It’s been about seven months since I signed my year long lease for this shithole apartment. I don’t think I’ll be making it another five months. I’m not sure if I’ll even make it another night. My cheapness might’ve cost me my life.
I was going to make this a short cry for help before I remembered that no one would ever believe me and it would be too late anyway. Hell, I wouldn’t believe this if I stumbled across it. I’ll just take my time here and pour my heart out.
Seven months ago, I made what I now realise was the worst decision of my life. I moved into this dumpy ass apartment building after finally making the move out of my hometown. I had romanticized the idea of escapism so much. I pictured myself in New York City or something like that, walking down the sidewalk with some overpriced coffee in my hands and my tasteful messenger bag slung around my shoulder. I’d be walking to somewhere idyllic, maybe a get-together with new friends that took an interest in me or something like that – I never made it too far into that daydream. I just wanted to get out of that little rural town. It was one of those towns that was just a road with a bunch of sad old signs along it. Blown out buildings with occasional passing silhouettes that were once somebodies.
Let’s just say I couldn’t afford New York City, but I could afford a small city a few hours from that rotting place of a town. It’s a city with some high rises and skyscrapers but nothing that’s going to put it on somebody’s road trip. It’s a pretty lonely place, honestly. It’s old and tired like my hometown, but in a more industrial way. Walkability isn’t much of a reality here unless you want to take your chances with the harsh weather or the rampant mugging – so there went my sidewalk daydream.
Still, I wanted to make the most of the experience. I got an apartment right downtown for a reasonable price and figured life would improve from there on. However, I failed to truly grasp how much of a piece of shit the apartment was until I moved in. I was a little too naive at the time to understand the spectrum of stress caused by a “landlord special”. The door knobs would come right off, the fridge never fully shut, the toilet wouldn’t flush without some sacred jiggling sequence, and a whole mess of other inconveniences or hazards.
This apartment also has a lot of strange features. The floor plan doesn’t make much sense and anyone with a shred of interior design knowledge or even just self respect would’ve immediately crossed this place off their list. I was so desperate though that I didn’t mind when I entered the apartment and just saw a hallway full of closed doors. I shrugged off how strange it was that each room was contained behind one of those doors, with none of the rooms connecting to one another. The kitchen is its own closed off room, the living room too – the only way to get anywhere in the apartment was to take the central hallway. It honestly looks like one of those hallway chase shots in Scooby Doo or some shit.
For how awful the place is, it’s not small. There are a good amount of rooms, and I actually hadn’t been able to fill one particular room until recently.
When you walk into the place, there’s the long hallway and then nine doors total. There’s four on the left side, four on the right, and one at the very end of the hallway. On the right side, the doors in order are the living room, a closet, then my bedroom, and then the bathroom. On the left side it starts with the kitchen, then another closet, the dining room, and a second bedroom. The ninth door in the middle is that extra room. I barely had enough stuff just to fill the other rooms and I lacked any sort of motivation to do anything with the extra room for a while. I have a corner unit so all the rooms on the right side of the apartment have windows as well as the extra room. The extra room has these neat casement windows that I like to look out of but offer little privacy. I had thought to make the extra room a sort of reading area or a home theater type deal but I was flat broke.
The extra room is strange. It’s really big and open. It feels like an apartment of its own. One night, I was in there just looking out at the other surrounding high rises when I noticed a light switch that had been painted over right next to the window. I didn’t think much of it. It was clearly just another amenity of my shithole apartment. I left it alone.
As time went on, I found myself in that extra room most nights just looking out the window. I didn’t have the money for any fancy streaming services nor friends to leech off of – so I just looked out that window most nights. It was peaceful and at night the city looked bigger and more lively. I loved seeing all the different lights, the blurry shapes of people in their own world watching their TV or making dinner. It didn’t take long for me to start picking at the paint on that hidden light switch as I watched the world wind down every night.
I’d chip away at the paint little by little with my finger while I was lost in my thoughts. It took a few days to make any sort of progress, but eventually I had peeled off enough paint to see the light switch. It was a different color than the new plain white paint that covered everything else. It was bronze and the switch itself was almost antique looking. It got me wondering how old this building was.
A few nights later the old switch was finally uncovered. It caught the light in an intoxicating way and I flipped the switch on and off a few times to see if it still worked and what it controlled. Nothing changed.
