nononononononononononononononononononono

Nonononononononono. No. NO! NoT pOSsiBle!

FoUNd a pOnd. ANd wHEn I beNT doWN to DRInk, I sAw mY haNDs.

TheY weREn't MINE.

ThEY weRE Its hANds.

AnD WHen I lOokED inTO tHe wATeR to sEe my fACe, I sAW… I SAw… NoTHinG.

NotHInG. No fACe.

I haVE nO fAce.

whATamIhOwAmIhELpmEwhysOhUNgRyWHathAvEIbECoMe?

LEavE

LeAVinG the cAVe TOdaY. FiRSt tiMe iN daYS. HaVe to. GoInG crAZy In HEre.

Is niGHt ouT. WalKINg to FInd wATer. FiNd FOOD.

So huNGry. So thiRStY. CrAvING mEAt.

CrAVInG BloOD…

pAiNFuL

WhAteVEr wAS in mY BAck is gONe nOW. FeLt mY sKIn TEar. ReALly huRT baDly. But oNly fOR a SEConD.

BacK feELs bETteR noW.

FinGErs toO loNG for KEyS keEP sLIPp

wHerE aM i whAT Is

ArMs aREn't mOVing RIght. LEgs EIthEr. MoVIng liKe RUBber. MOUth hURts toO. BaDly. FeELs liKe a buNcH of NEedLEs in mY gUMs.

FeELs liKe I haVE a seCOnD sKin oN my cHEst, leGs, aNd ARms. ToO tHIck. HaD to tAKe ofF cloTHes, THey weRe toO tiGHt.

SEEm to Be LOsinG my hAIr. CaN't feEL mUCh of iT leFt aNYmORe. WHy do hANds feel so BIG?
So huNGry.

So HUngrY.

sTARviNg

HAven't leFt the caVe for dAYs. WaLking toO HArD. Can't See anYThinG it's sO dARk. GOtta leAVe soOn; I'm lOSing it. KeeP seeINg tHinGs. So thIrSty. CraVIng raW meaT.

JoiNTs stiLL acHe Bad. MaNAged tO sTAnd. FunNY, dOn't remEMbeR cave ceILing beiNg thiS low.
Skin's BEen peELing ofF in bIG CHunks.

FeELs leSs iTchy nOw.

Back HUrts so bAd sTill. FeLt it; thERe's all thESe Big, wEIrd-shAPed wElts. WheN I tOUch them, soMEThinG inSIde theM moVes.

Why Do I FEel so sKINny? Why aM I so HUngRy?

NEed to Eat soON or I'll DIE.

WRonG

OH gOd HElp me There's soMEthing VerY WRonG witH ME I have tO be SEeinG thinGs dEar God pleaSe tell me I'm Seeing thinGs!

I cUt my haNd on a sHArp ROck in the caVe toDay. And wHEn I LOokEd at tHe bLEediNg wouNd, whEn I looKEd, I alMOst faiNTed. My bLood wAsn't red.

It was bLAck. Pitch, oILy, midNIght blaCk, and reEKinG of iron oRe and LEaf roT.

Oh mY God, wHAt's HAPpenInG to Me?

cAnT tHINk sTrAGht

Don'T kNow how LonG I've been cUrled up in this cavE for.

SoRry if the lettErs are sHaky. tHe COMpuTer is NoT wORKinG rIGht. NO iDeA WHy.

I sWear everything looks shorTer nOw. I swear, I'm not CraZY, I'M nOt!

JoiNts still acHe. It's likE I'm beinG pUlled apart.

StiLL so, sO itchy. My sKin's bleAChing itself. Please, plEase believe me. You have To. You NEED TO.

Can't tell What'S a Shadow and what's NOT anyMorE. LosINg so mUCh wEIghT so FaSt. ToO faSt.

Back acHes. Feels like someTHing's curled up In IT. It KeEps moving ARounD. WriTHing.

Oh GoD. I hope I don't Have a wOund that's infeCted with maggOts or someTHing. That's All I nEed right noW…

Nope.

Given up on walking today. I just don't feel like I have the strength to. Just too sick. Too exHausted.

I keep sweAting and seeing things. Seeing shadows of that thing in my peripheral Vision, but that's impossible. It's dead, isn't it? I killed it. And I achE all over. Every joint, tendon, and muscle in my body hates me right now. Feels like I'm being stretched on a rack.

Besides, I've vomited Five times in the past hoUr alone. I can't even keep water dowN.

