Nathan Morrison Readers Journal

Nathan Morrison
Readers Journal

October 10, 2007
Today, I decided to go for a hike in the woods with some buddies of mine. Within minutes, we had become hopelessly lost and I found myself walking all alone. This seemingly perilous situation didn’t bother me, as I reasoned that if I just kept walking in the same direction I would eventually find a road. While I was innocently walking along, I heard a rustling noise behind me just before I was tackled and stuffed into a bag. Moments before I blacked out I thought I could hear the eerie laughter of children and what sounded like the screams of my friends in the distance.

October 11, 2007
I woke up today in complete darkness trapped in a cold, metal container. A smell washed over me that was all too familiar. The smell of Fear. Then a horrible realization came over me: I couldn’t move my arms and legs. A silent scream echoed from my nonexistent mouth, and I began to panic. At that moment, my cage began to rattle and shake and was lifted up into the air, then upended. This made no difference to me, as I could no longer tell which way was up or down. As I once again faded into sleep, a new sound reached my brain. It sounded like the slightly rusted squealing of a spinning wheel.


October 13, 2007
It had been quiet today, but the visions kept coming. A nice, well-maintained house on a well-lit suburban street. Just the thought of it made me break out into a cold sweat. But in the nightmares it was always the same. Slow footsteps up to the porch, a key rasping against the lock, the slow creep of the door on its hinges, and then, finally, the darkness that lay within. The background noise was constant: sticks snapping, plastic rutling, the screams and muffled sobs. I am going to die out here. I know that now, and its my fault. It was my idea to go out into the woods; I was the one who insisted on dragging everyone else along. The rest of them are probably gone already. If anyone ever gets this, tell my parents I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

October 14, 2007
Crunch! Something bit into the hair above my head. A ray of blinding light shone through, and as I watched, trembling, it grew larger. The lid of my cage was pried off, and a giant hand reached in and grabbed me. The last thing I saw before being consumed was the pile of dog food cans in the corner, covered in small, dirty fingerprints.

Blair Witch Free Range Chicken Dog Food No Wonder They Call Me A Bitch Project