The next night brought a heavy snowstorm. It was beautiful and you already know I was set up at that window staring out at the world as the brilliant snow fell. At some point, I was reminded of the bronze light switch and I flicked it, not remembering if I’d already tried it the night before. Nothing changed. I absentmindedly flicked it again and noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye. A light turned on in the building across the street.
It was the rightmost room on the top floor of the neighboring high rise which was quite a bit taller than my building. At first, I just thought it was something new to look at. My hand still on the switch, I craned my neck up and leaned in to watch the new light. I lost concentration and flicked the switch down and the room’s light turned off. That caught my attention. I looked down at the switch and back up at the now dark pane of glass. I flipped the switch up and at that exact moment the room’s light turned back on.
I continued doing this for probably five minutes – just flipping the switch on and off and watching as the faraway room’s light perfectly matched. The snow began falling even more, but I could still make out the light turning off and on with every flick of the old switch. I was baffled before too long. So baffled that I went right to sleep, convinced I was deprived of logic and reasoning.
The next night came and, at first, I was definitely reluctant to mess with that switch or to even go in that room. I tried staring out other windows but they were cloudy with trapped moisture. I remember thinking I should get a cat or something before I finally caved and walked into the extra room.
There was traffic on the street below from some accident that night and it provided me with enough entertainment to remain distracted from what happened the night before. The standstill row of gray cars could only stimulate me for so long before I was looking at that switch again.
I flipped it.
Such a harmless action, and so quick too. Flipping a light switch. Usually done by second nature. What’s the harm in it? Why did flipping that switch feel so important?
The same room from the night before lit up. It was a yellow, more vintage looking tone of light. I tried using some beaten up binoculars from my childhood but all I got was a somehow-fuzzier view of the room. From my vantage, I could only really see the ceiling of that mysterious place.
That’s gotta be an apartment, right? It looks too big to be a storage closet. Too small to be anything commercial.
I flipped the switch again and the light turned off in perfect succession.
Is somebody fucking with me?
Flip. The light came back on.
How would they even orchestrate that?
I sat there for a long time, repeatedly flipping the switch on and off as if the repetition of this would bring more clarity. I stood there flipping that switch on and off like I was a geriatric old man smacking a television set, hoping for a signal.
The traffic jam cleared out and the streets became empty. I sat there, still as I could be, periodically flipping the switch on and off. The light synced every single time.
Clearly this light switch – for some reason – was wired to that room in the building across the street. As to why, I had no earthly idea.
What an expensive project, and for what? What purpose does it serve?
I flipped the switch up and the light came back on. That last flip of the switch activated a – sorry – lightbulb moment within me.
What if I found a way into that room?
So I waited in the bitter cold, rehearsing my moves. I had counted up from the ground and determined the room which connected to my light switch was on the 31st floor and again it was the corner unit on the right side of the building when viewing from my apartment.
I waited for someone to go in or out of the building. Finally, I saw a woman with a giant coat drag her scrappy little dog towards the door. I was hesitant to actually go inside, but then I gathered some courage, walked right up to that door and casually slid through as she opened it. I had planned some elaborate cover story that my friend wouldn’t answer his phone and all that, but when it came time, I just acted natural and thanked her as I entered.
The halls were green and sickly looking, much like my apartment building. The elevator was questionable at best and creaked a little too much as I stepped into it. There were 33 floors so I was glad I had made note of the correct one. I slowly reached up and hit the circular button for the 31st floor and it flickered on, glowing with a jaundiced yellow.
My hands grew clammy as the elevator ascended at a torturously slow pace. I watched the numbers rise…
11… 12… 13…
This is a stupid idea, man.
This is all in my head.
Why am I doing this?
26… 27… 28…
Is this even legal?
What am I going to do, exactly?
The elevator finally dinged and bounced to a stop on the 31st floor before I had an actual plan. The doors were reluctant to open, and for a moment, my heart sank thinking I had been trapped in there.
Those silver doors creaked and warped as they moved out of the way and exposed me to another green hallway. I stepped out and turned left. I could see all the way down the long dilapidated hall, the green lights humming and buzzing. My alleged culprit was the final door on the right.
It was room 3118. I sat outside the door like a maniac, just looking at it. I wondered what to do. I could barely see through the slits on the sides of the door, all I could make out was that the lights were on in there.
Do I knock?
I looked around me and made sure the coast was clear.
What the hell do I say? Maybe I’m lost? Maybe it’s an honest mistake? If anyone lives in there, I’m sure they’re very confused about their lights turning on and off. But why wouldn’t they take control of their own lights? Maybe they can’t use them – but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would I be able to control their lights but they ca-
I knocked on the door and startled myself. It felt almost automatic.