There's something really wrong with the vomit though. It's not clear, like when you haven't had anything to eat. It's white. Milky white. It looks almost like I ate chalk, and it tastes like I swallowed road kill.
Skin still itches badly, and it's starting to peel a bit now. It's insanely pale underneath where it's peeling. Unnaturally pale. What the Hell did that thing do to me?

It's getting hard to type. My fingers ache. Have to stop. Feel dizzy.

No Sleep.

Oh shit. Damn.

These nightmares… they keep coming back. They keep happeNing.

Why dO they keep happening?

That thing alWays gave me plenty of nightmares, of course. But these ones… these are dIfferenT. And far more horrifying.

In these ones, I'm chasing myself. I'm in the forest and I'm chasing myself through the trees. My dream self can't run from me, not for long; I always catch up to hIm eventually. He screamS when I find him, horrible, fearful screams.

Then I pick him up easilY, bringing him up tO my face, looking over the terror in his eyes. I smile.
And then I open my moUth inhumanely wide, and I swallow him whole. Jesus... the sounds are so Real. I can actually taste blood in my mouTh, and I can feel and hear the bones crUnching between my teeth.

What happens next, though, is faR more horrific and much worse.

I walk to a Nearby glassy pond, and bend down to scoop water up with my hands to wash the blood from my face. But when I look into the water at my reflection, I don't see myself.

I see the thing, staring back at me. And when I scream, I realize that I am the thing.

I always wake up panicking and screaming. Every single time I have that nightmare, I wake up in a cold sweat. And I keep having the same fucking dream, over and over again every single night.

Oh God. Oh Christ, I...

It's so, so real. So damn awfully real…

It's Just illness. It has to bE. Just a fever dReam I bet! All part of what's causing the nausEa and tiredness. I bet I'M just getting delirious in mY sickness. I'm not going nuts, I'm not still being stalked by that thing. It's only a fever dream!

But if that's all it really is, then why does the nightmare last so long, and why does it feel so damn much like I'm wide awake during it?

Not Feeling Well...

Been kinda tired and nauseous since about a day ago. Haven't really felt well since I killed that thing, really. Been looking awful pale, too. Just my luck. I probably got poisoned from Its blood or something. That would just be the perfect end to my running, wouldn't it? Killed by toxic blood. Maybe I'll mutate into a superhero too - the Amazing Bow-Man.

Yeah, like that's gonna happen.

Hands are feeling better today. The boils and black staiNs are mostly gOne, but now I'm iTching like crazy. Mostly on my hands, but it's all over the rest of my bOdy, too. The skin's all red and inflamed, like a mosquito bite but eVerywhere. It's driving me nuts!

I neEd to Rest some, I'm sure another day in the cave would do me good. Who knows? Maybe getting some sleep will help me get through whatever the hell this is. And since that thing's gone, I should sleep plenty soundly.

Thank God. I think I've had more than enough nightmares for one lifetime.

It Worked.

Oh my God, it worked. I can't believe it, but it actually worked.

I actually shot It. And I shot It no less than four times before It finally caught on to where I was.

I got it in Its leg first, where its knee should have been. This thing's legs are so absurdly thin that the arrow actually went through the leg. I saw It wince visibly, then watched as It looked down at the arrow, as if It understood what was happening. As if It knew.

I shot It in the shoulder next, while It was still preoccupied with the first arrow, and It quickly began to grow angry. As It began to search for me, Its tentacles slid out, flailing in displeasure like dying worms. It was sickening to watch, but I noticed, not without a little smugness, that it was limping as it walked. I continued to watch as Its frustration mounted, watched as It wiped at the tar-like blood weeping from Its fresh wounds, and calmly nocked another arrow.

Never once did It so much as try to remove the arrows. It was far too enraged at this point to care about them, far too busy trying to find and punish me for the injuries It had sustained. Its folly. My opportunity.
The third shot buried itself deeply into Its torso, near where a human being would keep their liver, and the thing's blood began to well around the wound, staining Its black suit even blacker yet. And suddenly, as Its absurd, branch-like arms began to curl around Itself, It did something I've never seen or even heard of It ever doing before, not from other Runners, not even from my research online.

It screamed.

I can only describe that hellish noise as a scream because that's the closest thing that I can even approximate It as doing. Its blank face seemed to split open suddenly and hinge-like, revealing row after row of sharp, needle-like teeth and a long, worm-like black tongue. And the sound It made, the sound… God, it's really hard to describe it. It was less of a scream, really, and almost more like anguished static. Almost a cry of pain.

