Dear Diary

Mercurial, Arizona is not a place you usually find on purpose.
"It was just being trapped, ya know? I really needed this place. It's all mine, not a husband or relative can say otherwise," said Caroline, a bubbly waitress wiping down the counter of the diner, "One day I found him with another woman and I just had to go. I jumped on a bus, trying to get to California, but ya know,"
She spoke in a sweet southern twang and looked straight out of the fifties. She had left her life behind in Virginia, where she had a drunk husband and a critical family to become her own person.
"I found this place, saw a 'we're hiring' sign and well," She paused and put her hands on her hips with a laugh, "Doesn't look I've left quite yet!"
I smiled and she turned around and grabbed a coffee pot from the machine, "Good thing we've got the best damn coffee this side of the nation!" She filled up my cup with a smile, "You take care dear, I'm on break now, but Julio will be over soon!"
"Good luck!" I said. It was two of the very few words I had said few words in our conversation, which might sound unpleasant, but was truly calming. I stared into my swirling coffee cup. My breathing steady and reliable. My heartbeat following its balanced path. I hadn't realized how scared I was until it had melted away. This diner was exactly what I needed.

Mercurial, Arizona is not a place you usually find on purpose, but usually it is exactly what you need.

Breathing,
Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,

It's called The Capricious Canoe.

In the misty, humid air surrounding the half lit neon sign obscured by looming technicolor motorcyclists and a generous dose of fear, I read it as The Caper Cafe. I later found out it was a common mistake and brought in many travelers looking for a greasy meal and comforting plastic booth.

The Capricious Canoe itself was not a diner or a cafe, but instead a curious antiques shop filled to the brim with all kinds odd items. The shop was divided into four sections, each boldly lit with it's own neon sign. They were bordered off messily by paper screens, bookcases, or thrown together cardboard creations.

I followed the winding crumbling road down into the town. It was small, dilapidated and either blessed or plagued by a constant fog that filled the streets. It seemed odd, considering the freeway had been surrounded by dusty, red desert, but it was a welcome change. The coolness of the air felt nice on my burnt skin.

When I pulled up to the antiques shop, I found it with a matching neon sign. This time due to it's disrepair, it only displayed five letters -"The no".

I laughed dryly to myself.

Luckily, next door was a small diner that gained many a customer from the antique shop's poor sign maintenance.

A paper sign was plastered on the front window of the antique shop, many items filling up the little space behind it. "There is no Caper Cafe Food next door, boarding at Mary Sue's" The sign said scrawled in a messy script. I glanced over to see, in fact, the nameless little diner with a decent number customers eating plates of food.

I jumped off my motorcycle and walked towards the little diner, but I looked back.
I glanced at the store and I noticed it.

Underneath the glow of the neon sign was a old fashioned, chipping, hand-painted sign displaying in bold text,

"WELCOME TO MERCURIAL, ARIZONA: THE MOST LIVELY PLACE ON EARTH"

Lingering,
Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,

I've begun my ride back to Shelly's Hollow Heart Craft & Hobby.
I stopped at Jimmy's Haunted Used Automobile and Motorcycle behind the Haunted Shipyard and next to the McDonalds and got a used motorcycle.
I went in with the idea to just buy a car, but then I saw a shiny, cherry red motorcycle perched in the showroom and with it's substantially low price tag (not a lot of ghosts ride motorcycles so they are dead weight in the Haunted Automobile business) I had to purchase it.
Well, I didn't have to. I just did.... um.....
Sorry....
There is this van that feel like has been following me? I mean, they probably aren't following me, this is like main road and lots of people.... use it......
Sorry... um
um........
Oh I know what you are thinking right now, "Writing and Driving is dangerous and a crime! How could you do this!? blah blah blah" but I am using speech to text okay?
I am totally..... safe... uhh
Diary, I apologize, I am little distracted.....The van that is behind me, containing two tall people with gruff expressions are now being flanked by a hoard of people wearing pastel polo shirts with fishnet shirts on top?? and they are wearing leather pants? All of them have super bright spiky hair...
ummm
which.... you should always ride with a helmet on because... ummm
safety is the number one priority.... umm..........which i am not wearing a helmet,.... um, because I didn't buy one so... shame on me....

