I’ve Been Missing Since August of 2014, This is What’s Happened Since My Last Journaled ‘Experience’
‘But I am.’
Don’t. I’m going to open the door, but you better not run.
‘Is that a threat?’
We’ll see.
It opened the door and stood in front of me, full-figured. It blurred itself so I didn’t have to look at it directly. The only features I could see clearly were its eyes. It proceeded to glide down the hallway to my right, and I followed it. I wasn’t scared then. It was tall, but it was also gangly. If it tried anything, I could probably help myself.
‘Who are you?’
I’m Jerry.
‘Jerry? You have a name?’
Might as well. You just thought of that name. It wasn’t my idea.
‘What’s your real name?’
Just Follow Me.
‘JFM?’
Sure.
‘Jerry Fitzgerald Martin?’
Sure. I like that.
I kept following Jerry down the hallway until he opened a door on our left and went in. This room was bright in lighting and color. As far as I could tell, it was a locker room. He floated over to and opened a locker. Jerry took my bookbag and a set of folded clothes out.
They’re clean.
‘Thank you.’
He handed the clothes to me and set the bookbag down on a bench.
‘You’re wearing coveralls?’
Yes.
‘What are you?’
As much of you as anybody else.
‘Are you a ghost?’
Not quite.
‘You’re not human, are you?’
Not in the way you think of it, no.
‘An Angel?’
Not really.
Jerry paused and reached behind his back. He pulled my laptop out of thin air and put it into my bookbag, tapping it with his forefinger.
You’ll need this, trust me.
‘I will.’
You will.
I put my clothes on as Jerry picked up my bookbag and held it. When I was dressed, I put my arms out scarecrow-style as he put the bookbag over my shoulders. He took an extra moment to adjust Bob, who had been zipped halfway in my bookbag the entire time we had been down there. Jerry glided to my front and looked at me dead on. His image stopped blurring. This confirmed the observation I had made earlier; Jerry was one of the beings I had seen over the course of my experience. He was not of this world.
They’re going to want to silence you. The information you have written in your laptop is valuable beyond anything else you know. Guard it with your life. You’ll piece the rest together when it’s time for you to do so.
‘Why are you doing this for me?’
What they’ve done is wrong.
‘I understand.’
I know you do. Take my hand.
When I did, a staircase appeared in front of us and we began to walk up.
Stay in touch.
When I woke up at the hospital, I had amnesia. I knew what my parents were telling me, and I vaguely remembered the blackout of 2014. I did not remember anything in between. Weeks into the recovery, they started to come in flashes, always when I was alone. Each flash would accumulate to one memory for every three days. I wrote them down. They meant something, whether a symbolic representation of a fight for consciousness, or actual happenings. It wasn’t as hard to grapple with emotionally as I thought it would be. It was just hard to believe. I might talk to a psychologist someday to get some kind of affirmation, it depends on how things progress. Right now, though, I feel at an odd peace, as much as everything that started on 8/15/2014 is unexplainable to me, my personal connections, law enforcement, medical experts, and beyond. I’m confident in saying that I’ve experienced, first hand, a series of high-strangeness events. These have ranged from close encounters of the first, second, third, and fourth kind, to out-of-body experiences.
I know that, as much as I would like to call the passages you’ve just read ‘memories’ or ‘visions’, I can’t deny the evidence anymore. My wrist, my skin, my health, my journal, the vagueness and vividness that I remember everything in.
But something else—
When I rummaged through my backpack for the first time since I had left the hospital, I noticed a small envelope taped to the back of my laptop. The outside said ‘Sorry for the Walkman’. Inside, there was a slip of paper, roughly the same size and shape of a dollar bill. Paired with a crudely drawn design was a single word in crayon;
‘Spacebux’.
