Fog

The rain hasn't let up for days. It's nearly been weeks now, but it's still raining all the time. There's a flood warning in effect for my area, but it seems the water never gets a chance to build up before it evaporates.

Fog is beginning to roll in from the forest. It's coming in slowly, lazily. But it's there, and it will be covering the town eventually.

I have this foreboding feeling, like something terrible is going to happen. Well, terrible things already have, so I guess more wouldn't be surprising.

I haven't seen the tall man since the day I met Andrew, but I know it's out there somewhere. My dreams are haunted by visions of forests, the trees tall and bare, black shimmering bags hanging from their branches.

I don't know what to do - I never did, anyway. It all seems pointless, monotonous. I'm considering going to Andrew's house and... joining him, just to give me a life again.

Can You Be Free?

I couldn't take it anymore. The walls of my house were closing in, the drumming rain was only sparking my annoyance, and I was running out of food, so I just... ran outside.

The first breath of fresh air, tinged with the smell of dampness, was like a wake-up call to me. I snapped out of the haze I'd been in during the last few days. I've realized that I'm better off outside than inside. Better free than captive.

I sort of just... wandered. I walked down the sidewalk in some sort of daze, avoiding everybody else, wandering about with their umbrellas. Do I care about getting rain on me? Fuck no. Bring it on, Mother Nature.

...okay, now I'm sort of scaring myself. I don't think I've ever cursed so... loosely before. It's just that everything's been weighing me down on me recently, and...

Never mind.

I was turning around the corner and that's when I saw it. The tall 'man'. The man-who-wasn't. Looming from the forests, its tentacles supporting it like legs, a grotesque animal, ready to pounce.

And then it vanished.

I stared at the spot where it used to be, almost locked in place. Then I noticed that nobody else was reacting. It was only me. I couldn't help but fear that I was going insane, that this was simply a hallucination.

That's when somebody tapped on my shoulder.

I whirled around, ready to run, if it was the monster, if it was about to kill me-

It was a normal person. Just a normal person. His hair was messy and scars were slashed across his  face. But at least it wasn't anything that could kill me right there and then.

"You saw it too?" he asked, pointedly gazing at where the 'man' used to be.

I nodded, not knowing what to say.

"That means you're being hunted."

Another nod. "It... it killed my friend, Ki-" I stopped myself. Why was I telling this stranger this stuff?

I changed the subject. "Who are you?"

The stranger glanced up and down the now-empty street, waiting a tantalizing second before saying, "Just call me Andrew. Not Andy, Andrew. And you?"

"Void," I replied. "Why are you talking to me? Wouldn't it be safer to... run? If you're being hunted?"

Andrew smiled, his teeth startlingly white. "If that's the case, then shouldn't you run?"

"I- I can't. I wouldn't make it five miles before... it killed me." I paused. "What is it's name?"

There it was again - that smile. It frustrated me that he knew things that didn't. "It doesn't have one. But some call it the slender man."

"Isn't... Isn't that a name?"

Andrew shook his head. "It's more like... a description. Accurate, no? And, to answer your other question, I am not being hunted. I am a survivor."

Disbelief flickered onto my face. "A survivor? How? He- it- it killed my friend without any trouble. How could you survive?"

"I serve." Andrew's expression grew solemn. "I serve to save myself. It's a lonely life, but at least I have a life to live."

I started. "You... serve? What do you mean, you serve? Who do you... the- the tall man?"

Andrew sighed and nodded. "I serve to save myself," he repeated. "I do his bidding. I hear- voices in my head. They- they talk, on... and... on, and they t-tell me to do... things." Andrew's voice dropped into a near whisper. "You can save yourself, too. We can be brothers, bound together by survival. And when everyone else in this town is dead- we'd be the last ones standing."

"Can... can I have some time to decide?" I asked him.

Andrew smiled. "You can have all the time you want. When you've reached a decision, just... come to my house. It's the one with the 11 on the mailbox."

"If I say no... will you kill me?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that? But if that is your choice, I urge you to reconsider. We can be survivors."

At home I looked at the gun, holding it in my hands. The last thing Andrew said to me still rang through my head.

We can be survivors.

Lament for the Departed

It's been four days since Kip's death. The only reason why I know how long it's been is because of the clock on my computer. I barely keep track of the sunrises and the sunsets, the days and the nights. Even though now the only tapping is from the constant rain pouring down on the town, I still cannot find sleep. I do not wish for sleep, though - I wish for safety.

