August 12

I'm not sure how to start this kind of thing, so I'm just going to write what comes to mind. To begin, I'll just say why I'm doing this. It doesn't really feel normal to do, but I guess things aren't exactly normal around here. The hallucinations are starting, so I don't think I have much longer. I'm hearing things I know aren't there. Seeing things in the corner of my vision. Even now, the words I'm writing are shifting around when I'm not looking. Doesn't help that one the of the symptoms is increased paranoia. 

It's not pleasant.


August 13

It occurred to me while reading my first entry that I didn't explain what is happening exactly. I have not been able to sleep in a while, so I get sidetracked easily. More so with all the things moving around. They're getting bolder. Moving around even when I'm staring right at them. 

Getting sidetracked again, sorry. I have Insomnia. While this would normally not be an issue, this isn't a normal kind of situation. I haven't had much sleep in about three months. The doctors are certain. I have Fatal Familial Insomnia. It started off as just not being able to sleep. Staring at my ceiling and praying for just a wink. After about three weeks, I decided to see if there was something I could do to get some sleep. I went to the doctors and told them what was going on.

After a bit of testing, different medications, and absolutely no effect, it was concluded that I have Fatal Familial Insomnia. A death sentence. There's no way to tell when I will finally die, but the final stages are supposed to happen somewhere between four weeks and two years after the onset of hallucinations and panic attacks. Panic attacks kind of happen frequently when you realize you will probably have a really bad time before an early death, but the hallucinations becoming more and more real are proof that I'm on the fast track to becoming a human vegetable.

I'm scared.


August 16

I'm a little late, but I've at least been keeping track of the days with a clock with the date and a calender to mark off so I know when something is coming up. I had my sister mark every important date on it when she visited last. I wish she would come more often. It's scary being alone like this, when everything is slowly moving around you. Sneaking up behind you. Running back into its spot when you turn to catch it in the act.

The only thing that hasn't betrayed me is my Ruger. She sits in the corner dutifully. I'm pretty sure she is watching the others to make sure they don't try anything funny when I'm not looking. At least I can keep my eye on them better with Insomnia. It's been about eight days since I've last had anything close to sleep. I hope I can sleep one more time before anything happens.

I want someone there with me for it.


August 24

I finally got some sleep. I can't believe it. It feels so great having just that tiny bit of rest. However, there is a new development. My Ruger has seemingly left her spot to join me in bed. At least, that's what the brown haired girl I woke up next to said. 

I almost had a panic attack, until she wrapped her arms around me. It was nice and warm. Just for that moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay. It hurt when she let go. The girl introduced herself as Tenny. That was funny to me, because I just made that nickname up for my Ruger when I was cleaning her out back. Tenny promised me that she would never let me be alone while I'm going through this.

I really hope she's telling the truth.
I really hope she's real.


August 30

I haven't been able to sleep since the last time, but Tenny has been making it easier to deal with. We talk often. Usually about nothing but small talk to pass the time. Sometimes it feels like hours, other times just seconds, but Tenny has been good at keeping track of time when I can't. I tried cooking again instead of just microwaving whatever I had in stock. It didn't feel right just making a TV dinner for her. No injuries. No problem. Only burns to be had were the chicken. I forgot to oil up. Ainsley forgive me.

Tenny appreciated the gesture, but I could tell she had trouble chewing it. I don't blame her, my chef skills have suffered it seems. Maybe I should work on it while I can.

I wish this chicken was a hallucination.


September 5

I know I mentioned it before, but I really hope Tenny isn't a hallucination. And even if she is, I hope she stays solid. It's so much easier to live like this when there's someone always with you. Even if she needs sleep once in a while, it's nice to have someone warm next to you. Someone to listen to the breathing of. It's calming. 

When she wakes, we get breakfast and resume talking to pass time. While she seems to know a lot about me from the times I've taken her shooting in the backyard, I know almost nothing about her. What her favorite color is, her favorite thing to do is (besides shooting), and so on. You'd think someone claiming to be your gun wouldn't be much of a conversationalist, but I won't complain about it. Both of my wishes were granted that last night of sleep I had.

I hope this lasts forever.


September 20

It's getting worse. Things are moving around like crazy.I can feel the couch breathing down my neck while I watch the TV changes channels just to annoy me. Cabinets on the other side of the kitchen open when I close another. I can hear faint whispering all around, but I can never make out what is being said.

After tonight, I'm going to stay locked up in my room. That way, I won't be able to see them move around. Less noise to deal with. Thankfully, Tenny is keeping her promise and staying by my side through it all. She helps me up the stairs and off the couch while I grow weaker every day. I am terrified, but she always inspires me to stay calm wtih her smile.

This isn't as bad as I thought it would be.


October 24?

My once trusted calender and clock have ran off and eloped it seems. I can't find either one anywhere, and I even took a look outside of my room in the hellpit that was once my living room. It's completely different down there. More sinister than the last time I saw it. I don't wan to see it again. I'm giving up on the two traitors. I spent too much time looking for them.

