D.R. Pattison

Never again will I venture into the untamed wilderness, whether it be a national park or something a simple as an RV park.

It has been in my family for generations, dating all the way back to the early 19th century, being passed down from father to son upon the former’s passing.

I farm a sizable piece of land, some several thousand acres in size. What I farm isn’t important, just the location, and I know every inch of my property like the back of my hand — well, at least I thought I did.

It was some time in the late hours of the night when it felt like the room was the coldest it had ever been. Some sort of croaking noise coming from the bathroom awakened me, which was quickly followed by what sounded like scratching.

I’m tired, thirsty and hungry. I’ve been trying to get some kind of message out for over a day now, but nothing has worked. I can only hope it works now. My phone has no dial tone, my cell isn’t getting any signal, I can’t log in to my e-mail and any message I try to place on a forum that has personal info is rejected. I’m using a friend’s email account right now. God, I hope this one works.

You don’t want it. You think you do, but you don’t.