Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Mind failing. Constant rain.

It is becoming increasingly diffilcult to function, in even the most rudimentary way, now that I have been back here two, three, five...? days. Nothing works normally. The weather, last week so ordinary, has taken a decided turn for the bad. Today, at lunch, we ate wordlessly, fixated as we were on the stormy skies, dark with intent, that clouded around the windows.
I cannot remember when I got here. The other guests seem as if permanent fixtures. Did they return to their homes, as agreed, at the weekend? Or did they surreptitiously remain here, absorbing and being absorbed by the PRESCENCE? Am I alone, surrounded by phantoms? By spectres, by ghouls? Or am I, on the other hand, consumed with a burgeoning paranoia which knows no limits, fed, as it is, by the dark woodlands which continually oppress the small clearing in which this decrepit manor house is situated?
I am unsure. I have never been less sure.
Until this afternoon I was I the grip of a feverish panic, a fervidly felt anguish that manifested itself as an unwavering certainty that I could vanquish the PRESCENCE. But it is not so.
I may write more later. I may not. The choice, alas, is no longer in my hands.

1 Comments:

Blogger emckannon said...

Feeling you from Florida where the stone age state awaits the damage of hurricane Wilma, much like it did during the first rigged election.

www.prisonplanet.com
weather control

I just want to be able to be...

2:12 PM  

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