Look to the skies. Or not

Woke up this morning from probably the most vivid of the dreams about the kids in the forest I've had. I know you're probably all really tired of this being my dream journal but having 1 is kind of an indescribable mix of both terror and wonder that I always feel like I should be capturing better. Kind of like Disney World, except not as bright and over baring. I almost felt their fingers around my arm and the sharp, bright, pin pricks that came over my skin as they did. I don't remember much about the dream because I was woken up by Bondie running up onto the deck and dragging me back to the house. I was half asleep still when I tried to see what he was shoving in my face.

It was a brown paper package that looked like it had had something spilled on it. It had no return address, and was addressed to 'Andrew Skaine'. Bondie seemed really excited and kept jumping around saying things I couldn't quite hear when he would pace to the far end of the house, only making out half the conversation as he would walk back over to the kitchen on the other side. I opened the package and pulled out a book. It was a picture book with a little boy standing in front of a forest.

"What is this?" I asked, as Bondie came back into the room and started to look in the fridge for something to do.

"It's from James!" he said excitedly "your plan must have worked and he must have seen your blog because he sent me something! Don't know how he got this address though."

"Yeah he does that," I said, flipping through the book "how do you know it's from James?"

"The book!" he said, ducking out of the fridge "we use to read it! It's great! I think the author died a little while ago, but his mum use to say it was an old story anyway."

I don't know who the author was since the copy that James sent is beat up pretty bad. The only thing you can see is the title which is 'The Children Of The Woods'.

I read it a few hours ago. It's weird. I can't really explain it. This kid has to save the woods from

these bad guys and then these ghost kids come out and help him. The weird thing is (wait for it) it kinda reminds me of my dreams. The kids look a lot like the kids from my dream and the whole thing with the forest being threatened is there too. I don't know, maybe I read it when I was a kid and now it's rising to the surface of my dream subconscious since the word forest is probably in my top 5 most thought about at this point (right after hungry, and before horrible I think). Still it's weird that Bondie knows James, and now it's weirder that James sends this book. And after everything that's happened in the past 2 years I don't think a whole lot is weird.

I'll post pictures of it pretty soon if I can. James also sent a note.

I know James well enough to know that no letter addressed to me means he's pissed at me. Probably because I've stayed here for so long. Bondie says the chart in the note is like the charts James use to draw on his walls. If he's pissed at me then he should come see me. Maybe he can explain what all this means. Or at least what the fuck the note does.

Blogspot has decided to be an asshole most of the time and not let me post comments on the blog, so if anybody has any questions, just leave them in the comments and I'll answer them in the next entry. I'll get some pictures up soon. I think I'm gonna reread the book now and try to figure something out.

- M

Taco Place

Blogspot has been being a huge pain in the ass. It's weird to think about that kind of stuff again, but it's still a pain in the ass. I've been being lazy. Maybe it's because I was sick for so long, but either way it's not safe. I need to leave here soon. Bondie has had me here for too long, and every day it gets harder to keep from him that all this is really happening. I don't lie, I never lie, but I have been not telling him stuff in order to keep it hidden from him and it feels terrible. He'll read this later and think it's just part of the story, but still, it's hard to keep it all in. I taught myself pretty early to keep all this to myself or else it tends to end in your friends dying, but still it's hard sometimes. I feel like a fuck up just telling him that I'm some homeless writer who got fucked up by junkies and Bondie is smart enough to realize that something is going on.

Still, I haven't left. I'm able to now I think, but the idea of leaving just seems like something that I keep wanting to put off. Which is dangerous. In order to sort of make them more safe I've been going out of the house a lot and walking around this part of town. I also have been buying Bondie a lot of food and taking him out to eat a lot, which is a terrible trade.

'Hey, can I stay in your house while hiding from an evil force, and the government, and maybe waiting for my insane friend?'
'Yeah sure just buy me some food!'

Which is why yesterday we were eating at the taco place. Like everything was normal. Just eating mexican food and talking.

Totally normal. Totally fair.

The taco place is a weird setting anyway. There's a huge painting on the wall of people cutting up some kind of green fruit, a deer head across from that, and 2 TVs playing shitty movies all day while competing with the constantly playing Jukebox. I didn't know Mexican places were like that, and Bondie says they aren't, but every 1 we've been to has been like this. Bondie likes it though so I took him. Bondie was on about his 5th taco when he looked up at me and just kind of stared I think until I realized he what he was doing and looked up from picking at my own food. I'm hungry all the time, but I feel like I'm out of practice with eating.
"Something up?" I asked, which was stupid because of course something's up.
"I need to ask you something," he said.
"What?" I said.
I wasn't looking forward to this conversation, even though I didn't know what it would turn into. I'm not sure if this is true for everybody, but for me whenever people need to ask me something it turns out badly.

"Do you know James Mathews?" asked Bondie.
I think there was a silence, but I can't remember since it was so loud in that fucking restaurant, but finally I stopped staring at him and realized the whole time my mouth had been full of chewed up taco.

