Seven Days Creepypasta

By J.T. All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Thriller

Log 3

Log 3

Wednesday, February 19th

You know, at this fricken point, I could go on to a whole entire forty-five-minute tangent on how much all of this SUCKS!
But, after what just happened, there’s not much of a point seeing that I’ll be going through this insanity again!

By some miracle I was able start today in a normal fashion. I guess I was still riding off the sense of triumph from last night’s encounter. (And I can tell you now I certainly won’t be riding off it today)

And like before, I didn’t bother trying to tell anyone about this. Who would ever believe me? I did consider telling my best friend, but you can only go so far in telling someone that: you were hunted by a freak who looks a lot like The Joker, killed by him, brought back to life somehow, and then had to redo it the next day with another freak. Somewhere in there they’re going to ask for evidence. And what do I have to show for that? Just these fricken logs, real convincing right?

So any-hoo, class went on like normal. Thankfully I didn’t hear any sadistic singing this time, thank God, but I knew that didn’t mean anything bad wasn’t going to happen. I tried hoping for that the day before, and look where that got me. It wasn’t until I got home again that crazy crap started to happen.

But unlike the last two times, there wasn’t any warning. When I arrived home, I didn’t say hi to my mom, hi to my dad, or hi to my brother and sister. I went straight to my room, locked the door, and hopped onto my computer. The person, the thing or whatever the heck it is said it would talk to me today. I sat back and waited for the text box to appear.

The screen remained blank.

I waited a little bit more.

Still nothing.

This continued for another 15 minutes or so before I couldn’t take it any longer, “Oh, for crying out loud! Say something already!”

The screen remained barren.

“Oh, come on, really? You said you would talk to me today. So here I am, talk.”

A text box appeared.

“Good, now we’re getting somewhere.” I muttered.

Text slowly began appearing, “I thought we agreed that when you speak to me you would be respectful.”

I snorted, “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m still a little ticked off at the fact I was killed and then hunted for the past two days by freaks that shouldn’t even exist. And after thinking I’d gotten out of it, I’m reminded by another freak on my computer that I’ll be doing it again for five more days!”

As those words left my lips, I realized that my sarcasm would just piss him off even more and he would probably stop speaking to me again. I couldn’t afford that. More text was beginning to appear. So I hastily continued before it could finish.

“Look, I’m sorry.” I said quickly in a quieter tone, “I mean come on. Who wouldn’t be like this after going through all of that? Just knowing that more of this is coming, isn’t comforting.

I waited for a response.

The text that it had been writing earlier suddenly vanished. The box was empty for a few seconds, almost as though the person who was writing it was surprised by my apology.

It began writing again, “I was beginning to think you did not learn anything from yesterday’s visitor. I am glad to see I am wrong.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Man, that was close.

“So,” I went on, “May I ask why you’re doing this to me?” Because really, that’s the only real question to all of this.

“You may ask. But you will not receive the answer.”

What? “Why?” I asked surprised.

“If you have to ask, you have not earned the right to know yet.”

“Earned?” I laughed, “I think being killed has earned me something.”

“Continuing to live, I would think, is rewarding enough.”

This thing had to be kidding me. I was about to tell him how stupid that sounded, but something told me he’d just go quiet again.

Before I could think of something else to ask him, he added,

“Oh, and while you may have been able to come back the first time, do not think you will again.”

“What?! What do you mean?”

“I mean, that you will not be able to cheat your way through this.”

“Cheat? I tried leaving yesterday and still ended up in the woods with a homicidal undead girl. If I can’t so much as even leave, how can I possibly cheat, huh?

Well, that was partly true. I did think of a way out of this, but I was still contemplating whether it was a good idea or not. I just hoped that whatever he was referring to wasn’t what I was thinking of.

But it was.

“Dying. Do not think you can simply allow yourself to die each day, to avoid the full extent of each encounter.”

I gritted my teeth. This thing thinks of everything doesn’t it?

“Why did I come back the first day then?”

“Because it was Log 1, it was your first time. Everyone deserves a second attempt after the first try.”

I gaped at the screen. This was so unfair. My quick and easy way out of this was now destroyed. And it pissed me off.

“Everyone, huh? So does that include Jeff too, because I killed him the first time? Fair and square, and yet he came back!”

“And so did you. Remember?”

