Ash Gray

I doubt anyone noticed, or cared, but I haven't been on here in a few days. Probably Malcolm was the only one who realized since we email far more often than I post here. I have been rather laid up for all of yesterday and some of today. I think I'm better now, though.


It started with another one of those dreams.


I was standing in darkness, alone and empty. It was nice though, peaceful. Like how I imagine dying will feel once this is all finally over. But I couldn't see even darker shapes moving through the darkness, and then something weirdly slimy was stroking down my arms. From the experience of other dreams like this I suppose it was those tentacles again. And there were voices all around, the screechy laughing from last time, but also soothing tones and whispered ones. It was hard to tell what they were saying, but I knew that they were good things even though the voices that said them scared me.


Then all of a sudden I burst into flame. A huge, raging bonfire all around me and its light beat back the shadows. They recoiled, their sweet words becoming hisses and screams. I could see the darkness better now than when I had been encased by it, and I looked out at it with interest. It seemed so small now, pushed back by my fiery shield.


And now the fire started whispering, and it only had one voice. About how it would protect me and love me. I almost believed it until something drove me to look down at myself. Even though I felt no heat from the fire around me, my body was burning and bubbling, melting off my bones. As I dissolved into a puddle I screamed for the cooling shadows to come back to me, but they couldn't penetrate the fire. The fire that saved me only to kill me.


I woke up sweating to find the most extensive of my wall decorations yet. It must have taken hours. I, or my body, had gathered together pieces of paper and burned them. Their ashes lay scattered about on the floor, but mostly I saw them finger painted on to my wall in the shape of a giant heart.


And Malcolm, I felt him right there, on the edge of my brain. I don't know how I knew but I felt him right there, about to take over. Everyone else who reads this, I'll explain soon, I just don't feel mentally up to it right now. So I stared at the ashen heart and I felt him growing like fire and then a huge black wave washed over me. Y'know, metaphorically. But I knew it was from Him.


The wave pushed the fire back deep down into where it came from and at the same time hit me with the strongest bout of slendersickness I have ever had. I was lucky I made it to the bathroom before I started vomiting uncontrollably. I was nauseous and had a splitting headache and I spent almost all of yesterday laid out on the bathroom floor, which is not how I like spending my weekends. At least my mom didn't send me to school today.

But the fire was gone. It was strange, almost purposeful. Like the sickness was sent to keep him from coming back. That's silly, though, right? I mean, why would he care? He wouldn't care that much about me.  

I hope my paint comes soon.  Or I'll run out of wall space and who knows where I'll draw next?