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When I looked back to see it, it was taking my words from the wall. It pulls them away from the stone and takes them, takes them away from me. And it turns to look at me, and I see it's face ohgoditsfaceishisismineiseveryonesisnoonesisDecayedandrottingtothebone.
It is not a human face, I decide and before I truely know what to think I am stepping back into the wall, through the wall, inside the wall and I stay there and wait and here it getting closer and closer ********?
Inside the wall it is dark and I am frightened again, and the crawling begins again, and this time it is not just under my skin it is all around my skin whatever is inside me is in the wall as well does this mean that I am the same as the wall or that it is the same as me? The crawling is more intense than I have known it before and I cannot help but to screeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmm.
And then I am not in the wall but pressed against it and the beast is before me and behind me where there was only wall before there is now a door. A door! The first I have seen in so long, and is it a way out? Finally? Finally it is letting me leave?
With eyes still fixed on the beast [Icouldnotlookaway] I fumble with the handle.
And it's locked.
Searching fingers find the keyhole.
********!



Last night there was something new creeping in these rooms as well.
I was not frightened of it.
I hid in my bed, I cannot sleep but only lay there, and I heard a stumbling noise, as though someonething was walking in a dream. It paused often, and I think I felt it staring at the wall, at the words, at the scribbles, I felt it read them over and over...
And I heared it trip and fall.
And then it was gone.

The writter was there too.
And she it was... angry?


When I rose in the morning I saw the writing and I saw something else as well...
A Key.
[AndwhenIpickeditupIfeltasenseofcomfortofloveandIdontthinkthat'sentirelythekeybutwholeftithere...]

I don't know what to do with it.
I keep it close to me.
With it I feel protected from the writer.
And... and from myself as well.