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Anada 233
#
anada "Invisible #
233 Fear" +### +### +#### +###
# # # # # # # # # #
by # # # ## # # # # # #
09 Tim Rudzianski # .# ## # # .# # .# # .#
dec *### * # * *### * *### * *### *
2000 .+#################################################################.net
September 15, 2000
Today started out so typical, I woke up after hitting the snooze
twice. This lead to a quick shower and cramming my breakfast, as the
weatherman said there is a chance for rain today, with a high about 40.
Fuck that, when I got outside the rain was coming down like a monsoon, and
it was frigid. That's not what worries me though, I felt cold, and not from
the whirling wind, I mean cold to the core of my soul. You know how they
describe a piercing glare, well it was like that, but so much more intense.
By the time I got to my car and the heater started to kick in I was feeling
better, I mean today was my day. Today I was making a presentation on the
state of our company to the big wigs, and with everything looking fine I
shouldn't have been able to screw it up. Of course when I stepped into the
office "it" was there, I don't know what to call it. Damn I fucked up
today. I made a positive report sound like the wrath of hell could descend
at any moment.
Its 9:00 pm and I feel fine now, but earlier, I can't explain
earlier. Well life goes on and tomorrows another day.
September 16, 2000
What is going on in my life, I'm not sick but these chills. O.K. so
this is only the second day they've occurred, but I've never had this happen
before. What I'm 25 and I have a great job with a company that has a
permanent spot on the information superhighway, to use an outdated term. I
think I may take tomorrow off, go see a doctor, I'm not paranoid or
anything, just to be safe. Safety is important after all, I need to relax,
and I mean really relax. That's what tomorrow will be, a day to relax. At
work today, I never knew when "it" was coming, one second I'm fine next
second I'm drenched in sweat yet cold, I know I'm being watched but by what.
September 17, 2000
"It" is driving me insane, it can't possibly see me when I'm in my
house. It can't but I swear it is, I took the day off, and I went to the
gun shop. I don't need to see a damn doctor I'm fine. FUCK!!!! I can't
believe I need to wait for background check; I've never done any illegal
shit, at least not serious, you know a traffic ticket or two. Check back in
five days, they say, what if I'm dead in five days. You know I think I'll
go to work tomorrow. I need the money, and it is a good job. Why the hell
do I need to wait? Maybe Brady shouldn't have lived, maybe. Then he
couldn't have worked on the damn Brady bill, I could already have the gun,
and I could already be safe.
September 19, 2000
These chills, feelings, whatever they're becoming more frequent, damn
I mean I wanted to write last night, but I was shaking so hard I could
barely lift a pen. I did figure something out, I can be safer even now, I
can just stay in my office almost all day, hell all I have to do is use my
intercom, it's perfect. You know I'm being talked about now, they think I'm
sick at work, like they should speculate; they think I'm down. My boss even
asked if everything is fine. Yeah everything is fine, why shouldn't it be.
So my girlfriend broke up with me, I mean the bitch dumped me and life goes
on. At least I'm not like most of the losers in the world who have to go
and whine and complain and tell their stories on Springer. I can take this
like a man, this feeling is the only reason I didn't go out with some
"friends" from work today. I mean they are probably only acting friendly.
They probably don't give a damn about me. God, I `m so tired, what is it,
2:00 am, I can't sleep, "it" could come at any time and that just keeps me
up.
September 20, 2000
All I hear at the office anymore is: Are you all right? I hope
you're feeling better soon. Like I need sympathy, like they can understand.
How often do I feel "it" now, too often to keep track. I mean it's like
Indian summer out there, nearly 60 ?F and I'm still freezing outside. You
know I moved everything I need down to my living room. The upstairs feels
Dead. It's like it is no longer a place for flesh and blood. It was making
my skin crawl. Of course this is better, I live in a smaller area, easier
to see what is around me. I have a fireplace in my living room; I light a
fire every night. It doesn't help much but it does help, I'm beating this
thing. I know it.
September 21, 2000
I can't believe today this is such Bull. They told me to go home,
they said get some rest, they said get better. I'm fine how the FUCK can
they not see that. How can they do anything with out me, I lead them, I
mold them, I will one day manage them, and they tell me to get better. Well
screw it. I don't think I'll ever be back to that pitiful excuse for a job.
Well hell, I guess tomorrow I'll pick up my gun, at least I'll be safe from
"it" then. Can a fire be cold, just now I swear the fire went cold, even as
I write now I feel the chill flowing through me, god oh god, when will this
end.
September 22, 2000
I have my gun, my safety, and my salvation. No god can protect me,
but I can protect myself. You know I once said I would never buy a gun but
now I know better. The weight in my hand is a holy fire to drive back the
night that "it" has brought forth. I stand now at the very seat of power.
Yet why do I still doubt, I doubt my safety. "it" is everywhere, but it is
nowhere. I can't see it, why can't I see it? It must be something real;
fantasy is just that, imagination is not real, only reality is real. So why
the hell won't "it" show itself. Maybe "it" fears me. Yes that is it, it
must be. "It" fears me that is why it has been after me, why it still hides.
It waited too long, now I am invincible.
September 25, 2000
I can't recall the last few days. All I remembered was fear, a gut
wrenching fear, then earlier tonight as the weather raged outside I saw
"it", or did I. I don't really know, but I thought I did, at a window. I
fired the gun, one shot shattering the window, one into the black chasm
outside. Then the door, it was at the door, two more shots, from there
everything is a blur. I emptied the gun; I reloaded and emptied it again.
I grabbed the poker to the fireplace; I danced around the room smashing
anything I saw. I attacked again and again. Then I lay in the middle of the
room, exhausted, sobbing, was I sobbing, I don't remember clearly. I stood
up and realized how stupid I had been. I let a feeling, a god damned
fucking feeling control me, ruin me. I knew what I could do though. I
would leave and come back and report a robbery. It was perfect, and then I
turned around. I don't think I really saw him, not in the darkness. He was
silhouette, a ghost but his arm was pointed at me. I heard a bang and I was
spun around, another one and I was thrown against the wall. He left then,
as I felt blood flow from me. My left shoulder was bleeding, and oh god my
shirt is soaked in blood. Yet he just walked away isn't he supposed to say
something, anything. Why did I deserve this, what did I do. I feel weak
now, but I had to write this, I had to purge this. I had to let people see
that in the end I remained sane, that I remained in control. I had to.
.+##########################################################################
anada233 by Tim Rudzianski (c) 2000
###################################################################anada.net
