I can’t sleep, sitting in the bathroom. I’m so shaking that hardly can write. Today I saw an alive, real ghost for the first time. Funny… Alive… Fortuity. It feels like I understand it just now. And it means that nothing and never won’t be normal.
Well, all my nightmares are just a trifle, ‘cause sooer or later I’ll awake. But it’s impossible to wake up from the life and there's no getting away from it also. Why I feel so bad? I knew it all for a long time – about mom, about devilry. Strange, but it looks like I still don’t believe it fully. And don’t accept that all my, our life will pass that way. The truth really crushed me. We’re doomed.
May 6, 1996
Three days later. I’m fine. By rights nothing has changed. To be honest I just was in the funk. It’s a great difference when someone tells you about the ghost, and when you see it with your own eyes. Dean keeps vigilant watch over me. Oh my! He noticed that I’m out of it and now tries to shake me up. I’m trying to look out as usually. On the service station looked in the mirror for a half of the hour and “made” a man, who’s happy with everything. Gone goose! All I’m looking out is a dumb down. At long last Dean started to hammer on the door and I had to lie, that I has a stomachache and pretend to be asleep in the car. It seems he didn’t believe me, but at least I was spared from his “cheer up” tales and jokes. Dad didn’t notice anything.
May 11, 1996
We stayed in another run-down hotel: it smelled strange in the room, and it seems that the water was pumped from the nearest bog. Dad wasn’t here for the whole day. I had fun looking how Dean climbed the walls out of boredom. Or maybe not of boredom but because dad didn’t take him with and he had to sit with me. Thanks to heaven the TV-set was on. Couple of hours we spent watching sport channel, eating up chips with Cola. Then played cards and Dean beat me hollow as usually forgot to play into my hand fraternally. Towards the end he gave me a lecture named “bluff&win!” told by the way that with my face I’ll never make my way up in this. Very nice. Then little bit sport channel, chips, Cola… Then dad came back. Well… in general it was a good day.
May 15, 1996
I’m sitting alone. It passed 2 hours and 47 minutes since dad and Dean went hunting.
Now I know what’ve changed. And the difference is not “believe” or “not believe”. The difference is that I can imagine, clear as never before, where they’ve gone and what’s waiting for them. Again and again looking through the window... Stupid. It’s few time passed, and they even don’t know, where’s a grave. If the standard procedure will help… And if not?
This waiting is killing me. I’m scared. What if… No, I even can’t write it. If only survive this night. This one. And how many others we gonna have? And how many same nights we had? My head is full of stupid thoughts. How many times I nearly lost them and even didn’t understand it! Terrible memories. Or it’s just nervous?
I wanna go hunting. No, otherwise. I just wanna go with them. It’s not that I believe I can interfere in, if something goes wrong… but this case I’ll know, and can…dunno, do something, but not just waiting for a sentence. Like now.
May 18, 1996
I’m sitting in the bathroom again. Hah! Memories from the bath. Dean will die from laughing, if he knows that I’m keeping a diary. I can hear “Samantha’s diary”!
An idea stocked in my head. I wanna talk to dad. I’m not sure I can persuade him. And even if I can… Dean kills me.
We’re by Pastor Jim. Dad leaved us and went hunting. Alone. Dean is still enraged and speaks through clenched teeth. All right then! Actually I’m very surprised that it worked. Dad listened to me in silence, and when I’ve already run out all the reasons said “all right”. And here we are in Minnesota. Dean was really angry when he realized that at my suggestion we stick by Pastor Jim for couple of weeks. In the heat of the moment named me coward. I tried to explain, but he said those were lame excuses. It pains me to hear it. The hell with him! Let him to think his way. Anyway he’ll forgive me. As always.
Tomorrow school again. And again lie about our “trip”. I hate it! By the one hand when we appear here the teachers start getting at us like “Tell to guys how did you spend…” But it’s better, than think up the whole life of Sam Walker, Steve Whittle, Sole Ward… I’m misled in all these made-up families. It all is Dean’s fault! He strongly objects to one and the same legend. He says it’s training. Or my favorite – so it’s more interesting. Yeah, really! Guess a family! Just one keeps unchanged – mom is dead, we have no mom. Easy to remember.
Otherwise it is all but the one place, where we live under our real names. Does he really not understand that these are his last two years at school, and he is just obliged to finish it with a good result. Or he wants to hunt all his remain life time?
I exert really superhuman efforts to force Dean to visit school and to study. It really bothers me that we’re in the different schools now – he should go to the senior school on the Highway, and me is still on the 6th Street. Yesterday we quarreled again. We were ready to kill each other and suddenly Dean said: “Still not giving up, huh, Sammy? But you wanna it, not me”. I didn’t know what to say at first. I dunno, maybe he’s right... Well, it looks like I still don’t give up this idea. The idea of a normal life. It was an opening for me.
