September 12-13, 2001
Deadly Smile
I
     I suppose it would be wise to record these recent events in a journal, as I doubt I will ever again have contact with the outside world. These events which I speak of would break weaker men, not merely physically, but mentally. To say my story has an unhappy end is an understatement. I will admit that now. I will try to convey to the reader my story as detailed as possible, though some moments have been omitted because my mind simply erased their memory, and others because they have disappeared from record. Thinking back, it really started several years ago, but for the sake of time I will start at what I believe is the obvious turning point. There is still time to turn back if you wish, or you may continue reading. It matters not.
     I have difficulty putting dates to events, so I can only say this started about a year prior to my writing this entry. The details are vague, a years' worth of events seeming to have been longer. Maybe it was longer. Anyway, I had lost my parents to a car accident, so seeking out on my own, I moved to the small town of Amberville. It was your average small town. Barber shops, local grocers, parks, police stations, friendly neighbors, etc. Thinking back upon these things brings warmth to my heart, but I cannot continue to grope for such things as I cannot have. Oh, diary, I apologize for dripping a tear on you, but I must continue writing.
     One aspect of this town that I must go into detail about was the weekly market held in the south end of town. At least half the town went to these markets in search of good deals. I'm assuming you know what a market is like, so my details will be cut short for now. As it happened, I came upon a burley looking elderly man. His business was poor (he was selling old paintings and other arts), but I was somehow drawn to him. I remarked on a particular piece that caught my eye, and he told me it was of the forest nearby. I'm not sure why, but from this moment, something compelled me to explore the deep recesses of the forest. He told me of a few short legends about the forest, and said that it had since been blocked off to public access by the local government.
     To this day I still cannot account for the deep will to enter the forest. Maybe it was something from my childhood, or some repressed memory, or some other dark forces. I cannot say. All I can remember is that my dreams that night were clouded by sinister smiles, dancing about my newly purchased bedroom and laughing at me, daring me to enter the woods. I asked them what I would find in the tree shrouded area. I asked them who they were. They simply faded away and I found myself once again awake, laying on the floor where I had been standing in my dream. I sat there in the moonlight, filtering through the window shade, and wondered what compelled me so. I still wonder.
     I also wonder why I acted upon these emotions and made my way to an area I thought would be hardly noticed. I wonder why I leaped the fence and made my way through the dry, leaf covered forest. I wonder why I ignored the "no trespassing" signs. I wonder how I found myself waking from a deep slumber at the foot of a large oak.
II
     Note: This journal entry was actually written by me on the day of my awakening. I have left it unchanged, as it conveys the story better than I could retell it now. Several occurrences in this entry have been forgotten by me by now, so it is as strange sounding to you as it is to me. Also, I should add that some of the pages have been torn out, so this is not a complete telling, and is slightly confusing. It will explain itself later.
     Today was an odd day. That's all I can think to write, but I really should put more. You'll never believe this, but I woke up under an oak tree, and the last thing I remember doing is laying down on my bed. I have no idea where I am now, and I'm not at all prepared for something like this. I'm surprised I brought my backpack with me. It has a few useful things in it, but nothing really helpful like a map or a compass...or a phone. I tried shouting, but nothing responded, except some birds. I'm really distressed, so I pulled out this pad of paper and I'm hoping it will help to pass time and ease my discomfort. Oh yeah, I had this really weird dream last night but I can't remember what happened in it. Something (the following was lost). I sure hope not.
     It's getting dark so I decided I would make the best of things and set up camp. Nothing interesting to tell since this afternoon. I picked a direction and started walking, (the following was lost), so I hope this will lead me somewhere useful. I wish I brought some food, if I get hungry I guess I'll try some of the mushrooms around here. I can hardly see, so I'm done writing for now.
     It feels kinda funny writing to myself like this, oh well. I had another weird dream last night. That thing I wrote about yesterday told me the path to follow, so I followed it for a while and came upon a clearing. It's about noon right now. This clearing seems familiar somehow, like I've seen a picture of it before. It almost looks like someone lived here before, because there's a rickety old shack and a broken down pickup truck. It looks really old, too. I looked in the shack and guess what I found! Most of the items were useless, but I did manage to find a small tank full of gasoline! I'm really bad at starting fires, so this will help a lot. I also found some old canned goods, but I'm afraid they're too old to eat. I'm going to scout around a bit more, so I'll have to write later.
     This fire feels nice on a cold night like this. I decided to be brave and I opened up a can of baked beans. They weren't so bad, but I hope I can get out of here soon. Sometimes it feels like somebody's watching me. I honestly don't know what lurks in these woods, so I've decided to play it safe and sleep in the old pickup. I'm so scared that I just want to run away from here, but I'm hoping that thing will come to me in my dreams again and tell me where to go.