Tenny has been trying to keep track of the days, but even she seems to be lost on it. She doesn't seem downcast in the least about it though. When I asked why she is so cheery all the time with how bad things are getting, she just smiled again. I was almost about to get angry with her, but then she spoke words that I'll never forget. "Because even though everything else is bad, I am still with you just like before. And that is good. As long as there is something good here, I can smile."

I can smile, too.


Probably December, it's cold enough for it.

Tenny has been frowning slightly. I hate when she isn't smiling. I want her to smile even when I can't anymore. Her smile is my smile. So I asked her what was wrong, while trying my best to smile for her. She told me she missed shooting.

I've been neglecting her. I haven't wanted to go outside since I started losing sleep. I haven't shot in that long either. I don't think I'd even be able to hit the paper at twenty-five yards. But if shooting will make her smile, then it will take a hell of a lot more than Insomnia to stop me from making it happen. I had her help me out back to see if the table and target have moved at all since this mess started. Thankfully, they were right where I left them. Just like Tenny, they haven't betrayed me. The only thing I'll have to keep in mind is that it's pretty cold out. I'll have to wear a coat. This may be the last time I get to do this.

We're going shooting.



>You turn the key to the front door and open it as you've done so many times the past few months.
>It's been a daily routine for so long, that you couldn't imagine how hard it would be to stop when it's time to.
>There's nothing bothersome about it.
>You love your brother, and would do anything to make sure he is comfortable.
>Even if he isn't much of a talker these days.
>The living room furniture is starting to get dusty, a testament to how long it has been since they were used by anyone.
>It'll have to be cleaned sometime when you have a day off from work.
>For now, you'll just have to worry about checking up on Anon.
>You remove your winter coat and set it on the rack.
>As you make your way up the stairs, you look through all the framed photographs hung on the wall.
>Some are of the family get togethers, and one in particular catches your eye.
>It often does, it was one of your favorite days.
>The last July 4th party. 
>Anon had hosted it here in his home.
>He had to have someone else bring the food, because at that time, he was slowly losing fine motorskills.
>But he insisted that everyone come here for it.
>He wanted everyone to see him as himself one last time.
>The doctors said he didn't have much time with the rate the disease was progressing.
>After everyone ate, he prodded you into shooting his little backyard gun one last time.
>You were hesitant, but he wanted to share his favorite hobby one last time.
>He loved the gun so much.
>You could tell by the way he would talk about it so often.
>The way he held it as he took you out back.
>And admittedly, it was fun to you, too.
>You didn't do so great, but Anon had such a proud look.
>He must have felt pretty special teaching someone to shoot a gun.
>If only he had more time, you would have loved to do it again.

>A couple months later, he was unresponsive.
>It happened so fast, and it shocked the whole family.
>Even your cousins dropped everything when they heard the news and flew out to visit.
>It was pitiful, seeing him waste away even faster than before.
>The IVs feeding him could only do so much to prevent starvation, and slowly, his body whithered.
>You took it upon yourself to visit everyday to make sure he was doing okay.
>Dad didn't want you to be the one to find him when he finally passed, but you were firm on it.
>The hardest part was watching him turn from an already skinny man to a pale figure resembling a corpse aside from the occassional breath.
>You shake the thought from your head and start back up the stairs.
>Reaching the door, you mentally prepare yourself for the sight.
>Fruitless as it may be, you knock on the door and call out.
"Anon, it's me. I'm coming in, okay?"
>No response.
>You open the door and step inside.
>Immediately there is something very wrong.
>Anon is gone.
>His bed is bare aside from the clutter of hospice machinery meant to monitor his condition and the IV stands that fed him.
>In the pile of rustled blankets is a notebook.
>You recognize it as Anon's journal that he kept, which you have read on a visit after he went comatose.
>The first few pages were readable, but as the entries went on, they become incoherent.
>Only one line at the end of each entry could be made out, and even then only barely.
>And most of the legible parts seemed to be ravings about the hallucinations he was having.
>It hurt to read, knowing that he was slowly losing his mind.
>But there's a new entry where there wasn't one before.
>You snatch it up and try to read it, but it's just a bunch of scribbles.
>At the bottom, only legible after a minute of piecing together what letter the scribbles represented, you made out what it said.
>"We going shooting."
>Your eyes snap wide open.
>He shouldn't have been able to even move, let alone write this.
>You check the corner where Anon left his rifle before he became unresponsive.
>It was gone.
>The panic sets in and you race out the room and down the stairs.
>You run out the back door into the freezing cold.
>He's there, sitting at his bench.
>Unmoving in the slightest.
>His hand on his rifle, which is laying down next to his head.
>You walk beside him and check.
>If only just to make sure.
>As you pull out your phone to call your parents, you notice the paper target about seventy feet away.
>Even in the condition he was in, he was a better shot than you could ever hope to be.
>There's one thought that lets you have comfort in this.
>At least he was smiling in the end.