I sat in my house in solitude, not able to bring myself to post for awhile after Kip's death. She was my only friend, and now she's been killed. When I close my eyes I see her again, hanging from the tree. Except when I see her, she's not silently swinging in the breeze. She's saying something that I can't hear. However, though I can't lip-read, I know perfectly well what she is telling me - it's all my fault for her death.

I feel that I managed to attract the tall man's attention by going to her - or maybe it already knew, and is just tormenting with these thoughts of self-doubt.

There are tales about this thing. I'm reading the blogs. Following the tales of all these people hunted by it. I suppose normally I'd scoff at the blogs, call them works of fiction. However, now I know... no, now I hope that they're true. Or maybe I'm just insane, and this is all an illusion of my own.

I try not to indulge in thoughts like that.

Besides, how can that be when I feel its gaze everywhere?

It

Calm. Calm. Alright. I need to talk... need to talk about it.

That's what it is. 'It'. Not 'he'.

I suppose I was in some sort of daze when I saw him- it, so I didn't get to see... Well... I- I suppose I should start from the beginning.

About two days ago I went back to Kip's house to talk to her again. To tell her that she was right. The clouds were heavy in the sky, as they had been for the past few weeks. I could almost smell the ozone. The gloomy darkness kept people inside, waiting for a rain that seemed to be late in coming.

The windows in Kip's house were dark, curtains down so that you couldn't see inside. Curious. Outside her house, however, were eleven rhododendrons, placed in a circle around her house as if to ward off someone... or something. I bit my lip as I approached the house - had Kip moved away? That would make sense though, as the rhododendrons were usually placed at the shrine in the woods, not at the house. And usually multiple weren't added; only one.

I shrugged away my confusion and knocked on the door. Like before, there was silence, an eye appearing in the peep-hole, and then the door opened, Kip standing in the frame.

Before she could say anything, words tumbled out of my mouth. "Kip at first I didn't think you were right but then I called the police and then there was distortion and then I went home and then I was oozing stuff out of my ear and I passed out and when I came to it was dark and the clock in my room said it was 11:11 PM and I went to the window and I saw a glimpse of a tall man wearing a suit and I don't know what to do and I'm lonely and want company-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Void. Calm down."

"I'm TRYING to be calm but- there's a stalker tapping on my window!" I took several shallow breaths.

Kip paused, as if trying to piece things together. "Wait- distortion? Tall man? Wearing a suit? No- it can't be... I thought- I mean, it was fun reading about him but- no, no. You have to be lying, it can't be-" She suddenly looked up and stared at something over my shoulder, her face pale. "No."

I whirled around to see what she was looking at, but whatever it was, it seemed to have vanished.

I felt something whip by me, and with a start I turned back, only to find out that Kip was running. But to where?

It soon became apparent.

The forest.

I ran after her, dashing across the grass into the forest, my surroundings seeming to blur as I ran. There was a sensation of pain in my arm as a branch cut into it, and when I looked back I saw I was bleeding - however, I couldn't stop. I needed to keep on Kip's trail. Where did she think she was going? Why was she running in the first place?

From somewhere in front of me, I heard a sickening squelch, like a fruit smashing onto the ground. I picked up my pace, and then bolted through a cluster of dead trees and into a clearing.

What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

I stood in a puddle of crimson, warm and fresh - blood, no doubt about it. It was loose and ran in every direction, but I had stepped into the center of it. In front of me was a great dead tree, but I didn't pay attention to that. Because in front of it was Kip.

What was left of her, anyway.

Her chest was ripped open, all internal organs sans the small intestine either impaled by tree branches or littering the forest floor. The small intestine was wrapped around a tree branch directly above Kip, in a facsimile of a noose. A noose wrapped around Kip's neck.

I looked away from the body, my mind screaming 'no' over and over again, but my mouth unable to form the words.

That's when I saw him.

An impossibly tall, slender man, wearing a black-and-white business suit, toothpick-arms hanging directly by his sides. His face a blank disc. Paler than pale.

Unable to comprehend this, I looked away, something I instantly regretted as I caught a glimpse of Kip again. I doubled over, unable to hold it in - bile splattered on the ground. By then, the thing had gone. And I became aware of something cold in my hand.

A handgun.

As I picked it up to inspect it, black goop poured out, sprawling two words out on the ground:

"you're it"

I blacked out and woke up in my house. For a brief, glorious second I thought it was all a nightmare. Then I realized I was still holding the gun in my hand.

The panic attack lasted for hours afterwards.

