Dear Journal [May]Mature


Dear Journal,

Mom went to the police today. It hasn't quite been a full 24 hours yet, but I'm hoping that they listen to her. It's not like Jon to just disappear. Especially without telling anyone. He's just not that kind of kid. I'm trying not to freak out yet, Mom's doing that well enough for the three of us. Dad's just trying to keep her calm though I know he's not faring much better. I really hope he's not hurt somewhere. I want him back home. He may be annoying, but things just aren't right around here without him. I've called Niki, Crissy and Marissa but none of them have seen him. Crissy said she'd ask Jake for me but I doubt he'd know where Jon is. I'm praying that any moment now he'll just walk through the door, oblivious to all the worry he put us through. He'll come home eventually. I just have to stay positive.


Dear Journal,

I was right. Jake hadn't seen him. The police are starting a search and we put out an alert for him. Mom's not letting me go outside alone anymore, and she watches me through the window of our house every morning while I wait for the bus. Again, I understand why she does it, but it can be creepy sometimes. It's really hard to stay positive when everyone else seems to fear the worst. I don't want to even think about it. It's only been two days. There's no reason for everyone to be so pessimistic.

I still can't look outside my window at night.


Dear Journal,

Mom was crying today. She's trying not to let me see. I want to comfort her. Only, there's nothing I say that doesn't fall flat. Dad's always been so much better at this consoling thing than me. I thank god we have him. He's our anchor. Even though I know he's just as scared as we are he doesn't let it show. I hope someday I'll be as strong as him. Right now, I'm nowhere near that level. I can't even be strong for myself. I'm afraid to look out of my damn window just because of some dream. My eyes hurt really bad. I can't sleep. At some point I'll probably just pass out. Hopefully it won't be while I'm at school. That would just be humiliating.

My teachers have extended all my deadlines. I don't know whether I should be grateful or not.


Dear Journal,

I think I'm starting to hallucinate a little bit. Either that or my mind is having issues keeping up with my eyes. I keep seeing little black shapes out of the corners of my eyes that are never there when I look back. I need to sleep. This isn't healthy. I just want Jon to come back home. Please, come back home. I don't want to stand another night having to listen to Mom crying. I think Dad's just waiting for me to crack. He doesn't say anything, but he keeps giving me weird looks when he thinks I'm not paying attention. It's the same look I keep getting from my friends. I don't like it.


Dear Journal,

I haven't cried yet. I think I'm the only one. It's not that I'm not sad or anything; I'm not so cold. I just feel...numb, I guess is the word for it. I'm starting to black out for short periods of time. It's unnerving. I found a little carving on our mailbox when I went out to check it this morning. A circle with a messy X in the center. The symbol doesn't have any significance to me. I hope someone didn't put it there as some sort of sick joke.

[The handwriting here drastically changes.]

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

He's watching watching me

the hands see and

Go to sleep.

[The final sentence is written normally.]


Dear Journal,

I don't remember writing the end of my last entry. I would say that Jon stole it and wrote in it, if it weren't for the obvious, and that I can still make out my own handwriting in it. I don't remember falling asleep, either, and yet I just got out of the bed I don't remember laying down upon. I can hear Dad crying. I wonder why he didn't wake me up. I have school today.


Dear Journal,

Dad doesn't know what the symbol is. He said it's probably just some kid with too much time on his hands. Probably. It's just sort of weird. I saw the same symbol on Niki's driveway this morning. It makes me wonder, but I'm probably just reading too much into things. Though I might ask her about it. Maybe it means something to her? Unlikely but worth a shot. She's been looking a little strained lately. She hasn't said anything to me about it, but that just might be because she doesn't want to upset me with all that's going on. Though I wish she would. Crissy's been ignoring my calls. I need someone to talk to.


Dear Journal,

She didn't see the mark on her driveway. But she said it in this really weird way, more of like denial of the truth. But why would she lie about seeing it? She's starting to worry me. I think she might be sick. Maybe she waited a bit too long on her essay and is now in a mad dash to finish. Wouldn't surprise me. Mine was long since ignored. I'm not even bothering with it anymore. Even with the extension. The stress wasn't worth it. Between the stress of Mom and Dad and people walking on eggshells around me, I've had enough.


