User:A Helpful Little Gnome/Book
| You open the old water-logged journal. Traces of dried bloody fingertips mark the edges of pages, evidence of many past readers and writers.
Wedged in between the pages is a dirty old pencil. There still seems to be some space left to write something . |
Some scribbles are left in the margins of pages...
Flipping through the pages, you come across...
The scrawling of some confused soul...
I've been stuck in this...place...for weeks now. Having thought I could avoid the hordes by simply walking across the fields, I quickly found that the fields seemed to end without ending. How, I do not know, but somehow I would walk forward and find the same expansive landscape in front of me as I had with the last step and the one before that and the one before that. Since then, I have braved the ruins, slain madmen, mutilated zombies, and somehow managed to avoid death. Hopefully I will make it.
The scribbles of a blinded soul...
Day... Something. I don't know what's happening. I woke up, exhausted, and heard a creaky voice. I looked around, but saw only white. Actually, there were other things too... The words "Loading". A few black lines. A .jpg artifact, but that could just be my monitor on the fritz. Actually... One sec...
The writting of a delusional soul...
Day Something +1. Turns out it WAS a .jpg artifact. Someone must have done a lousy shop job on the universe. Anyways, it appears I'm in some sort of room. With a bunch of rats. And a fat, naked midget at a cardboard computer. I'm not sure what's going on, but there's a trio of people on the screen. One of them looks kinda strange (and bloody), like he ate really spoiled, raw meat.
The words of some hallucinating soul...
The nudist midget looks surprised that I'm here. Given the tone of his skin, I'm guessing he spends most of his time at the strange computer.
The marks of a distraught soul...
What are the chances? Finding this journal so much later, and with new writings in it, nonetheless. Strange how it has followed me, like some sort of silent companion on this journey. A part of me hopes that these new words can guide me to the one I lost, but I know that I am too late. There's no saving him. There's no saving me. Only hell awaits me for the things I have done. The things I won't share with any companion. Not even this silent one.
The chicken scratch of a strange soul...
I tasted the old man. He is good. I need more bears.
Lost in an alternate dimension...
An old water-logged journal? Not my journal, that I am sure of. As much as I've had my fair share of traveling the different worlds of the universe, this world...It's exactly the same as the world I was just on. But it's not same. Something about this world is...different, as if this part of the world had been lost to sleep. Could it be that this world, this "alternative dimension", I have stumbled upon, is waiting for it's birth by sleep? I write this entry not in my own journal, no, but rather, in this old water-logged journal. Whoever finds this journal in the future, only you, and you alone, have the power to awaken this half of the world from it's slumber and make the entire world whole again.
The jottings of a madman...
The castings of a loon...
It was safe and pure. Why didn't I just stay in the field? You can't look back now! No, of course not, I'd never have met you. Promise me that we'll always be together. But you left me for that other man. It was only to help you! Yes, you did come back to me. And don't forget about the zombie; if not for me, you'd have drowned. That is true. And how else would you be writing this message if not for me to draw your blood? You're right, let's never fight again. Yes, let's. Glad that's settled, I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed from all this writing. You didn't have to go so deep... and did it have to be your wrist? I didn't want to run out mid-sentence. Aren't you about finished now? I would be, if you didn't sto...(the writing becomes illegible)
