still gone

i finally read through everything john wrote on this blog.

i had read some of it, and i knew some of it was weird, but i had no idea it was this bad. rachel thought we should talk to the police, but after what i read, that seems like the worst thing i could possibly do.

i dont think rachel has any idea this thing even exists. maybe thats good.

i havent told her shit about it. not my place.

i just wish i could fucking talk to him.

where the fuck is john???

okay, so, ill just start at the beginning i guess. john slept over my house last night. it was totally chill, he seemed fine, happier than hes been in a long time. we passed out watching the big lebowski, and when i woke up john was gone and so was my videocamera. i tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. no one picked up at his house, either, which is weird because his dad is always home.

i went over kind of pissed off because, yknow, he stole my fucking camera. but no one was there. i looked in all the windows and rang all the doorbells and knocked on all the doors. johns jeep is still in the driveway and his dads truck is still in the garage.

somethings not right. i dont know what the hell is going on but something is very wrong. id call the cops but that might just get john in more trouble. i called rachel and she hasnt heard from him. i dont know what the fuck to do.

shit, i was just looking on here and noticed a post from last night. "come with me"? what the hell does that mean?

I don't remember there being any hounds around here.

The computer died. Finally, after all these years.

The days without the internet were peaceful and blessed. I caught up on my reading. I had no work, no play, no friends, nothing but the books before me.

I admit, first it was A Dance With Dragons in two sleepless night-day cycles. Then the Bible. Then the Qur'an. Then Supergods. Then Crisis On Infinite Earths. Then I prayed until my knees were cramped and sore.

I prayed to Jesus and Allah and Odin and Superman.

I prayed to my mother, God rest her soul.

Then, tonight. My dad comes home with a new laptop he bought in the city. I recorded a video on it, sent it to Alex. I think he knows how to edit things. Making the videos is easy, but beyond that I don't really get it. That's more his thing.

I recorded the video by the edge of the woods at twilight, around eight thirty.

By nine o'clock it was full dark and I sat on the stone wall. I heard rustling behind me, saw the glow of a cigarette in the woods. I was going to call out, but then my phone went off. I thought it was on silent, but instead my ringtone blared: "I SET A FIRE JUST TO SEE WHAT IT KILLS". Whoever was out there heard it. There was a sound of leaves rustling, and the ember was gone. I couldn't see anything, so I answered the phone and starting walking back.

It was Rachel. She's been calling recently, to talk about everything. She's as upset as I am. I asked her to come over. She drove out and we met by the ruins of the airport. We sat on the wing off an airplane that had become entangled with a fence to make a weird bench.

She brought a bottle of vodka. We traded swigs as we lay in the road and talked. She told me how she missed David, how she wished he would come home okay. I listened for sounds in the bushes.

Around three thirty I fell down. It took her awhile to rouse me. I lay in the dirt and saw beyond. I saw spheres and stars and heard voices both guttural and ethereal and felt feelings indescribable. It was like gazing on the face of God only to find it a maze of scars and pits with great, bulging mad eyes.

I stayed that way for a few minutes. Rachel didn't seem very concerned. After I recovered I drank more, and heartily.

She fell asleep in her backseat. I'm sitting beside her, laptop on knee. I'm listening. I swear I heard the flick of a lighter.

bad news.

alex here. i just called john, i guess he was sleeping. he told me to just make this post on my own. someone broke into my house yesterday. not much was stolen but they took my scanner of all things, and johns fucking journal was in the scanner. id only gotten the goddamn cover scanned. i was gonna put it up but theres not really much point.

i dont wanna seem paranoid or anything, but what i read of that journal freaked me out. im almost glad its gone. not glad we got robbed though, im gonna miss my xbox.

the cops who came by asked me if i was friends with john. cops around here have hated him for awhile, i hope they dont try and blame him for this.

Sorry.

I haven't updated in the past few days, not because I don't have anything to say, but because this computer is in its death throes. We've had it for a few years now and it's cheap and full of viruses and it's fucking up like nobody's business. Every time I try to watch a video it gets distorted as hell, even on Netflix. And when I try to type, like right now, the text starts hopping all across the screen and I have to keep typing the same shit over and over again because it's too fucked to read.

Right now it's working okay. But I think it's gonna completely crap out soon, so.

Enough about the computer.

The other day I was kind of turning my Waite House journal over in my hands and I noticed a few things on the back. It looks like someone I used to know signed it. He's been in and out of places like that, so it's not much of a surprise, but it's weird they gave me his old comp book of all people's.

His name's William. He used to be a good friend of mine. He's a violent asshole and I don't like thinking about him. I haven't talked to him in over a year and I'd like to keep it that way.

I don't really want anything more to do with that old journal. I almost threw it out, but Alex said he'd take it off my hands. I told him I don't care what he does with it.

ed

I'm just tir

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