"BFEUbrgubrubsbubfea journal"

H WJnkbfrg Journal

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When I was young my mother used to tell me about the nuckelavee. Hideous half horse, half man, fined skinless. She told me about how it ruined crops, how it killed children who didn't behave. I never understood why she chose it as my personal boogey man. I don't talk to my mother anymore, I should, we aren't estranged, we both breath. I should talk to my mother more. If I could I would now, I would do many things if I could. N----- of this is relevant.

I've been trapped in this apartment for ----- days. It doesn't matter how many days I've actually been trapped, if I write a number it comes out -----. -----.-----.-----.-----. I don't get the obsession; it's the ----- thing that changes in my writing. Doesn't matter if it's writ----- out or not; I write ----- it comes out -----.

And when I mean trapped I mean trapped. Not "Oh no there are ----- tons of rubble in front of my door and it will never open again.", its "I bought a cheap apartment in the basement of the apartment building and the door won't open, hell I tried to break it open with an axe ----- day and the axe handle shattered." "Oh why don't you use a window?" you may ask. How are you even reading this? "Oh did I mention the basement; there are ----- windows, I mean I didn't buy a basement apartment or anything."

L-----liness makes you bitter.

The weirdest part of this is that the apartment seems to play with me. For example the axe I menti-----d? I live in a city, why would I own an axe? It just appeared in my closet ----- day. It also takes care of me, kind of. Sometimes there's a feast in my fridge, with food I could never ever afford. Sometimes it's full of offal and rot----- meat.

There are ----- things I have observed that remain constant.

-----: Physical harm I suffer is healed the next "day". This does include things like starvation. For example I once went with what I can assume to be ----- weeks without food, while the hunger didn't go away I never starved to death. Note this does not mean I never wake up without a new and exciting random injury. Just they never stay around.

-----: Any "injury" to the apartment is healed the next "day". A broken or removed light bulb for example will be fixed. Again note that doesn't mean that the apartment won't appear "injured" randomly.

-----: Things appear randomly in the apartment. Such as the axe, so far nothing living and nothing that defies logic.

-----: The "body" of the apartment (floor, ceiling, walls, door) are impossible to harm. The shattered axe for example.

-----: The room has never produced a time piece of any sort. No calendar, clock, or watch has ever been produced. I owned both before I was stuck here, and the fact that when I awoke that day they were both missing was the ----- tip off.

-----: Electronics don't work. It makes sense, there programming on a base level are just -----s and -----s.

-----: Even if they don't work. Most things in the apartment stay in the apartment. My notebooks are still here, my computer is, my bed is, my fridge is, etc. The apartment also keeps the same shape and dimensions.

-----: Other than every number changing to ----- in writing, any month I put down randomizes. Guess it can't handle months.

I'm just trying to keep a log for my own.

This is my last bastion of hope. My journal. Who am I writing this for? Myself, my ----- bastion of sanity. No ----- will ever see it.

Jul.-----/-----

Nothing happened today. I woke up, there was food in the fridge (----- ham sandwiches, plumbing works.). I ate, cried a bit, wrote in my journal; read a book. Boring.

Oct.-----/-----

Man I explained all of this shit about the room and never explained how I define "day" (all this is an exercise in futility). I fall asleep, wake up. ----- day. It's simple. Today was the same as yesterday but with turkey instead of ham.

Aug.-----/-----

Again the same; Pb and J this time.

Aug.-----/-----

I just realized I've never really "claimed" this journal. I should probably put my name on the ----- page. Oh nutella and peanut butter today. At least my dinner was tasty.

Jun.-----/-----

Egg salad. I hate egg salad.

Nov. -----/-----

Sandwich was a BLT. Walls are bleeding.

Dec.-----/-----

Chedder ketchup and pickles. My favorite sandwich from when I was a kid, that's personal.

Oct.-----/-----

The sandwich screamed. It looked like ham, tasted like ham. Screamed like a banshee when I bit it, the sad thing is, other than making me feel like I need to write this down, it didn't affect me. I ate it screaming like hell piece by piece.

Oct.-----/-----

Turkey again.

April.-----/-----

Screamer again, this time it was Peanut Butter and Jelly. Peanut screams are so different from animal screams.

April.-----/-----

Olive loaf. I always though olive loaf was like head cheese, more for a gross balance at a deli counter, something you try once and regret immediately, kind of like a joke sandwich filler.

May.-----/-----

Head Cheese. Haha.

But seriously, sandwiches? This journal was supposed to be something for me to do to keep me occupied, there's not enough to write about at the moment to do so. I will keep it up when things are interesting just as a personal log.

