Thursday, November 1, 2012


I... I didn't write this.

No, seriously. I didn't write this draft at all, and I can't imagine why anyone would forge their way into my account just to leave something as noncommittally cryptic as this.

Just "ohmen".

Guys, this isn't a story. This is Terror, speaking directly to you. I want you all to understand that someone has found a way into my account and found it somehow pertinent to scribe this simple word onto a blank draft, leaving it in relative obscurity for me to find.

I don't know, maybe I did write this some long time ago in a fit of writer's block. I probably tapped it in for shits and gig's and then moseyed into the kitchen for some hummus. But.

I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me this isn't something I would actually go through with and leave up for months and months, just waiting under the "posts" tab.

And just think of how it could be construed:

Oh, men.


If only you, my dear loyal readers, had been with me during the Summer of 2011... I wish could present the experience to you somehow. It felt just like this. A deafening silence filling the room. Something that feels untrue to nature, yet not provably wrong, sitting right under my nose and taunting me. A horrid tingling at the nape of my neck as a mute breath rattles from the gullet of an invisible pentapod monster.

Boulshed can attest to my claims.

Maybe something lost me back in Georgia and has been searching ever since that fateful, sweltering summer. Maybe I was found a while ago, and I never realized it.

God, I wish I could just see the sun right now.

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