ᴇᴠᴇʀᴇᴛᴛ.

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09/11/2019 03:11 PM 

Journal Entry: A Haunted Autumn.

JOURNAL ENTRY: A Haunted Autumn.
OCTOBER 25th, 2012.

I remember my eyes; how they watered from the utter dryness as I stared up at the ceiling where a spider decided to stand completely still. I remember thinking to myself:
please don’t crawl into my ear canal as I’m sleeping…
It continued to remain still as the wooden panels of the ceiling fan cast shadows across the pale paint.

Suddenly, for some reason or another, HER face took residence in my mind - no warning. No signatures on a lease. Not even a monthly payment. The memory of HER just decided to show up and bombard my thoughts. Her laugh. Her smile. All reserved just for me. To me, she was so innocent and so pure. Even after what happened those many years ago…

Even after she did what she did that night I had lost her for what would be… forever.
Or so I thought.

In fact, this particular night would be an indication that I would not be free of such a memory. This night would serve as a first of many reminders that I wasn’t alone. Slowly before my eyes, the mere memory of HER slowly manifested into an entire apparition of her, blocking the spider what was previously in my line of sight.

Startled, I shot up in my bed with my back firmly against the headboard. I remember the feeling of immediate panic. Her apparition swiftly approached me until her face and mine possessed just an inch between our noses. My body hair stood on edge - my skin became cold to the touch.

Her eyes were lifeless - seemingly filled with hatred and blame. No words followed. Just a dead cold stare. She knew. She was aware. I knew. The guilt was ever present - in fact, it never left. I was partly responsible for this paranormal result. My choices. My actions. The actions of others who were involved, all led to her untimely death.

I wanted to say her name, mostly to confirm outloud to myself that it was really her.
However, she dematerialized into nothingness before I managed to whisper her name. I was left with an eerie feeling inside of my body… the feeling of which told me that this would not be the last encounter with her ghost.

09/08/2019 05:49 PM 

Everett Reed: A Brief History.

Everett Reed: A Brief History.
Born Everett Alec Reed, the awkward male recalled the randomized facts about his infanthood, and childhood, that were shared with him by his mother. The overly sweetened coffee swirled in his shallow cup as the first fact floated through his mind: Everett was born during a stressful event. Unknown to the infant, the people around him struggled and scrambled about, seeking shelter from an EF-3 tornado that threatened to annihilate the grocery store.

His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the waitress that approached his table uncomfortably close. “More coffee, honey?”
Everett’s eyes looked up at her with hidden disgust by her mindless term of affection.
“My cup is still full.” he responded. “If it’s full, I won’t need more coffee.”
“A yes, or no, would have sufficed.” The waitress took her offended attitude with her towards the kitchen and disappeared from Everett’s sight.

Due to the mental interruption, Everett’s thoughts had no other choice other than to jump to his toddler years. Even at a young age, he kept to himself. It wasn’t until the age of thirteen, did he open up a little bit. Not only was he aware that he was growing more tolerant of the people who wanted to get to know him, but he was learning to be aware of his feelings, as well as his sexuality, of which was greatly experienced at that age.

An intimate touch. A shared kiss… or three. He felt himself grow more attached to this person, that he became lost in his emotions every time they were around each other.
So young to lust. So young to fall in love.
And too young to die...

Now at the age of twenty-six, the death of his friend at the age of thirteen still haunted his dreams. Mostly, because Everett was an involved party. He felt responsible - he felt guilt.
And much like the coffee in that shallow cup of his, Everett Alec Reed was getting colder.

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