     Good thing I slept in the truck, it rained last night. My dream told me (the following was lost). I'm too scared to check.
     Somehow I found the bones. I just can't think straight. They were all twisted. I found the knife too, hidden in the shack. I dropped it in fear and ran. I'm not sure what direction. I tripped over something and got knocked out. I just woke up a little while ago. Now I see some smoke high above the trees far in the distance. I might as well go towards it, it's the biggest sign of life I've seen in the past few days.
III
     After that, there were no more entries for some time, so I will stop here to fill in the empty spaces. It is partially because the pages were lost, and partially because I had no time to stop and write. Also, because of certain circumstances, I no longer felt the need to update my story into my journal. This part is important, though, so using the best of my abilities I will try to retell it. Some of these events I believed to be dreams, but I had found a few journal entries that had been partially destroyed that seemed to hint at the truth.
     What I can still remember most about the forest was the dreams I had during my short stay. I can think of no better thing to say to describe them than "there were odd faces hovering about me". Everything looked the same as the place I had fallen asleep. Mixing what I remember about the dreams with what I have written about the forest is almost like finishing a jigsaw puzzle, but with a few important pieces destroyed. I cannot say who or what destroyed them, but it is for the better. As they say, "no good could come of this."
     I will return to the dreams later. After the last journal entry, I made my way to the smoke in the distance. By the time I was close enough, it was dark, and I could not see the smoke. Something else seemed different, but it was subtle, and at the time I took no notice of it. I was at the edge of a forest. A familiar town was in front of me. Amberville. Asking the locals about the smoke produced odd looks, as apparently nobody else that was still awake had seen it. I, too, could no longer see it. At least it led me back home. Home...where is home? This was a side of town I was unfamiliar with. I found my apartment after a bit of walking and, as you may have guessed, quickly found my bed. You may have also guessed that the faces visited me once more, and in that you are partially correct. They may have told me things that night, but I remember nothing of them. The dream I had that night was a different one, the kind that make you wonder if you're really asleep.
     In this dream, I was walking down a hallway. It was a white hallway, with wooden doors along the sides. I entered one of these doors, and a man in a suit asked me to describe a place I had been to. I started to describe it, and I painted pictures with my fingers. I watched him sketch. It seemed like a drawing of a nice house, built in the old style. I also watched him draw the surrounding landscape, like there was a cliff or something behind it. Something tall. I'm not sure what I told him, but as I watched the house seemed to become smaller, and the land larger. I stepped into the drawing and entered the house. I went into one of the rooms and sat on the bed. I opened my eyes and found myself still sitting on the bed...in my room.
IV
     It was your average morning. I was glad to be back in town. Myself being new in town, everything seemed so fresh. I saw a man in the park painting, so I decided to have a little chat with him. He told me he was trying to find some inspiration, a little something to make the brush move on the canvas. I'm sure you know the first thing that came to my mind. I described the sketch I had seen in my dream, but pretended that I had just made this place up. He liked the idea and started to paint it. I took one glance at his first stroke of brown paint, accepted his thanks, and went off on my daily routines. I was still looking for a job, but I had enough money to support myself for a few months, so what I did during the day hardly mattered.
     After that nothing important really happened, but if you must know, I participated in a game of football at the park. It's not exactly my favorite sport, but I needed the exercise. Perhaps I had a bit too much exercise that day. I went to bed early that day, but by the middle of the night, I was found across the road from the building, with only my bag and the clothes on my back. I watched in horror as flames lit up the night. The apartments were burning, and three of it's tenants were standing on the sidewalk, praying for the unlucky ones. The shock was too much for me, as I opened up my backpack to find the tank of gasoline now empty. I had no idea what had really happened, but I knew what others would think. All I remember after that was another one of those dreams. This time I was once again standing in the forest, but this was in a clearing of some sort. There was a house here and a flower garden. I saw one of the faces enter the house, so I followed it. Entering the house, I expected to find people, but it seemed to be empty. Chillingly empty. Something told me that I would find what I seeked within myself. I looked down and in my hand I held a knife, covered in fresh blood. I looked up to see more blood upon the quickly aging wooden walls. The faces appeared to laugh at me and I awoke. I was on the floor of an old cabin in the woods. In times such as these, I did the only thing that was available that could ease my troubled mind. I opened my backpack and pulled out a pad of paper.
     Good thing I slept in the cabin, it rained last night. My dream told me some strange things, you know, the one about the faces. Well, it didn't really tell me anything, more like it showed me. According to my dream, there have been murders here. I'm nor sure whether I should believe it or not, but I really want to leave. I saw where the weapon was hidden, and out the window I could see one of the faces burying something. I'm pretty sure they were bodies, but I'm too scared to check.