Pastor Jim tries to administer the sacrament to us. Dean chuckles, and as for me, so I’m going to the church. Rather ex comitate, than of the call of my heart. But yesterday on mass I suddenly got an idea: if God doesn’t exist, why then works the holy water? Prayer and cross turn simple water in weapon against evil…. It should make sense…
June 12, 1996
Wild night! Dean’s sleeping like a log, adrenal dope head! And it seems I’ve overdose… nervous laughing again and again. Just one thought, how all it could finish, makes me sick. But it was so cool! We started from theft. For the “victim” Dean chose Dodge Ram. And of coarse I should hijack it, yeah, for training again. Then we’ve grabbed some trash and drunken different stuff. Oh, and running around in to Metallica! I’m wondering we weren’t catch by patrol. Amazing final – we sank Dodge in pond in park. Came back through the window. Real gentlemen…
July 2, 1996.
Dad came to us 4 days ago. Hunting again. But this time we three know that I’m into play. For dad it goes without saying. For me is more forced decision, best of all variants. It looks like Dean only can’t accept it, although he was much younger when dad started to take him with. Yesterday he argued about. Well, argued is not the right word, he just tried to persuade dad to leave everything on its place. I stood behind the door and heard he insisted that I’m too small, that I’ll be in the way and that the case doesn’t need participation of all us. Dad kept silent. But the way how Deans voice changed and he gave different reasons I could see dad’s face, his eyes expression which said “I did hear you, but it will be in my way”. Then he said that I’m adult to take decision and called to me. Unexpected I banged my forehead against door. Stupid. They understood that I’ve overheard. The same moment I came in they said: “We go hunting. Tomorrow. You?” Could I say no? Then why I’ve got feeling that I let Dean down? Even not let down, betray or… I feel disturbed and uneasy. Can’t sleep again.
July 6, 1996
Hunt? No, it’s house-breaking. We crept into flat and found it at once. Funny old-fashioned chair with bent legs and gay chintz upholstery. The most difficult was to take it out of a house by the fire escape ladder. We looked weird out. Two in the lane, in the night, near the flaming chair. Hard to believe. Damned thing with list, longer than Jack the Ripper’s. Dad leaved us straight away. Where has he been, what has he done, he didn’t say. He returned in the morning it smelled
burning of him. Maybe there was not one chair?
July 14, 1996.
Unplanned sitting in the bathroom. On MTV is Slyer concert. My head will blow up now! We’re going to Oregon soon. I don’t know what’s there. Dad keeps silence yet.
July 18, 1996
Here we are. An irony of fate! Pendleton has a reputation of ghost’s city itself and of coarse Dad came upon the tracks of another one ghost. I didn’t need to show any stunning skills. Just kept my eyes open and let them know if somebody appeared. Central cemetery by the way. When they dug down to coffin I came nearer. It’s a time to be accustomed to it I thought. I threw up. It takes long time to accustom…
July 31, 1996
We’re sitting snug in hotel near Taf-Welley, still in Oregon. Even in our conception it’s an awful backwoods. But no choice. News is the same – because of explosion in Atlanta “all over the land were took “unprecedented measures of security”. And we with our ammunition, forged document and credit cards are titbit for every cop. I think… Alone dad will take chances. He got used to troubles with police, but in our case on the scene come social service.
For dad and Dean this standing idle is a real torture, as for me… it’s a present. Yesterday we went fishing. Only dad had luck. Trout was not so big but enough for supper. I watched how Dean kindled a fire and dad rubbed the fish with salt. It appeared a feeling that people did favorite work and it made me laughing. Then Dean got it and finally dad laughed too. I can’t remember we ever had such a funny time.
August 5, 1996
Today we put in order Impala’s trunk. Found Livingston-Enterprise for 4th of July. Everything there was about a holiday, but in the bottom of page I saw a short commentary and a picture. I recognized her at once. That woman in whose flat we climbed into with Dean. She rammed into concrete fence and burned down alive. The smell of ashes. Dad was there that night. He tried to save the last in the list. And didn’t. We didn’t.
August 10, 1996
Nightmares again. Fire. So I think is that Fire. Flame is so bright and roasting. Why I’m dreaming only about flame? Why not about mom? I know it’s raving, but some time I want to remember anything. But always a fire only. And even dad’s Marine’s training doesn’t help. Even worse – my muscles ache so bad that I can’t sleep and in empty head are this damned newspaper, chair, burning house, burning car. Why? Why it didn’t work? May be we spent too many time in flat? Or it was impossible to stop this damnation from the last owner? Was it possible to save her? Or just finish? Why?
August 13, 1996
We’re leaving here. Dean is in a joyful animation. Dad is calm and concentrated. He hasn’t new aim. Though I think sometime that his aim is not to kill something concrete, but to… And if he stops for a while he will get cranky.