“That does not count. Jeff isn’t real. He never was real; he’s a freak from a story. And in that story, he’s considered human, which means killing him should have been the end to it. So if anything, bringing him back makes you the cheater.”

“Would it have made a good story if he stayed dead?”

The question caught me by surprise. I kept forgetting, (and still do), that all of this was just some sick story to him. I leaned back in my chair; I honestly didn’t have a comeback to that. But a thought did occur to me. If I die, doesn’t that ruin the story too?

“What if I die again?” I asked, “Not intentionally anyway. What then? That ends your story doesn’t it?”

“No, it ruins Your story. I would also highly recommend you guard your life more carefully; since there is a chance of escape from each visitor. It is a small chance, yes, but a chance none the less.”

Well great that sucks.

But, I am not entirely inconsiderate,” It continued, “I do not expect you to survive each encounter. I do not believe you are that intelligent. So you will have another chance if your life is suddenly cut short by a visitor. That is only, of course, if you are doing what is required. I Will Know, when you are and when you are not attempting to survive.”

Wow. I hadn’t expected that kind of answer. I’m not complaining, but it still puts me back to where I started. Getting killed is out of the question, regardless if I’m doing what it wants or not. Dying hurts. A Lot. So I’ll gladly try to avoid it.

“Well, thank you. I guess.” I mumbled.

“You are welcome. But I am afraid that is all the time we have together today. I look forward to this next encounter.”

“Wait, what? But I-”

“Good bye.” It said and was gone. The box disappeared. I was left once more alone in my room. I stared at the monitor with disbelief. It still hadn’t done what I wanted.

“Great!” I cried out angrily, “I still don’t have the answers I want. What or who is coming next?”

I continued trying to get the thing’s attention again, but it never answered. I could only sit and wait for what would come next. Or did I?

Now then, if there’s anything that I am not. It’s stupid. I don’t care how unintelligent that thing thinks I am. I wasn’t going to let the next visitor catch me by surprise like the last two nights. After finishing up with the computer I went ahead and pulled on a gray hoodie, grabbed my keys, my camera, my hunting knife, and my cell phone then headed to the car. Judging from my last two encounters, I figured these things wouldn’t come until it was late in day. It was one ’o’clock at the moment so I still had a few hours of daylight left. And I wasn’t going to spend it alone.

I got into my car and drove to my best friend’s home. Now I know I said earlier, that there wasn’t much of a point trying to explain the insanity of the past few days since it was unbelievable; but what mattered now was: what would happen today.

When I arrived at my friend’s house, I could tell from the look on his face he was surprised by my unexpected visit. I don’t show up unannounced very often, but he was still okay with me coming over. (Wish I could say he felt the same for the next “Person” coming over)

My friend Brando was also a college student and stayed at his brother’s house. His brother was up in Michigan, so he was living alone for the week. He was just about my height, if not taller, was light skinned, and had flat dark hair. And above all else, he was a jokester.

So when I tried to explain everything that had happened, he naturally didn’t take me serious. And I don’t blame him. Who would?

“I’m telling you Brando.” I told him, “Somebody is coming to try and kill me tonight. I don’t know who or what is next, but it’ll be soon.”

Brando was sitting on the couch sipping a Coca Cola, listening as I stood in front of him trying to explain my situation. And so far, it was proving rather, difficult. (VERY difficult.)

“Look man,” He said shaking his head skeptically, “I’m pretty sure no monster or Creepypasta freak is going to try to kill you. I mean who would want to? You’re a great guy and come on, be for real about this. Since when has anyone ever been killed by Jeff the Killer or Tarry or whatever she’s called.”

“It’s Teri, and DUDE! I’m not joking! You know when I joke and when I don’t joke. Please just listen to me.” I was yelling at this point. He just didn’t get how serious this was.

“Alright, alright.” He said waving to me to calm down. “If you really think something is going to try and kill you, why don’t you just call the police? Get protection.”

Seriously man? Like I never thought of that.

“Brando, look at me.” I gestured at myself, “Do you honestly think the cops would listen to a kid telling them what I just told you?”

He thought for a moment before answering, “Nope. And I wouldn’t blame them since I don’t believe this either.”

“AHH!” I threw my hands up. This was getting me nowhere. An idea came to me. “Alright, then how about this. I’ll prove it to you. Let me stay here for the night. Okay? So that way, if someone comes to get me, excuse me, when someone comes to get me you’ll see it firsthand and you’ll know I wasn’t lying. How’s that sound?”