     Somehow I found the bones. I just can't think straight. They were all twisted. I found the knife too, hidden in the shack. I dropped it in fear and ran. I'm not sure what direction. I tripped over a gas can and hit my head on a stump. It hurts, but I'll live. I think someone else came this way recently, because there's a trail on the ground. I bet that other guy hit his head on this stump, too. I'm going to follow the trail in the morning and see if it don't lead back to town.
V
     It's been a while since I added any entries, but these recent events are just too disturbing to let go. The trail did indeed lead back to Amberville. As I walked past the park on the way to my apartment, I saw a man painting. He stared at me as if he knew who I was, and I panicked when I saw what he was painting. It was the place I saw in my dream. The place where the murders took place. He called to me, but I ran. He must've known. If that isn't shocking enough, I swear I saw someone that looked exactly like me walking towards the apartments. Like any other man, I let a bottle drown my troubles. Looking back on things, that doesn't seem like such a good idea. The faces circled around the bar and told of things that were to be. I saw an image of myself. I was holding a large bottle of liquor. I'm not sure what it meant, but I drank and filled myself up. I put the bottle back where it came from and exhaled heavily. My breath was turned instantly into flames. The faces laughed and I woke up. I was outside the pub on a park bench. It was morning. The apartments were gone. Today is going by very slowly, and I'll just have to sleep at the motel tonight.
     I decided the best thing to do would be to inform the authorities. I wasn't ready yet to tell them that I suspected myself of arson, but it was only right that I should tell them about the bones I found in the woods. The man led me down a hallway and we entered through a wooden door on the left. Like the hallway, this room was fairly empty and painted white. My first mistake. His first question. What was I doing in the forest? The best excuse I could think of was that I was mushroom hunting. In a way, this was true. After a bit of conversation, I helped him draw a diagram of where the bodies were, relative to the position of the house. He said he would investigate this himself, and call me tomorrow. He never called me back. He never returned home. He never said where he was going. Idiot. I have to take this into my own hands now. Tomorrow I will return to the clearing in the forest.
VI
     Today was an odd day. That's all I can think to write, but I really should put more. You'll never believe this, but I woke up under an oak tree again, and the last thing I remember doing is laying down on my bed. I'm really distressed, so I pulled out this pad of paper and I'm hoping it will help to pass time and ease my discomfort. Oh yeah, I had this really weird dream last night but I can't remember what happened in it. Something about the faces. I think they said I would only find death in my travels. Who is going to die? Me? I sure hope not.
     It's getting dark so I decided I would make the best of things and set up camp. Nothing interesting to tell since this afternoon. I picked a direction and started walking, and I think I've come upon a private drive of some sort. I think I remember coming this way the first time. The tire marks in the dirt look fresh. The faces told me something about a new path, so I hope this will lead me there. I wish I brought some food, if I get hungry I guess I'll try some of the mushrooms around here. I can hardly see, so I'm done writing for now.
     I remember when the faces told me the path to follow, so I followed it for a while and came upon the clearing. I got there at about midnight. The clearing seemed different this time, like in a picture I saw before. It almost looked like someone lived there now, because a pickup truck was parked next to the cabin. It looked like someone was there. I opened the door and stepped inside. Entering the house, I expected to find people, but it seemed to be empty. Chillingly empty. Something told me that I would find what I seeked within myself. I looked down and in my hand I held a knife. I looked up to see the faces appear and laugh at me. It was almost as if they were taunting me. This was the last time. This time it was not a dream. The faces were real. I lunged at them and stabbed them, venting my frustration on the spectral images. The faces had haunted me since my parents died, and now I felt that they must be eliminated. I looked down and in my hand I held a knife, covered in fresh blood. I looked up to see more blood upon the wooden walls. I realized what kind of sick game had been dealt out for me. It had been me all along. Some strange supernatural forces had led me into this. As I finish putting the puzzle together, I realize that my time is running short. Soon the police, having been tipped off by myself, will come looking for me here. Or perhaps I will first meet up with myself. I wish to encounter neither, so I will hide myself away until the time is right. I can already see the sun rising, and my journal is almost complete.
     I am still reminded of a certain painting I saw once. If you are reading this, perhaps this certain painting also caught your eye, and you purchased it at the weekly market from the old man that created it. He might also tell you a certain legend that goes along with it. Since you are reading this, I assume you have found out that a legend does indeed rest within the painting, and that some things are better left unknown. If only I could control the hands of time, I could warn my parents about their own passing and possibly prevent all this from ever happening...