I can't really take this anymore. I'm trying not to lose myself to the tapping, but it's happening all the time now. Every day. I can't stand it, don't want to listen to it, and I want to know why this is happening to me of all people. What have I done?

But I already went over that in my last post. I'm just... Just really scared and lonely right now. I want the company of someone other than myself, but I fear going outside. Facing the real world.

You wouldn't believe how much fucking effort I'm putting in to stay calm here. I'm resisting the urge to mash keys on the keyboard, beg for a mercy that won't ever come.

I- I want to see Kip again. Eventually. But can I even leave my house with that... that man killing me? I'm not having the best of times here. I just hope I can hold in until this whole situation ends.

night after night passes by and the trance continues

The ʇappıng, as always, is continuing. However, I tɥinʞ that it is iutǝnsifying, bettıng ןoudǝr. Tɥis ʍorries me, making me ʍonder ʇo wɥɐʇ ǝnd thıs ɯan ʍill go. Wɥy aɯ I the target? That's just... pumb. Nothing makǝs ɐny sense anymore. I feeן poom travelıng closer to me uow, and will 'til I'm bone. It almost feels as if there's uo hope for me, but I hɐve to believe otherwise. I need to have the ʍıllpower ʇo carry on. However, tɥıs problem wou't just bo away ou ıʇs own. I ɥave to make it go away, somehow. Anythıng I can do to ɯake that happen, I will. That's what I shonld do. However, I'ɯ not sure if I hɐve the strength to carry on whıle reʇɐining ɯy sɐuity. I'll try to carry on until I find out wɥat to do ʍhen I makǝ ɯy move, qnʇ I don't know... Shouןd I run? Couןd I run? Or... ɯaybǝ I should fighʇ. Fight foɹ my lifǝ. Fighʇ for my sanity.

I'm considering going to tell Kip. But I don't want ɥer getting cɐught up iu ʇɥis... she's the only friend I reɐlly have.

And I'm feeling so lonely righʇ now.

in a trance under the noise of the night

I'm

still

being

tormented

by

the

noise,

the

repetition,

of

the

tapping

outside.

I

won't

let

this

control

what

I

say,

what

I

do,

but

I'm

not

sure

how

much

of

this

I

can

endure.

There

are

times

when

I

forget

what

I've

done,

times

when

I

blink

and

suddenly

my

hands

have

suddenly

moved.

I'm

asleep

when

awake.

A Tall, Thin Man

Okay, okay. Taking deep breaths here. Can't panic. Have to stay calm. Calm. Calm.

I'll start from the beginning. The phones in my house suddenly stopped working right before I tried to call the police. I admit, that sort of freaked me out. It was like in one of those horror movies where there's ghosts or something messing with the furniture. More likely, it was because of the wind that seems to be constantly blowing around knocking something over or whatever. A storm appears to be coming. It should be here, but it's not. The clouds are just looming over us, looking threatening. I admit, I sort of want it to rain already.

Okay, getting off track here. After I discovered the phones weren't working, I decided to run down the street, trying to find a public phone or something that did work. I found one somewhere in the middle of town - a blue telephone booth. If I was in Britain and it was a police box, I suppose I could make some sort of Doctor Who joke here and pretend it's the wittiest thing you've ever heard but - getting off topic here. Again. It's been sort of hard for me to concentrate ever since... I'll get to that part later.

Right. Phone booth. Dialed 9-1-1. Listened to it ringing a few million times until someone answered. I heard a male say "Hello?" on the other end. I opened my mouth to answer and then the strangest thing happened. This odd warbling static noise cut through the air from the telephone. It was an ear-piercing noise, and worst it came out of nowhere. I jumped back and dropped the phone, my right ear still ringing. When I got the phone back, the police had already hung up.

I was spooked, to be honest. Ran away back home, this odd dizzy feeling buzzing in my head. Needed to be in the company of myself, gather my thoughts. I walked into the bathroom to splash some water on my face, and that's when I realized that I was oozing some sort of black goop from my ear. Suddenly, my vision darkened, and that dizzy feeling intensified. I fell to the ground, and then all went black.

When I opened my eyes  again, I was lying on the cold and hard bathroom floor, my entire body aching. Eventually, my thoughts returned to me and I lifted myself off of the ground. The first thing I noticed was that it was dark outside, and because I didn't turn the light on in the bathroom, the entire room was dark. And because it was dark out, that meant it was nighttime. The time the tapping usually started.

