Tamberlin's Account Read Online Free Page B
underwater. I couldn't stop looking at it.
I told her “no” and goodnight.
1:21am
I left into the less stuffy sound of the same conversations, but outdoors.
Then I had to look somewhere besides the gas can, but then I saw red—everywhere. The one inside might have been the last because the rest were out here. Some people even had 3 or 4 of them.
I saw three people looking through the windows on the opposite side of my car. They barely hid their guilt enough to move a couple steps back, as I approached.
I used my key (because I always lock my car doors, even if I step away for only a couple minutes) and entered through the passenger side—because I don't take chances like that. Like I was going to stand in the middle of them with my purse and keys in hand.
I was nervous to slide into the driver's seat. I didn't want to make eye contact. I only looked down long enough to slip my key in the ignition. When I looked up I noticed all the out of state plates. I reminded myself, who was I to know what could be going on that they would be there. I didn't know. Actually, they couldn't have known yet either—or at least the magnitude of it all or I’m sure many wouldn’t have bothered to be as “civil” as they were. I didn’t miss the fear and confusion in the majority of their faces. I didn’t miss that every vehicle was packed to the roof, either.
I turned the key and crept through the disorderly gas station. People were yelling at me and everyone else at the pumps, impatient for their turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the people surge on what looked like a fight that had broken out inside the station. Someone ran with a gun. Something told me I needed to get the hell out of there. I switched on the blinker, turning east. I looked both ways and then up at nothing--because I was listening. I slightly tilted my head toward my left shoulder and squinted—as if that actually helps, but I didn't hear it again.
I thought I heard a gunshot.
After waiting for a few vehicles to pass, I turned out, glancing at the car's clock.
1:26am
I was worried. Beyond instinct—I really knew I should be. I wondered where my friends were. I started thinking about family I hadn't seen since I was a child.
It was a little further down the road when I found out this wasn’t something to just worry about. Everything before was like a tornado watch. It was a warning. I had every reason to be scared for my life. All lives.
It was horrible and unreal.
At first it wasn't horrible—I can't describe it; I think that's just not the right word.
In a dream everything is possible and sometimes you wake up and you realize you're in a heightened state of fear—it was like that fear plus the mortal panic of seeing something ethereal—like facing God, but with the exact opposite energy that I think a person would feel in God's presence. If you believed we're not always in it.
I can't describe it.
Damn it.
It’s like my soul was terrified.
In Home Alone , Kevin wishes his family would disappear. I fantasized so many times about this happening. Sometimes I yearned for it—I wished it with absolute sincerity.
I can't even address that part of me—it’s sitting in my mental "IN" box.
Should I feel guilt? I suppose I should feel satisfied? I don't—I just don't want to go there.
Anyway—I just thought about that.
I made my family disappear.
If I leave this house will I end up a long ways from here? Will I see one of my friends' cars on the vehicle graveyard interstate?
Or maybe my doctors will find the right combination of medications and I'll come to in a mental hospital and everyone will be okay. As okay as we were.
It's just any other day before the impossible happens. That's how it is in the movies and in reality too.
Everything is routine until aliens show up.
I feel so bad.
I do not have things happen that I want or think that I want. Sometimes I felt like fate was against me for how much bad luck I've had. I
I told her “no” and goodnight.
1:21am
I left into the less stuffy sound of the same conversations, but outdoors.
Then I had to look somewhere besides the gas can, but then I saw red—everywhere. The one inside might have been the last because the rest were out here. Some people even had 3 or 4 of them.
I saw three people looking through the windows on the opposite side of my car. They barely hid their guilt enough to move a couple steps back, as I approached.
I used my key (because I always lock my car doors, even if I step away for only a couple minutes) and entered through the passenger side—because I don't take chances like that. Like I was going to stand in the middle of them with my purse and keys in hand.
I was nervous to slide into the driver's seat. I didn't want to make eye contact. I only looked down long enough to slip my key in the ignition. When I looked up I noticed all the out of state plates. I reminded myself, who was I to know what could be going on that they would be there. I didn't know. Actually, they couldn't have known yet either—or at least the magnitude of it all or I’m sure many wouldn’t have bothered to be as “civil” as they were. I didn’t miss the fear and confusion in the majority of their faces. I didn’t miss that every vehicle was packed to the roof, either.
I turned the key and crept through the disorderly gas station. People were yelling at me and everyone else at the pumps, impatient for their turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the people surge on what looked like a fight that had broken out inside the station. Someone ran with a gun. Something told me I needed to get the hell out of there. I switched on the blinker, turning east. I looked both ways and then up at nothing--because I was listening. I slightly tilted my head toward my left shoulder and squinted—as if that actually helps, but I didn't hear it again.
I thought I heard a gunshot.
After waiting for a few vehicles to pass, I turned out, glancing at the car's clock.
1:26am
I was worried. Beyond instinct—I really knew I should be. I wondered where my friends were. I started thinking about family I hadn't seen since I was a child.
It was a little further down the road when I found out this wasn’t something to just worry about. Everything before was like a tornado watch. It was a warning. I had every reason to be scared for my life. All lives.
It was horrible and unreal.
At first it wasn't horrible—I can't describe it; I think that's just not the right word.
In a dream everything is possible and sometimes you wake up and you realize you're in a heightened state of fear—it was like that fear plus the mortal panic of seeing something ethereal—like facing God, but with the exact opposite energy that I think a person would feel in God's presence. If you believed we're not always in it.
I can't describe it.
Damn it.
It’s like my soul was terrified.
In Home Alone , Kevin wishes his family would disappear. I fantasized so many times about this happening. Sometimes I yearned for it—I wished it with absolute sincerity.
I can't even address that part of me—it’s sitting in my mental "IN" box.
Should I feel guilt? I suppose I should feel satisfied? I don't—I just don't want to go there.
Anyway—I just thought about that.
I made my family disappear.
If I leave this house will I end up a long ways from here? Will I see one of my friends' cars on the vehicle graveyard interstate?
Or maybe my doctors will find the right combination of medications and I'll come to in a mental hospital and everyone will be okay. As okay as we were.
It's just any other day before the impossible happens. That's how it is in the movies and in reality too.
Everything is routine until aliens show up.
I feel so bad.
I do not have things happen that I want or think that I want. Sometimes I felt like fate was against me for how much bad luck I've had. I
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