Journal Entry 5: March 10th, 1923

I came back to my office to see that everything was destroyed.

My desk was a pile of rubble.

My file on the woman who murdered her husband was gone.

My journal was missing a single page, my last entry.

I would rewrite what I put, but I can’t really remember.

After that insane ******* ritual I saw, I managed to escape undetected…or so I thought.

But I’ll get down what I can quickly.

I might have to rip this page out in order to keep it safe.

Everyone there was dressed completely in black.

Not robes like cults usually do, you know?

They were black jackets and gloves.

Everyone of their faces were covered with orange paint.

All of the paint was messy and smeared, but they covered their faces with it. I couldn’t see much of their bodies, but it seemed that the paint covered their necks too. Maybe they covered their entire bodies, I’m not sure.

But that wasn’t the weirdest part.

Their eyes…or at least the part around their eyes.

Their eyes were surrounding by black paint. Black circles so dark and dense as their eyes stared forward.

The same thing with their mouths too.

I didn’t know what to think of it.

Their mouths almost looked massive due to the black paint, like the black were their lips.

Nobody paid any attention to me. I’m not even sure a single person knew I was there.

They all stared forward.

This man wearing nothing was on a stage. His entire body was covered in the orange paint except for his eyes and mouth, which had the black paint.

His hair was pitch black as well, almost like he painted it with the same kind of paint. Must destroy his hair or something.

But the music I recorded.

It has been haunting me ever since.

The strangest noise that I have ever heard. The weird distorted noise that doesn’t make sense to me even days later.

The horns were haunting and ominous. I didn’t know what to think about them.

And on top of that, the drums blasting away. I can still hear them when I close my eyes.

Like they’re constantly playing inside of my brain.

Everything about that night has been seared into my memories.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.

I mean I guess I should talk to Dr. Morrison, but he’s not answering any of my god damn calls.

I might have to just go to his office and force him to see me.

Yeah.

I might just have to.

I need to get this out of my system.

Out of my brain.

I just need to figure out a way to erase it.

No…calm down Grace.

You’re not losing your mind. You’re just tired and stressed from work.

That’s all it is.

I just need to take a day to relax.

Just go home, maybe go to the theater to see a show.

That sounds nice.

Okay. Enough rambling on and on. My journal entry is done now.

So Dr. Morrison, whenever you read this, go to Hell for making me do this.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***