foot was dangling from a single patch of flesh. He was also bleeding from his ears, mouth, and nose profusely. Both of the kitchen knives were bent and the pistol's barrel was bent at a very acute angle.

The paramedics told me that John wanted to give me a message. John told him to tell me, "I almost had him."
Seconds after he told him that, he passed away from extreme blood loss.

After that, I checked his blog to see if he left it anything that might explain what happened to John and I came across his last entry first. I did what he said and I looked through his room and I found a small, brown, wooden box. I opened it up and inside was the username and password to John's blog. And, as you might imagine, that's how I got onto his blog to write this. When I saw John's parents again they asked me so many questions that I had no answers to.

I'm going to miss you, John. You were probably my best friend. I'm just thinking back to when we were younger, when we used to hang out with Zach, when we played paintball in the woods, our birthday parties, all of that. Those were the best times of my life, and it crushes me that we can't make more memories. This has to be the worst part of my life right now. I hope to see you, Zach, and Jared soon. Hopefully we'll be together again in Heaven someday.

Whoever did this to John is going to pay a large price for what they have done.

I think I'm just gonna go take a walk. Walking this off might make me feel better. I'll post again when I come back.

R.I.P John Smith, Zach Timbs, and Jared Nathan
God bless you, your friends, and your families.

Garrett

I don't know what's going to happen to me from here on out. I've been planning to solve everything, but what I plan on doing might not pull through. I'm not going to say what it is because I know someone that will read this will try to stop me.

That thing hasn't left my life for a moment since this started. I think about it every day, all day. I can't go a single day without thinking it will be my last. I've watched people around me die because of this thing, and I know I've been the primary target.

I feel like bringing up this topic since I haven't mentioned it in a while: That guy that walked up and down my street was arrested yesterday for the murder of Jared and around ten other innocent people, whose organs, I suspect, were hung inside the garbage bags in the trees that Jared and I saw in the woods. When the man was interrogated, he didn't give his real name, but referred to himself as the Collector of Organs. He confessed to his crimes and also mentioned that he took Jared's organs, too. They also searched his house and found a room that had that (X) symbol and random writing written all over the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, as well as a painting of the thing with tentacles that wrapped all of the walls. Nothing else, not even furniture, was in the room. One room, which they suspected, was his Weapons Room. He had five kinds of knives, a chainsaw, three pistols, and a shotgun. During the end of the interrogation, the reporter said the Collector of Organs said the strangest thing, which was: "The tall man never fails. He always finds victory in his mission, in his victims. His mission, unknown. The purpose of his existence, unknown. It's time for us to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The never-ending puzzle." He was sentenced to death today. His last words were "Zachary, the Collector of People, should be me now. He was defiant, so he is no longer with us".

Back on topic: I'm leaving tonight. I'm not telling where I'm going, but I'm going alone. I'm not telling what I'm doing, either. I don't know if I'll be returning home afterwards, but I'm going to try to fix everything, for everyone.

Garrett Silvano, one of my best friends, I am writing this to you. I know you'll be the first to investigate if you found out anything happened to me, so if something does happen to me, and you're reading this post, ask my parents to let you rummage through my room because I let you. I'm leaving you something before I go.

One warning: Never, ever, ever go into the woods behind my house.

I AM SICK OF THIS

I AM SICK SICK SICK SICK SICK OF THIS.

I HAVEN'T SLEPT SINCE I WENT DOWN IN THAT ROOM.

I'M NEVER THE LEAST BIT HAPPY. I'M ALWAYS ANGRY, ALWAYS DEPRESSED, AND NOW I'M ALWAYS SICK. I SCREAMED AT MY GIRLFRIEND WHO I JUST STARTED DATING OVER THE WEEKEND.

I JUST WANT THIS TO END. ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.

I'M NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF, THOUGH. I NEED TO CHANGE THINGS. NOW.

Still Waiting

I think I know what I'm waiting for.

Him.

Waiting for him to come.

I think I know what I need to use the gun for, too.

The trees

have eyes.

One can walk.

Waiting

I'm just sitting here. Waiting.

I don't know why, but I'm just sitting here.

I don't know what I'm waiting for. Probably nothing.

I can't sleep either.

The Present

I went to Zach's house. His house seemed to have been ransacked; the house was destroyed and his family was gone.

I found the "present" in his closet. It was a red and blue shoe box with a card on it that read:

"To: John


It's yours now. Hope you'll find this useful."


It was a pistol.

I'm not sure what he wants me to do, though.

Where was I?

I don't know where I have been for the past month. I opened my closet door, like that freak told me to do, and I looked inside. I expected to see my clothes rack and my extra cabinets, but there was a long wooden staircase leading underground, instead. When I saw it, my heart skipped four beats. I don't remember ever having a staircase in my closet. I couldn't see the end of it, it was too dark. Out of curiosity (stupidity), I decided to go down it. Right when I stepped in, the door slammed shut behind me.

It took me about a half hour to reach the bottom. There was dead silence, nothing but the sound of my footsteps. Once I reached the bottom, I looked around and saw nothing but a small, square, grey room that was illuminated by only one flickering lightbulb in the center. There was also an old grey couch, a black armchair, a small wooden coffee table, and an old TV.

I stepped towards the couch when the TV turns itself on. All that was shown was that (X) symbol for about 20 minutes before it disappeared and just showed a completely blurred picture of someone and a muffled voice. I kept watching to see if the quality would get better. Eventually, the picture and the sound did get better, but I don't think I wanted it to.

It was Zach sitting in the woods. He had bags under his eyes, his skin was paler than ever, his nose was bleeding from both nostrils,  as well as his ears. This is what I remember him saying, in a low raspy voice:

"Hey, buddy. It's me, Zach. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving you and my family behind, but mostly you. Haha."

At this point he was smiling, which made me feel a little better.

"I feel really guilty for not showing up to your party, man. I really wanted to go."

He looked down with a sad look on his face and was silent for a few seconds. He looked back into the camera and smiled again.

"I got you a present, though. It's back in my house. I don't remember where, but it's there. I promise. I won't tell you what it is, 'cause I wanted it to be a surprise."

He looked down again and had the same sad look on his face. He gave a really long sigh, but was interrupted with a short gasp as he swung his head around, as if he heard something behind him. He looked back at the camera, terrified.

"Listen to me closely. Stand up."

I didn't even notice I was sitting down in the chair.

"Turn around. And walk down the hallway until you reach the end. Then go up the stairs and don't look back. Ever."

I did what he said. That hallway wasn't there before.

"Your present will help you here on. Good luck, broth--"

His voice was cut out by loud audio distortion and an ear-piercing scream. I wanted to turn around, but I didn't.

I came to the surface and a month had passed, even though I was down there for no longer than an hour. Everything in my room was completely how I left it. Nothing has changed. Even my family didn't realize I was gone. I'm going to Zach's house to investigate soon.

By the way, Jared was killed when I was gone. He went back to the woods.

__________________

release

/

tHE cAgE

Is SHrInKIng.

spinning

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dEAr mR. sMItH

wHEn WiLl yOU lEArN?

cUrIOsITy kILLed ThE CAt.

zAcHAry j. TimBS

thERe WAs a PaRT Of zaChARy


tHAt jOhNNY BOy NevER kNEw





joHNnY bOY WiLL bE qUItE AngRY.