Oct. -----/-----

Walls are bleeding. Again.

Nov.-----/-----

Just read the journal for the ----- time. My name's scrambled. Let's see my name is GHsdigFihr.

Dec.-----/-----

My names scrambled. Huh.

Aug.-----/-----

Let me test something. My name is jugbrjgbribnr. I am ----- years old. I am ----- feet ----- inches tall. My favorite color is hbgrbugr. I can't remember my mother's name.

I can't remember my mother's name.

What.

I shouldn't write these things down. I need a break from this journal.

Dec. -----/-----

I don't know why I keep dating these.

I know it's been a bit, but it is freezing, but more importantly a digital thermometer appeared! Something electronic, it won't turn on but it has to be important right?

Dec. -----/-----

No food.

It's getting colder. The thermometer still doesn't work, but I doubt it ever will.

Dec. -----/-----

God it's freezing, I woke up today and could see my breath. I'm worried. The thermometer is still there, frosted over.

Dec. -----/-----

Still freezing. The thermometer is g----- though.

Dec. -----/-----

Still cold. Walls are bleeding, blood isn't freezing.

Dec. -----/-----

It's so god damn hot.

Nov. -----/-----

A magazine article on the effects of solitary confinement was on my desk when I woke up today. All numbers blank, all months randomized every time I read it. All names scrambled. No watermarks. Hell the font's new every time I look at it.

Anyway the article lists some of the negative effects of solitary confinement. Things such as paranoia (check), anger issues (check), hearing voices (check), irregular sleep patterns (no way of knowing), eye sight failing (my eye sights fine), and the like.

The thing that's odd is the fact that I seem to have all the mental symptoms of isolation and n----- of the physical.

Jul. -----/-----

We get it walls, you can bleed.

Jun. -----/-----

Ok, that's just creepy. I woke up today with mannequins all around my apartment. Just standing there. Not like regular mannequins either, there more like giant artist mannequins, the kind where you can move the joints and pose them. Very rudimentary, featureless, human formed not human shaped.

Jul . -----/-----

The mannequins are still around, moved too different parts of the apartment.

Aug. -----/-----

Ok, not cool. Not cool at all. When I awoke today ----- of the mannequins was in the way of the bathroom. So I moved it. After I looked away to, well, piss I turned around and it was back in the doorway. I tested this with some of the other mannequins and they all move back to their original positions when ----- isn't looking.

Oct. -----/-----

Jfdsernmjjulasd-----ihjdfsa--------------------mjenrwdstr-----e---------------t-----kloe----------hyuw-----l;yhlukiwqopyil;yu O

Dec. -----/-----

Ie-----jkerkhlnuu----------y----------h----------y-----h----------y[ YHY-----HYY-----YH-----IT-----E-----Y[Y----------Y---------------Y------Y-----NKIHGTHRGTHI----------jkkgr ujkdfmcgtjjk bg---------- kkj-----yu-----g-----jkiop----------hjyu----------ko----------gjyurjbb-----h hu nvur-----e v---------------y *yt*( tyqH -----A-----Y ----------RY NY----- H----- T-----Y----- ----------HN EQY---------------Q P----------y r-----h---------- p----- rtfgp--------------------y tg----------n -----pjy-----htgu-----p;q-----t----- ----------ihv h g---------------pt-------------------------yyt ghi--------------------yuh g----------ih--------------------t------------------------- h------------------------- uhj gtvkigot---------------[wy-----hipg/

Nov. -----/-----

That was the worst time of my life. I woke up, and the mannequins were around my bed. Creepy, but oh well. They were holding the sheets down. So no problem, right, just mannequins. The best part was that unlike normal, the sheets didn't clean themselves, I didn't heal. Just more and more filth and blood caking the sheets down. The smell was unbearable. I couldn't get out.

The ----- day there were just a few, like I could struggle. But the more days passed the more showed up, the tighter the sheets got. I'm surprised the sheets never ripped. I could tell I was malnourished, a few days in the sheets were so tight I spat up blood. But more and more appeared, more and more holding me down. I finally felt death slip over me, felt my life run out, and then no light no heaven no hell; I woke up and they were g-----.

I hate this god damn apartment.

Mar. -----/-----

Nothing happened today, I'm just saying this after the mannequin thing. I'm ready for whatever this apartment can throw at me.

Nov. -----/-----

Ready for anything.

Oct. -----/-----

I was not ready for that. An answering machine. It actually worked, it had a message. Excuse me if I paraphrase.