It felt pain.

It doubled over in agony and shuddered slightly, almost imperceptibly, the way the leaves of a tree might in the breeze. Its back was to me now as It stood entirely still for a moment. The awful maw It had before was now nowhere to be seen, melded back into Its non-existent features as if it had never been there in the first place. Its once wildly writhing tentacles were now curled furtively and protectively around Its impossibly thin body, trying to prevent any more pain and blood loss. Trying to shield Itself from my harsh blows.

For a second, I almost pitied It, standing there in pain and shaking so miserably. But only for a second, and then my common sense kicked back in. That thing… that awful, hideous thing doesn't deserve my pity. Not one bit of it.

I nocked a fourth and final arrow, and when I let it go, it hit the creature somewhere slightly above where the kidney would be on any other animal. Massive amounts of oily black liquid spilled from the wound, and the creature cried out a final time before It finally fell, collapsing awkwardly to the ground below in an absurd-looking tangle of limbs.

I watched the thing a while, watched It shudder in the leaf rot and fern beds beneath It. Even in Its death throes, It continued to try to shield Itself from still more arrows. For a moment, It seemed almost genuinely surprised that It had been so grievously injured, but then… Then It looked to the symbols on the trees around It, and then to the arrows in Its body, and It began to tremble – and this time, Its shaking was far more violent and far more familiar. It understood. It knew.

And It was afraid.

Somehow that made me feel a lot better, knowing It, too, could fear things. Particularly me. How does it feel being the prey, you son of a bitch? Not so much fun being the hunted party, is it?

It still hadn't died after about twenty minutes, so I picked up my jackknife and, steeling myself, began to walk towards It. The nausea kicked in within about five feet of It, stronger than before – probably a defense mechanism on Its part to deter me. But I ignored the urge to vomit that rose in my stomach and continued onward.

It must have sensed me coming, because Its pale, featureless head swiveled weakly towards me, and It extended a tentacle in an effort to push me away. But It didn't have enough strength to manage it, and I easily brushed the rough, bark-like extension away from me. Its invisible gaze penetrated me as I approached still closer, almost as if asking why I had hurt It so. Almost pleading. As if begging me for mercy.

Fuck, no. Not after it made my life a living hell for the past month.

I brought out the jackknife and flicked it open, now standing within mere inches of the thing. It watched me eyelessly, still shaking in dread, still too weak to move. It seemed to regard me with a mix of fear and curiosity, still seeming to beg me to stop.

Then, suddenly, It seemed to realize something, something It hadn't previously considered, and I felt Its unseen gaze shift from fear to an awful sense of knowing. And in that instant, It immediately stopped Its shaking and remained fully motionless. Terribly, entirely motionless. It was like It actually wanted me to kill It, and yet… Yet that gaze never left me. Still It seemed to question just why I thought I had to do this. But It knew. It surely knew. It had to. Why else would It have chased me this long if It didn't?

I didn't want to contemplate it further, and I sure as Hell didn't want to know what It was thinking. I just plunged the knife deep into Its neck, and It once more shrieked that unearthly, terrible, static-filled shriek as currents of Its inky, thick blood drenched my hands, burning hot where it touched. And finally, after a few moments more of Its silent staring, I felt its gaze slowly fade and disappear entirely.

I... I think I killed It.

I killed It.

Sable, oily liquid stains the ground around It, reeking of iron ore and leaf rot. All the plants touched by the fluid are starting to die too, as if sprayed with defoliant, as if the very soil was deadly poison. Its blood burns skin, by the way – I'm currently nursing some nasty acid burns where it got on my hands as I'm writing this. The skin's actually boiled up in places and stained black where it hit, like I got ink all over my fingers. Hurts like crazy. Good thing I know where to find plants that can ease the pain somewhat.

I'm leaving tomorrow for the forest's edge. Maybe now that I've fiNally killed that thing, I can mOve on and live my life again.

God, I hope so.

Opportunity

I'm exhausted and my wrists hurt like Hell.

After I managed to get away, I found a small cave, obscured by pines, to call home for now. It's not much, but it's out of the way and not easy for something as tall as It to get in to. I spent all day building another makeshift blind, this time keeping a more careful eye out for any sign of It.