They are.... passing peanuts around?? to each other?? um..........
this is........
Uh I am going to pull over into this diner that's coming up, it's called the...the Caper Cafe? Better then nothing. I have some food and check up on journels... okay yeah.

I'll be back!
Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,
Pancakes are grand. Cold butter hits a red hot pan and sizzles out into a memory of it's former self. Smooth pale batter, with the occasional clump of flour pours into the pan letting off a satisfying sizzle.
Then you watch until exact right moment and slide a spatula underneath to flip the now golden side over. Then again you watch and wait till you can slide the pancake onto the clean, chill plate.
Well, It wasn't exactly like that. I was crouched over a hotplate with fancy, french frying pan, pouring cheap shake-and-make batter frying in an awkward shape.
@Cave Girl Claire politely sewing a new leather supply vest for her cave adventures on a newly made bed. Spiffy curled behind her with Kalingrad snuggled up against her.
I slid the pancake onto paper plate with a plastic fork nearly destroying it. I frowned at it, but nevertheless, stood up with a smile and handed the paper plate to Claire.
"Syrup?"
"Nah," She dug into the pancakes, distractedly eating her food.
I nervously sat down holding my flimsy paper plate. I had decided to stay the night to help Claire out the room back together and after I saw how she took care of Kalingrad, how she was looking for missing students, when I saw how she was just such a good person, I couldn't just leave. I woke up in the middle of the night sweaty and anxious and I couldn't just leave after this.
So I went to the Student Shop and the only edible things that weren't questionably radioactive were shake-and-make pancake mix, packets of Top Ramen, and a box of mac'n' cheese. Decidedly nostalgic, I purchased the pancake mix and headed back to the dorm.
So there I am. A hot paper plate leaving my thighs damps and too hot sitting on the edge of freshly made bed. The pancakes were a mere formality to me. I wasn't hungry in the slightest. I was just looking at Claire expectantly. She was just sewing and eating with a pleasant contentment. I felt like something was supposed to happen. It was in my bones, under my skin, a buzz of need. I didn't know what it was. I don't know what it is, but Claire was oblivious to it.
I don't know what I was looking for, or why it was from some innocent girl who barely knows me.
But it still pulsed through me the entire time.
Then She stood up with her new entourage of creatures, Spiffy and Kalingrad.
"Thanks for the food!" She smiled, "I'll see you round then?"
"I'll see you round," I weakly smiled, my pancake soggy.
She turned out the door, but then peaked back in.
"Hey Ava?"
"Yeah?"
"You're gonna be okay," She smiled, "I am too"
"Thank you, Claire"
"Of Course"
My entire body felt as if it sighed. Relief.
It was exactly what I needed.
I was going to be okay.
I am going to be okay.

Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,

I am awake way too earlier due to knot of anxiety in my stomach residue from my nightmare. I was running through a dark cave, voices around me calling out to me. I couldn't see anything, but I somehow still knew where I was. I can't remember where now, but in the dream I felt so sure. My skin felt touched by a million light prickling needles making my skin go numb.The voices cried out innocently from every direction, left, right, up, down and what sounded like inside of my head.
Then I saw them.
People in pastel hazmat suits pouring light through the cave revealing the carnage all around and carrying some sort of weapon in their hands.
I... in the dream I recognized it immediately? I don't think I could describe it now, but it scared me. It scared me down to my bones. I was screaming... God, that scream.
It was so impossible. It wasn't a noise I could ever consider some mortal creature to make.
It was horrifying.
Then I woke up, shaking and sweaty.
I know it doesn't sound scary, but.... but I don't know, it felt real. It felt all too real.

So then I fled into the lonely, but comforting yellowy light of the PsyHigh Student Shop with it's greasy, peeling walls and water stained ceiling. There I was peering through thick glass of the shop and into the eyes of who I assumed to be a student with a big blue pointy hair and a pastel polo.

"What's good?" I asked staring at the small marquee displaying the wares of the shop.