I crept out the bathroom and down the hall, then entering my eerily silent room. I didn't breathe, fearing that any sound I made would wake something ancient and primal up. A ridiculous thought, I know. I was starting to think like Kip, an avid believer in the paranormal. Of course, I was thinking more H.P. Lovecraft than Paranormal Activity.

I walked over to the window and pulled apart the curtains draped over the window.

There, I caught a glance of a tall, thin man slinking away, his arms practically toothpicks and his suit as black as night. I didn't catch a glimpse of his face, but I could see that his skin was pale, almost white. I tried to watch him leave, but he just... vanished into the night.

My heart beating faster than ever, I curled up in my bed, shaking, wishing for a sleep that never came.

Kip was right.

I do have a stalker problem.

And I have no clue how to solve it.

I'm scared, terrified. I'm not sure of my exact feelings, but I do know that I don't want to die. I don't want to let that man take me.

but i know he already has

Decision

I couldn't take it anymore, the tapping. It doesn't just annoy me. It grates on my nerves, drills through my brain, gives me headaches and sleep deprivation...

Yesterday I moved to All's room. I slept there, to avoid the tapping that tormented me so. Even in All's room I got unease, albeit in a different form. The whole night I had this odd tingling sensation, the one you get when you're a paranoid nutjob and think people are watching you. Didn't help that the curtains were pulled open. I could feel the heat getting into the room.

I've made my decision.

I'm going to make a call.

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Investigation

Despite all objections I had, I went over to Kip's house earlier this day to ask for her opinion. I knew the answer would probably be ridiculous, but it couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

Kip lives down the street from my house, near the outskirts of Rhododendron Ridge, at the forest border. Her house is only one story high - simple, and yet it stands out from all the others with its Haint Blue-colored curved roof.

When I got there, I pressed down the doorbell, ominous gongs ringing out, almost like thunder on this overcast day. There was a brief pause, a sky blue eye appearing in the peep hole, looking out, staring at me. Then, the eye disappeared and the door opened. Kip walked outside, her hair tossing around in the breeze.

"Void?" she asked, though that was pretty obvious. "What are you doing here?"

I was silent for a slight second, carefully considering my answer. I had to phrase it in a way that wouldn't make Kip jump to the conclusion that it was anything paranormal. Eventually, I said, "Recently there's been a... bird of some kind... maybe... tapping on a window in my house. I've been searching for answers as to, you know, what species it is and how to get rid of it, and so far I've come up with nothing."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Void, but I'm not a specialist in birds or anything. What can I do to help you?"

Suddenly, I was feeling rather foolish. What had I expected her to do? However, I had already come to her house, so there wasn't much point in turning back now.

My improvised explanation was, "Well, I was wondering if you could come with me over to my house to check on the window. You might be able to see something I... didn't."

I could tell that Kip wasn't very impressed with that explanation, but she said, "Well, I don't really have anything to do today, so... fine, I guess. I'll go with you over to your house."

We walked back to my house, barely even speaking. Kip wanted to look around the back of the house, near where my window was - something I hadn't thought of doing. To be honest, most of my searches were just on the internet. I don't really like the forest anymore and I prefer not to go near it. It's one of the reasons I keep my window's curtains closed. Plus, it helps keep out the summer heat.

Kip and I paced around in the forest, mainly gazing up at the trees. If it was a bird tapping on my window, there would have to be a nest nearby, after all. I was glad that it was cloudy out, otherwise we would have had to shield our eyes from the sun.

Eventually we came to a conclusion: there were no nests near my house.

The next thing we did was go upstairs to check on the windows for cracks and holes. Constant tapping would have to leave some mark. Once again, we found nothing. There was not a single piece of evidence that any kind of bird was there.

Kip turned towards me. "I don't think a bird is making the tapping noise, Void."

"If it's not a bird, then what is it?" I asked, though I already knew what was coming.

"I think it's a person. A person is tapping on your window."

I groaned and shook my head, running my hand through my hair in annoyance. "No, no, no. It's not a stalker, if that's what you're implying. That's just... ridiculous."

Kip pressed on. "Then what is it? There are no nests around, nor any sign that the tapping is coming from a beak."

"My room's on the second floor!"

"And? That doesn't dismiss my theory. They could be throwing rocks, or using a ladder, or... something!" Kip paused, and then stared me directly in the eye. "You should call the police, Void. They can do an actual investigation."

"No. No... no way. I'm not going to do that. That'd be... moronic!"

Kip got up and began to walk away. "Fine, Void. I just hope your denial doesn't end up getting you killed."

She closed the door, and like that, she was gone.

