As I come back to this journal scared of what's to be and what's to not be, as I wrote on previous pages, bad things always find their way to disturb me. I always thought this day might happen again and to my horror it is happening, not to my brother, but my own child. It really started when again we were celebrating his first birthday, “ The first one is always special” I beg to differ. We were just unboxing his last present, I went to unwrap it and to my surprise, blocks with weeping clowns lay there in poorly wrapped paper. I went to throw them away, wondering how they got there , dreading to even look at these blocks. My wife caught me off guard, kinda in a dazed trance on my way to the trash can “Hey, those are Zoe’s”. “Well not anymore!”. Angered how she wont believe me, angered how she won’t understand even if I scream it at her. Now I reach the trash can, all eyes glued on me now covered in sweat, I feel like a jerk but I must protect my family from whatever wants my daughter.
As I haven´t wrote anything in this journal for a few days I wonder, can it see what i'm doing? Does it know my every mood? All these questions and very little answers, and yet it always leads me back to this question, if it was able to come back, will it go for Oswald? Well, I guess thatś it for tonight, I am packing my bags and heading back to where this started, and something tells me, this is far from over.
As I pull into the long drive way I wonder “Am I really doing this?”. I built up the courage to knock on the door and Im meeted to Oswald, now much older, even writing this down. I can’t believe he is going into the 9nth grade, have I really been gone for that long? Have I really let time fly, Oswald is now a glooming sports prodigy, and who am I, nobody. My mother greeted me at the door, and immediately asked what I wanted, stating that I haven't been back home to Maine for this long? I, now a little annoyed, asked if I could come in. I nervously accepted the cup of tea my mother handed to me, I can't move, I am paralyzed with anxiety for what I have to say. I nervously spit out “Mom, do you remember the-” I stopped, my mother was white in the face. She made Oswald step out of the room while we discussed this matter. She closed the door behind Oswald and looked me in the eyes and stated “I already told you, I am done being your go to Ghost buster, I put that behind me and you should too!”. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I just drove 9 hours and I am greeted with this? I quietly said back “This isn’t about me or you! It wants my daughter, and I must protect her!”. My mother spat back “It can have that brat! I always try to forget you, every time you come around you always bring bad luck to this family! And I was finally happy, until you showed up”. That sentence hurt the most, betrayed by everybody in life, even my own mother. She kicked me out like I was just a pair of shoes that don’t fit anymore. Well, I guess that's it for now I need answers, and I need them now.
On my drive home, I had to stop at a gas station, and to my surprise on my gas pump there were, blocks with weeping clowns on them. I heard a man's voice cursing at these blocks, and I wonder, am I the only one? I slowly walked to this angry man cursing at these blocks to give him his family back, I tap him on the shoulder and said “Where did you get those blocks”. He said they were left at his doorstep and week prior. I thought for a minute and them remember I ran inside and bought a cheap hammer, Itĺl get the job done. I walked b back out to this man and he looked at me with a sad look in his eyes. I told him to step back and I struck each block remembering years prior how I did the same . With my sore arm from driving I slammed the hammer down on the blocks and one by one the manś family appeared wearing the same suits as the clowns with no prior knowledge of where they are or what day it is. The man now surprised asked me “How did you know to do that?” “You don’t want to know” I replied.
I picked up the block fragments and to my surprise an address lay there. A part of me wanted to march myself there , but a part of me knew that they wanted me there as much as I wanted to be there . At a second glance of the address, my heart sank my house address lau there on this silk piece of paper. I rushed to my car in a panic, not knowing what was up or down, I promised to protect my family and I must go now. As I race down the road now only 10 minutes away from my family not knowing if I will ever see them again but I must not wait any longer. I run up my porch in the dense New York weather, I jam my key into the hole and open the door and my biggest nightmares have come true, there it is, a block with my wifes face on it as a weeping clown. I hear a deep voice down the hallway greet me “Remember me Anthony, I have waited, planning on how I would draw you to Maine and give you a scare”. In my mind I had the most violent thoughts I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies. In an instant I am greeted by my dearest Zoe, speaking like a puppet, I wanted to scream, I wanted to kick and punch but I couldn’t show fear. I went to grab my wifes block but like Oswald I was greeted with this sticky tar like goo. This time the pressure was more like a fire hose, I am blown back and thrown through the wall like a ragdoll. The minute I landed I knew I got the block , I tried to smash the block the minute I landed, and I heard the sound of a clown horn, I did it, now we have to deal with Zoe. Well I decided to rip off the Fridge door as a shield, I busted into the room she was in and without hesitation she blew me through a wall, slamming against the hard desk and feeling the glass of the Computer screen dig into my back sent pain down what's left of my spine. I remembered I needed a crucifix, I tore the one off the wall and started yelling and asking for mercy, the creature let out a shriek of pain, knowing that the creature is weak I bolted to pick up my daughter, she screamed and projected the tar at me sending my flying through a cement wall, now I realized I don't have long, I am writing this under rubble impaled by a spike. If you read this my dearest wife, take care of Zoe, make sure she remembers me.
Authors Note: Hi, how do I even write this? I really wrote the beginning of blocks in 4th grade one day having nothing to do and letting my imagination run wild. I do plan on writing other books, I just need time to brainstorm, If I can think of a way to continue Blocks, I might but that's the end of the story so far- Xander Sparks
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