I was also up all last night carving flint arrowheads, carving them with the symbol, and mounting them onto sticks I found. It wasn't easy work, but I now have a good twenty-five or so arrows, each one marked with that weird symbol in the center. I'm in the blind now, and for good measure I carved that symbol on a bunch of trees nearby, scratched it in the dirt – everywhere. If what some of my confidantes online said about that symbol was true, then this is sure to draw It in. Gotta use the right bait for the right animal.

I have my bow and arrows close by, and I even drew the symbol onto my jackknife for good measure. It's not getting away from me and I'm not running from It anymore. Not this time.

Let's see how It likes being hunted for a change.

Escaped.

Oh my God my hands are shaking so bad.

It's close, still so damn close... Maybe even right behind me, lurking just outside my field of vision... but still so very, very nearby.

It was right there.

When I went to leave the barn, It was waiting for me right outside the double doors. Oh my God, It wasn't even three feet away from me.

I swear the nausea was so bad I almost fainted from it. But the fear was so, so much worse…

It almost got me.

It almost got me, and I had no idea that It was even there.

I shouldn't even be writing right now. I should be running until I find somewhere safer, somewhere to lie low that It doesn't know about yet. Until I get out of Its territory. But I had to hide just long enough to stop and tell you how I got away, because I found something out about It while trying to escape. Something incredibly, deeply important.

Something that anyone reading this, anyone being hunted by It, must know.

See, It almost got me because of where I was standing when I left the barn. It had managed to corner me when I tried to run out of shock, trapping me between Itself and the barn wall. The woodpile for my fire pit was blocking my path on one side and was far too tall to safely climb over. Even if I did manage it, I surely would have twisted or broken something on the way down. I was almost on my knees. I thought for sure I was dead. Oh God, Its arms… So long, and so thin as they reached for me… I kept wanting to walk towards It, into Its awful embrace, and only my nausea was holding me back. If I hadn't been that insanely ill from Its influence…

I would be dead and impaled on a tree somewhere by now had it not been for the scrap of tree bark in the ashes of my nearby fire pit, the bark with Its half-burnt symbol still etched into it. I had never been so grateful to see something related to It in my entire life.

I picked it up and threw it at the thing, that awful, slender thing in front of me, as hard as I could. I had hoped that doing so would distract It for a second, just long enough so I could make a break for the nearby tree line. What happened instead surprised and amazed me.

When that chunk of bark collided with Its mockery of a shoulder, glancing off of the black, fabric-like skin over it, It visibly shook. But not in shock. It was almost more like It winced.

It... winced?

The thing stared at me a second, as if taken aback at what had just happened, and It brought Its pale and broad-palmed, abnormal hand up to Its shoulder. Something slick, oily, and pitch black dripped from between its skeletal fingers, smelling faintly of leaf rot and iron ore. It seemed confused and startled at what had happened, because It stepped back, just a bit.

And then roughly five or six tentacles sprouted from Its back, clearly an expression of anger at my attack.

Its distraction with Its injury lasted just long enough for me to bolt for it, and I had to have been too far away for It to grab by the time It finally recovered from Its shock and anger, because It began to chase me. I didn't hear It, mind you; that thing makes absolutely no noise when It moves. But I knew It was after me. I could feel It after me. When I finally got the courage to look behind me, It was nowhere to be found. But I still didn't dare stop running. Not for a second.

And it's only now, now that I've finally gotten a chance to rest and write, that I realize what that sick black liquid was, and why It shuddered when It got hit.

That piece of carved-up bark, marked with the strange symbol, was just sharp enough to cut It, and that black fluid was Its blood. It was cringing because I'd hurt It, and It was bleeding.

It can bleed.

If It bleeds, I can kill It. And that symbol must be key to defeating It somehow. So if a single piece of sharp bark with that symbol on it was enough to cut It…

Just imagine what an arrowhead with that symbol on it could do.

YOU LITTLE SHITHEADS

This is starting to piss me right off. You wanna know what I found when I got up to go foraging this morning?

More of those damned symbols! More and more of them, everywhere, all over every damn tree! I'll strip the bark off every godforsaken tree in this hellish forest if I have to!

Animals haven't been coming through here anymore because of that damn symbol. Makes it real hard to hunt.

At least I have enough arrows for when I have to leave. And that's going to have to be very, very soon. I'm not making the same mistake of waiting until It finds me like I did at the cabin.

I'm taking the twine from the barn with me when I go. Could be useful. Even as I write this, I'm finishing up with supply gathering.

I'll be gone long before noon hits. The woods are getting more and more unfriendly these days, and I need as much of a head start as I can get.

More Symbols.

