Journal #1

I could tell the minute I got in the door and dropped my bag, I wasn't staying. Darkness coated the living room in a thick black haze with the exception of a candle visibly flickering in a distant corner. Mr. Thomas always read in the rocking chair next to that same candle but the subtle creaking and moaning of the chair was gone. A blurred shadow a figure in the chair is outlined by the fluttering candle. My feet had turned to cinder blocks as they ground against the hardwood floor towards the candle. Pools began to well up in my eyes in fear of the worst for my dear old friend Mr. Thomas. Reminiscing of the times he took me fishing while i sulked from my parents separation. I couldn't believe that I was looking at that same man, but in the worst way.