This reminds me of High School for some reason…
The story of the young J.C. Rudolph continues to evolve as he moves one step closer to discovering the truth of his dreams, and the world of his creation.
July 31st, 1956
I keep reminding myself that they were mine to begin with. I didn’t steal them. The Sister took them from me. They were mine.
She’s not happy about it. Convinced of my part in the disappearance of my stories and drawings–those she kept under safe guard in a locked closet in her room–the Sister has taken to wild rants about the evil that possesses me and dolled out even harsher penalties than she’s ever handed down before. The day following their disappearance, now four days ago, I spent the entirety of a full day in the Closet. I’ve been there countless times before, but for never more than a handful of hours. I believe that the Sister was convinced a day without food, or the appropriate means by which to address the pressing matter of my personal needs, would instill within me the need to tell the…
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Continuing through the journal of J.C. Rudolph, the man who would one day become the Storyteller. This is the 3rd of a sequence of dreams, and for the first time, we’re left with the possibility that Rudolph’s world of fantasy might not only be real, it might very well be alive.
July 25th, 1956
I now believe that these dreams–as I have been prone to call them–are not dreams at all. Or, at the least, they are images from another place, reaching out through my dreams. I have given reflection to their purpose for the past two days, following the third such dream over a four-day span. It’s an absurd thought and there is little chance I will ever mention it beyond these pages. Oh, what the Sister would say if I were to propose the idea that my dreams are connected to a world of fantasy. A world that had only ever existed on pages, in stories and drawings of my design. She would insist, I’m sure, that my mind has been poisoned by the presence of a demon. She would insist an exorcism to cure my delusion. I’ve seen it here before. The only evil I know that is…
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Now I pretty much have to do it. 6 hours straight of Sex & the City. You can watch me degrade into pink froofy madness as I live blog the experience. Not enough? Join in! Take my dumb polls! Suggest other marathons I can blog about!