God, please say yes.

Brando leaned back on the couch in thought, before slowly nodding his head. “Alright, sure man. But I’m telling you nothing is coming.”


“Thank you! You have no idea how much better I’m feeling now.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out both the knife and camera. “And just before I settle in for the night.” I tossed him the camera.

He looked at me confused. “What’s this for?”

“It’s for when you start hearing me yell or scream. Oh, and just don’t snap pictures, hit the record button.”

He raised an eyebrow at me then nodded. “Alright man, whatever you say. But I’m telling you. Nothing will happen.”

And I was telling him, something would definitely happen. I just hoped coming here had been the right choice.

A few hours later, it’s nine ’o’clock, Brando is playing his PS3 in the living room, and I’m in the bloody guest room staring at both the bedroom’s window and door, holding the knife. I knew Brando was wrong in assuming nothing would happen, but I was starting to get a little edgy. It was getting late, something should have happened by now. I was expecting sadistic singing, knocking, evil laughter, or something to suddenly erupt at any moment. But all was quiet.

I swear, if nothing happens and I end up looking like an idiot…

That would be a huge embarrassment. So I continued to wait.

9:30 pm. said the clock, and still nothing had happened. Okay, I’ll wait a little more.

10:00 pm. came. So, whoever’s coming next is building up the suspense, but he’ll show.

10:30 pm. All is quiet. What the heck? Where is he?

11:00 pm. Me: “……………”

Finally, the clock said, 11:20 pm. I was calling it night. It would be midnight pretty soon which would mean that day/Log 3 will have ended and Log 4 will have begun. And I seriously doubted that if the freak did show up, it would have enough time to do anything to me before midnight.

So I said good night to Brando, turned off the lights, and locked the doors and windows just in case. I placed the knife on the stand beside the bed. As I went to bed I realized I didn’t bring any clothes to change into, so I was still wearing my hoodie and jeans. Smooth move, idiot.

It wasn’t long before I fell asleep. Sleep didn’t last for very long though and my dream of finding the man responsible for all of this was rudely interrupted. I was at the best part of the dream too! I was smiling and just about to shoot the lunatic responsible for all of this when a large crash woke me from my dream. I sat up abruptly.

“What was that?” I muttered groggily, as I wiped the sleep from eyes. I peered at the nearby digital clock on the nightstand. 11:50 Pm, it said. I was only asleep for thirty minutes? Pfft, great.

I heard something large fall outside of my door. WHAT THE-!?

That brought me out of my stupor. I quickly snatched my knife and listened for anything else. It was deathly quiet. Could it have been Brando I heard? Maybe, but I would need to be sure. Better to be safe than sorry.

Very slowly, I got out of bed and approached the door. I grabbed the knob and after a moment’s hesitation, I opened the door just a tad.

I didn’t see anything in hallway, but I knew that didn’t mean everything was fine. Building up my courage, I left the bedroom and went to go check on Brando in his room which was located just at the end of the hall. Once I reached the door, I pressed my ear against it and listened. I couldn’t hear anything, which meant either he was asleep or worst-case scenario, he was dead. There was only one way to find out. Clenching the knife, I burst through the door ready to face anything that lay waiting.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Brando’s surprised voice greeted me. “Huh? J? What’s wrong with you? I’m trying to get some sleep!” He was lying in bed; his eyes were foggy from sleep, and judging by what he just said, he was pretty pissed off.


“I…uh...” I was speechless.

Brando flipped on the lights and sat up. “Dude,” He said shaking his head, “Look, I know you said you were having some strange crap happen to you and all, but come on. This is over the top!”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t hear any noise in here, so I thought that maybe you might be uh…be uh…”

“Dead?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Dude, just get some sleep. Alright?”

“Yeah, alright. Sorry.” I apologized. I began to head back to my room feeling stupid, but stopped short. “But before I go,” I asked, “What was that noise I heard?”

“Noise?” Brando looked confused, “What noise?”

“You know that large crash or whatever? It woke me up. I thought maybe it may have been you and-” I stopped, suddenly realizing how stupid I was. Brando was just sleeping. He didn’t make the noise!

“Oh, crap,” I muttered. I quickly glanced back down the dark hallway.

“What is it man?” Brando asked.

“Where’s my camera?” I said quickly turning back to him.


