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| No four will read this |
| Part four: This time, certainly no one will read this At this stage it is merely adequate to share what happened that night. From what he was able to remember at the moment of they had returned. It was autumn, or at least it resembled autumn. He had stayed with some mates after school doing nothing of any importance, at least he could not remember why he came home late, thus it was only appropriate to assume that it was nothing important that had kept him from going home instantly once classes had finished for the afternoon. He had been in no particular rush walking home, the gloomy weather had never been an issue, if anything it was suitable, or something like that. However, the memories from after he had reached the door of is home was chaotic. Difficult to remember the order of what happened, and most of it was just some vague blurry mush that did not make sense. His parents might have had guests over. This was unclear to him but given what he had been told repeatedly in the time following it, it aligns with the alleged objective truth. His siblings had also been home, probably fighting or some other foolish behaviour, completely unaware of what was about to unfold, or had unfolded. When did it even happen? Had it happened prior to him opening the door, which oddly was unlocked? The door was never unlocked, regardless of the time and who was at home. It was important to keep the door locked. Such an important clue to continue pursuing rather than moving on to what had happened, to what he had seen, to what he had experienced. Reality was that everything beyond the wonder of the unlocked door was something he attempted to suppress. Desperate in his wish of waking up from this abnormally long nightmare. Dear lord or whoever who might listen, even if it is some kind of shady organisation or even aliens, whatever, anyone who is willing to listen, please remove the memories. That was all he wanted. But would it be right, to simply forget and move on? Absolutely not, ideally things would have been different. That dreadful reality, huh? Ruining everything. He attempted to remember what met him once he opened the door, but his mind refused. All it had to offer was memories of other times the same door had been opened. When things had been different. A better time, a safer time, a warmer time. Was it warmer? Maybe it was not, perhaps it had been warmer that awful time. Definitely safer, though. |
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