August 26, 1996
They go without me! Caleb is with them. I even dunno what they’re hunting after. This waiting…
Dad is wounded. Caleb said that the wound wasn’t serious, but lots of blood. And all of it was on Dean. First I thought… he had such a pale face. His hands were shaking. I can’t calm. They’re sleeping. Or feign that they’re sleeping. Swallowing hurts. Kid! Do I ever get used to it? And should I? I don’t want. Right in this minute I understand why I so cling to idea about a normal life. If not to believe that one day everything will be different I can’t stand it. Sad known dark tunnel must have bright lightened exit. Or you get lost and stay there forever. May it just an illusion and it never will come true, but this is one worth aim.
August 30, 1996
All way was as a way to funeral. Dean of coarse can’t be in a good mood at all – we’re going to pastor Jim. Dad is still not recovered. He needs rest, but to say it aloud means run into trouble. Break a taboo. That’s why Dean keeps silent. That’s why I’m keeping silent. Don’t understand – is it so bad to show care? Or he doesn’t need it?
September 6, 1996
Dad stays in Blue Earth for some days. But here is not the same as in Oregon. He spends more time with Pastor Jim. They’re sitting in the church frequently and speaking, pastor speaks mainly. And yesterday I saw how dad stood in front of altar and watched crucifix. I remembered the movie that Dean and I watched in winter, with characteristic name à la our life “From dusk till down”. Harwey Kettle, can’t remember his character, lost his wife same like dad. So he told something like: I believe in God and Jesus, but don’t love them. Maybe dad feels the same…
September, 19, 1996
Dean and I are visiting school, schools exactly. He grumbles but doesn’t shirk. Relatively of course. I feign that don’t see him hanging about on opposite street. Looking after me. He doesn’t let me forget in which world we live, but the same time… Can’t shake off the impression that if not his presence somewhere this side, I’ll never feel safety. And it’s not only evil spirits. Everyone in the school knows that I’ve “mad brother” and no one wants deal with him. Well, right in last time I’ve no problems. Interesting, why?
September 27, 1996
One less, as in actions. Broke off with Rick Holmes. The only one person I associated with in any way. Now I’m alone again. He said something. That now, when my brother isn’t here my things going better. It drove me wild. I rated him. Why I’ve got mad? We don’t speak anymore.
September 30, 1996
Cut classes. Today they offered me to take part in selection in school basketball team, my height and so on. That was the last straw. I was sitting in the park till Dean came (interesting, how he had found me?) and came down on me for truancy. No, he didn’t care about school, but the fact I skipped off alone. I couldn’t see in his eyes. That’s why I jumped on Rick so. Because this came into my mind too, that without Dean everything is different. Better. Oh my! This is… treachery.
October 2, 1996
I said to Dean that I won’t go to school. Well, it was worth to tell to see his face. Damn! I won back all his jokes plus couple off years for future. He was in stupor. Then tried to bring me over, without success. Maybe he doesn’t imagine too why we need it. Called to dad. He must come in three days. From time to time Dean tries to bring up it, but I’m avoiding this talk. I can’t say him a real reason.
October 7, 1996
We’re on the road again. This time I’m thankful to dad, he doesn’t ask anything. As I understand right we’re going to Chicago.
October 11, 1996
It’s a scream! Tooth fairy?! Full out! Maybe it’s good that Santa doesn’t exist? Or he will be some maniac too with supernatural origins?! And his deers? Chupakabras with red noses? Yeah, life is full of surprises. Our especially.
November 2, 1996
Dad went away. In this day he always departs and comes back only in two-three days. He drinks. Dean is sitting near window and keeps silent. I don’t disturb him. He can sit so for a whole night. In this day I’m the only one “lucky” in our family. I didn’t know her. Sometimes I envy Dean, because he remembers her. He saw her, heard her voice. He never speaks about her. I gave up all attempts to question something about her. As only I understood that it hurts. But even then he couldn’t tell more than “She was…” I’m sure she was lovely, kind and amazing. And dad? She maybe meant so much for him. Otherwise he won’t turn our life in THIS. But she couldn’t want such a life for us.
It seems I’ll never get it. I can only imagine what I’ve lost. And they realyy have lost it. That’s why I’m…stranger… Or maybe all is in my age? Maybe later I’ll get it… _________________ Äèí Âèí÷åñòåð: "ß ïðèâûêàþ æèòü áåç íåãî! À òû?"