"Hey h-----y, it's me HWIhtrjb-----n-----. I'm just picking up the girls. I love you. Remember our anniversary is to…"

The rest is the sound of a car being plowed by a semi.

Shit.

Jan. -----/-----

I took a break from this journal, from everything, thought about the mannequins, thought about my dead wife. Was really depressed, tried to off myself a few times. Always woke up fine. Had a while to digest what was happening, realized I was never married. I hate this apartment.

May. -----/-----

Oh digesting, I get it. Since there's no food anywhere in this god damn apartment. I'm so hungry.

Apr. -----/-----

Hello my name is rnibrhfuvgrebrub. Hello my name is erkeniagr.

Hello my name is rniberawegregt. Hello my name is aiethuiebtgj ua.

Hello my name is eihrihie----------ge. Hello my name is jheibhtieabrt.

Hello my name is ehtienjub jhea bubgu. Hello my name is -----y-----thf-----bnvudsbh.

Hello my name is ihgt-----ujvbah---------------. Hello my name is hitbb jbj---------------.

May. -----/-----

Woke up a few days ago to the sound my typewriter, too hungry to care, haven't ea----- in well sometime I'm sure.

Nov. -----/-----

----- living thing spawned by this apartment. Flies! Maggots! A fridge full of rot----- meat! I still ate it!

Jan. -----/-----

Ok, stopped vomiting, but no longer hungry. Rot----- meat was constantly in fridge, kept eating it. Checked over my journal, noticed the gibberish. That must be what the mannequins were typing while they held me down.

May. -----/-----

More living things, I think. This time it's cockroaches. But not like living breathing -----s. Like a blanket of them on everything. Not glued on, more like stuck in static poses. They moved and started scrambling when I stepped on them, at least the -----s I didn't fully crush did.

Nov. -----/-----

Fuck.

FUCK!

More mannequins, but this time there's an axe. I sliced them to ribbons. I really hate this apartment.

Aug. -----/-----

So the last few days are far worse than expected. I woke up, and all the mannequins had axes. Creepy right, so I close my eyes, hoping to shake them away, knowing I couldn't and they were upon me.

Every day for the last few days I would wake up, get chopped to bits, wake up.

The worse part though was there scratchy cackles; you ever hear something with no face cackle. It's worse than being chopped to bits.

Fuck. I need a break.

Oct. -----/-----

Bleeding god damn walls.

Dec. -----/-----

Woke up today to find bowling balls hanging from the ceiling via white chains and the lights out. Just went back to sleep.

Oct. -----/-----

Woke up today to find a giant window in my apartment, facing the outside world. Would be more excited, but when I opened it and stepped through I found myself in the bathroom. And when I went to the main room there was no window. To bitter to care.

Jul. -----/-----

Woke up, wall's weren't bleeding. They were made of flesh though. Pools on the ground. Stepped in -----, burnt through my shoe. Mounds of offal everywhere. Bed looked like cancer. Had teeth and hair. Everything gurgled when I moved. I still prefer this to mannequins.

Jan. -----/-----

Fuck. FUCK. FUCK! I woke up, and in a half dazed sleep saw ----- of those mannequins running around in the dark. On all -----s, not like a dog, like a lizard. I could hear it silently breathe and feel it eyelessly wink at me. I know it winked, it doesn't have a face. And I know it winked.

Feb. -----/-----

Everything normal, but for the ----- time I can hear sounds from outside my apartment. A wet, sucking sound.

Nov. -----/-----

More sounds, scraping on my door.

Dec. -----/-----

It sounds like some -----s playing noise rock out there.

Aug. -----/-----

Oh god, just screaming, my mother screaming. I don't care what happens I'm d----- with this journal.

Feb. -----/-----

I fucking lied. Jesus Christ I lied. I woke up, and a mannequin was spooning me. I tried to get up, and it pulled me back down. Like an old lover wanting to snuggle me. I could feel its breath on my back. It doesn't have a mouth.

Jun. -----/-----

Woke up, felt woozy. Realized that the floor was the ceiling and the ceiling the floor. Gravity was reversed for me too, still nauseating.

Aug. -----/-----

The doors open.

Wait. The doors open.

Holy shit. Holy shit. I can leave. Just have to collect my stuff and step into the unknown and leave.

No more mannequins, I choose where and what I eat. No more weirdness. Fresh air…people…unkown danger.

I'm, I'm too scared. I can't leave. What if out there is worse. What if out there is as good as death? This is my apartment, and I am its -----ant.

Oct. -----/-----

Walls are bleeding

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