Well, it looks like your humble narrator has gone and landed himself a decent promotion at work! I've been in the thick of things with moving office and all the training that goes with a new position. I'm really happy about it, I'd been stuck as a payroll clerk for five years already and being a manager is more my cup of tea.
I have a problem with authority.
So, last night I decided to try the next journal entry and see where this magical little tour might take me next.
Entry #4 is a little longer; Grandpa goes into some unsettling details about Green Wake, which is becoming a reoccurring theme it seems. The weird'o'meter is slowly climbing to new levels.
I've waited a few days to journal any further. The reality is, I'm stuck here with no clue how to return home. I've been trying to come to grips with this, wrestling between not understanding how it's possible and why I'm even here.
Today I had to leave my home, I'd locked myself inside since I left the farm. I've noticed, curiously, that most of the residents in Green Wake do the same. Except the others never really leave. I've only seen five people so far, so my task was to locate other people and get some answers.
This has been the strangest day so far.
I sought a public place, where people would be commonly gathered. At times, I swore I heard a train pass through town, with an old bellowing steam whistle accompanying the deep rumble of tracks. I sought out any sign of a station and after some serious searching, I found it.
It was empty. In the quiet, sitting on a bench on the platform, I waited hours. Sure enough, a train approached. It, too, was empty, save for a little girl who wore a blue ribbon in her hair. She watched me, intently, as the train arrived, waited and then departed again moments later. We shared a moment, two lost strangers in a strange world.
The train arrived again, not long later.
She was still there.
I cannot get on the train. I want to talk with this silent girl, but it simply isn't possible.
It was not long after that I met someone new.
I've already read the next journal entry, there was no way I could put it down after the creepy feel of this update and the possibility of Grandpa meeting another person in Green Wake. I'm starting to think this entire journal was Grandpa Mack's way of expressing his imagination.
I asked Mom if he was a storyteller or had any other writing that she could remember, and her answer was a resounding 'no'. It's becoming obvious that Morley was a creative man, with a flair for the bizarre. Almost like he and H.P. Lovecraft were on the same wavelength. There's a definitely underlying feeling of dread throughout the journals that seem to magnify with each entry.
Krieger is what made me realize it's a machination of Morley's mind. I'll post the next one up in the next few days. The only problem I'm having is that, I think I've found a photo of Krieger, and it is.... strange. I think it might be a development mistake, given how old the photos are, so maybe some of you photography experts out there could give me some feedback.