"Òû - ìîé ëè÷íûé ñîðò ãåðîèíà" Ýäâàðä Êàëëåí. «Ñóìåðêè/Twilight»
Ìíîãèå ëþäè êàæóòñÿ íàì äîáðûìè è õîðîøèìè òîëüêî ïîòîìó, ÷òî ó íèõ íå áûëî èñêóøåíèÿ íàñ ïðåäàòü.(ö)
Last edited by angel_L on Sat Jan 29, 2011 11:18 pm; edited 1 time in total
That is how take pledges if you’re only 14. Almost the whole year I didn’t give a hint of school and lessons, and didn’t try to study on my own. And what now? I sit on lessons and feel so stupid, worse than Kevin. It’s possible to understand some subjects simply, but to push into head all this information that other learn by heart for some months…cool. Though, should I complain? I wanted come back all this time, didn’t I? I should thank destiny that dad got this job and didn’t want take us with. And I got I wanted without braking my promise…rare luck. Or not? But if not good luck so I’ve only one variant. If so I’m not right…
April 9, 1997
Messed up paper on history. No, I could tell it with closed eyes, but when I reached a part with illustrations… No one didn’t look out such an idiot for history of school. Well done Dean, you discovered absolutely new use of porno magazines. Damned!I killed so much time on this report! Ok, day of reckoning isn’t far. Plans:
a) To cover Deans notebook with delight of De Caprio.
b) Unrip his jeans so that they will break not at once.
Of course I should spend a night to make it, and even can’t see effect. What a pity!
April 11, 1997
Got into a pretty mess. Dean came tearing along from school unless not fuming. It looks like plan C made my brother out to be a full dolt...
Damned!What was I thinking about?! I know Dean good, now one fight a day is assured… Just imagine what comes out of it. He’ll be dragged to principal, then they call dad, and Pastor Jim must go instead… So many questions. Where was my brain, huh?! But not should only I have brain? Dean is oldest at least.
Funny. Today Trish Baker told how she traveled in China with their parents. She showed us slides, souvenirs. Happy people! There is a lake there named Seling-co in translating “Lakeof evil Seling”. In legend one of hero drove in this lake lot of different evil creations and ordered to stay there and to repent (!?). It almost makes me weep, huh. If all would be so simple! It looks like evil has evolved in a big way for couple of millennium, because now the salutary talk doesn’t work anymore. Dean didn’t engage in any fights and didn’t cut a caper. It alerts…
April 20, 1997
I should see the truth to face. I’m freak. After Deans experiments with shampoo I was forced to shave my head almost bare. It turned out that I’ve huge ears, duck nose, and mouth…I’ll say nothing. One look in mirror and the one association – Muppet Show. Young frog Kermit or worse…Gonzo. Therewith we fought and the whole day were obliged to hear Pastor’s Jim moral admonition. And tomorrow I go to school in such look. Should I shoot myself or something?
My birthday. Dean gave me hunting knife. My face must be pulled a long, because he laughed coarse about 5 minutes. Then he gave me a collected stories of Edgar Po. And told of course that if we weren’t in this god-forsaken hole he would organize swell program for me. But… it's unbelievable! Dean presented me a book!
June 13, 1997
Well, Dean got to school leaving certificate, and not with the worst result. Yesterday I asked what he wants do next. And the same moment understood that blurted out silly thing. Even not silly, but just senseless question. We looked each other some seconds than Dean made a joke of it, said he would never go to this clownery in gowns and stupid hats. We had sort of laughing but a bad leaved. It’s absolutely clear what he gonna do next and no one college hasn’t such program. But I wish we have, I have another “next” not like yet but as we wish ourselves. I didn’t think over it before. May be I hoped that everything will change, will be normal. When everything will finish. Today it suddenly dawned upon me. It won’t happen of itself, I must apply an effort, a wish, dunno what else. All I can.
July 1, 1997
We’re on the ferry “S.S. Badger”. Dean’s sleeping near in chair, dad is pacing the deck. There are lots of tourists here, they specially came to see one of Great Lakes and go for a ride on ferry. But for him this ferry is just mean of conveyance and the lake unnecessary obstacle on the road. It’s so big, I even can’t see shores and it’s easy to think that we’re somewhere in sea. Manitoque disappeared about two hours ago and we still will sail for hour or more. When last year we were in Chicago I didn’t budge from a hotel and didn’t see city not speaking about the lake. Half of an hour I was hanging on rails and looking at water? And suddenly it appears. With a feeling that this lake cuts off us from the whole world and we and every person on a board are on vacation and are cut from our problems too. It never mind what is awaiting us ahead here we are in inaccessibility and that’s why we can sit calm and look on waves. An hour is few.
Aloese and Basil Peabody. Huh! And I thought that Samuel is a stupid name. Dad caught us great. Nothing remarkable but the fact that he starts explanations is in favour of my guess. When poor Aloese picked up first shock and asked are these names not too conspicuous dad said that no one will take seriously a person with such an idiotic name. May be. But I’m sure he specially said it, it was a practical joke and we swallowed it! I can swear! He had such a look, such a face expression, when you want burst out laughing but must control yourself.