Unsure of what to do, I started to shuffle away and make my retreat. Then I decided to stay and wait. I waited for a few seconds. The pause was long and uncomfortable enough for my hand to instinctually rise for another round of knocking.
A faint and vague sound, dampened enough to even be of my own mind. But it was the sound of dragging, or a thud of some kind with something rolling afterward.
What was that?
The sound might’ve continued, or my mind might’ve kept wandering.
Maybe the neighbors?
The walls were thin in this place. I could begin to hear indiscernible conversation somewhere down the hall. I could hear the hissing chatter of a TV show somewhere else.
Underneath all that though, in room 3118 – a rolling sound still. Maybe?
What is that noise?
I left not long after. I was getting freaked out and I’m sure I would’ve freaked out anyone living there.
When I got back to my place across the street, I felt very paranoid. I felt like I was being watched. I opened the squeaky door to my apartment and the long dark hallway of nine closed doors now made me nauseous with dread. I wanted to leave that apartment behind and run back into my mom’s arms or something – I felt like a child.
I walked in, though. And I wish I hadn’t.
I took a scorching hot shower. It made me feel a little better, but I was still so paranoid. I kept hearing, or thought I was hearing, similar thudding and rolling sounds in one of the other rooms.
Old pipes, that’s all.
It took some more courage to leave the bathroom and enter the cold dark hall. I didn’t know what door to go through next – the kitchen door, bedroom door, or the extra door. My stomach was in a knot but I thought I should probably try and eat something.
It was around midnight by that point and I felt hopeless knowing there were so many more hours of dark left. I looked down at my half eaten peanut butter sandwich and knew this knot in my stomach wouldn’t go away if I didn’t have some kind of closure. I wanted to go into the extra room and turn off that switch for the night.
I braved the silent hallway again and opened up the ninth door into that grand room that turned the faintest sound into a booming echo. I walked up to the big window I always looked out of and, with great caution, looked up at room 3118.
The light was still on – and there was something up there now.
I couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked like a big shadow. It wasn’t a person, but something boxy looking. Something square or just rigid, really.
Furniture?
Did someone move something around in there?
I didn’t know what I was looking at, and I honestly didn’t have the mental space to think about it much longer. I flipped off the light.
I flipped it back on.
I couldn’t deny my interest. I was very invested in this whole ordeal now.
The rigid thing started moving, at least I thought it looked like it was slowly changing position. It moved very smoothly and very, very slow. It looked like it was rolling or sliding.
It rolled from the right side of the window to the left. I flipped the switch here and there to see if it made any sort of difference. It didn’t seem to.
I watched it roll along for a few minutes from right to left until I jumped at the sight of the neighboring window’s light turning on. It was whoever lived in room 3116. I saw a person moving around in there and it looked like a more elderly man. He looked like he was listening closely to something, as if there were an intruder in his house.
I didn’t know what to do, but now I felt intrusive watching this man fumble around. I decided to switch the light off in 3118 and try to forget about the whole thing. I wanted to remove myself from this weird nightmare entirely. I decided that the next day I’d try to disconnect the switch and install some curtains. Find a new hobby. That all sounded like something rooted in everyday monotony and I let the comfort of curtain shopping lull me to sleep.
In my sleep that night, I heard the sound of aggressive wind chimes far away. They weren’t very melodic wind chimes, sort of just one tone that reverberated. Then I heard an awful banging sound. It was loud and most definitely not a dream. It sounded distant but it contained a lot of power. It was 3:48AM.
I tossed and I turned some until my bedroom started flashing red. I got out of bed and tried to see what was happening outside from my bedroom window but I couldn’t see through all the gloom trapped in between the glass. I had no choice but to go into the extra room if I wanted to see outside.
There was a large fire truck that was blocking off one side of the road and police were putting up caution tape on the other. Squad cars were rolling in one after the other. A few ambulances were present too but it seemed like no one was in a big rush. They were all circled around, their hands waving about in a casual, conversational way. At some point, one of them looked up and pointed and the others followed along. I followed the trajectory of the gestures all the way to the 31st floor. Room 3116 was now missing its pane of glass.
The curtains whipped out into the open world. The lights were still on and I could make out vague details of the interior.