“Where’s my camera?”

Brando looked at me confused for a moment before reaching by his bedside and pulling my Sony handycam from beneath it. “Here,” He said, “Why?”

“Turn on the night vision setting and start recording. We’ve got a visitor.”

“What!?” Brando said, quickly getting out of bed, “You’re kidding me?”

“No,” I continued looking back down the hallway for anything out of the ordinary.

“Dude,” Brando looked very concerned, “Are you really being serious right now?”

I rolled my eyes, “Yes man! I’m being dead serious! Grab the camera and let’s go.”

“Hell no!” He said backing away, “I’m not going down there.” He went back to his bedside, grabbed the home line, and began to call somebody.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m calling the police!” He placed the phone to his ear.

I snorted, “Yeah, like that’s going to work.”

“J., just shut up an-What?” His face turned into bewilderment. He looked at the phone and clicked a few buttons before placing it to his ear once more.

“What the hell?” He said quietly.

“Yeah?” I think I knew what was coming. It didn’t take a horror writer to guess.

Brando looked at the phone once more and began shaking his head. “It says it can’t reach that number. How the hell can’t it reach 911?!”


He placed the phone down, “Try your cell!”

Yeah like that will work.

“No,” I said tossing it to him, “You try.”

He flipped opened the phone and frantically dialed 911.

A female voice suddenly came from the phone, “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is either changed, disconnected, or-” Brando threw the phone down in frustration.

“Told-ya,” I said to him crossing my arms.

Brando muttered something under his breath before saying, “What do we do then?”

Haahaha, like I’d know?

“Well,” I began, “If you have a weapon, grab it. Then grab my camera and do what I told you to do earlier. Start recording.”

I turned and began to go down the hall. No sense to keep whatever it was waiting.

“Dude, what the hell?” Brando called after me. “You’re not going to-” The lights suddenly went out.

He swore loudly. Yyyyyeeeaaahhhh, welcome to my life Brando.

Once I reached the end of the hall I scanned the next room. The living room was completely dark without any lights. I could barely see three feet in front of me. I heard a few pots or pans fall from the other side of the room, where the kitchen connected. It’s in the kitchen, wonderful.

“Dude!” I whispered to Brando, “Hurry up! It’s in the kitchen.”

Brando stood at the door frame, looking at me like I was crazy, “Are you kidding? Hell no!”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Dude, look, you got two options. You can either hide in your bedroom with only a door two inches thick separating you from death. And wait on the off chance of the police showing up, which will be never. Or you can come with me and try to get the heck out of here. Which is it?”

He blinked for a few moments, and then headed my way. “Good choice.” I told him, “Now, let’s go.”

We tiptoed our way to the front door which was thankfully in the living room. Finally, a stroke of luck.

I grabbed the door handle and pulled.

It didn’t budge.


I tried again. The door didn’t move.

“What the hell?” Brando murmured, “Is it locked?”

I checked, “No, I think there’s something holding it shut on the other end.” I tried it a few more times. It was pointless. “Crap! Maybe we can use one of the windows?”

Something large fell in the kitchen. My gaze shot in the direction of the noise.

“But, not in here.” I quickly added, “That thing will hear us.”

“Yeah, good idea. My room then.” Brando whispered back.

So, we made our way back to his room, quickly and quietly. Brando, having the infrared camera, went first. Once we reached his bedroom door, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right. This seemed a little too easy.

Brando grabbed the knob and pushed.

The door didn’t open.

Oh, that’s why.

Brando tried again, and then put both hands on the knob and started yanking it back and forth.

The door didn’t move an inch. “F***” He whispered. “We just came in from there! Why won’t it open?”

“Do you really want to know?” I asked incredulously. Brando thought for a moment then shook his head.

“Well,” I looked back down the hall, “We could try using the guest room’s window,” I suggested.

He looked at me skeptically, “J., if this thing was able to somehow lock my door shut without coming down here, don’t you think that door’s going to be locked too?”

Um, good point.

“Well do you have a better idea?” I asked.

Brando let out a nervous breath, “Yeah, I do. But it involves making our way through the kitchen.”

I stared at him. Did I just hear him right? “Say that again? I thought you just said something crazy.”

He looked at me deathly serious, “We have to make our way past the kitchen.”

Oh, Lord, why? I silently asked.