Why am I writing it? I even dunno… so strange. The same if Statue of Liberty begins to speak. Although even not this. I just thought that I don’t know him at all and maybe he would be different if mom was alive. One more thing I’ve never thought over. Mom’s dead influenced him no less than us. Should I make allowance for him too? And maybe I should ask Dean not only about mom, but also what he was. It’s not a life, it’s a quiz!
Dad is away. For couple of day he said and we as usually must sit in the room and read newspaper. No one of my peer has read so many newspapers than I did. But I bet – every one of them knows a life better. I only can watch it thorough the window. Honest to say through a dirty window in hotel I see nothing deserving attention. From the car window life looks out good but the problem is that it passes by. No,I’m passing it by. In Impala. And I’m even not driving…
July 18, 1997
In this weekend in Lakewood is held annual summer fest. Dean jibbed at first but I drugged him out. To my mind it was funny! At first it was great to be in daylight among alive people. Even in spite of Dean’s grumbling that he is fed up these sweet smiles. Second we ate plenty of home food that local residents offered absolutely free. And third - the highlight of the programme! The classic cars exhibition. There were not so much there of course, but interesting anyway. Not me, I was near to die from boredom. Dean in contrary unless jumped and clapped his hands as a girl. I had couple jokes being on my tongue but kept silence. I’ve never seen him so glad! We stood a good half of an hour near every car. I even started to understand what is what. Dodge Monaco 1967 by the way too, in my mind the exact copy of Impala. Said it tentatively. Dodge’s owner and Dean looked me as I was imbecile. And later we found a guy with Chevrolet Monte-Carlo Landau 1976. Then I thought we’ll never leave. By the way to hotel we ate God knows which portion of cotton candy and Dean played the oracle speaking about Impala and Monaco. Maybe it was first and the last time we weren’t look out as freaks.
Lucky streak is over. Actually it didn’t start.Dad came back and we got it hot for our walk. I don’t know how he found it out. He rated us again for disorder. Huh! Order! Rated Dean, because he must take care of my safety and not took me along everywhere. He what thought I’ll say “Yes, sir!” too?That I agree with it? Acknowledge our guilt? Is it guilt? Do we have right to see something else except cemeteries and stinking hotels? Safety? No! He just wants control us. I let him know that I understand it. And I’ll never accept it! NEVER!
Poor Dean… Two days he speaks for three persons, creates appearance that everything is good. Dad and I ignore each other. I can’t say I’m ashamed for quarrel, but I have some feeling… regret maybe. If he would try to understand me, if he was in my skin. He’s our father, so should wish us best?
July 24, 1997
My career as a hunter got promotion. Now I not only make some accessory work but also sit in the car, in time they’re working. Tremendous. Good side – I’m in the know. Dad tracked down a witch, a real one. She deprives people of possibility to breath as we do it unconsciously. That’s why all victims die in dream and doctors diagnoses some difficult disease of respiratory system. Also this disease is very rare and its name came from mythology “Undine’s imprecation” So dad fount it. In legend there is a mermaid but dad thinks it’s just a witch that is relating to water. That’s why fire should help. When dad was absent we mixed gas and motor oil and filled bottles with this mix. No fuse, just covers. I don’t understand it’s less probable that this cocktail will work because the bottle shouldn’t break of contact with a body, but dad has a plan of course.
July 26, 1997
Today’s way was a real torture. All day long my joints ache and these ten hours in the car drained me awfully. That was really a witch, not human anyway. I dunno why it still surprises me. I couldn’t sit in the car all the time and after 10 minutes waiting followed them. I had to ramble in the park. At least I hid in bushes. I could hardly imagine that in this park just a week ago we ate sandwiches and watched cars. I was waiting for couple of hours, was frozen and my feet got wet of grass, and then I heard low whizz and shots. Two. Dean and dad threw bottles and shot them. The squeal was unbearable but I should get back in car and I just saw in passing some figure rushing about fire. We got back to hotel. Shower and in the car. It’s the end.
July 31, 1997
Dean made brainwashing about my sally in park. I think we spoke about it. He said that hunting is a serious thing that our surviving depends on our trust to each other that he could be calm only if he will know that I’m doing things I must but not I want. Now I’m ashamed. It was so stupid follow them, I could do a lot of harm, expose myself and scare away this louse at least! Damn! I feel in a lousy way. In this damn hotel is too cold, I can’t warm myself and if go to shower Dean will awake. Let think this is the divine scourge coming close. _________________ Äèí Âèí÷åñòåð: "ß ïðèâûêàþ æèòü áåç íåãî! À òû?"
