Thursday, April 28, 2011

Peter Rivers II

Peter called me up and asked me if I'd like to have lunch with him. I felt uncomfortable saying yes, but I did. I wanted some questions answered. I wanted closure of some kind.

He picked me up and we went to some Chinese restaurant with a buffet. It was super empty inside, and he chose an especially empty corner, so we were able to talk without anyone to wonder how mentally unstable we were.

"The thing is," he said as he chewed on some chicken," is that... is that this is not normal. At all, actually. We already went over this, but what happened with Grey is just not an ordinary case... so I was very confused as to what I should do with you."


"I'm quite proud of my decision now, though. I think that you'll be okay."

I looked down at my food. My stomach rumbled but the food didn't seem appetizing at all.

"What's usual protocol... for these sort of things?"

"It depends on the situation. There's way too many variables for there to be some standard way to go about things. Especially when the Fears are involved. However, it's suggested... that we kill those who are possessed. That's definitely always an option. Except, of course, when there's a risk of infecting yourself or others with the fallout from a kill. See, some Dying Man pieces, when they released from a possession through a kill, leak like radiation into the surrounding environment. Usually, the landscape absorbs most of the piece, but sometimes an agent or civilians get possessed as well."

I had to say it.

"You call them Fears too. That's the most surprising thing to me."

He seemed genuinely uncomfortable now.

"Yes. That's what they are known as. You created them that way."

I felt my entire body tremble in disgust and panic.

"So it's true. I did it. I released them. Or something."

He shook his head.

"No, I doubt that. There is the possibility that you were used as a cog in the machine, but overall... I don't think any of this is your fault, Owen. So please don't feel as if it is. If anything, you're a victim. You don't deserve anything that you've suffered through. Besides, all you can do now... is to move forward."

He took a break from talking and sipped at his drink. I could feel him study me while I processed what he just said.

And then, for the first time, he smiled.

"The worst goddamn part of all this is that I see myself in you."

"..What do you mean?"

"I went through something like what you're going through-"

"You were possessed too?"

"I have been, but that's not what I'm referring to. When I was your age, I was abused too."

I didn't know what to say to that. My eyes wandered away.

"My stepfather. From around the age of six until the age of seventeen. He beat me."

"Was it just you?"

"No. Like you, I had two brothers and a sister with me the entire time."

"What happened in the end?"

"I left."

The restaurant chatted away as my gaze drifted back down to my lap. I felt sick. I imagined myself leaving. I felt sick as I imagined seeing my brothers watch me go. I couldn't do that. Not ever.


"I got up, and left. One night, I told my stepfather that I had had enough. He dared me to go. I took up his challenge and walked straight out that door."

"My mom has told me to leave multiple times. But she always ends up forcing me to stay. Once she let me walk down the highway for half an hour only for her to come driving down it and forcing me back in her car."

"That's the cruelest thing I've heard."

Silence once again.

"Do your brothers resent you for it? For... leaving..."

"I don't know. I think so. And I have no idea what my sister thinks... I haven't seen her since."


"For her protection, honestly. I lead a dangerous life. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me. I only keep in contact with my brothers because they lead the same life as I do."

"Don't you miss her though?"

"Of course I do. I miss her every day and always will."

I thought about leaving mom while Peter talked more about his life. I listened carefully. Twenty minutes passed by, and we left the restaurant. When we got into Peter's car, Peter looked at me.

"You know... it's not impossible. You can lead your own life. You don't have to be tangled down by your mother."

"I don't know. I can't just leave my siblings behind. I can't."

"At least promise me you'll think about it."

"I am. I already am."

He drove me home and dropped me off and I didn't want to go home yet so I walked down to the creek where I found the pocketwatch and looked out upon the water.


Grey's gone. He's actually gone. I know that's hard to believe. But he's not inside of me anymore. I'm certain. I'm very certain of this. I have to be.

I don't really know what to do with my life now. I feel like it's all over with. There isn't much to do anymore that I have nothing to concentrate on. Originally, my life goals were to "Survive my mother." Then, it became "Survive depression." In the end, those two were shafted and it became "Survive supernatural being maybe." Now that that's out of the way, I'm left with my mother, unanswered questions, and an emptiness that I can hardly fathom.

I know Peter warned me of this. I am aware. And I still went through with it. But I didn't realize how fucking worthless existence feels at this moment. All I feel is annoyance. Annoyed that my mother keeps screaming. Annoyed that this headache won't subside. Annoyed that I haven't felt happy in the longest damn time. Annoyedannoyedannoyed.

And I can feel the symptoms of what Sowing Season did growing inside of me. 

What the fuck do I do now.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Sowing Season

"It's called sowing season," Peter says as he pours the water around me. The water soaks into the dirt. I shift uncomfortably as Peter pours out the last of the water, completing the circle. He throws the jar into the bushes and faces me.

"It's a spell that's used on any agents of the organization I work for. I personally went through it by my father's hands. It's supposed to do many things... good things, bad things, but ultimately its main job is to help you."

He goes to his bag and pulls out four candle boxes. He places them around me.

"Help me do what?"

He takes out a matchbox and pulls out four matches.

"Fight off your demons."

I process what he means by that as he lights each candle one by one. He then gets back up and heads to his bag again.

"What are the... side effects? You said there would be side effects..."

He looks up at me frankly.

"Nightmares. Drowsiness. Insomnia. Nothing you're not already used to, except numbed emotions. In order to prevent another possession, we must limit your ability to express and feel emotions. Is that acceptable?"

I nod, as it's the only way, after all. Apparently.

He is frozen now. He seems to regret what he's doing. I almost tell him to hurry up. But he gets up, carrying the final piece of sowing season over to me.

"This is how Grey most likely accessed you-"

He holds the pocketwatch in his hand. He lets it fall between his fingers, the chain catching across his palm.


"I think so."

"Think hard on this. Be sure. Because if this isn't what he used, then this ceremony has a chance of backfiring."

I think on it. I feel pressured by the possibility of fucking up. But I take one last look at that damn pocketwatch and I knew that thing did it.

"That's the fucking thing dude, just please please get this over with."

Peter sighs.

"Alright, hold on, hold on-"

He places the watch at my feet, within the circle. He opens it up so that the watch's face is upright, directed towards me. I stare down at it. I feel some strange sensation surge up my legs.

"It's happening, now hold on-"

I feel myself be pulled into oblivion. The forest disappears and I begin to fall towards the river. I smell rot. I almost plunge into the freezing water, but suddenly the river evaporates. Hot steam rolls up at me. I close my eyes. Before the steam burns me alive, I phase out of that world and into an empty, empty city. No one is there, only me. I see someone else. Another boy. He has black hair and he's quite tall. I walk towards him. He turns towards me. I open my mouth to say hello.

The floor gives way and I'm no longer in the city but in the forest again. My shirt is off, my skin is prickly and cold, and blood spills out of my mouth. My body shakes as if it's in great stress but I feel no pain. I look up at Peter. Peter is watching me with a horrified expression. I open my mouth to ask what's happening. Something else spills out.

Peter's replaced by Grey. His face is contorted by wrath and he walks towards me. He hits an invisible barrier. He realizes I'm protected. He screams. The world trembles.

He talks but I am not listening.

I black out.

I wake up and I'm in my bedroom again. I get up and look around. Everything feels so... bright. The blue walls feel so vibrant, so deep. I push the blanket off. I look down and there's no sign of blood on my shirt. I question if I'm dead or asleep or-

Mom screams downstairs and I know I'm back home.

I can't decide whether I should cry or smile. 