It's weird the stuff you think about in situations like that.

"I know a James Mathews," I said, sallowing my food "why do you ask?"
"Where did you meet him?" asked Bondie "you just say in your blog thing that it was like a little town or something? But where was that?"
"I don't remember," I said "I think it was near Boston, something like that?"
That wasn't a lie. I don't remember exactly where I met James. Where I was wasn't important when I was 1st traveling. If I thought to ask at all I usually forgot after a while. I tried to remember, but it's faded now. Now I just remember it was a small town, near the woods and the sea.
"Did he live in a big house?" he asked, his voice getting faster and he looked slightly worried "with a lot of other people?"
"No," I said "but he lived near a big house. I think it was a school or something. His parents were there a lot. I think they were teachers. I don't know."
"Where is he now?" asked Bondie.
"I don't know," I said, then I felt the side of my face go down as I realized I fucking shouldn't have been talking about any of this stuff with Bondie "It doesn't matter though, I just write about him You don't know him."
"Yes I do!" said Bondie "I knew him! He had black hair, and was tall, and thin, and he liked math like you said in your entry but you didn't put in the part about his charts on his wall! Did you ever see those? They were great!"
I watched as he tried to catch his breath and tried to think of what to say in the brief period of time you have to talk when Bondie is excited and he needs to breath. It was obvious he knew James, which meant I couldn't tell him.
"I didn't," I said to my food "I didn't know him. It must have been somebody else."
There was another noise filled silence and when I looked back up Bondie was still staring at me, but now he looked a lot sadder. And let me tell you his sad blue yes cut through me like a knife.





At least I'd like to pretend they did. Mostly it just made me feel the sweat going down my back more and my eyes hurt.
"Please, M," he said "you have to tell me. He's important to me. His parents helped me a lot. The orphanage I lived in was ran by them. It was the only 1 in that area that would take me in and not treat me bad because I was deaf and it's important that I like figure out if he's ok because he went missing and if he's a friend of your's. If you know where he is."
"Wait, why was this the only orphanage that would take you in?"
"Because a lot of them don't really have anybody who can teach sign language, and they had a special sort of teaching method they had made up and used with all the kids and they made sure we didn't go into some terrible foster care or something. All the women who worked there were great too," he smiled "A lot of people I meet had really bad experiences in foster care or whatever, but the orphanage was always good to me. I got lucky, so now I need to help his parents and figure out where he is and if you know you have to tell me!"
"Wait, you're deaf?"

And then there was the longest silence of all. All the music had gone off and the TV was set low and Bondie just stared at me, sadness turning into confusion on his face, his brows knitting together as he placed his hands back in his lap.
"Yeah, of course I am," he said "haven't you noticed me signing?"
"I mean, no," I said "guess not. I mean you talk more then you sign! And you talk to me all the time!"
"I just read people's lips," he said "that's 1 of the things the Mathews taught me! So I could get a job or go to school anywhere! I mean it doesn't always work, but it makes it a lot easier."
"But you listen to music all the time!"
"I just like the vibrations I guess," he said "I could see how it could be confusing. I'm sorry. I should have told you, that was stupid of me to assume you would just know."

Let me outline what happened really quick in case you haven't gotten it yet. Librarian saves me from dying, lets me live in his house, give me food when I'm sick and I didn't realize he was deaf.

I didn't realize he was deaf.

I'm retarded.

So course I had to tell him about James.

I told him that I had met him after being on the road for a while, about all our experiments, about what he realized when it came to the projects we were doing as best I could without mentioning Him and that the last I saw him James had gone to the sea.
"Do you know where he is?" asked Bondie as we walked back to his house.
"Not really," I said "Still at sea I guess."
"Are you in contact with him at all?"
"Not really, I mean sometimes," I said "I get letters and use to have them but I think they got taken with all my other stuff when I was sick for a while. He still reads the blog I think. I'll write about this and maybe he'll see it and find some way to send me something."
"Thanks!" said Bondie "I really just want to know that he's ok really. Like that's all I want. Just to be able to tell everybody he's ok."
Bondie seemed happy the rest of the night. I think he was just happy James wasn't dead. It is all kind of weird, Bondie knowing James and everything. I don't know if James will see this, but maybe he will. If he does maybe he'll send me a letter about it.

Until then I need to figure what I'm doing. I can't stay here for much longer, not while Bondie is getting closer to what's really going on. I heard from Shaun a little bit the past few days and that he's being fucking batshit. Evidently he was taken by somebody too. Maybe he'll post another video explaining what happened or an entry. I feel like I have to stay here though, at least to wait for him, but I know I can't. Either way I'll have to leave them, I just have to figure out what way. For now though my chest is still healing and I can't run yet anyway, so I have to stay here for a little bit more. Even if I don't want to. Even though it's dangerous. even though I wake up everytime I go to sleep covered in sweat and after the sweet moment of foggy sleep everything that's happened comes crashing back down me so I can't move at all even if I wanted to.

- M