"Òû - ìîé ëè÷íûé ñîðò ãåðîèíà" Ýäâàðä Êàëëåí. «Ñóìåðêè/Twilight»
Ìíîãèå ëþäè êàæóòñÿ íàì äîáðûìè è õîðîøèìè òîëüêî ïîòîìó, ÷òî ó íèõ íå áûëî èñêóøåíèÿ íàñ ïðåäàòü.(ö)
Snowstorm.I stood in the forest. The snow fell slow.It was something hypnotic in this. The hand stretched to the snowflakes itself. But this motion was a signal. It united and carried them along. It twisted furious storm. Huge flakes closed up eyes, mouth. The skin was scorched with cold. I tried to turn against the wind, but couldn’t. Then I squatted and hid my face in knees. It became better, I was sleepy. But when I yielded I awoke. It seemed I never felt such a fear. I stared into darkness and clutched at blanket. Dean said once that if you’ll die in a dream, you will awake. Damned.
August 3, 1997
Stings with dream
I’m fed up with dad’s survival lessons. It’s necessary to settle in some rat hole in forest middle, yeah.
We’re in Peatkern. Actually Peatkern is several houses which are scattered over square in 60 miles. We’re living in old lodge on the lakeside with a very neat name. Lost Lake. Though Dean feeds me with Tylenol I feel awful. I’m on edge. I’m delirious I’ve hallucinations. I went mad. I spend hours sitting on porch and watching this lake. The silence annoys me. But when the wind starts rustle with leaves I feel worse. It seemed like low indistinct whisper. I catch myself on hard listening to it, try to make out words. In the morning mist comes out of forest. Or it lake throws out never-ceasing streams of impenetrable haze. An old black moorage vanishes in it, like going in another dimension. I’m watching its fuzzy border and can’t tear myself away of it, till my head starts ache.
Strange place. Hopeless.
August 4, 1997
I hate this place. It’s like a toothache. Not lethal but drives mad. And how Dean can sleep here?! Dad comes back in couple of hours. I almost decided to ask him to leave.
More 24 hours in this cemetery and
It’s not a rare thing
In our part of the world
Storm is coming
All we have
Is hope for the grace of God
Even native home is
Mortal snare than a sanctuary
And under the open sky
Is a certain death
Dad and I went check traps
In the past he always took Frank with
But last winter he and his twins dead of flu
Instead of Frank making snowshoe for sale
Coped with bear’s
Leg and testing beaver’s tails
And help mom in kitchen
She even tell me her secret recipe
Cake with syrup
An in evening by fireplace I’m reading
Aloud even making Joe
I’m not complaining
The most difficult is to know
That I’m now
In forest is silent ands calm
I want to close my eyes
And don’t think about anything
They look out like placemats that old Mrs. Tippet ties up.
Snow comes in flakes
Wind get stronger
Dad ties me top him
Nothing is visible in stretched hand
Snow fill in sleeves and behind the collar.
I don’t feel my legs because of cold.
And arms too
Wait till storm is over in Glison’s lodge
If we have time to reach it
Mom can’t stay alone
I can’t leave her
I need to stay
August 9, 1997
Can’t find notebook. Probably lost somewhere there. I remember I was sitting there, watching salt and thinking it was snow. Dean was telling something and shaking me and I couldn’t understand who he’s been speaking with. I thought we should go somewhere. Then dad came. Didn’t go deep in details he pushed me in the car and we went. In hotel he seated me on bed, covered with all blankets we had and gave me whiskey. Half of glass. The medicine for all cases in life. Not bad. It helped. I flaked out almost the same moment. I slept almost 24 hours and now sit in the room for three days. Dean maybe got it hot for.
August 10, 1997.
Good morning, Sam. How’re you, Sam? Wanna watch a game, Sam? When they stop finish every sentence with my name? I know it well enough.
Well, no. Most likely I just remember.
Windy, it’s raining.
The dance of white ice bewitches you.
It takes your soul; deprive your heart with warm.
Attracts with dream - but lies.
The hard frost stings you bad.
Presents you eternal life.
Captivity of white ice... Captivity of white ice...
August 12, 1997
I told dad these facts that could be exact. Frank, Kitty and Joe died of flu. Frank is oldest, Kitty and Joe were twins, younger. In storm one year later got father and middle brother. Last child in the family. I couldn’t force myself to concentrate on more detailed information, although I remember all clearly. We went on snow in these white ash snowshoes. They. They! THEY.
Yesterday dad brought extract out of archive. In February 1853 in snowstorm got lost Matthew and Samuel Andrus. Their bodies were found only in spring, when snow melted. Not far from that cabin. Joanne Andrus dead four months later. Tomorrow we go there. I strongly announced that won’t stay in hotel. Dean was against.Dead for. Two to one.
August 13, 1997
There’s nothing else there. Ordinary lake. Ordinary trees. And wind doesn’t whisper anymore, but just plays with leaves.
