I cannot share all the details of what happened on March 3rd, 2018. As a doctor I’m not allowed to share certain private details, so names have been changed and I do not mention what hospital I worked at at the time. There has to be some sort of logical explanation as to what happened.
So far, I haven’t come up with any. Here are my notes I took that night. Three people are dead because of that woman’s presence. And I need to find a reason why so I can continue going on with life. Everything has to have a rational reason. Or so I thought.
Jane Doe was brought in about ten minutes prior. Age is somewhere in her early twenties. She would be quite tall when standing, almost six foot two. She’s African American with two mirror injuries between her shoulder blades. The skin has been taken clean off and seems to be done expertly, I believe someone may have been trying to skin her, possibly to hide an identifying mark like a tattoo.
Jane Doe was found walking naked down a street in a daze. She was found by two young women who took her immediately to the emergency room. By the time they reached it Jane was unconscious and unresponsive. I hold high hopes for her recovery as other than the injuries on her back, she seems to be perfectly healthy.
Continue reading Doctor’s Notes
I was seriously going to start a revolution against the weather if we had another day of storms. First day, it was fine, I got a lot of housework done. Second day, it was still pretty cool, I finished up that article and sent it off to the magazine. Third day it was starting to get old, but we had some good thunder that shook the windows. That was cool.
Fourth day though. That’s what’s breaking me.
I groaned as I leaned back on my chair, trying to glean some inspiration from the ceiling. Like always, it had none. I looked out on the street, watching the water rush down the sides of the road, flooding the sidewalks and my front lawn. It was going to be a bitch to mow that later.
Continue reading Rainy Day
I found this journal among some things in granddad’s attic. As far as I can tell it belonged to some old relative of ours but I’m not sure what I make of it? Maybe one of you guys can give me some help here. Maybe this is some sort of fiction the guy wrote while bored, I can’t imagine running a farm was that entertaining. But at the same time, I really don’t know. Some of the book’s illegible but I’ve inscribed what I can down below.
_ _ _
Another storm tonight. Real bad one too. Think lightning touched down a few times in the pasture. I’m gonna have to go out tomorrow to make sure nothing’s damaged. Today was good though. Productive. Think Rose is going to have that calf soon- she’s getting bigger by the day.
Alva’s talking about going to Sara’s grave again. I don’t know if me or the boys will have time. She might have to walk there herself. And I wouldn’t say it to her but I miss Sara too. Almost too much. It’s better I stay home.
Continue reading My Ancestor’s Journal