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June 14th, 1999
Abigail, it is so incredibly hot in this god forsaken pit of a town, I think I might have accidentally slipped down the staircase to hell. It’s too bad, I must have missed you by one wrong step. But as I’m sure you can tell; I hate it here. I'm just glad I have this diary to write to you, you're the only thing that'll keep me sane.
Currently, it is two o’clock in the morning and I have thankfully given up my miserable attempt to fall asleep. I have tossed and turned in a puddle of my own sweat for hours, listening to the terrible sounds of nothingness from outside. It was never this hot or quiet in New York.
There are a lot of things I miss now, Abby.
June17th, 1999
Abigail, three nights in and I still can’t seem to sleep. There’s something off about this place, but its something I can’t quite describe into words. I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of a word I want to use to describe how strange I feel here. Besides the first words that come to mind: miserable, hot, trashy, lonely- you get the idea. When I think of it, I’ll let you know.
There’s something static about the humid air that makes the mind feel fuzzy. The people are weird too, like zombies from the 1800s. I feel like the crows are watching me sometimes, and its majorly creepy. And the floor is painfully creaky. Of course, Mom and Dad are too tired to listen to me or do anything to fix it. We miss you.
June 20th, 1999
Unearthly.
June 28th, 1999
Abigail, I’m sorry I haven’t written in so long. Its been two weeks and I still haven’t gotten one full night of sleep no matter what I try. I tried not writing for a little while, (advice from dad) but that didn’t work any better than writing. So tonight, I plan on writing until my arms get numb. Maybe then, my conscious will get all tingly too and I’ll at least be able to rest my eyes.
This place isn’t right, Abby. I thought it was just because I missed you and I missed home, but I think it’s more than that. Its deeper. It’s something that even seems to make mom and dad uncomfortable. Like, even tonight, things are so strange. It’s a full moon, right? But it feels like the sun is still out. I am writing to you without a light on, Abby, just a cracked curtain. Its eerie the way it glows. Every once and a while I swear the moon blinks off and then on again really fast. Maybe that’s just me though… I’m really tired.
June 29th, 1999
My first letter to you in the daytime Abigail, its currently morning. I just had to write this down though because it has been a terrible morning. We woke up like normal only to find the front lawn is covered in dead birds. Those crows I told you about? The one’s that stared- there’s just a heap of them all scattered on the porch and lawn. Its morbid. Some of them even got blood on the patio. I think we’ll be seeing black feathers and smelling dead flesh in the baking sun for a month now. Dad called the police, he thinks someone is trying to threaten us. I’m not so sure. No one around here has the smarts to kill so many crows and no one around here seems to even know us yet. I feel like it has something to do with the lights last night. But I’m sure its just because I read too much science fiction last night…
July 1st,1999
Abigail, I’m writing because I can’t sleep again. It’s only gotten hotter the longer we’ve been here and I think I’m going to die of heat stroke one of these days. A neighbor, Mrs. Baker or something, stopped by to give us a pie today. She said felt bad about the birds in our lawn the other day. Maybe dad was right, I don’t know why anyone would bring a guilt pie to their neighbor unless they had something to do with it. Still, it was cherry and I know that’s your favorite so I ate in your honor. You would have thought the dead birds were funny or “neat” or something anyway you freak…
July 4th, 1999
Abigail, can’t sleep tonight, being the fourth and all. We’re celebrating with fireworks, which is the one thing this hick town seems to be able to do well. Happy independence day! I wish you were here
July 7th, 1999
I’m convinced I’ll never be able to sleep here, Abby. It has been three weeks or more and I still can’t get even one night of shut eye. And not for a lack of trying. I’ve been helping with all sorts of chores around this creepy house, so I’ll be tired when nighttime comes. Today I found a crystal ball hidden away in one of our deep closets. It glows in the dark like a glow stick or something, so I’m keeping it in my room until it finally runs out of juice. We’re pretty much all unpacked. But I don’t think this place will ever get close to being home without you.
July 12th, 1999
Abigail, hat glowing ball still isn’t out of juice, which has impressed me. I still can’t sleep though, and it’s getting to me more and more. I think I’m becoming a zombie like the rest of the dumpy people here. I’ve noticed some crows have returned again, I thought it wouldn’t be possible with how many were dead before. Now they just kinda stare at the house. I feel like their staring at my room, and I’m too afraid to check my window right now to be sure. I always feel like I’m being watched here, Abby. When my skin isn’t dripping from sweat its crawling from the hibbie jeebies. This place isn’t right….
July 17th, 1999
Abigail, I hate it here. That ball still glows at night. The crows are watching my room. I’m so tired I can barely write to you, yet for the life of me I can’t sleep. I was joking about being in hell but now I’m not so sure. When I look out at the country side here I swear the horizon grows further and further away from me. Mom and Dad barely speak. I barely speak. Sometimes it feels like my blood is lightening. I’m not making any sense anymore Abby
July 19th, 1999
Maybe it’s not so bad. Mrs. Whittingmen brought over that cherry pie again, this time just because. I swear that pie is was the best pie I had ever eaten. You would have loved it. You would have liked my lamp too. It glows kind of green now, but not an ugly green. I don’t know Abigail.
July 21st, 1999
Abigail, I’m so hot that I’m cold. Maybe I’m getting sick. The air feels very thick recently. My hands feel shaky, I’m sorry for how it write. I wish you where here. You could help…
July 23rd, 1999
Those birds left today. I don’t know to where, but I’m glad. They kept huddling in that tree until the tree looked less barren. Creepy.
July 24th, 1999
Abigail, I can’t sleep tonight. I swear I heard those crows again, only the sound was coming from that glowing lamp. It’s such a weird ball. But I don’t want to throw it away. Mom is sick. She keeps coughing. I could be sick though
I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t remember what that felt like anyway though I guess.
I feel like an exoskeleton. I wish you were here.
July 26th 1999
Abigail, tonight I am afraid of something bad happening.
July 27th, 1999
Abigail, I knew this place was bad. I still am not sure what it is, but something about this place is making us go bad. Dad keeps yelling and tripping. Mom is sick.
I am not who I was. I am nothing.
I am ready for tomorrow. I think whatever will happen, it will happen tomorrow. I am afraid that maybe we are in purgatory. Or maybe… these past months this place has been preparing us like one prepares a turkey. Abby I’m afraid we’re that meat and tomorrow it thanksgiving.
July 28th, 1999
Abigail, I can’t describe it but the sun isn’t down. It’s one in the morning but the moon is so bright I can see everything. Mom stopped coughing and I’m afraid to get up. I don’t know what happened to
dad.
The crows came back, and this time I can hear them calling to me. The glowing ball is yellow. Yellow like sickness. This place is unearthly,
Abby.
I’m afraid soon I will be joining you. I’m afraid maybe I’m already gone, and we ended up in different places. I think I can hear footsteps from our lawn. Those zombie people…
I think I’m going to start praying now.
I hope to see you soon.
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