The notebook was under porch, fell probably through the steps. There were some water and it soaked well. Three words, thank God. The ink runs on and it’s impossible to unstuck papers.
It was wet and cold. We rambled there sometime with electric magnetic field’s sensor, but no sight. Ordinary forest. It’s gone.
September 10, 1997
Damned! It passed almost the month, and we still fray each other’s nerves because of it. Dean promised to dad that he will see that I burn this notebook. But so far as we don’t come down to rummage our things, every 3-4 days we argue furiously, proving our points of view. Practically he can’t contend that this note is something that ties the ghost to earth. It was my notebook, my pen, I wrote it. And the fact that I wasn’t me isn’t an argument. Ultimately if some madman believes he’s John Wane Geyse and makes mass burial in his basement I doubt whether this basement will be an anchor for real Geyse. On this phase our arguing reaches a deadlock, Dean calls me fuckin Mathlocks and withdraws from action.
Of coarse I can not to turn everything upside down and admit that I don’t want to destroy the note, because it was used as exit. He got rid his fear and pain and became free. His is gone. I’m sure I’ve right. But I can’t explain it to Dean. Dream of my turning out of Mathlock to Dr. Calygary.
September 15, 1997
Sterling, Texas. A new school. Bet my socks, that we won’t stay here more than a month.
October, 10 1997
October 21st 1997
Dad got a call and we must go. Dean has right – gambling’s not my. I left socks under pillow…
October 23, 1997
That was strange enough. We were going almost 24 hours without making stop. 10 miles to Stockton dad turned to rut that was hampered with huge barn. At some distance stood house, uninhabited. In barn’s shadow stood two cars. Dad ordered us to sit quiet and went to them. Dean said that the hunt should be serious. In two hours came two more cars. And three hunters. Clandestine society’s meeting. Of coarse Dean and I were bursting with curiosity, but it was impossible to get any explanation from dad. They consulting for half of an hour then the company went to the city.
Dean probably wanted to be in the thick of things. Sure thing! The deal that needs 7 hunters… But when we arrived dad said him to sit with me. All we had is to watch.
The aim was a high rise, uninhabited too. And in general it looked gloomily out. Short thickset hunter was apparently the person who brought together all others. At first he and dad flipped a coin and if we understood right dad must go alone others in pairs. The thickset gave them something small and they headed for the house.
It passed 18 minutes. Then a rattle. 4 minutes silence more. And again rattle and ringing. And it seemed like moan or squeak. One minute later something like scream. Then inside were lightning or something similar. All windows lightened up with silver-white light and the house became dim. They turned up out of darkness by two. But we were waiting for one. The danger was over. He turned up of corner, clasping right hand to the stomach. Dean leaned back and licked palm. I had marks too. They two who came after us didn’t suffer. The thickset’s face was all in blood but kept on his legs firmly. Dad nodded to Dean drive a car. On the way back we kept silence.
October 28, 1997
Put up in a motel. We’re living here for a week. Dad’s arm is burned badly. The day before yesterday Dean and I went to the city. See a sights, aha. 6 floor building on Hummer line. There were busy because of refit. One of citizens said, that this building has an ill fame. It was build 7 years ago after pulling down a Baylor hospital. One year there were some roomer, but no one stayed. It spread rumors from damnation to geopathology zone. Householder climbed walls, then yesterday he brought workers and they started to put it in order. How do you like it?
October 30, 1997
What’s wrong with this place? Ghosts? The souls of deceased here in hospital? It must be lots of them. Day after day someone died, someone suffered. And all them stayed here or leave some businesses. Then this place itself became unfit for a life. And what do we do? Letting go or destroying? Do we really cut an anchor’s chain? Dean goes good. For him everything’s quite easy: dead is dead, and we should think about alive. I dunno. I think that dead should be just dead to take a calm of alive away.
November 2, 1997
Thickset came. With money for “a work”. The rest for “result” in couple of months. The life becomes more and more funny.
Tomorrow we leave. It’s a pity. I like California. We won’t return in Sterling. One school, another school.Who cares?!
I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room
How much difference
How much difference does it make
December 9, 1997
I can’t believe it! Dad gave up a job! I didn’t understand why, but we packed up all bits and pieces and leaved Midland. No explains of course. Hmm, if I’ll write it 50 times it does gonna be better?
December 11, 1997
We’re alone. Dad said he’ll be absent for couple of days. I dunno what had happened in outskirts of Cloves, but it’s rarely to see him in such a state. Some imperturbable purposefulness. Frankly speaking it scares. The first day we stay at home. As if we were waiting for attack of unknown enemy. Then it became easier. We had a stroll. Dean fleeced someone of billiards. After win my way came a new American Scientist and as a bonus a lecture what should read a real man.
December 14, 1997
Went to laundry to put our clothes to rights. Dean immediately chose a girl and strutted like a peacock. Now I’m teaching my brother to use laundry washer. I don’t like this new tradition making me out a fool in the interests of a business.