Behind the glass, The student peeled a foil lid off a can of peanuts, his pallor turned a sickly yellow in the light of the shop, "I dunno," he smiled wide and mischievous, "peanuts, maybe?"

I glanced at the marquee and frowned, "Peanuts? They're not an option,"

He waited just as second over how long he should have to have spoken, "Oops," He shrugged loudly, still smiling, "good luck then,"
He unfurled his newspaper and propped it up.

I frowned and observed the concerning list.
Few items seemed even edible, but then I saw it shake-to-make pancake mix.
A comforting smile crossed my face, a memory of my childhood.
It dissipated into a soft warmth and I purchased it.

I am going to make pancakes for Claire.

Nostalgic and Guilty
Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,

After being released from that "party", I went back to the dorm room.
As I turned the key into the lock, I took a deep breath in. Relief.
But as the door swung open, that relief melted away like the cold of frozen food hitting the hot oil of a fryer.
The drawers of our dresser were open clothing puddling around on it in a manic pattern.
The papers and pens and office supplies once neatly organised on the desk were all over the room, like the flung about entrails of a wolf's meal.
Our beds had the covers ripped off with the mattresses sliding to an angle
The entire room was ripped apart in an unsettling fashion and to top off my horror,
one of our tall glass pained windows was wide open.
I crept over to the window to observe it, hoping it had only blown open.
Instead, the lock had been snapped off, it's remains sitting on the window seal.
I slowed my breathing, focusing on keeping my focus and I surveyed the room.
The closet doors were shut tight.
I quietly crept forward, each step feeling like a promise of sudden doom
Then as quickly as I could muster, I pushed the door open and jumped back expecting my fate to leap out at me.

Fortunately, It was empty.
Unfortunately, I looked like a complete idiot, as my roommate @Cave Girl Claire walked in arms full with brown paper bags of groceries.
Additionally, She explained that she hadn't been in the dorm for quite a long time. She had been exploring the caves underneath the school with Spiffy and was only coming back to restock on supplies.
She had left the dorm perfectly in tact.
It was haunting and when I explained, we both silently cleaned up the room.

As I did I opened the drawer to a nightstand once occupied by @EmilyDH 's things, left inside of it was a note.

"Paths uncovered never forget. Steps fall with pained silence, even silenced pain. The hollowed hill knows no matter what, no matter how much we see, smell,hear, taste or feel. Sound familiar? :) "

Something about the way the smile was drawn scared me. It looked like threat, no, no, something otherworldly and upon second through, the whole note was. The handwriting was jagged and uneven. The ink was this color was like how it feels when someone presses the cold metal of a gun against your head and whispers a warm secret in your ear or a hug from a person you know betrayed you in the worst of ways. The ink... the color was indescribable in any real way, but it had a feeling.
And the paper... the paper was almost scaly, almost warm, like skin.

But what made it worse, was what had been crudely stapled to the back.
A piece of pastel rubber
on one side a purple hazmat sign
on the other a message in sharpie
"i am sorry, love. here, this should help"
Below it the address for my former employer.
And beneath that scrawled out in that angular script and ineffable color,
"It's time :)"

And I knew I had only one choice.
It was time to go back to Shelly's Hollow Heart Craft & Hobby.

Anxious, Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,

I am inside the Sunny Summer...? Summertime Sunny...? Ugh I don't care, I am inside the bubble facility where that Grotto...? Where that... that um, Hollow... Heart,Wonder? Ghost...? UGH I don't know, that stupid company that beamed us here,
I can't find, agh I can't find my roommate, and I can't remember her name.
aaahhhh, It is really hard to resist...
There is like this dance floor and everyone is dancing in bliss eating dusty looking cubes of who knows what!
I keep seeing tons of craft supplies floating around me, but when I asked the guy next to me why they were there he muttered something about how he "wasn't gay" he just "likes looking at naked men sometimes"?
Then I said to another person next to me, "What's up with the stuff floating around us?"
and they replied, "I KNOW RIGHT! I mean I love desert but I never wanted it THIS close" then they laughed
I don't know what's really going on I feel like I'm swimming through a warm, sugary soup, everything's all slow.

