The Fleshy Book

Seven Days: Log Three

Seven Days: Log 3

Log 3

Wednesday, February 19th

You know, at this fricken point, I could go on to a whole entire forty five minute tangent on how much all of this SUCKS! But, after what just happened, there’s not much of a point seeing that I’ll be going through this insanity again!

By some miracle I was able start today in a normal fashion. I guess I was still riding off the sense of triumph from last night’s encounter. (And I can tell you now I certainly won’t be riding off it today)

And like before, I didn’t bother trying to tell anyone about this. Who would ever believe me? I did consider telling my best friend but you can only go so far in telling someone that: you were hunted by a freak who looks a lot like The Joker, killed by him, brought back to life somehow, and then had to redo it the next day with another freak. Somewhere in there they’re going to ask for evidence. And what do I have to show for that? Just these fricken logs, real convincing right?

So any-hoo, class went on like normal. Thankfully I didn’t hear any sadistic singing this time, thank God, but I knew that didn’t mean anything bad wasn’t going to happen. I tried hoping for that the day before, and look where that got me. It wasn’t until I got home again that crazy crap started to happen.

But unlike the last two times, there wasn’t any warning. When I arrived home I didn’t say hi to my mom, hi to my dad, or hi to my brother and sister. I went straight to my room, locked the door, and hopped onto my computer. The person, the thing or whatever the heck it is said it would talk to me today. I sat back and waited for the text box to appear.

The screen remained blank.

I waited a little bit more.

Still nothing.

This continued for another 15 minutes or so before I couldn’t take it any longer, “Oh, for crying out loud! Say something already!”

The screen remained barren.

“Oh come on, really? You said you would talk to me today. So here I am, talk.”

A text box appeared.

“Good, now we’re getting somewhere,” I muttered.

Text slowly began appearing, “I thought we agreed that when you speak to me you would be respectful.”

I snorted, “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m still a little ticked off at the fact I was killed and then hunted for the past two days by freaks that shouldn’t even exist. And after thinking I’d gotten out of it, I’m reminded by another freak on my computer that I’ll be doing it again for five more days!”

As those words left my lips, I realized that my sarcasm would just piss him off even more and he would probably stop speaking to me again. I couldn’t afford that. More text was beginning to appear. So I hastily continued before it could finish.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said quickly in a quieter tone, “I mean come on. Who wouldn’t be like this after going through all of that? Just knowing that more of this is coming, isn’t comforting.

I waited for a response.

The text that it had been writing earlier suddenly vanished. The box was empty for a few seconds, almost as though the person who was writing it was surprised by my apology.

It began writing again, “I was beginning to think you did not learn anything from yesterday’s visitor. I am glad to see I am wrong.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Man that was close.