The Song of the Sibyl

I'm still running.

With that two thousand dollars, I was able to actually afford going to motels and eating meals and stuff. I was staying in one last night. It wasn't the best motel, but it was cheap and that meant I could save more and spend less. You never know when you might need money and not have any.

I haven't encountered any Grayskins after last time, but that didn't mean I stopped looking out for them. I keep my extra-special noise-cancelling headphones right next to my pillow. I can't hear a goddamn thing with them on.

That doesn't stop the dreams, though. They started last week.

I'm in a graveyard. I standing atop one large headstone. I am holding in my hands a violin made of bone, with strings made of sinew. I take the bow with one hand and start playing the violin. I know what song it is: it's the Danse Macabre, the Dance of the Dead. I play better than I have ever played before and as I do, I notice the hands emerging from the graves, skeletal hands, some with bits of cloth or flesh still attached.

I am playing the Danse Macabre and I am bring the dead back to life. They rise from their graves and start dancing around me, twirling around each other, spinning on one bony leg each, and then, finally, they all genuflect under the moonlight at me.

I stop playing the violin. I look down at the dead and I can feel a smile on my face. I raise the violin and the bow and I begin to play again. This time, I am the one who begins to dance. I dance among the dead and they dance with me.

And suddenly I realize: I am one of them. I am one of the dead.

Which is when I wake up.

I know what you're thinking. I heard tales back when I was staying at Lyron's house about a Nightmare Fear, but I don't think it's that. The dream doesn't hurt, I never feel like I won't wake up. I'm never scared during the dream, even though I probably should be. If anything, the dream feels...prophetic. Which is what worries me.

Moving in Stereo

I've left the hostel behind me now. They were nice, but, well, I was getting cooped up. There's a sort of freedom in moving, never stopping for long. My goal is to criss-cross the country, to dip my toes in the Pacific and the Atlantic.

Probably won't happen, but I can try.

Here's something strange that happened to me though. I was packing up my stuff and I came across an envelope stuffed in my backpack. It contained about two thousand dollars and a note that read: THANKS FOR KEEPING AN EYE ON HIM. A FRIEND.

I'm assuming the "him" is Kenny since this seems pretty identical to what Raggedyman received after Kenny's visit. I'm not saying I'm not grateful -- because two thousand dollars can get me pretty far -- but it's just strange.

Time to go.