Peter Rivers

I found myself in a hotel room with my mouth gagged and my arms and legs bound by rope. I tried to squirm off the bed but the urge to vomit and an extreme pain in my left ear stopped me. Thoughts flashed through my mind like wildfire, but none of them asked the simplest question of all: where the hell was I? I instead seemed to be preoccupied with the question of... well, where was Grey?

I pondered for a moment, and wondered if perhaps he was gone. Maybe he was gone, and I was finally free. I could not feel him anywhere inside of me, after all. Then again, perhaps he was just latent, maybe even more than usual, somehow.

Then I remembered Peter. I squirmed around more, panicking as I trembled against the edge of the bed. I tried to push myself off so I could possibly stand on two feet, but I couldn't manage it. The rope was tied too short.

The door opened, and Peter stepped into the room. He closed the door, and sat on the other bed. He set the plastic bag he carried inside down, and stared at me while I stared at him.

"Your head. Nod for yes, shake for no," he commanded.

I nodded to let him know I understood.

"Has that thing been inside of you for more than a month?"

I nodded. 

"Has it taken control of you more than just once?"

I nodded.

He paused to think.

"Has it ever hurt anyone else? Or possibly even killed someone else?"

 I shook my head.


He sat down in the only chair. He stared at me. Studied me.

"I don't know if I believe you, Owen."

I squinted at him. I didn't understand until he reached over to the table, and picked up a handgun. He got up and walked over to me. He sighed. He pointed the gun at my head.

"I don't think I believe you. From your blog you've been keeping, it's apparent that you've been shown symptoms of a possession for more than a single month. I can't... I can't ignore that. Most victims... they don't last that long. If you are Owen, ...and not this "Grey" person using the body as a puppet.... well."

He pointed the gun away from me.

"I don't know. I'm between a rock and a hard place here."

He sits on the bed beside me. I silently realize I didn't react at all to the gun. If he was actually going to shoot me... I would've just taken it. I was horrified, and okay with that, all at the same time.

"I really don't know. Fuck. See, this is what I hate about these kinds of situations...."

He lay down beside me, reclining out of my peripherals. I stared at the motel wall.

"Y'know, I could. I really could."

He got up and reached around my head. He pulled the gag out of my mouth.

"We could try something, but I'm not sure if it will work. If it doesn't work... you will probably die. Or even worse, Grey will manifest permanently inside of you, and I may have to put you down. But if it does work... Grey will be gone, erased from you. Would you like to try this?"

I couldn't even process all of that at once. Grey, gone? That couldn't be possible-

"I-I... wait... what?"

"Would you like to get rid of him?"


He cut the rope with a knife and released me from the rope. I slowly moved out of the shredded rope and stretched. I tried to get up off of the bed but my legs felt like jelly. I fell to the floor.

Peter held his hand out to me after putting his knife way. I took it and he lifted me up.

"This is going to be difficult, to say the least."

"I don't care. Just get it out of me. Please."

We left the motel. It was around 4 in the morning. He's driving us somewhere. We stopped at a McDonalds. I'm using his laptop to post this.

I'll update as soon as this is all over. 

Pocketwatch III

I was resting my head against my pillow when I felt something warm vibrate through it. I pushed the pillow aside, and in my mid-afternoon nap daze, I saw the watch open up and release a silver glow that permeated like an aurora throughout the room.

"Wait... what?"

At that point, I thought I was dreaming, or hallucinating, or anything else, but the watch vibrated in my hand and the beams of silver light grew brighter than ever before. I tried to close the watch, but it refused to cooperate. I tried to drop the watch, but its chain caught onto my fingers and it swung up against my arm. I screamed as the silver glow came in contact with my skin.

In that moment I felt all control I had over my body release, and I felt Grey awaken inside. My body fell back off the bed, and a scream echoed out of my mouth. Unfortunately, nobody was home except for me. I was alone with myself, Grey, and the mysterious pocketwatch.

Grey grabbed the watch and clutched it in his fist. He grinned and stared down at it, and I felt victory ring throughout his mind. He felt as if he had won somehow. And this newfound energy within the watch leaked out, and he began to soak it all in using my body.

I could barely comprehend what was happening, let alone fight against Grey. Every passing second, I felt my "self" become smaller and weaker compared to Grey's. He was rapidly taking over my body out of nowhere, and I could not fight back.

I heard someone running up the stairs. Grey froze up, and his hostile takeover paused for a moment. A man in a dark gray hoodie with light brown hair and a handgun, ready and aimed directly at my head, appeared at my doorway.

Grey panicked inside of me. He put his hands up in the air.

"S-sir, uh... what do you want? Ar-re you robbing me?"

The man squinted his eyes at us, and smirked.

"Why don't you grovel some more, huh? You're a cowardly little shard, you know that?"

Grey was shocked, and I was as well. This man knew of him, and then he knew... or maybe he would shoot anyway? Maybe that would be for the best... to end it here and now...

But, he didn't. He kept aiming the gun at us, but he did not shoot.

I felt Grey use my mouth to smirk, despite his fear causing my heart to race.

"So, you've figured it out. Who are you?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me his name."

Grey giggled.

"You don't want to know my name?"

"I could care less." Peter spat at the ground and stepped into the room. He kicked an empty crate my mom had set down earlier out of the way.

"Ha! I like you, human. Very well; my name is Grey, and his name is Owen."

"My name is Peter...," he said with uncertainty. He looked as if he had to think something over.

"Assuming you're this far along... he's probably dead..."

He gripped the gun harder. It appeared as if he was torn on shooting me in order to kill Grey.

Grey smiles.

"You wouldn't want to take that chance, now would you?"

Peter sighed.

"I can't let you go either, though, and.... wait, what's that?"

Peter noticed the pocketwatch, and I experienced extreme motion sickness as my body lurched forward at him. He almost pulled the trigger, but my body was already out of the way. Grey sweep-kicked into Peter's stomach, which pushed him into my dresser. My lamp fell over and crashed against the floor as Grey grabbed at Peter's arm. He attempted to break it, but Peter kneed us in the stomach and kicked our feet out from under us.

Grey kicked up and knocked the gun out of Peter's hand. We slammed against the ground and then rolled over. Peter attempted to double kick us but Grey guarded against the second blow with my shoulder; the first blow had smashed against my ear. Blood trickled down from it, and dotted the floor when Grey pushed up from the ground and tackled Peter to the ground.

He grabbed at Peter's throat, and then attempted to grab Peter's gun, but Peter kicked it away. He managed to push us off, and then he pulled out a sharp combat knife. The knife sliced my cheek wide open; Grey grinned and jumped up and back, away from Peter.

Peter charged and slashed at us with the knife. Amazingly, Grey somehow dodged each slice, and then tried to punch at Peter's windpipe. Peter jumped back, and judging by his facial expression, he expected that this would be finishing blow.

Except Grey had the pocketwatch.

He held it up quickly before the knife could stab into our stomach. There was a flash of light, and everything froze. Everything froze, just as the knife was only half an inch from stabbing into my kidney. Everything froze, and Grey cackled with delight.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful. Holy shit. This little clock is incredibly useful, who knew! Wow. Wowza. I can't even handle my happiness right now, I- wow. This is amazing. I love this. I love this a lot."

He punched Peter, with the watch clutched in his fist. There was a flash of light, and Peter was thrown back into my room and into a wall.

"Okay. We are in business. We are in business inde-"

He looked down, and noticed that Peter dropped his knife. Grey grabbed it, and inspected it.

