Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Days 9-11 can be read here.

Days 12-14 can be read here.

Days 15-19 can be read here.

Days 20-23 can be read here.

Day 24 can be read here.

Day Twenty-Five

Maybe I just live here now. Maybe I’m going to where the postman went, and the woman who tried to warn me.

My sleep in the post van was rough, trying to make any space for myself among undelivered packages and letters. Any peace I had didn’t last long, though.

There was a thud, and a feeling of momentum as the van was moving backwards. Something was dragging it. I tried to look through the back door and saw only the storm. It was best not to try opening it and facing whatever was taking me back up the hill. Instead I got back into the front in time to see the cabin passing by. The door open, the windows smashed. The elements were claiming it once more. Maybe that’s what happened last time, why there was only a basement left from its old incarnation.

The ground was rougher and trees battered the van. I reached the front door and opened it, only for it to slam in my face. I hammered on the windows, tried to break them and get out. Nothing. The woods, the fields, they all went past, all wilder and stranger than during any of my visits.

The spirit with the stone skull was following the van like it was part of a procession. It was watching me and what I was doing. I remembered the clearing I took the skull from. I was an interloper, I took their possession, I walked their land.

And I knew what was next.

The van fell down the slope with ease. It had been let go and gravity was taking over. The lake was next. I tried the door again. If the spirits had released the van, maybe I could escape. The steep hill’s momentum meant I only had seconds. I opened the door and fell out, battered by it on my way down.

I felt my ankle snap as I rolled over, falling into the lake. I kept low, clawing my way out of it and trying to be unseen by the spirits. They watched the van sinking, but any misstep and they would have seen me. Further along the lake path was the cave. Far enough that I could risk getting to it without being noticed. Drenched and injured, I ran to the cave, stifling any screams as I went.

I need medical attention, I’m no doctor and I’m sure I’ve messed up trying to splint my ankle. I’m cold and the snow doesn’t so any sign of stopping. If it does, I’ll make a break for it. If not, do not go into the woods and if you must, don’t take anything. The things in the woods are vengeful and won’t be reasoned with. 

I love you Casey, Sam, Lou. I hope I get out of here, and that this letter isn’t my epitaph. If you are given this letter by someone else, do not come here, looking for me. 

Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.