State of Lockdown

Over the course of the past week, we have had the threat of Ruby Tuesday, the appearance of a Willing Doll (which Curtis tells me is no longer a problem), and now the appearance of the Choir. Two of our guests tried to go outside, only to be violently ill just stepping out the front door.

So it's time for a lockdown. We haven't needed it until now, not when the Dying Man piece was still here, but now we do.

I've locked all the doors and the windows and shut all the metal shutters that I installed when we reopened. I've brought out all of the food and water I've been stockpiling, because I am a paranoid motherfucker and I knew this day would come.

The basement is open. Any guests that are here are free to stay there for the duration of the attack. I'm not sure it's any safer than their rooms at the moment, but it may give them an extra sense of safety, so what the hell.

The cameras I installed outside are still working. They may not be soon, but at least for now, I can see what's happening. I know what's coming.

And I know it's not just the black-and-white monitor making those people's skin look grey.

More Visitors

Three more visitors just arrived. One man and two women. They looked like they were in an awful hurry to get here. (Perhaps they think we're still under some protection. Oh, well, the other guests disabuse them of that notion quickly.)

Things are still a little tense here. I think Alyssa and Curtis are on the verge of leaving -- although they keep trying to "help" and fix the stuff that inevitably breaks around them. And Sheryl is...well, I think Sheryl is okay. I haven't seen her around that much lately, but whenever I think she's left, I see her sitting in her room, staring at her creepy doll.

And now we have more visitors added to the mix.

I think I'm just tired. I need to get some rest.

See you all in the morning.

Trouble With a Capital T

Ruby's back. Probably because of our lack of protection. I've seen her a few times now, just sort of waiting outside, sitting on benches and at street corners.

And that's not all. Alyssa and Curtis and their friend Sheryl are still here. I'm giving them leeway, because their friend died and I know how hard it must be for them. Still, I have a troubling feeling whenever I see them, especially Sheryl and that creepy doll that she sometimes leaves around. And Alyssa broke one of the doors, I think.

In any case, as long as they don't bring any trouble, I'm letting them stay.

Mourning

Why does death hurt us so much? Why does it tear us up and leave us ragged?

I didn't even know their name until Ivory told me. Blair. I saw the sadness in her face as she told Blair's friends what had happened and the next minute one of the women - Alyssa, Ivory said her name was - just jumped on her. I pulled her off, but I know that feeling. The feeling of wanting, needing to hit something, anything at all, to transfer your pain to someone else.

The man - Ivory said his name was Curtis - he's just standing there, not speaking, not moving. I know that feeling, too. Not wanting to move at all, not even breathe. Not wanting to feel a thing. Comfortably numb, as the song goes.

It's not death that hurts us, I think. It's not the concept of dying, since everyone and everything does it. It's the emptiness that accompanies it. A lacuna, a void, where some song has been silenced and there's nothing left to fill the hole in our hearts.

I watched Alyssa until I knew she wasn't going to attack anyone else, then I slipped away and out the door and into the night.

I hadn't said the Kaddish in years, but there I started to say it. And then I stopped, because I saw something. Against the darkness, it was barely visible, but I could still see it's red eyes. I could hear its panting, so much like a real dog.

It silently gazed at me and then turned away and it was gone.

I said my prayer in silence.