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If you are stilling reading this, then you have chosen to charge forward. Let that determination steer you in the right direction…

Those words hang upon the top of the next page, like hasty scribbles intruding their intentions to mark over that written beforehand. Under it, you find lines penned with a sense of freedom. You can almost feel the fresh air and chirps of songbirds wash over you. Perhaps, you would feel that same sense of joy if you had come another time.

However, storm clouds hang over you. Not just mentally, but the scent of rain permeates the air. Your steps hurry as the first drops of rain smack your forehead, letting urgency carry you to shelter.

The front door is left ajar, proof of someone leaving in a hurry, or perhaps, a break in. The drizzle turns into a downpour. Dampness seeps into your limbs as you decide to throw yourself inside, the creak of wood floorboards offering a welcome.

You feel weak and breathless. The sting of your throat makes it all the more worse. You barely escape the downpour, but now, you wonder what to do next.

But before you foolishly scavenge around, you wisely crack open the pages again.

August 10th:

It is safe here. A simple life at its best. Same routine, day after day. No surprises or upsets. No having to account for others. Everything I need is where it should be, all arranged and familiar. And if not, I’ve made sure to write down reminders. Speaking of which, I need to secure the lock. I keep forgetting.

Your eyes wander back to the front door. For the first time, you notice dangling slabs of wood unnaturally hanging from the door frame. They appear to be broken…

With wide eyes, you march over to slam the door. And in the next instant, you re-evaluate the situation. Something had bashed the locks in, turning this haven into a source of turmoil.

You scour the immediate area, noticing a tool chest right by the door, along with extra slabs of wood. With familiar motions, you pick up a power drill and some screws, along with the wood. In minutes, the heavy bolts on the door frame are replaced, just in case whatever crashed the place ever returned. The small amount of protection makes you feel a bit better. You make sure to reinforce them even more, a better job than the owner of the journal.

Finally satisfied by your handiwork, your gaze turns to the room itself. A minimal spread of furniture denotes a simple life, unbogged by the trinkets of modern society. However, any ambiance of a cozy room is marred by the boarded-up windows, further proof of keeping something out. An occasional bang of the windows makes you jump, but you realize it’s only the storm picking up. Yet, a shiver crawls down your spine at the thought of what else it was keeping out. The stifled howl of the wind certainly could play on the imagination. Either way, you take your mind off with the turn of another page.

August 19th:

The only problem with such a remote location is having to purchase supplies. Fortunately, there is only one road down. Easy to remember. I enjoy my scenic walks into town. It gives me the chance to reiterate what I need for the day. I hate being interrupted. Out here, I have ample time to prepare. The selection in town is far from ideal, but what more could I ask for? Before I forget, the best place to stash the extra food is the floor board under the kitchen rug.

Mention of food causes your stomach to grumble. Having no recollection of how you got here, you make your way to the kitchen. A gasp leaves your throat.

Torn cabinet doors litter the floor. The stench of spoiled food enters your nose, causing you to gag. It’s as if scavengers had ransacked to place, taking some while discarding the rest. You start to lose hope of satisfying your hunger until an undisturbed rug calls out to you.

Whoever messed up the place had not thought to check under there, but who would without some prompting? You roll up the rug to find a faint cutout in the floor. A small hole along one edge hid a string-loaded latch, popping the panel up to reveal a hidden compartment.

Greedily, you reach down, like a pirate scouring for hidden treasure. But pain suddenly erupts from your hand as a cascade of snaps drown out the stifled cursing from your lips.

A shaky hand is brought up to find several fingers caught upon mousetraps. A moment of fury envelops you, having been caught red-handed at trying to steal someone else’s food.

Silent curses continue to flutter across your lips as you pluck them off your throbbing fingers. You other hand reaches for the journal to lay blame upon it, turning past where you were.

If you are still reading this… Take that as a lesson! Leave before you dig too deep!

Such a statement is obviously pointed at you. As if to spite it, you check down in the compartment anyway, finding it empty save for a litter of upturned mousetraps. However, you notice a sheet of page right in the middle. Carefully sweeping the traps away, you read what’s on it.

No food for you! This is no place for you any longer! Stop being an idiot! Stop reading and go now!

Your teeth grind at being led into a trap. Just to spite the message, you turn back to skimming the next pages.

Sept 2nd:

The well water for this cabin is rather inconvenient at times. Nothing ever comes clean. It tastes a bit funny too. Supposedly, I need to get someone out here to treat it, but I’d rather deal with it myself. There’s a hardware store selling some lime. Just need a manual in case I’m at a loss of what to do…

You turn to the kitchen sink. Cool water on your swollen digits feels like a smart course of action Fortunately, you find it working still. The chill of fresh mountain water soothes the aching temporarily.

Since you find nothing to relieve your hunger, you grab a glass on the counter and fill it up. Several gulps later, the volume on your stomach displaces the emptiness. However, it does nothing for your sore throat. In fact, an unbearable itch develops, making you cough all the more.

Stepping back, you take you mind off it with more pages in the journal, hoping for some clue as to what to do next. Your eyes freeze at one page.

If you are still reading this… Fine, go drink the water! See if that helps your situation any! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

You balk at that change of tone. But then, you realize it could be playing reverse psychology on you. If that is case…