I closed my eyes, and slowly nodded my head in agreement, “Alright then. Fine. Let’s go, but you’re going first.”

His eyes widen with shock, “What? Why?”

“’Cause you have the camera with night vision. That’s why!”

“And you’ve got the knife!”

“….” Ahh, damn it. I hate it when he does that.

“Touché, fine I’ll go. But you better tell me if you see something. I’m not getting killed a second time.”

So with me grudgingly leading the way, we return to the living room.

“Alright,” I whispered, “What’s the plan?”

Brando peered through the camera looking for anything lurking within the darkness before answering, “Okay, there’s a screen door leading to the garage with my car. I left the garage door open so if we can reach my car, we can get the hell out of here.”

I looked at him dubiously, “What about the door in there? Won’t it be locked too then?”

“It’s a screen door, and the lock’s broken. I’ve been meaning to fix it before my brother comes back.”

“Okay, makes sense. But I’ve got one question.”


“How do we get past that thing?” I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder gesturing at the kitchen.

Brando remained silent.

“Your lack of answer is not very comforting buddy.”

Brando looked at me ominously, “Why don’t you go in there and distract the thing while I run and get the car ready?”

My jaw dropped, “What? You’re kidding?”


“Brando I’m not doing that.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Yeah, you distract him, and I get the car ready.”

“Uh…No; and here’s why: A.) you don’t know where the keys are. B.) I do. C.) This thing is after you, not me. So if you go to the car, it’s going to run after you.”

Damn it! Will he stop doing that!?

I was going to protest when I heard glass break directly behind me. I quickly spun around with the knife in hand.

I heard Brando take in a sharp breath behind me. He must have seen what it was in front of me through the camera, and it scared him.

What was it he was seeing?

A lamp suddenly blazed to life on a stool in front of me. I had to blink a few times to get used to the lighting.

Who turned that on?

My eyes widened once I saw who did

“Oh, f-” I heard Brando breathe behind me.

Before us stood a figure wearing dark pants, a solid black hoodie, and on his face rested a blue mask. The mask only had two open eye sockets which were completely dark and void. Something black was dripping down from each socket.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” Not this guy! “Eyeless Jack!?”

The one Creepypasta story where the freak doesn’t talk and doesn’t have some sort of back story.

Crap, we were screwed.

For a moment, none of us reacted; we just stood there looking at each other. The moment shattered when Brando took off like a flash towards the kitchen.

“Hey!” I went to run after him, but Jack had other ideas.

He quickly ran forward and lunged at me.

I tried to brace and bring the knife out, but was too late. He hit me full force in the chest and knocked the knife aside. I fell backwards, and he was on top of me within seconds.

I tried to recall how Jack killed people, through the few seconds of the fight, but I drew a blank. The story didn’t say.

Jack tried to claw at my chest; I quickly threw my head forward, head-butting him. Ow! Man, that hurt! Jack was dazed for only a moment before resuming his onslaught. But the few seconds had been enough. I was able to grab the knife, and slice up with it. He jerked his face back barely avoiding the blade. As he did so, I threw my knees forward and pushed him off. He fell back and bumped into a neighboring stool. I quickly scrambled up before he could recover and ran after Brando. As I did, I could hear Jack recover behind me and give chase.

I entered the kitchen and nearly tripped on the pans I’d heard fall earlier. I saw the screen door leading to garage dangling open on its side. I silently wondered if Jack had broken it to get in or Brando had broken it to get out. I continued running, I’d just gone through the door when something snagged the back of my hoodie, “Ah!” I cried out surprised, as I was yanked back inside the door.

Jack had caught up with me and had grabbed me at the last second. So close but yet so bloody far!

Fortunately, I hadn’t let go of the knife. I quickly turned and stabbed at Jack once more, but he had been expecting this. He jumped out of the path of the knife and grabbed my hand, holding it before slamming his fist into my face. I stumbled back dazed dropping the knife as I did so. “Oh crap!” I let out, before he ran into me with his shoulder. I fell back though the door and down the short flight of steps into the garage. I got onto my hands and knees trying to get up, but Jack reached me first and kicked me in the stomach. The pain was extraordinary. I fell over onto my side.

Jack jumped on top of me for a second time. I wouldn’t be able to knock him off the same way I had before, I realized. He grabbed me, and held me down by the throat, and began to squeeze.