There's more of the symbols today. And they're closer to the barn now.

I've started stripping those trees of their bark. I don't know what the Hell that symbol means. But I'm not taking chances. What if that symbol attracts It?

What is with these stupid kids up here? This really isn't funny, you little shits.

Unless they're not just kids.

Unless they're really on Its side, and they have been all along.

Unless they – and It – already know where I live, and have been toying with me all this time. And I would never even have known, not until it was too late.

Call me paranoid if you want. But again, I'm not taking any chances anymore. Not where It is concerned.

As for the bark I stripped, I threw it in my fire pit and used it for kindling. I watched it catch fire and burn.
Except, it didn't burn. All it did was char.

That symbol… whatever power that symbol has because of It…

It's not of anything good or holy. It's not of God. And if it's not of God... then what in the Hell is It?

Found Something.

Set up a makeshift blind today. I have to start hunting for bigger game or I'll starve. I can't survive on berries alone. I found some flint for arrowheads and some old bird feathers, and the barn has some spools of baling twine in it. As for the rest of the arrow, well, there's no shortage of sticks in a forest.

No sign of It today, at least not in the flesh. Good. It doesn't know where I am. Yet. But I did see something that might be related to It today. That is, I think it is, if what some of my friends online have said is true.

Seems in the middle of last night, some joker decided to carve a weird symbol into a bunch of the trees not far from the barn. I drew it, looks a bit like this:

Probably some kid that did it. Stupid kids. Do they think messing around with that thing is a game? They think it's funny to risk their lives and mine?

Because they won't be laughing if they're unfortunate enough to meet It.

I don't think I like this one bit. Not one bit.

I'm Sorry.

I didn't mean to end on such a worrisome note last time. But I had to get away from It. It was trying to break the glass to get at me.

It almost did.

I'm okay, though. Shaken, but alive. I'm hiding in an old barn right now, with big double-doors that I barred shut so It can't get in.

I guess I should probably explain what happened back at the cabin.

I was sitting about a foot from the second-floor window. It was right up against that window, right against the glass, staring in right at me. I say "staring" because I'm positive I felt Its awful, unearthly gaze burning into me, despite It having no eyes to gaze with. Its hand was pushing against the window glass, pressing against it like a child would press their hands up to a candy store window. Like It was eager to get to me. God… the palm alone on that hand had to be at least as big as my head, and the fingers… Its awful, spidery, too-long fingers, ending in sharp, claw-like tips that

I-I'm sorry, I can't write about It anymore. I'm starting to panic just describing It.

I wasn't even thinking about It at the time, though. I just ran. Turned and bolted out an exit It hadn't noticed. I'm sure It gave chase for a while before It finally gave up, unable to find me. Thank God It didn't. I haven't slept since I got here two days ago because of what happened at that house. I'm so tired I'm starting to see things. I'm jumping at every little shadow that even so much as vaguely looks like It now, and I'm exhausted… but I can't sleep. When I tired before I had nightmares about It. About being hunted by It. Of course, letting me have a decent night's sleep woudl be too damn much to ask for, wouldn't it?

Dear God, I don't know what to do anymore. It keeps finding me every time I try to run away. It watches me when I go to find food and It follows me back to my hideout when I do. It can find me whenever It wants so long as it waits long enough – and It knows that. I don't even know what It wants from me. I swear to God I'm losing it. I can't live like this anymore. I have to find some way to make It go away, to stop It. I have to.

But there just isn't one. I can't find anything anywhere that can help me out, I even asked for help from others online where I could, and they all said the same thing - I'm living under a damn death sentence.

All because I went hunting, and I saw It once.

I'd shoot myself with my bow if I had any arrows left. But I used them up trying to shoot It the other day when It started getting too close while I was out foraging. The arrows didn't even stick. All I succeeded in doing was making It very, very angry.

… You know that thing has tentacles? I saw them come out of Its back after I shot at It. I didn't stick around to see more, but there had to have been at least ten or fifteen of the damn things.

… I need to see if I can find a wireless signal and get online tonight. I have to ask the others for advice. Maybe I'll find other people who will know how I can keep hidden from It.

Hell, they have to know something. Because if they don't, if they don't, I'm seriously this shy from just ending it all right now. I have a hunting knife on me, for gutting and skinning deer. I could easily do it now. I could die now and It would never get me. Never.

Oh God, listen to me. I sound like a madman.

But I can't do it. I can't bring myself to die. And I can't keep running forever, I just… I…

I just can't do this anymore…