Dear Journal,

Niki had an accident today. Nothing too serious, she just nosedived the front of her Jeep into our ditch. I was outside at the time, I went over to see if she was okay but she freaked out on me. She started crying and screaming at me to go away. That hurt. And she just kept screaming until Dad came out and calmed her down. His hot chocolate is the solution to everything, I swear. She kept mumbling to herself under her breath and she wouldn't look up from the table. Repeating: Not there. Not there.

What's not there?

It's nighttime now. Jon's in the front yard. But he's kinda fuzzy. Sorta like a picture on the TV screen when there's too much static. He's moving funny. Someone's standing next to him. I can't see their face.

I don't think Jon's coming home anymore.


Dear Journal,

Niki won't talk to me anymore. She won't even stay in the same room if I walk in. She doesn't answer any of my calls. No one will. Mom keeps telling me that it's okay to act sad if I feel it. It's okay to cry. I tell her I already have, even though I haven't. Why haven't I? I just can't. I want to. For some reason it feels that if I do, something will change. I don't know if I want it to.

Gaelen, our mail lady, hasn't stopped by in a few days. I think Dad's going to complain soon. We really don't need another inconvenience right now. I haven't seen the old lady I usually see at the supermarket. She's always been my favorite cashier. I hope she didn't get fired or die on me.


Dear Journal,

I'm watching the News right now with Mom and Dad. More people have gone missing. I'm glad Dad didn't complain about our mail, because she's one of the missing. It's really weird. I always thought this was such a safe and boring place. Nothing ever happened here. I miss it when it used to be like that. Boring is nice. My dreams are really starting to scare me. They keep getting darker. More disturbing. Though I can't seem to remember them. But the feelings they leave me last all day.


Dear Journal,

This is the second night in a row I've woken up screaming. I don't know if it was better when I didn't sleep at all compared to this. It's like I'm being taunted. Restful sleep is right there, so obtainable, then it's snatched away again.

How cruel. The house is silent except the roaring of blood in my ears. My curtains are closed. I don't remember doing that. I wonder if maybe I've woken up before tonight. I don't remember. I don't remember my dreams. I don't remember. I feel sick.


Dear Journal,

I see that guy again. I don't think I'm mistaking him for something else. He just keeps standing there. Why does he not move? There's something coming out of his back. Something black and spindly. Almost like smoke or something. I wish I could see his face, it'd make this all a little less-he's not there anymore. Was he ever? I'm starting to think I just imagined him.


[Tear drops soak the page in areas. The handwriting gets gradually worse as the entry progresses.]

Dear Journal,

I've been stopping by the park more and more lately. It just seems so frozen. Nothing's changed. It looks the same as it did before everything got to messed up. I think that's why I feel so out of place. I don't belong there anymore. But I should, damnit. I haven't changed. It's everyone else that's gotten so weird. I wish Jon was here. Even when things seemed out of whack in my life, he was always the (annoying) constant.

I think I'm crying. And shaking. I can't stop.


Dear Journal,

I told my English teacher I wasn't turning in the paper. He told me that if I didn't I wouldn't pass his class. I told him I didn't care. I don't want to write anything. It's getting difficult. Too draining. Even this.


Dear Journal,

I saw Jon today. He's acting really strange. Normally he's such a chatterbox. Today I couldn't get him to talk at all. Maybe if he'd just spit out that nasty red stuff running out of his mouth and got out of the tree. How'd he get so high up, anyways? He'd always been so clumsy, I don't know how he could have climbed up this. Maybe one of the others showed him. I'd ask, but they seem just as silent as he is. The mail lady is here. There's something wrong with the side of her face, though. It's all squishy and red. They're all covered in it. I don't like the way it looks. Especially on Jon. He never liked red. Green was always his favorite color.


[Writing is incredibly erratic and hard to make out.]

dead they're not dead

blood not            don't please

not blood

           miss you please don't

I'm scared

watching me

                         he's watching me

they're dead

The End

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