"This is a handy-dandy little tool here! Now, okay, okay... I do honestly believe in the "you scratch my back, I scratch your back" mentality, so Owen- I will kill your mother for you. Don't worry, I know, I know, no need to thank me!~"

This was the moment I actually tried to fight back. I felt anger swell up from within me like nothing else. I no longer questioned wanting to protect my mother. We had gotten past that.

I could talk once again. I screamed.

"I don't need your help, and I don't need you, a-and... I'm sick of this, just fucking stop and let me die on my own own!!" 

I burst into tears in the middle of saying it. I wanted to sound imposing to Grey, but it didn't work; he could see every bit of emotion inside of me. Despite this, or maybe because of this, he became silent for a moment, unable to say a word.

"...Why do you keep fighting back against me? You admit defeat on your own, but when I threaten the lives of others, you suddenly jump back into the fray. I'd understand if these humans gave a damn about you, but they do not. They've beaten you and crushed you and you're one of the most unloved humans I've ever met. Why fight off your mother's demons? Don't you see how futile this all is!?"

Grey was genuinely confused by my decision. And angry as well.

I didn't bother answering him. I was sick of his lectures, and of our debates. I opened our right hand. The pocketwatch fell to the floor, and the watch's distortion of reality ceased.

Grey screamed and Peter tackled us and then everything faded away.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011


She stands in the door frame of my bedroom. She is talking but I'm not listening. I can only hear the termites in the frame she's standing in. I see little bits of dust float down in the tranquil sunlight.

She approaches my bed and now she's screaming at me. She's screaming at me about something and I just pretend that can't understand her. I look past her. She can't hurt me. She can't hurt me.

But then she grabs me by the hair and she yanks me back into reality. Pain surges into my skull and I can't help notice her empty eyes staring into me. I try to push her away. She pushes me into the bed and she's screaming at me more. I'm crying.

I can't help but think of my karaoke radio being smashed to pieces.

She lets me go and she stomps out of the room. She tells me to pack up my stuff, that I'm leaving. That I have to go. I begin to pack my stuff. An hour later she tells me I'm not going anywhere, like she always does. I put my stuff back.

I sit in the corner against the radiator. I cry. I look in the mirror against the dresser. I see Grey inside of the mirror. I wonder why I even bothered taking the medications in the first place.

He's smiling. He's holding his arm out to me from inside of the mirror. I reach out and try to grab his hand but he's but a weak ghost- the medication is still in my system. I can't go with him yet.

Are you happy, mom? Is this what you want?

Monday, April 25, 2011

Up the Wolves 7

It's in their eyes when you try to tell them what's wrong. You try to explain that you have been abused since the age of eleven and you honestly can't remember a month passing by where you felt safe and secure. Everything slowly fell around you, but you yourself didn't fall. No, that would have been easy to do. Instead, you slowly sunk, and then eventually, she pushed you down, down, down. No one cares until you've finally drowned. That's when they send social services. Not when a poor teenage boy is desperately on the phone pleading for help. No, no, no. They don't believe you. They don't care. No one cares. Hell, your own fucking mother doesn't care, why would anyone else? Your family doesn't care. Your teachers don't care. Your friends.... oh, who am I kidding, what friends, right? Who really cares except you? And that's sometimes the worst part. Forget the actual abuse. Sometimes the most pain comes from the fact that you're the only one who cares at this point. Some people like to pretend themselves into nonexistence and see how anyone would react. They pretend like no one would care if they disappeared. But they don't understand. We know what it's like to disappear. We know what it's like to have no one care. To watch ourselves disappear slowly and slowly everyday in the mirror. We forget who we are in an attempt to stop ourselves from becoming what we're not: her. We're not her, right? Right. I'll never be like her, ever. Goddammit. I could never be like her. Who laughs in the face of their own son, who's crying their goddamn eyes out? Who takes them by the throat and chokes and chokes them and I can't breathe. It's so unfair, to look into her eyes and see nothing there. Not even hatred. Just... nothing. It's the worst thing in the world. Wait, no. The worst thing... is looking in your reflection, and seeing the same emptiness in your own eyes. When you see her within you. When you see how easy it would be to slip into the same madness, to give up and become dead to the world. To stop existing on your own and just... let it be. No fighting. No surviving. Just death inside and outside. Christ, I want to say that if I ever had children, I would never, ever let myself treat them like this. But how could I ever know? What if the madness takes over me completely? So much that I become another person entirely. Maybe that's what Grey was, actually. A manifestation of her inside of me. Maybe the past few months have been a gigantic hallucination and I'm nothing but a sick attention whore trying to push all of my problems on something else inside of me that just doesn't exist. Isn't that it, Owen? No it's not!! Who am I anyway? Who am I, when you get down to it, really? Aren't I just her? A part of her, grown into its own thing? I remember when she told me I was an accident. Maybe that really is all I am, entirely. I'm an accident within the world, and the world doesn't know what to do with me. So it forgets me, everyone forgets me, and I don't belong so why don't I take the express exit and do everyone a favor? But my siblings. But they hate me. They seem so discontent with me. Even my little sister. I hate myself so much. I hate me more than I hate my mother. I hate who I am. I hate that I even try. I hate that I still have the arrogance to think that maybe things will get better, when they're fucking not, ever. Nothing ever gets better. No one stays. Steven will go. Everyone left. Everyone leaves. Everyone is leaving. And who gives me the right to whine on the internet, right? Who cares. Who cares. I have no right to whine like this. There's others who deserve help more than I do. There's others who are in immediate danger. April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month. I looked it up online today. There's so many people out there just like me. Who need help more than I do. Who are more valuable than I am. But my siblings... they need help. But no one cares. You don't care. And I don't care anymore either. At this point, I'm nowhere to be found. My eyes are just as empty as my mother is. Remember all that arrogance I had? I thought I could take on the world and come out on top. I thought that I could face the adversaryity, and escape this horrible place. Escape this gray, depressing home and find somewhere I can level out. But I don't think I can anymore. I don't feel strong anymore. I don't feel like I can do anything but sleep. That's all I want to do at this point. Just sleep. And never wake up. I guess that's cliche. I've been cliche for a while now, to be honest. People like to tell you to rise above your station in life, but it's literally impossible when no one is helping pull you up. You need people to love you. To help you. I get so jealous of that. People loving people. People receiving love. Romance. Affection. All of these things that I'll never have. Life is so unfair. That's the thing I want to stress the most. How unfair everything is. For anyone and everyone on this planet. So imbalanced. I feel so tired.

Up the Wolves VI

My moods were so unpredictable when I was taking those pills. One moment I'd feel like not only could I defeat my mother, I could liberate an entire nation of downtrodden individuals. Then the next, I'd be crying and wondering if anyone would help me ever.

Now I'm just numb. Now I just stay in bed. Now I don't try. Because if I don't try, then I don't have to feel the stings of constantly failing, of constantly being alone. I don't have to leave the confines of my room. I don't have to rise to the justice of others. I could just...

It's selfish, I guess. But. But. What the hell do I do? Keep trying? IS that what you're seriously suggesting of me!? When nothing good has ever come of that!? What the fuck do you know! You know nothing! How could you ever possibly understand me! Don't tell me to "keep trying"! Don't tell me that bullshit! I've tried enough. I've done enough. I'm done.

No one else is doing anything. So why should I.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Up the Wolves V

My grandmother called me and tried to talk to me and tried to reassure me that help would come, that everything would be alright. I agreed but I know she had no fucking clue what I was going through. When I told her I was suicidal a few months ago, she reacted with extreme shock, like I was being overdramatic. Fuck telling her anything, really.

I don't think anyone's coming to save me.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Up the Wolves IV

I know that a few days ago I sounded so triumphant and brave and that I would get out and survive but it's literally impossible and I hope everyone can forgive me for being so arrogant about it.

