Back with a flash

Posted by Chris H.

It's been a while, and this is no accident. Things have been busy. The story of "Hey Dave!" however, will be coming to this space soon, and it will be awesome.

In the mean time, here's a message Laura sent me a few weeks ago that I forgot about. Let's hope it isn't important.



Chris, listen to me. Listen this is very important. The exorcism did not work. I don't know where I am right now, I think physically I'm in the space between the floorboards of our office and the downstairs Russian's ceiling? Physically oh God oh God. Physically Phthirus has been steadily eating his way through the rubber of my boots. He may have reached my toes, I don't know. Physically it feels like somewhere not so much as where what exists is important and sensible, as what does not exist is no concern and cannot be felt. I can't feel my toes. I can feel I'm writing, I can feel something in my hand making marks on a page. I can feel an eight-year-old ghost child's eyes watching me write this. This is where he draws his pictures when his mommy isn't home. This is the bad place he goes. He pets Phthirus and Phthirus's teeth go right through him; Phthirus's teeth go through everything, eventually. I don't know how he ended up here with me. I don't know how I ended up here with the ghost child. I only know the ghost child's able to bring his Crayola drawings to the real world and he might be able to bring this message as well. Chris I want you to know one thing. Listen to me, it's important. I want you to know that after all of this, all we've been through together, the laughs and sorrows we've shared, after all these moments I want you to know that I blame you for all this. And you can put that on my epitaph. Phthirus is shaking. I think Mommy is coming.

They're cutting the power soon

Posted by Chris H.

We're approaching rock bottom in the office, and by "we" I of course mean "I." Laura and the rat haven't been seen in days. Dave doesn't return my calls. The others never really moved in to begin with so it's hard to say that they've been lost so much as they made a calculated desertion during the turmoil. It's not a surprising result, but there's that bitter tang of disappointment that fills my mouth with a dusty dryness. More likely that's the asbestos in the building, but so it goes.

Trappings are, of course, at times just that. But at other times one must look serious to be serious. While one could easily interpret the coming spell of emptiness in this space as a sign of death, one should not do this! At the very least your trusty narrator (me) will continue with idle chatter until such time that a more substantial product may be put before your eyes.