Oh my gosh, I just saw....
I just saw Achava... Not the professor, the other one from the... the....
the shelly? beach? the.... the store! yeah the store!
i worked at a store once.... haha
Diary, I have a hilarious story to tell you
I worked at this store with this younger version of my professor. She was GORGEOUS and I felt horrible and great like all this time
hahaha
then i... then for some reason i didn't work there anymore?

haaaa oh my god, I think i am gonna dance
it looks so fun!!!
hahaha yeah! I am gonna go dance!!!!!
hahahahaha YEAH IM GONNA DANCE!!

Dear Diary,

I am inside the Sunny Summer...? Summertime Sunny...? Ugh I don't care, I am inside the bubble facility where that Grotto...? Where that... that um, Hollow... Heart,Wonder? Ghost...? UGH I don't know, that stupid company that beamed us here,
I can't find, agh I can't find my roommate, and I can't remember her name.
aaahhhh, It is really hard to resist...
There is like this dance floor and everyone is dancing in bliss eating dusty looking cubes of who knows what!
I keep seeing tons of craft supplies floating around me, but when I asked the guy next to me why they were there he muttered something about how he "wasn't gay" he just "likes looking at naked men sometimes"?
Then I said to another person next to me, "What's up with the stuff floating around us?"
and they replied, "I KNOW RIGHT! I mean I love desert but I never wanted it THIS close" then they laughed
I don't know what's really going on I feel like I'm swimming through a warm, sugary soup, everything's all slow.

Oh my gosh, I just saw....
I just saw Achava... Not the professor, the other one from the... the....
the shelly? beach? the.... the store! yeah the store!
i worked at a store once.... haha
Diary, I have a hilarious story to tell you
I worked at this store with this younger version of my professor. She was GORGEOUS and I felt horrible and great like all this time
hahaha
then i... then for some reason i didn't work there anymore?

haaaa oh my god, I think i am gonna dance
it looks so fun!!!
hahaha yeah! I am gonna go dance!!!!!
hahahahaha YEAH IM GONNA DANCE!!

Dear Diary,
I am sorry. It's only been safe to say something now.
I road far and wide, but I never got where I supposed to. I really ended up all over the place, but I couldn't go back to school.
It didn't feel right.
Nothing really feels right anymore. But I must keep doing things. So I am all over the place, doing things, whatever a thing is. It is confusing to me even and I am the one in this story. I am the main character of my existence and I do not understand one fragment of what is going on!
It is really hard to follow the plot of my life.
I don't entirely understand how anyone could write about the plot of life.
Biographers? They do it all the time. Somehow they take the nonsense that is existence and transfer it into a plot that you can follow. They take a magnifying glass and a pair of scissors and hold your life up to a light. Then decide which details are part of the plot and what goes to the scrap bin. Snipping away into presentability.
The can help you understand a person's motives to their actions. They can tell you a story that is clear about a person.
I can't do any of that for you.
I have no idea what plot my life is following. I think you need perspective to see it, even then you need to decide. I can decide to tell you what I want to. I can hide certain details and keep them as secrets tucked under my shirt like a locket on a long chain. I am shaping my narrative through this journal, but I have no idea what narrative I am supposed to be creating. What narrative am I creating?
No doubt, of an unreliable, sporadic, little girl foolishly following a lead she doesn't have. Or Perhaps, a strange and dangerous person with little regard to what she should be doing or how she should do that. Maybe you already know this. Maybe you already thought of this. I can't change what you think of me, what story you have in your head.
See we are all doing it. Especially here.
We are all biographers. To ourselves and to others. We are telling ourselves stories, about who we are, about our family, our friends, our world, our neighbors, our teachers. We are telling stories that tie up the plot of our lives every moment we exist.
We like to have that clean, elegant plot, even if it is inaccurate.
That is the thing.
While it is miraculous that a biographer could ever summarize someones life, it is fact they can never do it with full accuracy. They have to decide what facts to include what to leave out. Sometimes for purely entertainment value, for hearing about someone's day to day is not always so existing. Sometimes because they have a little feeling that pushed them away from that fact. Either way you can't just capture the existence and put it into a bottle, can you?
None of us can. We are all living in a illusion. The illusion that our stories tell us.
Now, I would love to say that I have figured out the solution to this problem. I would love to day that I have surpassed our stories with my superior intelligence, but that, my friends, would just be another story.
I don't think stories are bad. I just wonder our accuracy. Is anyone of us capturing a snapshot close to reality? Or am I just foaming at the mouth?
Probably that.
Well, Tell whatever story you would like about me. My life is already all over the place. I am sure you will get something correct.

