How To Survive In A Dump: The Diary of Mr. Thaddeus

Surprise! But it isn't my Birthday!

July 25th

I decided upon my awake, the day before, to stay within the confines of my chamber and mule over everything that has occurred. I do quite enjoy the fact that these miscreants did not barge in and only stopped by to leave food and drink along my door which I do say was quite good. I have often enjoyed such delicacies when visiting my lesser human genome. My day began with fresh strawberries, bacon, some sort of cooked floury and fried mixture, which was unexpectedly splendid, and water flavored with a citrus.

 But I shall not go on about it or yesterday as it was uneventful to say the least. As I thought of ways to escape this prison, it has come to my attention that the reason these fools were so busy the day earlier... Or would it have it been the day before yesterday? No matter. I do not have the time or energy to look upon my journal and re-read this modern calligraphy. It would be better for me to continue of which I shall do. So as I said before, as I lingered on within the premises of this confinement these others seemed to be scurrying about like mice without cheese.

 A most UN-entertaining endeavor. Shall I add they did not seem the quite bit concerned about myself nor my predicament. Even though I do quite enjoy the time to reflect, I am not so used to such treatment. It shall not go unnoticed. I still wonder who the man of the house may be as it seems that he has already stepped in and has not even taken a glimpse of my fine stature. It shall be my duty to introduce my very self to the older degenerate of these misfortune accidents of human time. It may be in my best interest to carry my journal with me as it may concern me or you, my readers. Well off I go.

These wooden walls and floors seem much narrower than they did when I first entered into this old monstrosity. This dwelling does not appear to hold more than two floors like that of my own mansion. It is to my guess that whomever first built it decided not to add more mess upon this trash heap they claim a home. Either way it may have been too laborious, or the builders had no desire to work any harder than normal. Which would not surprise me in the least. Nor should it you as you have read of these lowly peasants and their lethargic ways.

Oh yes, I seem to have gone off again on a wild tangent. I shall return to my previous thoughts earlier. As stated prior before my thoughts seemed to have wandered off, it has come to my attention that the man of the house has visited again. I heard them speak to some other with what appeared to be a masculine voice. His speech carried weight as he spoke his words and these scallywags seemed to listen through and through. It should not cause me nor you any wonder, but I shall go forth and visit him now while he may decide to see me. It is noteworthy that as I do hear him gallivanting towards the stairs I felt the need to scurry back to my own bed as for some reason or another I felt anxious. But I shall lay still as if I asleep and continue to write once he has left.

I am sorely confused. It is not possible to believe what I have just witnessed. He has not seen me face to face and it has taken all of my strength not to let out a yelp that would put the most frightened puppy to shame. Even as I sit here and pinch myself it does not seem to be plausible that such a man would still exist. Where has this dreaded wall taken me? Was I really transported as if by magic to some far-off place that could never exist in reality? Or have I fallen upon some ill-fated sickness and my body still lay upon my bed, and my mind dreams deeply upon this nightmare? I cannot accept as true that I still do exist and upon pinching myself again I wonder if even in nightmares you can feel every touch as if it were reality. Or is it possible that I am no longer on earth at all but some other world where those people who have passed now reside? Did I fall and lose my own life?

 It may be in my best interest to investigate further. As you know I often write my thoughts in my book, and I shall continue to do so as I pass these... These other things. It is not for me to be superstitious. Nevertheless, seeing these abnormalities has turned my thoughts away from my own internal beliefs and confused me in a quite dreadful manner. I shall make haste and return upon these others so that I may understand what it is that I have fallen in to. It may be best at this time that I lay my writing upon this chair until I investigate further. Even though I can hear the heavy foot steeps of the man I had seen earlier. 

I shall compose myself and wait upon his arrival. I cannot allow myself to be given away in such a dire situation. It may be most excellent if I decide on placing this journal in a proper place as it seems this man may come into my own place of rest. I can feel my body react to such an encounter as if each piece within my physique were in some form of chill, causing me to shake beyond control. I shall continue to write again upon his departure as it would not be in my best interest for him to come upon what I have already written. Granting, I would not expect him to understand what I have placed upon these notes as it would seem as if I were just to babble. However, I do not wish to take any chances.

I have never felt so nervous in meeting such a man. He is so much like what I have heard and every part of me wishes that I could have had a father like him. Although he is a little strange in his views of those less fortunate, he seems to be intelligent in comparison to those idiots that I have met downstairs. And yet it causes a wonder? What if all my other thoughts upon my arrival until now have been drastically skewed? Not in my ideas of those who serve under of course as they deserve nothing but what they have, those disgusting ingrates. 

But where I seem to be now. Of course my other notions would seem plausible however, the one I now entertain does not. This man, these surroundings, would not have been in a space or time of my knowing but a past one. If this were the case then the young man who found me would be... I dare not think about it as it conjures up memories that seem to cause some sort of peculiar suffering within me. Not one that I have been acquainted with. This man. The pictures I have seen upon my walls. This man who I admired in almost complete totality. One whom I have heard of and respected who if it were not for him, I could never have been born. This man. My grandfather.