I don't want to do anything. I've been in bed and I'm not leaving it. I swear I'll leave everyone alone now. Stop reading the blog. There's nothing of value here. You don't have to listen if you don't want to. I know I don't want to listen to me anymore.

I'm sorry. 

Friday, April 22, 2011

Up the Wolves III

My brothers are screaming at me while I'm screaming at my mother while she's screaming at our grandmother over the phone while my little sister is crying in the corner. Time stops and I notice the expression upon everyone's face. That scowl, that disgusting red face filled with this callous madness underneath. Two faces, annoyed, shaking their heads frantically, pointing their fingers at me. A little girl by herself trying to divert the chaos away and bring stability into her life. And then, in that giant mirror that's been in the living room for my entire life, I see my face; and I see my mother reflected inside of it. Time moves again, and I find myself moving out of the way.

I stop arguing. I stop talking at all. I realize the cycle we're all stuck in. How we were all doing this just two hours ago. How I can't stop my mother no matter what I did. And in that moment, I swear, I thought about hitting her. Hurting her in any way. To stop this cycle. To stop her from hurting my grandmother. To stop her from hurting us. And I felt so disgusted with myself. But I wanted to hurt her, above all, so she could feel something, anything. Because underneath that mask of anger I could tell that she was nothing truly. There wasn't any love to be found there.

I go upstairs and I stay in my bed, and try to ignore her screaming, and my sister crying, and my little brothers arguing amongst themselves. Emptiness consumes me internally and I let go of reality. When I come back, it's dark outside and everyone's asleep in the house but me.

I stay in bed until the sun comes up. 

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Up the Wolves II

Beer bottles filled to the brim in the sink. Plastic cups strewn throughout the counter tops. Trash bags that litter the kitchen floor eternally. Refrigerator filled with nothing but Dr. Pepper, spoiled condiments, and beer. Also, some cheese. Empty box of pop tarts in the pantry. Pantry filled with endless amounts of empty crates and other useless shit. Gigantic pile of clothes. Hole in ceiling.


Stuff everywhere. Crates. Clothes. Random bits of junk. Paper. Boxes filled with old family photos. Cosette's toys. Piles upon piles of old, dusty, trashy books. Have to use "paths" to maneuver around everything. Computer desk flooded with old lottery tickets. Half empty beer bottle on computer desk. Computer open on Facebook, mom's profile. Katy Perry blaring through the speakers. Blankets on the couch with a pillow... mom's bed. Cosette playing with one of our Game Boys on the couch. Usually couch is filled up with either clothes or mom. All the walls are painted different, strange colors.

Big den/living room.

Perfectly arranged with impeccable decorations. A bed with plastic covering still on the mattress. No one has slept, and probably never, sleep in this bed. Dreamcatcher on wall.

Mother's room.

Slidy glass door leading to the backyard. Let's not talk about the backyard, or the shed or the garage or the laundry room. Focus on house. Let's move on.

Toy chest open. Toys on the floor. Toys, toys, toys. Toys everywhere. Nice looking furniture. Nice rugs and nice floor. Cute. So many things, all over the floor. Hard not to trip on something then again that can be said for the entire house. Nice big bed. Oh hey Pungo whaddya doing in here.

Cosette's room.

Back into foyer. Up the creaky, hardwood steps.

To your left, trashy yet somewhat sane room. If one puts their ear against the wall, they may be able to hear termites eating away at the walls. The entire house is in a stage of decay, starting with-
My room. 

Next door to my bedroom, a somewhat quaint bathroom with a view of the creek I fetched the pocketwatch at. Black and white checkerboard tiles. Obvious signs of the floor on the verge of caving in, along with the walls. Covered up hole near the bathtub.


Across the hall, a messy, yet at the same time organized, room. Two beds and a thick smell of adolescence and AXE body spray. One bed is quite tidy and the other is quite disheveled.

Brothers' bedroom.

Back down the stairs, into the front yard, and onto the sidewalk. Sunlight. Butterflies. Everything is alive at once and the sky is so blue above me but this fucking house ruins it all. All at once, this house gives me hope and anger. On one hand, I'm surviving within that hellhole. On the other hand, it's where I experience hell in the first place.

My mother looks out of the window suspiciously. I wave to her and leave the yard for a walk.

This is practice.

One day I'm going to leave and I'm not going to come back. 

Up the Wolves

It took my mother screaming at me one final time to convince me to do this. It's embarrassing it took this many times for her to do that to me until I finally had enough. Instead of curling into a ball and crying or ceaselessly yelling back at her until one of us loses our voice, I'm going to shut up. I'm going to shut up and bide my time. And while she's not looking, I'll be down here, hiding in the dark. I'll be pulling together every responsible adult I know. I'm going to call my father and plead for his help. I'm going to show the neighbors whom your screams truly hurt. I'm going to give reason for the police officers to arrive and not leave until you're in custody. I'm putting my boxing gloves on, I'm preparing myself for your worst by matching it with my best, you selfish bitch.

I'm going to save my little brothers and Cosette. She'll never have to deal with you cheerfully telling her these lies about grammie, or have to witness your screams until she's shaking. Chandler will get his life straight and someone will actually provide stability and maybe even discipline. Alec will find someone who will listen to him and show him how special and important he really is. And no one will ever smash my stereo or choke me half to death like you've done ever again. And grammie will never have to deal with your psychotic phone calls ever, ever, ever again. She'll stop shaking and she won't have a stroke or have a heart attack.

I promise you. I promise you that in the end you'll be the one that's crying. You'll be all alone, in a corner, realizing that you've lost your whole damn family. You'll realize all the chances you've missed out on. You'll realize how truly alone you are. You'll see me without you but I won't ever see you without me. I'll be just fine on my own. And I want you to see that. I want you to see me at my best, at my strongest, at my healthiest; at my happiest.

Because, despite everything that's happened... between Grey, you, and this Fear Mythos business, I still have the ability of happiness. You have not robbed me of that. I can, and will, be happy someday. And to be happy, you can not exist in my life as you are now. I know you think that we love you. Well, we do. We do love you, I guess. And that's why all of this hurts so goddamn much. And that's why I hate you, too. I understand that you're not mentally fit. You're mentally imbalanced. Yeah. I fucking get it. I can see the devil in your bloodstream.

But if you truly loved someone, you'd never hurt them like you have to us.

I don't think I can ever forgive you for this. I don't think I could ever do it, even if you somehow make up for all the years lost. And despite that, despite all of this, despite how strong I am... I'm still the one that's losing. I'm the one that lost his childhood, his youth, his parents. All because of one person. That's how fucked up this is. One person had all the power over the lives of four children. And they fucked up and no one's done shit about it. There's no one busting down the doors. There's no one caring about me like they should be. I'm on my own.

"If no one's in my corner, since everyone left, I'd better make it worth it."

I had a fucking monster inside of me and I still prevented myself from even laying a hand on you. That's my biggest fucking issue here. Goddammit!! Do I have to spell it out!? You have no excuse! You've been gone my entire life just like dad has! And I've hoped that one of you will come home and save me, save us. But no one's coming. So I have to get going. And I'm taking them with me. I'm taking them away and I'm keeping them away. From you. From this town. From this life.

I'm getting out of here.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

My life's clearing up a little bit, despite the depression. I'm seeing things without the threat of looming death behind everything, at least. And I've noticed this... rising swell of anger within myself towards my mother. An anger at this mistreatment, this injustice.

I feel like my urge to leave has been sparked once again.