Back on the ground, a few paramedics moved out of the way long enough for me to see what I was already preparing to see. The old man from room 3116 was laying there in a confusing mess of fabric, flesh, and bones surrounded by a growing puddle of blood. I was shocked.
What the hell is going on?
What did I do?
Am I losing my mind?
Did I inadvertently kill that man?
The next few days were a blur. My head was heavy with the endless hum of a thousand different thoughts all saying similar things. I felt an immense weight of guilt even though there was nothing tangible that connected me to the old man’s plunge. In my head, there was an ever growing web of continuity.
I uncovered the old switch, I flipped it incessantly and – in doing that – I created or resumed… something. That something looked like a giant fucking rectangle that rolled around and made a man jump to his death. Or maybe it pushed him out by force?
But… why?
None of this makes any sense.
Maybe it’s all just make believe. I could’ve misunderstood what I saw – the rolling rectangle thing – maybe it was just an illusion. That old man, maybe it’s just a coincidence he chose tonight to leap.
I know what I saw…
I no longer was going into the extra room for any reason. The thought of that big empty space with that damn switch made me nauseous. I couldn’t stand sleeping just a few doors away from it. I wanted to move out and get away. I should’ve done that. Reality doesn’t make room for fiction, though. I couldn’t and still can’t afford to break my lease, not by a long shot. That’s three rent payments and a bundle of paperwork in this godforsaken building. The apartment’s obviously outdated so I thought about making a case for lead paint or something toxic that could maybe get me out of here for free and quick but I’m not sure how that’d blow over. I don’t even know how to go about doing something like that.
I chose the route of avoidance. If I could ignore the extra room, the mystery switch, the dead man’s browning blood stain on the road, and the rolling rectangle monster whose whereabouts weren’t known – maybe it’d all just fade away with time.
A few weeks went by and that strategy was seeming to work. Even in that short time, I was afforded some hindsight of the whole event – how I was jumping to conclusions, being paranoid, and maybe not appreciating my deteriorating vision that was probably making some serious guesswork.
Still, there was no explaining away the light switch. That switch is undoubtedly connected to room 3118 across the street for some unknown reason. I must’ve tested it hundreds of times. I tried to not let that fact dig too deep when I couldn’t sleep or when I’d think I heard the rolling sounds across the apartment late at night.
Eventually, I had saved up enough money to treat myself with some more furniture. I wanted to reclaim the extra room and make it mine. I started with a thrifted recliner and some shelves. I was planning on making it a home theater after all. I had plans to bury the big casement windows behind blackout curtains.
Earlier tonight, I was moving some new finds into the home theater. The room’s echo was just as booming and awful as when it was empty and I flinched with every screech and scrape the furniture would make when I moved it. As I heaved the new TV stand around, my eyes subconsciously checked on room 3118 – a reflex that must’ve been built into me after all those cold nights. The lights were off as I had left them the last time I flipped the switch.
The lights were on in room 3116.
Don’t… don’t freak out.
Maybe someone new moved in.
I watched longer than I should’ve. I don’t know why I’m so nosey. Always trying to get to the bottom of everything.
I watched and waited for any sign of movement in room 3116. I never saw a soul in there.
At some point, the big coat lady came out of the building with her dog and, for some stupid reason, I felt compelled to go talk to her.
I just need to be sure of something.
I walked casually down the sidewalk, waiting to “run” into her again. I was going to ask her if she had a lighter and then I was going to ask her if she had any information on room 3116.
Eventually, she reappeared around the corner with her feisty little dog walking on its hind legs, strangling itself with the leash.
I was leaned up on the wall next to the door I had snuck in weeks before, waiting to say my line.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Do you have a light?”
She looked up with confusion.
“Like a flashlight?” she asked.
I flashed my carton of cigarettes.
“Oh, no honey – I’ve got asthma, sorry.”
“No problem,” I muttered back.
I tried to come up with anything else I could say so I could eventually segue into room 3116. Blanking, I simply stared ahead in disappointment. That’s when I noticed the faded bloodstain on the sidewalk from the old man. I clicked my tongue.
“Terrible what happened,” I muttered.
The big coat lady turned around and saw what I was staring at, understanding immediately.
“Ugh, I know. I’m up on the 13th floor and I heard the uh – the sound.” She was slowly nodding and now staring at the old puddle of blood herself.
“I heard someone talking about how they already moved a new family into that unit he was in, is that right?” I asked, surprising myself.
“Oh, no. I think they’re letting it sit like they did with the last one,” she said.
