Monday, June 20th

It is near three o’clock I sit at my desk, before the window, which is shut, for it had been raining for the past 5 hours. Though it has stopped, water is still dripping from the protruding rooftop of my two storey house. The outside is silence, I cannot say if anyone else is awake, and my establishment is the only house on the outskirts of the country park.
Outside my house is a long black road that goes far and grows thin if one stares at it long.

I have never had anyone to refer to as a neighbor, at least, no person in particular, though there are many beasts of all shapes and curiosities that abide in the jungle. They too are all asleep. The wet grass slowly waves, and shines under the moonlight. But it’s this utmost silence that makes me feel even more alone, as alone in the world. Just how Adam must’ve felt! No, not him perhaps how the very first of flowers would’ve felt, or a cell, before it could reproduce.

In the tranquility of the moment, I can hear the ticking of the clock, it is like noise as I hear it, and it disturbs my nerve. Every moving work of the machine is distinctly heard.
No more! No More! Shall it infuriate me any longer cursed clock, I had plucked the batteries out. But it is not enough for I can hear another noise, like a thud, a slow thudding, but yet, it isn’t mechanical. It’s like slow rain dripping, but its not that, it’s not the rain that I know.

The sound I surmise is within the room, not outside. What other battery is there to remove? What other hole to stuff? The sound is near me, very close! No it is within me, yes, within me. Ah, a mere trifle, a mere trifle, it is nothing but the beating of my heart. How imprudent of me to generate such thoughts as that, how foolish. Perhaps it’s the hunger. It has to be, it’s been a week and three days. My faculties are failing me, slowly they had been. I haven’t been able to get up. My chair is wet. There were flies here earlier.

But why must it take so long, why? Oh heart, please stop. Just do it. Spare me from my misery, spare me from my wretchedness, and spare me a last breath. It would be silence then, I think, that I know, how dreadful, I am not too sure really, I’ve never experienced it. Nevertheless it’s late now, too late. And I must go on continue with what I started, or, or the will, yes the will, it would be useless if I don’t. And how will the Red-footed squirrels I put to extinction be avenged? I did put them to extinction, I shot them all. What was the number, I don’t remember.

I think there’s someone outside, very tall, someone very tricky; hides as try to look and glares at me as I resume writing. He is it? I don’t know I’ve never seen anyone at my window. What business is it of anyone to appear and wait for me, wait for me? Why do I think that? No just watching, yes I agree with you. You’re just watching. But what time is? Shouldn’t it be getting brighter, why is it getting darker? What time is it?-