This is foolish. Isn't it? It's hopeless. But it's like, forgive the cheesiness, but sunshine is piercing through cloud cover and illuminating my surroundings.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Pills III

Back to the daily grind.

Get up. Finish laundry from last night. Shower, barely catch bus. Go to school. Have no one to talk to so just stand awkwardly in the corner hoping someone talks to you. Suffer through classes. Go to lunch, suffer alone with your little brother at a hopefully empty lunch table. Suffer through more classes. Walk home. Take a nap. Get up. Write. Scrap writing. Argue with mom. Take walk to get away. Listen to music on walk. Contemplate life. Avoid going home as long as possible. Come home. Have McDonalds for dinner. Try to sleep. Can't. Do laundry. Try to do homework. Never finish.


Friday, April 15, 2011

Pocketwatch II

So remember that old pocketwatch I found that one random day? Steven was asking for it. Said the old man wanted. Unfortunately, I apparently lost the watch somewhere. I'm looking for it everywhere and I just can't find it. It's weird though, why do they need the watch?

Steven says it's especially important. I don't understand these people. I owe them though.

So of course I'll find it.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Pills II

So I'm back in school again. I don't really see the point in it though.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


The pills actually work. I haven't been in contact with Grey at all. He hasn't posted on the other blog at all. There's nothing happening at all. Just me.

Back to normal.

I haven't really talked to Steven much. Just a few texts here and there. Questions on how the meds are effecting me. How I'm feeling. How I'm doing.

Definitely haven't heard from the old man.

I don't feel much at all. Now that Grey's over and done with (for now?)

what do I do now.

How do I pick up the pieces. 

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Saturday, April 9, 2011


My mother's gone and my brothers are off with her for whatever reason. Steven appears at my front porch step. He has a single bottle in his hand. He tells me I'll receive more once they see how I react to the medication. I hardly even listen to him. I hardly even want the meds anymore. I'm so out of it. I feel like I'm blurring out. Steven notices. I pass out. He apparently calls for help. Some girl appears first. I awaken out of unconsciousness just to see her arrive, then I fade away once again. Then, the old man appears. He makes me awaken. I don't want to. He shakes me. He forces two pills down my throat. I swallow hesitantly. They take me in his car before my family can come back. They rush me somewhere. I keep fading in and out.

I don't feel Grey at all anymore. I just feel my heart beating incessantly.

I feel my will to live slip away. I don't feel anything but sadness and my annoying heart.

I feel the unfeeling in my body and my mind and it makes me feel nostalgic for when I could feel anything and not feel guilty about it. When I'd get hurt and cry. When I could cry without getting so damn tired of crying. So damn tired of being sad. So damn tired of everything. Of trying to be happy when you just know. you just know. you just know.

I know. I've been here and back again. I know it's all going to collapse anyway. I take a pill or two, so what? Will that fix anything? Grey is held back, so what. So the fuck what.

My mother is still here. And I'm still here. Nothing has been fixed. We're back to square one. I'm going to kill myself anyway. That's the only way out of it.

Goddammit I sound so depressing don't I. So whiny. Who cares about what I have to say? I don't even care anymore. I just. want. ending.

But I see beauty in Steven trying to save me, and in the old man's grumbles, and in that girl's presence. I hear Steven call her by name. It's Madelyn. I remember the pill bottle. So she's in this with us too? That's beautiful. No wait what? That doesn't make sense.

I'm crying again. I don't want to die. I want to die. I don't want to die and I'm so tired of living.

I don't fear death anymore. I've gotten to the point where I fear living.

How fucked up is that?

They drop me back at my house. I stumble into my bedroom and I go to sleep.

There are no nightmares. I wake up and I blog this. And then I will sit in my bed, and stare out the window for an hour or two. I'll stare at the sky. The clouds are awfully pretty today, after all.

Friday, April 8, 2011

30 Minutes

I wasn't within the River's realm anymore. I was far beyond it. Deeper than ever before, it seemed. It seemed like, in my sleep, I had drowned in the River, and now this was what was behind the veil.

I felt cold. And so distant. As if my thoughts and my body were desperate. I could "feel", in an abstract way. But for all intents and purposes, I was split off from my very self. I was the reflection in the mirror this time. I was in Grey's place.

I didn't even feel sad or anything about it. I accepted my fate. There wasn't anything I could do, nothing to stop it. I was alone now.

I felt lonely after an eternity of it. Nothing existed except the loneliness.

It's all pushed away as soon as I see Grey. It's a reflection as well. He's looking down upon me, from some ledge above. We switch perspective. I'm looking down at him. It's a reflection.

I'm looking down into my reflection. Grey is gone. I'm at the creek, around the place I picked the pocket watch up at. Why am I at the creek?

Go home. Get rest. Sleep. No. No sleep? No sleep. Got a text. I have a text. Texts are cool. Oh hey, it's Steven. Pills? Pills for breakfast yes.

The morning sun rises above me.

I still exist, apparently. 

Thursday, April 7, 2011

20 Minutes

I woke up beside the River. I was soaking wet, and my throat mysteriously hurt as if it was burnt or something. I didn't realize circumstances until I pushed my hair out of my eyes and noticed how wild and rapid the River seemed.

Grey took the wheel again. Goddammit.

It was like a dream again. Last time, I somehow knew the path out of Grey. This time, I also seemed to just... know. Or at least, my feet did. They led me to some strange tree, that was somehow alive and full of autumn leaves. I pressed my right hand against the bark.

My hand was holding a steak knife. It is pressed against my forearm, prepared to slash my wrists open. I dropped the knife as control returned to me. I sighed in relief.

And noticed that for some goddamn reason I'm on the top of my roof, on the backyard's side. I shook in fright; if there's one thing that scared me more than Grey, it was heights. I takes me about 20 minutes to crawl off the roof onto the backyard's sloped second story chicken coop roof thingy and then I climbed through the bathroom window.

So first it was my mother. He couldn't have her. So now he just wants to end this as soon as possible. I guess he's finished with me. Sorta kinda depressing.

Whatever. Whatever happens happens. Fuck it. I bet I'll lose consciousness again soon.

15 Minutes

I lost control of my body and switched places with Grey for a full 15 minutes today.

It started off slow. First, my hand felt numb. I shook my hand around. It didn't help. Then, I lost all feeling in my hand. And then my arm. And, like a wave crashing down and sweeping me away, Grey emerged inside of me and dragged me away with the tide.

He replaced me. On one level, I was alone on the ground near the River. On another, I could see Grey using my body. He walked towards a mirror. He looks into the mirror. He smiled into the mirror. He was smiling at me. He won. This was his moment of triumph. It was my disaster.

He turned around, and took his time strolling out of my bedroom. He looked downstairs.

I could hear him think to himself: "I can't wait to choke the life out of her, Owen."

Panic pushed me up out of the dirt. I was alone in a barren wasteland. I had to save my mother. There was no one around to save me. I had to stop Grey. The roar of the River filled my ears. Underneath, there was the masked sound of Grey descending the stairwell.

I ran towards the River. Grey stepped onto the first floor and headed towards the laundry room. I felt so dizzy. Mom was likely smoking in there, or fighting with grammie. I wasn't going to make it. He opens the door. She's not there. I see the shore. I run straight into the frigid waters.

I'm immersed in water as Grey turns around and faces my mother. I'm sinking like a stone in the sea as he walks towards her. She asks what I want as Grey chuckles to himself. He says... things. Things that I wish I just had the courage to say. It's a verbal onslaught. The water plunges down my throat and into my lungs and I'm drowning as I reach out just as Grey imagines himself choking my mother to death. It's all over. I've grabbed onto him. I drag him back into my self.