What am I supposed to do now? 

A Bird Mocking Me

I've been searching all over the web for an answer, and just now I found something that could be relevant:

http://www.unexplained-mysteries.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=29524

A lot of the people there suggest that the tapping might be from a ghost or something, but I doubt it. I don't believe in the paranormal. No, there has to be a logical reason. The bird story is probably the most likely one. However, the person with the bird problem had the tapping at five. My tapping happens at night. The internet suggests that it's because of a bird tapping at its own reflection, but it should be too dark out for the bird to see anything. Unless it has nightvision or something.

 Kip would probably love having this happen. She'd make up all kinds of stories to go along with it, stay up late at night to find out what was making the tapping, even post on UM up there. However, this is annoying me. I want to sleep, not to be kept up at night by some stupid bird. When I named this blog 'Nocturnal Ambiance', the tapping hadn't started. It was a meaningless name I pulled from a poem. And when I think of nocturnal ambiance, I don't think of window-tapping. It's almost like cruel irony of some kind.

As much as I don't want to tell Kip about this, I have no choice. I need someone to know about the tapping, no matter how crazy or out there their theories are.

Looking for a Reason

I'm still searching for a reason for the tapping. I've considered it all being a dream, but that doesn't make sense, because it's been happening for multiple nights. But isn't that possible? Repeat dreams? I'm not sure.

It could be a tree, scratching on the window. The house is in a heavily forested area, after all. But why do I get paralyzed from it? Maybe some sort of illness?

The tapping begins at a set time every night. It goes from late at night to early in the morning. Past midnight, to before sunrise.

My head hurts. It's been like that for awhile. Every morning, a headache. Every. Single. Morning.

Do I have a pest problem? Bugs, rats? Can they make those noises? Everything is just... really confusing. I just want to get a good night's sleep. Is that too bad a thing?

Ugh.

I'm going to nap a little.

Tapping

Every night I hear it.

The tapping. Pinging through the air.

tap tap tap

It's tapping and tapping and tapping. Pittering and pattering.

tap tap tap

It started... I don't know when. Last night? The night before?

tap tap tap

But it's been happening.

tap tap tap

Where is it from?

tap tap tap

Why does it lock me in place?

TAP TAP TAP

I don't know.

TAP TAP TAP

I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in days. 

TAP TAP TAP

Even then, I wake up with a giant headache.

TAP TAP TAP

Why does it torment me so?

TAP TAP TAP

I can't think straight right now.

TAP TAP TAP

The tapping is messing with my mind.

the music of the night enchants me so

Hide and Seek

Out of all of my memories of All,  one particularly stands out. It was on a chilly, wintery day. One of those days where everything was bleak and dull in hindsight, but happy and carefree in the moment. I do not experience the joy of snow anymore. Now it is more of a nuisance than anything. However, on that day, it was exciting. 

I think it was during one of those days before Christmas. That buildup to quite possibly the biggest holiday of the year.

Anyway, on that day, All and I were all dressed up in warm clothing. Boots, scarves, hats, the whole deal. Our house is nearby a clearing in the woods. An ideal place for playing around. The game we were going to play that day was Hide and Seek. I was the seeker, being the oldest one. That's how it always went. The first round, I was seeker. The next, I was the hider. Of course, All grumbled about it. He always did.

In the middle of the clearing was a cluster of trees, stripped completely of their leaves from the autumn that had passed. I faced them, covered my eyes with my hands, and counted to ten. There was a clomping of snow, moving away from me, for a few seconds, but then it stopped. All had found his hiding spot. I kept on counting to ten, anyway. No point in breaking the rules.

When I was finished counting, I called, "Ready or not, here I come!" and went searching for All.

I forgot how long I searched for. Minutes seemed to stretch to hours. The forest seemed almost timeless. Eventually, I got worried. My search became more frantic.

And then I found him, standing in the tree cluster at the clearing's center. This confused me. I had never seen him there, and there was no way he could have passed by me without me hearing him. More then that, he was grinning in a rather unnerving manner. But I had found him, and that's what was important.

Instead of playing another round, however, All insisted that we go inside. He said he was cold. I wasn't all that chilly, but I decided not to argue.

After that, All let me be the seeker all the time. He said he was happy with hiding. Every time, he stayed hidden for ages, only for me to find him in a place I had already searched.

the forest had claimed him

Grave

At the highest point of Rhododendron Ridge, there is a grave. It is dark gray, cracked and mossy. The ground around it is covered in rhododendrons; a final gift to the dearly departed. The person buried under it is actually very close to the surface, but the Rhododendrons mask the smell.

