Category: Daily Grind

Yes, it’s true, the site has undergone a step backwards, where it always was meant to go, at some stage of the story that was taking place, but, things area taking turns where it may not be able to continue the way I wanted it to.

This is partly due to some exciting things we’ll share with you soon, and a few opportunities to participate in all the fun filled activities as they make themselves available.

Let the twisted roads rise up and greet you, as we take a new corner, on our ride, into the unknown.

Matt

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When I started this blog, when I took over this blog, I wanted to take back what was stolen from me by that imposter, the bastard who stole everything I’d written and claimed it as his own.

Since that day, I’ve been plagued by ghost from my past, dreams bathed in nightmares.

Slowly my sanity has broken, my life has collapsed and everything I thought was true, became twisted in lies and works of fiction.

The man from the white room, he came to me again, he said he had a gift, a story, one written just for me. He handed me a folder, smiling broadly.

I asked what it was about, he laughed, and said it was about me, it was my story, all of it from the beginning to the end, if I wanted to be free of all this, if I wanted to live, I needed to understand my role, why I was so important to him, the one in the shadows, and how I could change the story to my advantage.

I felt my skin crawl, and then, he was gone, I was alone, normally I would’ve said it was a dream, another piece of my sanity slipping, but, I have the folder, I just don’t know if I have to courage to open it.

Okay, I had to post this, because it creeped me the fuck out earlier and I’ve been on edge since. I was drawing with my daughter this afternoon, while my wife went to the supermarket to get ready for an epic afternoon, and I looked up from my scribbles to see what she was drawing and, well, it’s easier to show you instead of explaining what she had drawn.

I asked her what is was, and she said ‘silly daddy it’s the man who’s standing behind you!’ I must’ve went white as a ghost because she started looking at me strangely, Of course I turned around like a wild man, thankfully to find nothing there, she started laughing called me silly daddy again and went back to scrubbiling away. The worst thing is, if things could be classed as worse, I’ve had a sore shoulders for the last few days, like something’s been pushing down on me.

Needless to say, since then, every time I pass in front of a mirror, my eyes are drawn behind me, so far I haven’t seen anything, yet that is.

I’m not sure, if this is a dream or reality, not anymore, but either way, whatever the case turns out to be, I need to share this, I need to write, no, not need, compelled, willed to, like, if I don’t write these words, then, there will be nothing, I, will be nothing.

Maybe I am.

I slept again, this time for longer than 5 minutes, maybe longer, maybe an hour or more, I’m not sure, my sight isn’t the best, I’ve gone back to wearing glasses, something I haven’t needed to do, for, well, years.

I was in the white room again, the place with all the corridors, he was there, smiling, he said my name several times, calmly, leaning back on his seat.

My mouth was dry, I realized, as I went to cup my face, that my hands were bound to the chair, I looked up at him, rage seething through me, I asked him why, no, I demanded to know why. He told me to be calm, it was just a precaution, he said we didn’t need another episode like yesterday. What episode? What was this man on about, why was I here, what did he want of me.

He told me we’d had this conversation so many times over the last 8 years, but, this was the first time we’d had it more than once, in a day.

He told me 8 years ago I was tried and convicted on 15 separate counts of murder, including that of my wife and two daughters, he placed his hand on a folder, and asked if I wanted to look at the photos. I said no, he shrugged his shoulders and said if I change my mind, he has them ready.

I asked him if he could remove the bonds around my wrist, I promised I would not do anything volatile, he leaded across the table and smiled, then said no, he’d fallen for that once, he showed me a large scar that ran down the side of his face, that’s when I saw him, in the mirror, my shadow friend, he smiled, and told me I need to wake up.

He saw me looking at my reflection, and asked who was talking to me, I told him, he called it by a name, Roundhead, I shook my head, that was his name for it, the imposters, it had another name, it’s true name, he smiled and leaned back, scribbling something on a note board.

