I found myself returning there today, overcome by a strong urge to once again pass through the uneven doorway to my former home. It is an odd feeling to stand before this old building - a hut, barely managing to continue standing, and I fear to enter. But there is some other force not of my own being willing me to enter.
I hesitate to do so, however. Still do I remember the cold, sinister aura that eminated from the hole in the wall - the insanity I was overcome with, to board up the window and doors and to leave but one light functional within the entire room. This is a fear that grows moreso now, for I believe that is is this same unknown thing - be it spirit, beast, or demon - that corrupts my thoughts and influences my actions.
But perhaps I shall enter once more. For since last I resided within the accursed shack, the darkness and malice have grown, and even now I can see the faint glitter of what should have been a long since dead bulb. The thing is spreading... Slowly making its way past the confines of it's prison.
The passageway.... Something must be done about that hole leading to another world....
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Perhaps I will continue with this tale inspired by my poorly decorated and my lack of desire to spend money upon it.
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A Journal
I don't usually do journals, but we'll see how this turns out. Perhaps I shall write, and then again, perhaps I shan't. Conformity is not something I'm big on.
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