He went back without a word, but I could feel his anger.

And I'm pushed back into consciousness and my mother pounces. She grabbed me by the hair and began to scream at me. Her face was so red and her eyes were- are- so violent.

An hour later and I'm upstairs again. I cried alone in the corner of the room. Then I texted Steven, and he notifies me to hang on, that the meds will get to me soon.

All the while, Grey is so silent. I can hardly feel him anymore. Why is that? What's happened?

This scares me more than him constantly laughing. 

Dying III

Look at all that pain. What am I even living for? So I can experience more trauma? It's silly. It's irresponsible. Need to just give up, give in, and forget and let go. There's no reason to keep going anyway. What do I think is going to happen? That there's going to be some sort of fucking happy ending? As if that would ever happen. And even if it did.... even if it did, it would be just too late.

I can't stop him. There's nothing I can do to protect myself from him. He sees my pain, he feels my pain. He's Death, and I'm barely alive. This isn't a life, what I have. I'm just holding onto a hope that was never even there. I feel sleepy. So sleepy. I just want to give up. That's all I want.

Every time I see Grey, now I just see my mother, and her hands around my throat.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Dying II

I keep having these little moments. Moments that Grey puts me through. Moments that I've already experienced before. Moments from my life. Moments that broke me. Every moment I've experienced that's caused me pain in some way. And the funniest thing is most of them star my mother. That's the funniest thing. Funny? The fucks wrong with me that's not funny. None of this is funny. Yet I have the urge to laugh. And cry. And just scream. I have the urge to show any emotion right now. Just to get away from Grey. But I can't push him away. He's wrapped around me. And these moments keep playing. Like. Like that one night my mother drove to her old boyfriend's house with us in the car and got out and tried to kick the door to his trailer house down and then the cops being called and arresting her and the 5 hours I spent in the cold van keeping my brothers safe through the night until my grandparents picked us up. I was only 7 or 8 when this happened. Or the moment when mom forced me to bleach my hair in the 8th grade. She forced me to bleach my hair even though I didn't. Or when she snatched my glasses and crushed them in her hand during a summer where my only escape was through literature. Or her forcing her way into grammie's house and pushing over the kitchen table and screaming at grammie, like always. Or our old dog Dally dying on the kitchen floor, with maggots crawling in and out of her decayed, rotting leg, with mom just watching her die. These moments keep happening. Her drunkenly laughing in my face and mocking my voice, and grammie's voice. Her screaming in my face and her lying about me hitting her to grandaddy. These moments keep happening. Her forcing us to paint a shed she filled to the brim with shit that she'll never use with our child support, ...which to be fair is less of a moment but an entire summer but it feels like a moment in a long list of disasters. Pungo, another dog, getting hit by a car after escaping through the broken fence mom wouldn't ever get fixed. The night she called me and told me to throw away the beer bottles in the kitchen sink before the police and social worker got there and saw them. These events won't stop. The day she finally enrolled us into I.C. Norcom after missing 2 weeks of school. The day she first told me I was "possessed" by some demon, three years ago (irony). The night I called the police on her and she lied her ass off and the police officers did nothing.

And that day in the church parking lot on London Blvd. The police did nothing then, too.

Every night she spent blasting her music and getting drunk, or spent away from the house and coming in late with McDonalds, or spent yelling at grammie, or spent arguing with me, or spent in the laundry room with cigarettes and likely smoking marijuana, or spent shopping, or

And every day she spent not loving us.

All of these things that she's done to me and my family. Everything that's happened. And Grey's showing me all of it once again. And I'm experiencing it all. And Jesus fucking Christ how can this happen? How can something so unjust happen in this world? It's so unfair. All of it.  How can anyone allow this? Why won't anyone help me? Why doesn't anyone outside see and help? The neighbors hear her scream all the damn time. The state won't do anything. Social services ignores us. Everyone ignores me. No one loves me No one loves me No one loves me

I'm all alone i nthsi world

Even my sivlinbfsl hate me

Theres ntohgin I can do to get out is there

im stuck in hell

and now im going to die and i cant help

But laugh.

but then the laughter fades awayand in spire of me thinking that i've run out

i cry more and i scream

i scream and no one is there to save me


I'm so scared. I've been blacking out more. I keep losing time and place. One moment I'm in my bed and the next I'm in the backyard staring up into the sky. I don't feel like I'm in control anymore. I don't have hands on the wheel anymore. I feel like I'm in free fall now. It's all collapsing. All falling apart. My mind is decaying. My mother keeps saying things. My brothers are eternally fighting. My little sister is crying. And I can't stop any of this. It just keeps happening. I don't have any control over what's happening to me. I'm dying. I'm dying. I'm dying. I feel myself letting go.

I'm dying.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Steven II

Steven showed up at my doorstep around 3. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and he seemed to have the absolute friendliest disposition of anyone I've ever met. He had this certain smile and glint in his eyes, and as I stepped onto the front stoop to meet and greet with him, he pulled me into an embrace. At first, I was alarmed at the sudden physical contact. But it all melted away as soon as he said:

"You're not alone anymore. You're not going crazy. And you're not going to lose yourself in this. I promise."

I believed him, and I reciprocated the hug. It felt like everything was going to be alright.

He let go of me and he nodded towards his car. Just as we jumped in, my mother comes to the front door. She asks me who this boy was and where I was going. I ignored her, and told Steven to go. Steven seemed worried and hesitant, but he listened. He sped off with my mom screaming after us.

"Is that... alright? What we just did?? Uh..."

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window.

"Yeah, don't worry about it dude. Anyways, so you know about the... the thing inside me?"

"Yeah, more or less."

"How do you know about it?"

"Because I have the same thing inside of me, too."

I looked over at him, and he looked back at me. He smiled.

"I told you you weren't alone."

"I... you. You really do??"

"Yes. It started about a month ago."

"Does it call itself Grey to you too?"

He shook his head.

"No, it has a different name. But, it did say something about a Dying Man thing too."

Oh yeah, he read this blog.

"So you know about the Dying Man and what Grey's been saying."

"Kinda. I only kindasorta skimmed your blog to be honest. I recognized what was happening immediately with the nightmares; they happened to me too. The River..."

Did he see anything about the Fear Mythos? 

"So how are you handling the nightmares?"

He laughed.

"I don't really have those anymore."

"Wait? Really?"

I couldn't believe him. How did he escape it-

"Open the glove compartment."

I opened the glove compartment. It is filled crumpled notepad paper and bottles of pills. I take one out. The prescription information is blank. It only said "Madelyn" on the front of it.

"What are these?"

"They're what keep the ghosts away."

He smiled. We're stopped at a stoplight. He took a bottle and looked at it.

"This is what keeps it buried, Owen. I don't have the nightmares anymore."

His hand was clenched around the bottle.

"Actually, the nightmares were nothing compared to what came afterwards. My demons... they bled into my reality. My life became a living dream. And I couldn't escape."

He threw the bottle back into the compartment and closed it.

"But those pills saved me. And they'll save you too."

The light turned green and ten minutes later we were at Steven's house. His parents weren't home, but it was clear that his life is entirely different than mine. We went into his room. He shut the door and it' was as if we were in our own little world from then on.

"So here we are. Here, have a seat on my bed."

He shoved a few papers and a textbook off and I sat down reluctantly. He sat down at his computer desk on a broken spinny chair.

"You want the pills, right? You want my help?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know.... umm... I've never taken meds before..."

"Don't worry. They aren't... there aren't any huge drawbacks to them. The important thing is, they put an immediate stop to the nightmares."