Then he said something strange, and these are his words as best I can remember them, he said ‘so do you think Matthew can come out and play?’ as soon as he asked that question, everything erupted into insanity. The room ripped apart and my shadow self, torn through the mirror, growing rapidly in size, tearing through my flesh, until it filled up half of the room. Towering over him, it let out a low deep growl and said it was the only one who would be playing, for today, the end comes for him, and then it struck him with it’s gigantic, clawed hand, his blood sprayed outward, some landing across my face.

That’s when I woke up, on the floor of the lounge room, my clothes were soaked, and I had wet myself at some stage of the night. I dragged myself into a cold shower, smoked my arse off, and then sat down to write this, so I guess, if anyone reads this, it means that it was another fucked up dream, and if no one does, well, fuck, I’m shit outta luck, right?

My mind is coming undone, as is my world.

My shadow friend, the one who’s been visiting me so often, is now like a mirror of myself, his face scarred, his body, bruised, broken, old, and his eyes, empty, the spark of darkness gone.

He tells me it’s his fault, their fault, they are trying to unmake him, unmake, all of us, he fears the truth will soon shatter reality and when it does, all that is, will cease to exist, and, not even I will be left.

I demand to know his secrets, what lies he has told me, misfortune he says, misfortune is the truth, is reality, one that I must face, but, will I be whole, will I be ready when the curtain closes.

He speaks in riddles, not as jolly as they once were, not soaked in the blood of others, now, softly spoken, restrained, its energy gone.

Then I hear my name, and my voice reply, but yet I said nothing, I wander through my home, as if it is unknown to me, almost getting lost as corridor after corridor join on to the last, finally, I find my way into a room, white, smelling of chemicals, suddenly I’m sitting alone in the room, and then, he is there standing before me.

He smiles, and grips my shoulder, assuring me that everything will be fine, soon I’ll be done with all this, it’s not his words that I feared, it was the sadness in his eyes, he gripped me again, tightly by the shoulder, not in anger, but in compassion, reassurance, this man, I knew him, he knew me, but, who was he.

I ask him why he was here, who he was, and what has he done to my home, his face became sadder, and he smiles again, he said once again everything was going to be alright, that sometimes, a battle with no reward, is a battle best lost.

And then, he was gone, I was standing in the doorway to my lounge room, home, a child sat on the floor, playing with Lego, she beckoned me to join her, a smile on her face, she called me daddy, I reached out to her, I felt my lip trembling, I, I was disoriented, and he grabbed my arm, shaking his head in displeasure, my shadow friend, was he me, was I it, or were we one in the same, are we all just one mind fractured into many?

The little girl disappeared, and I was alone once more, lost in my thoughts, so I sat on the couch for hours, staring at the spot where she sat, her words buzzing around my head, as were those of the strange man, and my shadow friend.

I had a moment, not too long ago, it could’ve been hours, or minutes, days even for all I know, but it was a realization, as the truth dawned on me, and then, moments later, disappeared into the void as though it was a clouds passing by, and the image I saw in it, the shape, gone as quickly as it formed.

But I tasted the blood, I felt the pain, I, I think it was them, my family, their blood spilling, a blade in my hand, then, at my own face,, ripping, tearing, could it be true?

The doctors say its normal, the trauma I experienced was deep, not just of the flesh, but my mind, it fractured into pieces, and I started developing, I keep losing my train of thought, things happen, mysterious things, confusing me, trying to send me off the deep end, trying to bust open the gate that is locked inside, that it hides behind, something dark, memories, or maybe worse.

Then there’s Gareth and his drawings, he doesn’t realize he’s just as infected as I am, if he were to look in the mirror he would soon see his own reshaping’s, his decay, and rebirth as a darkling.