My brow raised. I tried to not act like an insane person and scare her off.
“The last one?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, it was just a few months ago – or maybe it was a year now – but the young couple that lived right next door to him jumped out the window too,” she said in a flat way.
I could’ve fainted. I felt dizzy and clammy, but I tried to keep my calm demeanor.
“That is, wow, I’m pretty new to the building so I hadn’t heard,” I stammered. I resigned from my niceties and my eyes went out of focus as my mind began jumping to its newest conclusion.
Somewhere in my peripheral, I noticed the lady nodding and looking down at her scraggly dog.
“Well, it sure is hard out here these days,” she said, breaking the silence.
She shuffled through the heavy apartment door which slammed behind her, startling me. Torn from my trance, I quickly retreated back to my apartment.
Shit… shit!
What does this mean? That it – that rolling square thing – lives in that room and… what? Kills people in it and around it? Do the people kill themselves? Does the thing maybe inject them with something that makes them, I don’t know, suicidal? Or maybe they go crazy and just jump?
I was thinking like a fucking lunatic. Like one of the cracked out vagrants wandering through the abandoned motels back in my hometown. I tried to slow myself down, but now I’d been given perfect evidence to suit my paranoid suspicions. At first, I was just trying to solve this complex series of events, then I remembered I was involved. I remembered the switch plays a role in this whole thing. The light switch in my home theater.
How far can it move?
How far…
Could it cross the street and climb the stairs and break in?
Maybe it’s quiet or maybe it has some kind of way to silently open my door so I don’t notice. So the neighbors don’t notice…
I found myself back in the home theater with some cheap whiskey in a plastic bottle. I sipped on it and enjoyed the aromatic sting that made me slowly feel braver with every gulp. I looked up at the 31st floor across the street. The lights were still on in room 3116.
They’re probably just cleaning it out. You need to calm yourself.
None of this is your problem.
I felt better and braver still with every new swig of the cruel whiskey. At some point, I hovered my hand over the light switch. The dwindling sobriety in me said no. The courageous drunken me said I’m just curious. My sight was beginning to sharpen and blur and I could tell I was swaying as I stood in front of those windows. I was drunk enough to where I felt like an observer of a faded memory from the past. I was drunk enough to where any action felt insignificant and all would be fine because nothing mattered.
I flipped the switch, expecting the lights of room 3118 to blink on. The lights in room 3116 turned off instead.
Shit!
I don’t know why, but seeing those lights turn off made me duck and hide below the window. I felt like I woke the rolling thing up and now it could see me.
Shit!
It moved. It fucking moved.
Logic and reasoning was now out the window. The lights magically switched rooms and I can only imagine it’s because the square rolling thing now occupied – or will now materialize – inside of room 3116.
I continued hiding and thinking horrible thoughts to myself. I then did something I would’ve never done had I not been wasted. I grabbed a hammer and smashed that fucking light switch. I smashed it into a million pieces and then smashed those pieces into dust. I’m sure my neighbors were fuming but I had been quiet as a church mouse up until tonight.
Both room 3118 and 3116 now had no lights on and I had made the drunken assumption that now they were both safe. This all began when I turned the lights on in 3118. Now the lights would stay off forever and I made sure of it. Clearly I didn’t have the self control to stop myself from tinkering with this unknown thing. I doubt anyone else who would live here would have much more discipline. So I smashed the fucking switch into a million pieces.
It wasn’t long before I blacked out.
Something woke me up hours later. It was deep into the night. I was still in the home theater and still drunk but now also hungover. I tried to pull it together enough to figure out what woke me.
I had thought it was a loud sound, but maybe it wasn’t. The air felt like something loud had just occurred, but that was just a feeling – maybe one of paranoia. I looked out the window and half-expected to see another person or persons lying smashed on the ground after diving off the 31st floor, but I saw no such horror. Both 3118 and 3116’s lights were still off.
I rubbed my eyes and looked around the pitch black room. I felt my blood freeze.
There was a light on in my apartment. I could see the thin sliver of yellow illuminating underneath the door of the home theater.
It’s in.
I wanted to run at first, but then I wanted to sit still and just listen. So I sat there, waiting for something. Maybe it was waiting for me to make a move.
Then I heard it. Muffled, maybe in the kitchen – rolling. Finally, I could hear the sound in finer detail. The wheels sounded heavy, like the sound of a stone tomb opening. The cheap hardwood floor buckled and cracked underneath those giant rolling wheels which must’ve moved extremely slow and calculated – as if it was listening for my heartbeat.