Tenuously, Ava Elisabeth

Dear Diary,

I was with Achava, in the break room, eating lunch, as usual. Shelly's Hollow Heart Craft & Hobby was as empty, as usual. I was talking to Achava, as usual.
And then she asked me,
"We should go out to coffee sometime," She said, stirring her chicken cat soup with a spoon.

I coughed nearly choking on my peanut butter and fish sandwich, "Like what? A date?"

"Yeah, Like a date,"

"I mean, I like you, Achava, I do, but.."

"but what?" She said annoyance seeping into her voice.

"I, uh, I can't, because, well..."

"My god," She stood up.

"No, no, Achava, you are great, it's just,it's just, you're a teacher at my school in the future or something," I instantly regretted my existence.

"Excuse me! " She said.

"Ugh, yes, you are are teacher at my school in the future and there is this whole thing with this company and it is the whole reason I am here,"

"If you didn't want to go on a date with me, you could have just said so," She said the annoyance spoiling into anger.

"NO,no, you are this teacher and you are really smart and fashionable, like very classy and professional fashionable, and you have this class and its this whole thing, and their students going missing and there is a grave on a hill, and bouncy houses, and this company, and everyone thinks I am going crazy, because I said saw these people in pastel... in pastel hazmat suits and you gave me a clue and i came..."

I looked up and noticed that her face had dropped.

The anger had fallen out of her face, "What did you say?"

Her voice was steady and anxious.

"there were bouncy houses and missing students..?"

"No,about.. hazmat suits,"

"Oh, these pastel hazmat suit, these people were in them and they knocked me out and I keep seeing.."

She interrupted me, her voice rhythmic and quiet, her eyes unfocused and bleary.

"You are in a cave cave cave and you are running, and the voices stop stop stop when you run run run, but you hear them when you sit sit sit and you want to run run run, and they see you and you yell help help help help,"

Her voice got louder and more erratic.

"Then they see see see you they hear hear hear you they smell smell smell you, they touch touch touch you, and,"

She froze her eyes focused on a point on the wall behind us.

I turned around, It was the mirror that stretched on a long length of the break room wall. She pulled me forward and suddenly the mirror felt a lot less like a mirror and lot more like a window.

"Vince, you need to go," Her voice had the facade of strength, but the scream behind it was easily detectable.

I thought of the break room fridge. It was empty, as usual.

"Right now, Vince," She said.

I looked around the break room. It was empty, as usual.

"Achava, What is going on?"

"Vince, you need to go, now,"

I tried to think of the customers we had today. It was none, as usual.

"Achava, Why is this place so empty?"

"You need to go,"

I tried to think of the employees that came in to day. It was none, as usual.

"Achava," Panic filled my lungs.

Had I ever seen anyone in the store other than Achava? Where did go every night after work? Had I ever been off of work? Had I ever left the building?

Achava grabbed my arm and pulled me through a doorway with a sign saying 'Supervisors Only'.

The room was filled with computer monitors. She pointed at them. A camera was covering every square inch of the store and displaying it on the monitors.

"You need to leave, now,"

I felt hot tears of panic filling my eyes.

"There is a tarp in the employee lot. Go!" She said pushing me away.

I ran into the main floor of the store. Suddenly, I realized each product slowly swiveled with my movement. Only noticeable as I was running through the store.

I ran through the automatic doors into the parking lot. It looked like early morning in the sky, it always looked like early morning in the sky.

I ran through the empty parking lot to the back and spotted the tarp.

I pulled it up revealing a shiny, yellow motorcycle. I jumped on and drove into the empty road, away from Shelly's Hollow Heart Craft & Hobby and away from Achava.

(1/2)