Doctors? Words, words that have no place here, words I did not write, there are no doctor’s, there is no normality, there is only now, there is only this, the shifting sands of what is, what was, what never could have been, and, what will be, although I can’t even trust this blog anymore, I write words and others appear, someone, is playing with my mind, it’s him, the deceiver, I know you’re listening, I know you’re awake, somewhere in there.

Time is ticking out, and its ticking out for you, Matthew.

I finally, after days, almost a week in fact, found the salvation of sleep. But, it did not come to me gently, honestly I regret it ever happening now.

When I closed my eyes, and drifted off into that unknown bliss, I was taken on a journey, one that had no purpose, only to pry more of my fractured mind away.

I was somewhere, in the mist of a story, strange children ran riot, they were like beasts, small, growing, alike each one. I slayed them, as many as I could, and other weird and unusual creatures, they attacked me, ripped, pulled, and then he came, their leader.

He was, almost like me, not that much different, maybe, like I used to be, when I was whole. He told me to leave his children, to go, before he struck me down, I held onto my weapon, a rake, but I used it to bash their heads in, so it was a weapon of sorts.

More of them appeared, soon he was surrounded by his clones, ranging in sizes and ages, but they all looked like him, their face, that of an adult, while their bodies were of child.

I made the decision to leave, to escape while I could, I realized for the first time since this started that it was not I who had been fighting them, but another, I was on the outside, just hovering by his side, watching.

When I woke my heart was beating, my skin wet, as the sweat dripped off it, only 5 minutes had passed, 5 minutes that seemed like an eternity, but rest was not given, it was an uneasy 5 minutes, being awake would’ve caused less stress.

I did not sleep again, pacing the house, checking each room, for unwanted visitors, but nothing else happened, it was as it always has been.

But, I feel a change coming, I feel something birthing.

But what?

What is coming?

I had another visitor last night, someone new, it was 3am when I heard the banging on the door, I could see the flashing lights through the gap beneath the door frame. I was instantly charged, my whole body a mess of misfiring electrical impulses. As I gripped the door handle, a shot of pain ripped from my hand, ran up my arm and stabbed me somewhere deep in the back of my skull, I nervously looked at my hand to see two fingernails had lifted up from the skin, now only connected by white, stringy pus, as a black ooze slowly seeped from where they once sat.

Whoever was on the other side of the door banged loudly once again, he called my name, my name, ‘Mister Towns’ he called, he wanted me to open the door, said his name was Detective Toddard, and he needed to talk to me about a phone called he’d received involving a case he’d worked a few years ago.

I heard his words, all of them, but I just stared at my fingers, as the black ooze continued to seep out of the tips.

 He banged again, said if I didn’t open the door he’d break it down, I forced my hand to move, begged this to be a dream, even though I knew I was not asleep. Slowly I turned the handle, opening the door, it was dark, the porch was empty, there were no flashing lights, no frustrated Detective, nothing, empty. I closed the door and stared at my hand, the nails were reattached, as if they’d never been removed.

He said my name, I spun around to face him, his head spilt open, the blood around his face dry and dark. Hell is coming for me he said, I won’t escape, retribution will be paid, no forgiveness, no hope, no happy endings, then, he grabbed me, thrust me against the wall and told me to never trust the beast,  then I was alone again, or so I thought.

She lay asleep in the bed, snoring, I could hear her from the doorway, I was confused at first, so many things had just taken place, things that made no sense, I need time to comprehend what was happening. So, slowly I peered into the room, it was adorned with posters and toys, it was a child’s room, but this couldn’t be, this room was empty, full of boxes and junk only hours ago.

I creep into the room, to the head of the bed, she rolled over, talking in her sleep, who was this child, and what was she doing in my house?

I slowly reached out towards her, gripping the blanket that covered her, and pulled it back, the room spun around like a merry-go-round as I collapsed to the floor, vomiting dry air and whatever had managed to stay in my stomach from earlier that night.

When I looked up again the room was as it had always been, filed with boxes and dust.

My god, what’s happening to me?

When will this nightmare end?