Entry One: A Cry for Help.

My name is Thomas.  I’m new to this blogging thing, so forgive any breach of netiquitte, but I have to get something off my chest.  I feel like I’m going insane, but damn it, I know what I saw.  To think, this all started with a joke..  I suppose I should explain.  This all began last week, some friends and I were telling jokes, and Eric  took a liking to “shaggy dog jokes”.  Shaggy dog jokes are jokes that build and build, until finally they reach a funny, but anticlimactic end.  The last joke he told hides the subject of this hellish nightmare my life has become.  It is called the purple wombat.  For whoever reads this  journal and doesn’t know what the purple wombat is, I’ll summarize.  The purple wombat is a joke about a young boy named Billy, who hears the words purple wombat at the beginning of his day.  All through the day, Billy asks various people (his bus driver, teacher, principal, and parents) what the purple wombat is, only to get increasingly nonsensical, and quite humorous responses.  That night, Billy awakens to a voice, calling itself the purple wombat, which entices Billy to wander his way into the night, eventually arriving at a lake.  He gets in a boat, and rows out until he hears the voice directly above him.  He stands up to get a better listen, falls out of the boat, and drowns.  At the time I thought nothing of it, but now I regret not taking my grandmother seriously when she would always say “now Thomas, always remember, the strangest things love to hide in the most innocent places.”  Anyway, I thought nothing of it, and went home.  That night the nightmares started.  I normally wouldn’t be concerned with nightmares, I normally have vivid dreams, and recurring dreams, so the occasional nightmare was to be expected.  But this nightmare didn’t stop.  Every night, it has been replaying over and over.  Not like a recurring nightmare, no. This nightmare seems to somehow get worse each night, filling me with more and more dread each time I enter the world of dreams.   I awaken in a deep forest, the air is icy cold, and I am immediately filled with the strongest urge to run.  I see a faint light in the distance to my left, and some morbid curiosity compels me to run towards it.  As I sprint through the woods, my fear grows, as does the brightness of the light I chase towards.  I keep sprinting, and finally I find myself in a clearing, near a lake.  In the center of the lake, there is a small fountain, flowing into the lake, emitting the light.  I walk towards the fountain, the air growing more frigid as i near the water. Expecting an ice-cold swim, I am surprised to find the glassy waters of the lake are only about shin high. The intensity of my fear is nearing a crescendo as I reach the fountain, and as I look at it closer, it’s sharp obsidian sheen malevolently calling me, an unshakable urge to touch it fills me.  I reach out, and touch the top of the ornate spike the water flows from, and I am instantly filled with searing pain.  As I scream, my mind is flooded with visions, visions of a grotesque creature, flashes of purple, and of a small shack somewhere in the mountains.  As the pain becomes too much for me, and I begin to black out, a voice, emanating from every direction whispers “come find me,” followed by a hushed cackle.  I awaken in cold sweats, this has happened every night since last Monday, when we told the jokes.  I shrugged it off at first, but since Wednesday, I’ve been having cold chills, and seeing flashes of purple.  Then, yesterday I saw it for the first time.  The grotesque creature from my dreams. I was driving to Eric’s house, and I stopped for gas.  In the woods by the gas station, I noticed it.  It stood in a hunched position, standing about three and a half feet tall.  It had sickly purple skin, and it was scarred and covered in patches of ratty fur.  Its eyes glowed with a strange hue, like how a cat’s eyes glow in the dark, but it was broad daylight.  Its mouth was as wide as it was long, and it let out a raspy hiss at me, revealing a sharp set of teeth, that resembled a viper’s fangs.  It had long sharp claws that seemed like daggers on each hand and foot, easily long enough to cut into whatever this creature called prey.  It hissed once more, then in a flash it ran off into the woods, climbing a tree as it went, and I quickly lost sight of it.  I’m going to Eric’s house today,  I’ll try to keep whoever is reading this updated on what happens sometime later today, or tomorrow.