I nodded in agreement. Oh happy day. The moment the nightmares stopped I'd leap in joy.

"Question though... has Grey talked to you yet? In the nightmares?"

"....Huh? Yeah, of course. There's never been a moment he hasn't interacted with me, um..."

His eyes widened a bit in shock.

"Whaa...? Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"That's uh, ...strange. Mine, and others, only addressed us directly near the end. That's a bit worrying, to be honest."

I started shivering. Another thing wrong with me, huh?

"Don't worry too much about it. We'll figure that out later, dude."


In the back of my head, I could feel Grey scratching at reality. I looked out Steven's window.

"...Is he bothering you right now?'

"He's... he's always bothering me. It feels like my mind has become a... a fucking dam."

My voice cracked noticeably.

"I know exactly what you mean. Sincerely."

He got up and sat down next to me. He patted my shoulder.

"I'm going to get you some pills... I have to make a call for them though. You can't have mine. Prescription has to be made special by a friend of mine. I'll be right back."

He goes, and I'm left alone in the room. Grey kept screaming in the background of my universe. The screaming continues to get louder and louder until I'm consumed by it.

Steven shook me by the shoulder.

"Hey, you okay? You seem a bit dazed..."

"Yeah. Did you make the call yet?"

"...Yes. The old man wants to meet you first, before he adjusts the pills for you."

I'm disappointed.

"I'll do it, alright. When's he get here?"

It's around 7 when the old man arrives at the parking lot. He gets out of his car and he approaches us. He's tall and menacing. He's between "middle aged" and "old." Kind of looked like a poor man's Liam Neeson. His eyes were a piercing gray, unlike any eye color I've ever seen.

"Steven, good evening."

Damn, he even sounded a bit like Liam.

Steven nodded and made a little wave at the old man.

"So I suppose this is the boy?"

He looked at me and seemed to study me.

"Yes, this is him."

The old man reached out with his hand.

"What's your name?"

"O-Owen. It's Owen."

I shook his hand. He had a firm grip.

"I understand you need my help."


"Then I will help you."

I felt relief sweep over me.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'm Norman. From now on, I will help you fight off your demons."

Tears came to my eyes. I wiped them away. I'm not alone anymore, I thought to myself. People were helping.

But then it all came crashing down.

"Unfortunately, I cannot give you reprieve at the moment. I have to formulate a prescription for you. It'll take at least three days."

"...Three days? But..."

"You have to hold on. I'm sorry. I'll keep you updated through Steven."

He left.

And I collapsed to my knees.

Steven tried to console me.

I don't remember much afterwards. I just remember two things.

Getting home, and my mother screaming in my face.

Grey laughed throughout it all.


I received an email early this morning. I thought I was hallucinating at first. I thought it could be a joke. I had many feelings resonate from just one tiny email. But above all, I experienced relief; relief that maybe, maybe I wasn't alone in this.

His name was Steven and he said that he knew exactly what I was going through and that he stumbled across my blog and that he wanted to meet me and to help me. And I believe him. I truly believe him. This just /feels/ right. Like I should do this.

There's nothing else I can do anyway. The next time I go to sleep, ... I don't know what's going to happen. I guess I'll lose to him.

We're meeting in two hours. I can't believe this?? I can't believe it.

It feels too good to be true.

The River VII

I'm running and I'm running and I'm running and I'm running and I'm running. Any second now, he's going to show up and I'm going to be trapped. Any second now. But I'm going to run anywa

And there he is. He's in front of me now, and he's pushing me into the ground and now he's standing tall over me. I look into my shadow's face and I scream at him, but he just kicks me in the head and that shuts me up.

"Welcome back Owen! That was my "welcome back" gift. Did you like it?"

I spit out blood and wipe it from my mouth. I try to get up, but he kicks me back down.

"Now where the hell do you think you're going?"

He's on top of me now, pinning me down, down, down.

"Out of here..."

He slaps me.

"You're not going anywhere! Not for now, not ever. You're staying with me, forever."

I spit in his face.

He punches me and my blood starts to trickle out of my mouth uncontrollably.

"See, Owen-"

He places his palm in the center of my chest.

"I was too soft on you before. But this time, I won't make that mistake. This time, you're mine forever. And the sad thing, for you anyways, is that-"

He puts his other hand on my cheek.

"You can't do a damn thing about it, kid."

I panic. I struggle and kick and punch and cry and scream. But, it does absolutely nothing.

He slaps me again, and then another, and then once more, and then he punches me in the gut.

"Now... now that you're calm... or bleeding internally, whatever, let's have a real goddamn conversation."

A cut appears on my lower arm, and he notices it. He smiles, and leans in close to whisper something into my ear. I figure out what it is before he says it, and I have to fight the urge to faint right then and there.

"This isn't a dream. Or a nightmare."

His hands clasp around my throat.

"This is reality."

And he squeezes. He's squeezing and I'm choking.

And I die. I continue to be dead. But then I come back.

 I came back gasping for breath. He lets me breathe, he's no longer grasping my neck. He gets up off of me, and stands a few feet away. He's laughing, facing away from me.

"What... what the fuck... what just happened to... me.."

He turns around, and he's still chuckling.

"I killed you, darling. I killed you and I brought you back from the brink."

"You... you what? I.. .I don't understand."

But I do understand. And he knows I do.

He grabs me by the collar, and he pulls me up.

"I am Death. I am the Grim Reaper. I am your personal Demon. I am your Hell. But, above all-"

His pushes his forehead up against mine. His eyes stare into mine. I cannot escape Death.

"I am you, and you are me; we are one. You're it, Owen. You're the Death of All Things."

 "I don't... understand...I..."

"You seriously don't get it, do you? Like, seriously?? It's staring you right in the face, and yet you still deny the truth.... humans. I hate humans, you fucking know that? Pathetic beings."

He lets go of my collar and pushes me to the ground. His foot pins me down.

His shadow falls upon me.

"I'm the Dying Man. Or rather, a piece of the whole thing. But you get what I mean."

My brain shuts off. I am dizzy.

"...N-no... I don't get... get it. What are you talking about...?"

"You created me, father. You created all of Them. And now we're all alive, so so alive, all thanks to you!"

"I just. This is actually, really some type of dream, I knew it. This is a joke. I can't."

"This isn't a joke, this isn't a dream, hell, this isn't even a hallucination; Owen baby, this? This is reality. It's not only my reality, it's yours, too. I'm real. I'm so, so real. So very real. And you don't even understand what that means yet. But you will, oh, you will."

I get angry. I push his foot off, roll a few feet away, and get up. I run.

He smashes his fist into my lower back and I almost hit the ground but he kicks me up and grabs me and then slams me against a tree. The tree is dead.

We're back within nothing.

"I'm a lost piece of the Dying Man, and I'm going to make "us" become Him again. And you're the hand that will fit this lost piece into that puzzle."

I. I believe him. I knew all along but I want to throw up.


"If what you're saying is true... then how did I...?"

"How did you create us? How did you start the Provocation?"


"I don't have time for this. You had the chance for me to be friendly with you. Now I'm taking you by force."

I hear this... ringing.

In the background of everything.

And glass, cracking.

Anger appears out of nowhere and I push him off. I don't run away. I pick up a rock out of nowhere and smash his face in. I kick him over and over again while screaming. I throw the rock away and continue with my fists. He's growling. I'm screaming at him.

And then I pick him up and throw him against the tree. I'm still screaming at him.

"I'm sick and tired of all of this bullshit happening to me! I'm sick- of- it!!"

I throw him away from the tree and stand tall over him.

