Archive for demension

Concern

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 17, 2011 by aaronsummac

This.

This was in my inbox today. I don’t understand it, not completely, but I think I understand some of it.

I have a few personal days off from work, and I’m thinking of taking them. But I don’t want to leave and be wrong.

Can you understand if I think this is a trap? I think baits been laid and I’m being coaxed from cover. But by the same token, I have to be able to get him back. Have to. And wherever she is, she needs to be let out. No one deserves to be stuck there.

Not even her.

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Promise Me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2011 by aaronsummac

I’ve been away for a while, trying to keep myself from feeling overwhelmed. Trying to distance myself from this garbage (even as the shadows in the corners of my vision seems to swell and shudder in the way they always do when things start getting closer).

Except I’m getting emails. It’s easy to ignore the little things creeping around the edges of my vision – insomnia, boredom, tricks of the light: all viable excuses. I can pretend they’re not happening.

But everyday I have three or four emails in my inbox from someone calling themselves ‘Kaughtneedless’. Not a single one makes much sense, and I would assume it was the Bitch except its even more incoherent than her usual prattle. I took a screen-cap of the most recent one:

They’re all pretty much like that.

I haven’t heard anymore from Blake or the Bitch, and it’s beginning to unnerve me. But I’m not going to leave. I can’t.

Behind Locked Doors

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on January 26, 2011 by aaronsummac

Everything is going wrong. Dreaming again, waking with the dream on my mind. I’m worried people will start to notice. I’m worried Blake won’t come home.

I have to keep the door locked while he’s gone. Draw the drapes, lock the doors, keep the light off. If there is no light, then I don’t have to see what I’m sharing space with. If anything’s here, I don’t have to see it. I don’t want to see it.

Like the Water Dream, every thing about this makes me want to vomit. I heard a truck rumble past the apartment, and I think it’s thunder and I taste the water in my mouth. I can taste it, heavy and metallic and rank; I feel like I’m drowning in it even though rationally I know I’m awake, I’m in my home, I’m dry and safe.

God I hope he comes home soon.

Unfound

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 15, 2010 by aaronsummac

There are doors, many open but most closed. It is right that they remain closed. We don’t need to see what lies behind their sturdy barricades.

As days crawl by, each shorter and darker than the last, the thing I cling to most is this: most of the doors are still closed.

But I keep thinking of Quill and how the door was closed, the basement door was closed and locked, and how she was out when we came back.

Is a closed door really so much security, even one that is as locked and barred as these are supposed to be? Graviora manent; Nemo ante mortem beatu.

A cat’s collarbone is not connected to other bones in its body, instead buried in the muscle of the cat’s shoulder. This allows a cat to slip through any opening the size of its head — Quill was locked in the basement when we left the house, and through strength and acrobatic flexibility, she managed to squeeze between the door and the wall, straining the door against it’s chain lock.

Most doors are kept closed, but it is really so hard to imagine that something on the other side could, like a cat, squeeze itself through the cracks? Something thin and flexible and hungry which, sniffing long enough around the edges of its door, has smelled good prey and comes now to hunt.