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Evil Jim

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12:00 pm: January 15: It's Saturday afternoon. You're not at home.
It's Saturday afternoon & I'm not at home. I wish I were. I'm not even sure where I am anymore. The last day has been such an awful blur I hesitate to recount anything lest I make matters worse. There was a woman with short dark hair & haunting black eyes with an inhuman thirst, relentless in her search for some person or answer. Perhaps it was that vision from the sea. An enormous amorphous black shape silhouetted against the sky, its tentacled arms billowing frantically as tho' to protect itself from some unseen horror. She seemed to pull through, but not without considerable stress. From then on her balance was unsteady & she would often fall into the plush, orange shag carpeting that was everywhere.

There was also a sense of great speed. Like a shot of lightning streaked with green, it rocketed me back & forth so many times I no longer knew where or when I ever was. I had no control. Day & night flashed asynchronously, hiding & revealing appalling flabby creatures too horrible to recall that emanated death from every orifice. I can only pray they were crushed by the giant stone head whose face was locked permanently in a hideous howling grimace.

Memories are so blurred of the events that have unfolded that I can hardly tell one from the other anymore. Was that a fish man wearing clothes and roller skates? I certainly remember the music & flashing lights, but where were the bearded man & explosions? Children chasing after a giant silver dinosaur through a hellish pink haze while a storm of garbage rained down from the rooftops. Or was that the drugs? I think marijuana may have been involved, tho' I know for certain I've never touched the stuff.

I wasn't the only one to suffer this madness, but I may be the only one to survive. I remember seeing, tho' briefly, a poor bespectacled young lad pursued by a screaming banshee witch who relentlessly tormented his every step of escape. I don't know if he made it. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I will anymore.

The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!

- E V I L O U T -

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