"I don't deserve any of this. No matter how much I hate myself... I did NOTHING to deserve it! Even if what you said is true... that I created the Fear Mythos and it all came true... I- I didn't know! And it's not my fault that this... I don't..."

I cry.

I realize, in that small moment, I could say the same thing about my life and the abuse I suffer through.

He looks up at me calmly. Blood floods out of his mouth.

"Are you done?"


He gets up and kicks me off my feet.

He grabs me at the throat once again, and brings me back to reality with one sentence.

"And why is that of any concern to me?"

He holds me against the tree.

"So what if you don't deserve any of it? Do you think that means that it won't happen to you? It only proves my point: this is never going to stop happening to you, whether you "deserve it" or not."

He laughs.

"The world is going to break you, mark my words, Owen Norris. If I don't first, anyway. Now, are we quite done? Because I'm getting sick of this back and forth nonsense... how long are you going to keep this up anyway? Do you think it can last forever? I'm not leaving. Not ever."

"Who the hell are you to decide any of this!?"

I scream and it's as if my anger explodes and the world shatters to pieces and I wake up in my bed. 

Monday, April 4, 2011

Death Awaits Throne II

It's so weird to look at what the Mythos is becoming now, compared to what's been happening to me. I want to ask somebody for help. Visitor, Djay, Lizard, Alli... anyone. But at the same time, I don't want to pull anyone into this.

I have some sort of mental illness. Or maybe I'm possessed by some sort of fucking demon. Or maybe it's the Dying Man. I don't really know anymore. Or care.

All I know, my mind is decaying. I'm becoming less and less every night. Soon, there won't be anymore of my self. I'm dying. I really am.

I don't have the energy to continue fighting him anymore.

What do I even do about this. Do I try to contact social services once again? They didn't listen about my mother, why would they listen to me about this. Do I try to go to the doctor's? Too fucking bad, no health insurance. Where do I go. Who do I go to.

I'm on the outside of society in a decaying house, alone with a dying family, and bonded to Death himself. 

I think I'm fighting the Dying Man. I think he's real and he's pissed off.

What have I done? 

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The River V

I'm sitting under a dead tree. A mist clings to the ground. I can smell the sea in the air. I'm within his realm once again. But where is he? Where's he hiding?

Or am I the one that's hiding?

I get up and dust myself off. I look around. There's nothing around. There's nothing around. I'm alone. There's just the tree, the mist, and the smell of the sea. And then there's me. But there's nothing else.

I'm alone within nothing.

I decide that I should walk into the nothing. So I do. I walk towards the nothing. I feel myself begin to disappear. It feels quite comforting. Like letting the tide wash over you, and then pull you away.

A hand grabs my shoulder and swings me around.

The nothing washes away and I'm suddenly surrounded by everything. Grey is among it. He has this... emotion spread across his face that I've never seen him wear before. It looked solemn.

"This is your last chance- and I don't want to do this, so please..."

The environment bleeds into one image: we're hundreds of feet above the River. We're floating above it, suspended above everything. Clouds swirl around us and the dead sun shines through us.

"I can't, and I won't. I'm sorry."

He sighs. He looks me up and down. His eyes lock with mine. He tries to speak. His voice cracks. He shakes his head and lets go of me for a moment. He wipes at his eyes. He composes himself.

Grey tackles me and we begin to fall down towards the River at a frightening speed.

It all feels so real. I can feel Grey punching into my gut and kicking me wildly. I can feel the force of the fall and the wind rip into my skin and my clothes. I can feel gravity pulling me towards my death.

I close my eyes and I try to pull myself away from it all.

I'm suddenly eight years old and I'm playing on a playground in the middle of a pale green field. I'm playing tag with my little brothers. I'm winning so hard that it's not even funny. Mom is watching us and

He pulls me back into the nightmare and grabs my throat. He squeezes.

I desperately gasp for air as I'm sitting in the backseat of that old minivan. We're going to the hospital. I'm getting a shot. Mom congratulates me. I'm rewarded with a stuffed camel and

I push Grey off of me. I begin to attack him. I punch, and I kick. And I wake up.

Saturday, April 2, 2011


My mother had one of her delusions again today. She drove us all to Suffolk, which is basically upper-class suburbia. She drove us into a developing neighborhood, one of those places recently built and yet looks extremely nice, despite every house looking like the one next to it.

A lot of the houses had "For Sale" signs in front of them. She parked in front of many of the houses, surveying them. The entire time, she was going on and on with her crazy bullshit. I wasn't listening. I was listening to music, and attempting to ignore her. I didn't want to argue. Not at that moment.

But then she took my sister out of the car and showed her around one house, while telling her the entire time that she would be able to live there soon. That she would win the lottery, and pay for all of us. For college. For a house. For everything. My brothers just quietly accepted her madness, and my little sister innocently listened to her mad rambling.

She was waving all of this in our faces, and telling us that she'd somehow win the lottery and provide all of this for us. It... frankly, it pissed me off, but I couldn't salvage the strength to get up and do anything about it. But then she dragged me out of the car and made me look and I. I lost my temper and I screamed in the center of the street and these people came out of the house and it all became a blur.

And then he took over. Grey took over on the drive back. I don't know what he said. But I came to when we pulled up into the driveway and for some reason I was in the front seat and she punched me and I hit the window and my head hurts so badly.

Why am I fighting Grey again.

Friday, April 1, 2011

The River IV

-ll right Owen, you can hold me as long as you want. You may be cold, but I'm warm."

I come to, and Grey's embracing me. I yell out and push him away, and I fall down to my knees. He jumps down to his knees, puts two fingers under my chin, and lifts my head up.

"It's alright. No one will know. I just want to make you feel happy."

I get up and shove him again, and back away from him.

"Don't do that, Owen. Please. Come on. You were holding on so tight to me moments ago... your soul wants to be with me. Why can't you just accept it?"

I don't answer. I don't even move.

He steps closer.

"You need a hug, don't you? No.. you need more than that. You need some actual goddamn love. When was the last time anyone told you they love-"

"Stop it, stop it, stop!"

I scream out in desperation, and hold my head; it feels like it's about to explode.

 "You need somebody to love you. And you've finally found that person. Don't push me away... you might not ever meet anyone that will again."

I. I grip my hair and clench my teeth.

He puts both hands on my shoulders.

"I can, and will, help you. She's not going to bully you around any longer."

His hand's on my cheek now.

"Just let me in, and all this-"

The scenery of the River bleeds away, and we fall into a blaze of my past memories. I'm being absorbed by the past. But then, Grey grabs me, and pulls me up. We float together, in the eye of a hurricane of memories. Our eyes are locked on each other.

"-all of this will bleed away. You can say goodbye to all the pain, misery, and... and especially the fear. All you have to do is letmein."


I just want to say... I almost agreed to letting him in. I truly almost did. I was willing to give up all that I was just to ease the suffering. But then I remembered what he said he was going to do to my mother. And I couldn't ever agree to that.

Despite everything she's done to my family, I still love her. I don't know if I should, but I do.

And so I said no.

Grey's hand leaves my cheek and grips around my throat. Instead of warmth, it felt frozen.

Grey's stare morphs into a glare, and he pushes me into the blaze of memories. It feels like I'm being held out the side of a car and my head is colliding with sign after sign after steel sign, over and over again.

"That was your last chance, boy. We're done here."

He lets go of me and I fall back into the past and I black out. I think that maybe the dream ends there.

I'm wrong.

 I don't... want to really talk about what happened next. So let's skip.

We skip, and I'm here, typing. But I don't publish the post. I wait until now. Just... waited.

I'm scared. I think these dreams... or nightmares.... I think.

I think they're not. And I'm scared.