December 18, 1997
I dunno, how Dean guessed. We returned from snack bar, when a car drove up and two guys, officials, came into hotel. Dean said not to stare at and went by. He was right. In couple of minutes they headed exactly to our room.
We should go away quick. And we left. Dean had some money after win and little bit dad gave.
We checked in at another one hotel, according to dad’s instructions. Dean took single room; I got into through the window. We can’t let ourselves to be spotted. Manager gave our description to cops.
Now all we can is sit and wait. Although we both understand, that they could find that address only in one case – he was caught. At best for something. Or worse…
He came back yesterday and all we got was a nod for direct execution of his instructions.
To hell with him and his approval! Formerly it could make me glad, but now it’s just a trifle.
I suppose we have right to know, what’s going on. Eventually we should continue this stuff after one day he doesn’t come back. Did he really think it over what we gonna do in case one day some used ghost drags him to his grave? Yeah, now we will get out of it, but then? In the past. When Dean was 10 and me just 6. Did he think about asylum, about a life in the cardboard box near refuse bin, or about foster family? About us, who could be separate?
What for he stakes and stacked us all this time? It means, that nothing and no one doesn’t have equal to his damned job? Even we?
The finest day that I've ever had
Was when I learned to cry on command
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain,
I can't complain
It’s a pity, but I’m not Dean to believe, that all it just for the sake of one's neighbor.
January 25, 1998
Don’t say “no”. The easiest and the most difficult present in my life. It would be better, if I gave him water gun.
Happy birthday, Dean!
February 9, 1998
Today I was not the one new student. Near the door stood a girl. A tall, with pale-red hair and dark eyes. And also with aggressive expression on her face. I believe I have the same expression every time I enter a new school. Megan Whitehorse. After an official introduction one of these idiots, that always seat in the background asked feigned: You said Red horse?
I understood that this time I won’t be whipping boy. It doesn’t make me happy actually. She speaks so funny, almost putting out her jaw. Hmm, all the Englishmen speak that way?
February 12, 1998
We’re living in flatlet on the 4th floor. It’s in no way better than all these shabby motels, where we usually live. Out of window there’s a fire escape ladder, and dad used to drive us on it in three a.m., pulling us out of beds. The food is in Winchester’s style is at a disadvantage to the food of the most lousy snack bar.
But I like it. In contrast to Dean. In his opinion all things that remotely concern to “normal” are absolutely unacceptable. We’re getting up. I’m going to school. Dean hides in Impala or goes somewhere and tricks someone. Not always out of money. Dad spends a long time somewhere too, though it’s definitely not the investigation. It’s all the same for me, however.
February 25, 1998
The whole week I racked my brains over, but one dad’s look, and all my resolution is just a dust. It’s so humiliating to ask him for money. I’m not aloud to make some money on the side too. Saturday is in two days.
February 27, 1998
Today Dean caught me after school and asked to accompany him. I should just draw an attention in right time. We shared booty half-and-half. As far as I know my brother I’m sure he could cope it perfectly alone. But thanks to him he decided to manage it together. Unexpected…
March 17, 1998
Even Dean hasn’t succeeded in instigating me to such a foolish thing.
What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream
March 24th 1998
Such a consequences. First – I got it hot from Dean for going out in the night. Second – from director Wilkins, who long and flaming expressed his disappointment in our intelligence.
It appears that the first visitors of the amphibious burial place were he and some jerk from the Department of the Education. Damned, it looks like good luck and I are absolutely incompatible things. The next one was cleaner which I stumbled on in the corridor. And crowned this line of dissatisfied Dean again, which in absence of dad (thanks to heaven!) should go to school. I just didn’t understand which thing irritated him more: my trick, that drew unwarranted attention to us, or the fact that he had to put decent clothes on and the whole hour behave like a grown up man.
March 25, 1998
Today called Mrs. Davenport and forbade me (!?) to draw her niece into rowdyism. And I already have to work for two weeks after school in cleaning the territory. In company of the Lame Simon by the way.
April 2, 1998
Tonight I suddenly remembered that sooner or later we leave Atlanta. Now I feel as if I got a timer in my head. Timer that counts off remaining time. _________________ Äèí Âèí÷åñòåð: "ß ïðèâûêàþ æèòü áåç íåãî! À òû?"
"Òû - ìîé ëè÷íûé ñîðò ãåðîèíà" Ýäâàðä Êàëëåí. «Ñóìåðêè/Twilight»
Ìíîãèå ëþäè êàæóòñÿ íàì äîáðûìè è õîðîøèìè òîëüêî ïîòîìó, ÷òî ó íèõ íå áûëî èñêóøåíèÿ íàñ ïðåäàòü.(ö)
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