And Still More Weirdness

So I read the blog that belongs to the guy who commented on my last post…. OnePoundOfFlesh….
Only got through the first three posts before I stopped. I hope it’s fictional. I really do. Because if it’s real…. That’s sick. Why does a blog about a serial killer even have so many followers….

Here’s the entries following the ones I posted yesterday. I still don’t really understand what’s going on. It’s almost unnerving, reading about this but not knowing what’s really happening. My imagination keeps trying to fill in the gaps. But my imagination never has been a place of happy things….



7:00 AM-8:00 AM
Woke up later than usual. Times like this, I wish I had some way to record what I was doing in my sleep. It would add a lot to my peace of mind.

Was still in the stable. Not the most comfortable places to sleep, but hey, I was tired. Barely even noticed the straw I was laying on stabbing me through the night, least not until I was woken and suddenly could feel every tiny blade poking into my skin.

I say “woken” because stables are not places designed for individuals to sleep in, and not long after the sun had risen someone was waking me up and asking why on earth I was asleep there. Didn’t give them an answer; just got up and walked out.

No sign of it as I walked away. And believe me, I was looking carefully. I was focused so much on searching for any hint of a tall and thin silhouette in the shadows that I jumped when Dorian called my name. I think it was obvious how nervous I was, but he didn’t press me too hard for details. The two of us walked down the road, chatting. Small talk. Nothing of much importance.

Until Dorian mentioned we were being followed. I looked over my shoulder and saw it, standing from a distance, watching us. Whenever I blinked, it would be closer. Felt like I’d been thrown into a bucket of ice; barely heard Dorian’s theory that it was someone hired by the Baker’s to get revenge on us for the bank robbery. He could see it. Dorian could see that thing. Everyone else on the street walked by, ignoring the towering, spindly, faceless figure amongst them, but Dorian…. He saw it, even if he didn’t understand what it was.

Dorian was still talking about our follower as we reached the center of town. Going through his list of suspects that the Bakers would hire to pursue us. Cept he couldn’t figure out what kind of person would walk around dressed as an undertaker….

Dressed as an undertaker? Yeah, dressed as an undertaker, Dorian confirmed. Hadn’t I looked at the man’s clothes? Well, yeah, I did, but….

Guess that confirms that the people here see him differently. Undertaker, though? Seems a bit cliché.

Don’t know what I should tell him. I feel obligated to warn him, but there’s nagging doubt that he won’t believe what I say. It’s not exactly the most realistic sounding scenario. And he’d find out on his own eventually….

I’m being selfish…. Because I don’t want him to look at me like I’m crazy. He’ll need help. I couldn’t have gotten through my first encounters if I didn’t have someone by my side. Could I put him through that? Make him deal with this on his own? Just because of what he’ll think of me?

Can’t do that. Could never do something like that. Even if he doesn’t believe me, I have to try. Give him any warning I can for what lies ahead.



Maybe if I’m lucky, when Elizabeth explains what’s going on to Dorian, she’ll be nice enough to give me an explanation as well.

Ah, who am I kidding. She’ll probably spend the rest of this journal cryptically referring to whatever’s following her as “it” and I’ll never figure any of this out….

-Lisa