I was frozen with fear and confused, so confused.
What kind of nightmare has my life become?
I wanted to try and make a break for it. I thought about running as fast as I could down my awful
hallway and ripping that front door open. It was only a few quick strides away. I sat up a little too quickly, adrenaline was kicking in. A spring in the shitty secondhand recliner I had passed out on popped causing an insignificant yet audible click throughout the house.
Rolling followed. It was very slow, so slow that one’s ear could lose the deep droning tone after long enough to background noise.
I slowly sat back and the recliner crinkled ever so softly. The thing made a noise so intentionally imperceptible I could hardly make it out. A metallic sliding sound. The sound of a door’s latch being methodically opened. It was leaving the kitchen and maybe it was moving onto one of the other doors now.
The yellow sliver of light went out and the apartment was now totally dark.
Rolling persisted and I was barely able to perceive the noise. I spent the next few minutes sliding off my recliner with the precision of prey which I undoubtedly had become. Thirty minutes could’ve passed before I had crawled close enough to see under the door’s crack.
I carefully positioned my left eye to where I could see out into the black hallway just enough.
Something impossibly dark. Darker than the natural blackness of night. It was just sitting in the hall – waiting. It was large and boxy, just like that silhouette in 3118. It looked to almost perfectly fit the dimensions of the hall, leaving me sealed in.
I’m dead.
Maybe not. Maybe I can call the police or something and distract it.
It’d kill them, though. Right? Then I’d be a murderer, maybe? Or maybe it would roll away. Maybe it isn’t bulletproof.
I can’t have anyone else’s blood on my hands.
Maybe I can start a fire somehow and then the fire department will be able to rescue me from the window? Maybe that’s the stupidest thought I’ve ever had.
Too much noise. I can’t make any noise. I can’t make a sound or it’ll come get me.
My thoughts were so frantic and visceral I feared even they would make a sound which could be intercepted by the masterful listener sitting mere feet away.
Another thirty minutes of eternity and I had silently made my way towards the large windows. I was so cautious and so deliberate in my movements as to not touch the tiniest plastic shard on the ground from when I had drunkenly destroyed the light switch.
Maybe I made it angry by doing that. Maybe, in breaking the switch, the thing reverted back to me? Or maybe I exposed myself to it when I smashed that switch.
I tried to use my phone and call for help, text for help, fucking email for help. None of it was going through. That damn rolling demon must’ve jammed my signal somehow. I ran out of hope. I froze in place. Eventually, I just started to write all of this.
I’m still in the home theater, typing all of this out on my phone as quietly as I can, even sipping the last of my whiskey with the most delicate swigs one could imagine.
This whole thing is rather bleak, and I apologize if you stumble across this. I’ve scheduled this post to go up in eight hours, maybe by then the thing will have left and my final words will get out into the world to be forgotten or laughed at. I’m sure you think I’m insane or maybe I’m just a liar – and that’s okay – I know what happened here tonight. I don’t know how or why any of this happened, but I know the rolling thing outside my door is real.
I don’t know why it’s here, what its motivation is, if it’s manmade or some impersonation of something we’d engineer or maybe it’s the very muse of humanity’s chase for right angles and industrial design. I now understand how those people in room 3118 and 3116 met their fate on the cracked pavement below. I think it wants me to kill myself. Either that or it’s totally content with me killing myself. It’s had me trapped in this room for hours now. It could’ve barged in and flattened me at any point, but it hasn’t yet. Funny how this all started in this damn extra room of mine. Funny how these windows are the ideal design and size for me to throw myself from this hellish place.
I don’t know anymore. At t this point I’m just trying to buy time and sip more whiskey before the inevitable. I had been distracted in writing this for a few hours and and even began to have hope that when the sun came up, the thing would roll away. All I’d need is a few minutes to get out.
I don’t think I’m so lucky though. The sky is beginning to brighten into a deep blue and onc again I hear that steadDy rolling. so slow and meticulous, itt must only be moving a centimeter every fifteen minutes.
The whisky is is doing job and it’s becoming hard to type, harder to maintain literacy. I thikn I;ll wrap this up here. I’m sorry eveyone. I can only hope this is seen and if you did see this i thank you for keeping me company, in a Way. the suns almost up. I hear rolling and its close. The view from the window is very nice. Its looking like a nice day. I hope it iis a nice day.
Credit: A.B. Clover
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