After re-reading what I stuck up here yesterday, I decided to blow it up and reconstruct the whole concept. So I kept the first-person point of view, but decided to tell the story through diary entries. I have an idea that this could be kinda long, but we’ll see where it goes.
September 18, 2009
Although, to be honest, that’s a little bit of a guess. I don’t really know what day it is, jut like I’m not really sure it’s even day. All I know for sure is that I’m in trouble, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of it, and I’d like to leave some kind of record of what happened to me if somebody ever finds this notebook. Which I guess is doubtful, but it’s about the only thing I’ve got right now, so I’m gonna hang on to that if it’s okay with you.
I guess I should start at the beginning. Or at least close enough to give you an idea of who I am and what the hell I’m talking about, huh? My name is Jason Shorham, and I’ve been kidnapped. I don’t know by who and I don’t know where they’re keeping me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of here. By the best guess I can come up with I’ve been here for three days, and I haven’t seen anyone in that time. I’m being held in a cabin with one big room, one smaller bedroom, a kitchen, kinda, and a bathroom. It’s pretty comfortable, actually. I guess as jail cells go it’s really nice, except for the fact that all the windows and doors are boarded up so that I can’t even see whether it’s day or night and I can’t get out. Even the fireplace is blocked up with metal sheeting so I can’t even look up the chimney or try to climb out up it. Which with the way my luck has gone this week would be something I’d try, then get stuck up there and die. There’s a bed in the bedroom, and one lamp. There’s a couch in the big room, which I guess would be a living room, and a desk, which is where I found this notebook and some pens. Other than that, there’s a whole lot of nothing. The bathroom has a shower and toilet, and some towels and toilet paper, but nothing to read, which sucks. So while I guess it’s okay for prisons, there’s not much to recommend this place as a vacation spot.
I don’t know why I’m joking. I’m fucked. I’m probably about as fucked as fucked can get. I’m kidnapped, in the middle of nowhere I assume, in a log cabin with boarded up windows and doors, and I haven’t seen any food in three days. Yeah, I’ve been here three days I guess. Or at least I’ve gone to sleep three times and woken up three times, so I’m guessing it’s been three days. I don’t have any way to tell time, the fuckers that took me took my cell phone (of course) and like everybody else nowadays I don’t wear a watch. Why would I? I never go anywhere without my cell phone and usually my laptop, too. But I didn’t dress for kidnapping when I left home this morning. Or Saturday morning, however long ago that was. Fuck this, this is stupid. Nobody’s ever gonna read this shit, and if they do it’ll be because I’m dead anyway, so what do I care?
September 21, 2009
Me again. But then again, who else would it be? It’s not like there’s anybody else here. I figured I might as well write this shit down. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. My social calendar, as they say, is more than usually empty of late. Like I said before I’m not really sure of the day, or if it is day. I can’t manage to beat on the board on the windows enough to get any light through them, so I sleep when I’m tired and get up when I feel like it. Perfect life, right? Yeah, except for that whole locked in a cabin where you have no fucking idea what’s going on part. At least there’s food. I didn’t mention that my captors do feed me, so it looks like there’s a plan to keep me a live for a little while, anyway. I wake up, and there’s food in a bucket in the middle of the floor. Nothing specific, just some bread, some ham or deli meat, crap like that. Nothing to drink but water out of the bathroom sink, and I only have one cup to drink out of. It’s plastic. I guess they think if I had too much glass around I’d try to use it as a weapon, or maybe off myself. But they left me the lamp in the bedroom, with a regular lightbulb, so I don’t know what that’s about. So I started tracking my days by how many times I get fed. I figure when they send down cereal and those little paper cartons of milk, it’s breakfast. When they send down real food later, it’s lunch. There’s only been two meals a day so far, so I’m counting breakfasts to figure out what day it is. But who knows? They could be totally fucking with me and giving me a breakfast every three hours and maybe I’ve only been here for like two days. But that doesn’t make any sense. I know it’s been most of a week at least just by how much my beard’s grown. And how gross my clothes are starting to feel. If you’ve never worn the same underwear every day for a week, then just trust me, it’s not the best thing in the world. I rinsed out all my clothes in the bathroom sink, but then I was just naked and cold and when I put everything back on it didn’t really feel clean anyway, so I just decided fuck it. I’ll try and keep up this journal just to have something to do. I’m sure at some point whoever took me will figure out they aren’t getting any money and let me loose.
