October 14, 1994 I don't know what day it really is anymore. The watch stopped sometime yesterday. Or the day before. It's hard to tell. The trees outside never seem to change. Just black trunks and fog. Endless fog. I found this abandoned house at sunset. At least I think it was sunset. The windows are so filthy that daylight looks sickly and weak. The place smells like mildew and rotten wood. Something died here years ago and the house never forgot. I've pushed a dresser against the front door and nailed boards over the downstairs windows. It won't stop it if it really wants to come inside. But maybe it doesn't know I'm here. Maybe. I've seen it three times now. The first time was near the creek. I thought it was a deer standing between the trees until it stood up. The second time it was outside my tent. I heard breathing. Not animal breathing. Wet breathing. Like lungs full of mud. The third time... The third time it smiled at me through the woods. I don't know how far away it was. Fifty feet. A hundred. The distance didn't seem right. Its face looked close even though its body was hidden among the trees. It watched me run. It didn't chase. That's what scares me. Every predator I've ever known wants to catch its prey. This thing wants something else. The sun went down hours ago. I can hear it outside now. Not footsteps. Scratching. Slowly circling the house. Sometimes it drags its nails across the siding. Sometimes it taps on the walls. Once, it knocked on the front door. Three slow knocks. Like a person. I've been hiding upstairs in a bedroom closet with this journal and a flashlight. The battery is dying. Every few minutes I hear the floorboards downstairs creak. The scratching stopped twenty minutes ago. I thought it had left. Then I heard the attic hatch open. This house doesn't have an attic ladder. I don't know how it got up there. I can hear it moving above me now. Slow. Heavy. The ceiling is shedding dust with every step. It's directly over this room. Wait. There's someone whispering. No. Not someone. It's my own voice. It's speaking from above me. It's saying my name. It's saying it again. The ceiling is bending. Dear God, it's looking through the crack and I can see its ey