My supply of oxygen was suddenly turned off, I started wheezing and gasping for air. I weakly tried to hit him, but he brushed it off. My vision began to swim with dots dancing around. If I didn’t do something fast, he’d choke me to death. Where the hell was Brando!?

My sight became two small tunnels now, the only thing appearing at the each end were Jack’s dark, empty sockets. That’s when I had an idea. With what little air I had left, I spat directly into his left socket. He jerked back in surprised disgust. His grip slightly loosened, and that was all I needed. I reeled back and quickly kicked him off. I scrambled back to my feet and scanned the garage for Brando’s car. The car was gone, and the garage door was wide open.

“OH, BRANDO!” I yelled, “COME ON MAN!”
I heard Jack get up behind me. I was in no condition to go head to head with that freak again, so I fled through the garage door. I still had my keys and my Ford was just outside, so I still had some hope.

I exited the garage and headed to my car which was parked under a neighboring tree. As I ran, I fumbled in my pockets for the keys. “Come on…come on, where are they?” I muttered.

I risked a glance back, expecting to see Jack hot on my heels. He wasn’t there. “Huh?” Where did he go?

I found out soon enough, I looked back towards my car and suddenly grounded to a halt.

“What!?” I cried out. “No fair!” Jack was waiting just a few feet in front of my car.

I was panting at this point; I didn’t think I had the strength to fight this guy.

He slowly began to approach me. Man! Why did I drop the knife!?

Jack continued to walk towards me. I’d always wondered what was beneath that mask of his. Right now, I could imagine there was a sick and twisted smile beneath it.

I thought it was over.

Suddenly two bright lights blazed to life from my right. At its source was a speeding black car headed straight for us. I jumped back just in time, and Jack, Jack never had a chance. He was standing directly in front of the car as it crashed into him. I saw his body fly several feet back, land, and flip over five or six times before rolling to a stop. His body was broken and unmoving. I prayed it would stay that way.

The car came to a stop shortly after hitting Jack. The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped none other than Brando.

“How’s my driving, dumbass!” He said at Jack’s corpse, then turned to me, “Hey J., you okay?”

I started laughing, “Dude! That was badass!” I shuffled over to him. Brando was beaming, “Yeah,” he said stretching his arms with mock boredom, “It was nothing. I thought you were doing fine until you reached your car.”

“Hahahahah! Dude, and here I thought you’d left me.”

Brando looked at me with feigned surprise, “Me? Leave in the face of danger? Of course not!”

He looked back towards Jack, “Oh, by the way, I believe you now.” He said in a serious tone.

I nodded, understanding what he meant. He was apologizing for doubting me earlier.

“Yeah, well it’s over now. But if it’s okay with you man, I wanna stay at my house for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, no problem at all man,” Then he snorted, “Hell, I was planning on staying at your house too.”

I laughed a little at that then headed to my car.

“Oh, J. one last thing.”

I turned to him, “What?” I asked.

“Well, just before I came to your rescue, I had the brilliant idea to…” He reached into the car and lifted out my camera, “Record my victory.” He said with a grin.
I gaped then smiled, “That’s awesome! I’ve got solid evidence of this crap now. Thanks man!”

Brando gave me a quick smile, got back into his car and started driving down the road.

I unlocked my car and opened the door feeling triumphant once more. With the footage Brando had gotten, I could take this to the police, show my family, and prove to them I wasn’t crazy. And most importantly of all, I could shove it in the face of the freak that caused all this.

I opened the driver door with a smile.

I was still smiling when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Thinking it was Brando, I turned, but as I did I realized three important things:

Brando had just driven down the road.

I hadn’t checked to make sure Jack really was dead.

And three, I wouldn’t be able to show that footage now.

The last thing I saw was Jack’s hand clawing into my face, and the last thing I felt was the searing pain that came with it.


And here it is five in the morning of the next day with nothing but nightmares and memories of yesterday’s encounter to show for it. I woke up in bed with both hands on my face, screaming. Luckily, I didn’t wake anybody up, but I’m still stuck in this horrible nightmare. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep any time soon, I got back onto my computer to record this very log. And like last time, nobody realizes what’s happened. The footage on my camera from yesterday is gone. I called Brando, and he says I never even spoke to him. And the bumps and bruises I had picked up from last night have vanished.

I don’t go to school for another two hours, but when I do; I’ll know that Log Four will have officially started.

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