Anyway, this grave marks the burial site of the renowned poet, Robetta Nites.

Her poems are noteworthy for being mysterious and cryptic. In times long ago, she was thought of as a prophet, but of course that's not true. She just wrote very vague poems that could apply to future events if you squinted at them.

Of course, that's not to say they're not good. They are! But I really hate people who think prophecy is a real ability. The future is undefinable. You can't see it.

Anyway, here is one of Robetta's poems, 'The Face of the Unknown':

Across the creek of our home
Lies the strange and the unknown
The creature lurks, a curious man,
His legs stand tall, his skin untanned.

He looks upon this town,
With his eyeless gaze
His expression is a blur,
His motives are a maze.

He proposes a simple game,
One only won by chance,
A deadly, unworldly gamble
Played under the nocturnal ambiance.

Yes, that's right. This poem is what this very blog is named after. This poem has stuck with me ever since I read it. I was going to show it to my brother, but then...

Anyway, people have tried to decipher this poem, find out its 'hidden meaning', but I just think it's about the unknown, the strange, the mysterious. Things with no meaning.

That can actually apply to all of Robetta's poems.

Morality

Over the course of the years, the population of my town (affectionately called Rhododendron Ridge) has decreased as people have moved away. It's sad, having a neighbor that you've known so well suddenly move away. It's almost become a tradition to leave without telling anyone.

The nickname of our town comes from the fact that when somebody moves away, they place a rhododendron flower on a little shrine out in the woods. It's an old relic dedicated to the sun and the life it gives. Many a lecture is given on the shrine in history class every year. As you could probably guess, I have no love for the shrine. It stands for loss, and that, well... you know.

Past, always the past. Why are we so obsessed with it? We should be looking at tomorrow, not yesterday. We are fools, slaves to our previous actions. It's stupid.

Luckily, one person who has never moved away is my best friend, Kip. She's a big fan of horror stories and the like. Constantly she creates conspiracy theories about Rhododendron Ridge, like the story that a werewolf lives in the forest, or that a ghost lives in the attic of the mayor's house. Silly things like that. Kip is the only thing in my life that brings me joy now. She helps me move on just by existing.

Despite the rumors, I do not have any stronger feelings for her. We are just friends. I don't think I could ever like someone enough in order to really, truly love. Like most things, it's a meaningless word nowadays.

A common misconception is that you have to be able to love to be human. That's not true. To be human is to feel emotions, any emotions. To not be a silent observer, watching the world fall apart around you, not caring and not doing anything. To be human is to care. And sometimes... the line between 'human' and 'inhuman' blurs. Morality is not black and white, it is black and gray and white and blue and orange. The vague areas are ones in the middle and the ones outside the spectrum. You can't really totally define morality; it is a human concept, and like all human concepts, it could change in the future.

We have to look forward to the future.

Past

Every day, the void within grows.
Every day, the pain, the challenges we face get tougher, making it harder to carry on.
Every day, the present is decided, and through the present, the past and the future.

I know what pain is. Since I was young it has followed me, hunted me down. I know what it is like to lose a loved one. It never gets any easier, that emptiness in my house. I keep on hoping to find out he's still alive in the morning, keep on hoping that it was all a bad dream.

But it wasn't. I have to come to terms with the fact that you cannot change the past. You have to move on, move on, move on. Have to find your own path without letting your pain follow you. But how can you escape the inescapable? How do you escape sadness?

I know that I'm blabbering, saying a bunch of words that look like they have meaning, but don't. However, I need to type. Need to write. I never stop. The keys click and clack under my fingers, never stopping. It is a good sound. It fills the emptiness of my house. I can't look back. Can't. No revisions. None. It is written, and it stays. If I changed things, I would get false hope. It's better if I never change a thing. I never say sorry. It never erases what happens. If I could do that, I would. I'd give anything in the world to be able to change what happened prior to the present. Give anything to save my brother somehow.

His name was... actually, I can't really tell you that. I'd prefer to keep my family members' names a secret. I am Void, and he was All. He was about one year younger than me. When he died, he was eleven and I was twelve. The worst part about his death is that I have nothing to blame it on. He died in his sleep, but of nothing. It was as if someone had yanked out the plug of a TV. Instant death.

I cried. Probably. The next few days, weeks even, were a blur. He was there, and then he was gone. Though we fought often I loved him. To lose him was unbearable.

But I did. Some things are just unavoidable.