@@DESCRIPT="Dear Diary by The Stranger"
                           Dear Diary


do you wanna take a life
do you wanna cross that line
cause it's a long way back from hell
and you don't want to go with me
          Long Way Back from Hell, Danzig




Dear Diary                                   October 17, 1991


     I killed him.  Oh God what the hell was I thinking?  I was out
of control, I just lost it.  It happened over an hour ago and I
still can't get my hands to stop shaking.  I just got out of the
shower, his blood was staining my skin it seemed.  My shirt looks
like the result of some awful slasher movie and I was the victim. 
I threw it in a trash can on Main Street on the walk home.  Didn't
want my mother to see it.
     Diary, let me tell you what happened.  I was coming home from
Larry's house, taking the short cut through the woods.  And there
he was, Freddy Judge, sitting high in the trees in that fort he
has.  I just kept walking, with my head dropped down looking at the
muddy ground.  
     He jumped down off that tree in front of me and nearly scared
me back on my ass.  I yelled at him "Watch it Freddy" and he just
started laughing and then mocking me with his "baby" voice saying
"Watch it Freddy Watch it Freddy" over and over again.  His voice
was just agonizing, I felt it ripping at my heart and I could feel
my hands already tightening into a fist.  
     I pushed him out of the way and started walking off towards
home.  He came besides me and pushed me as hard as he could and I 
went flying into the muddy creek.  He started laughing like he was
crazy and again he screached "Watch it Freddy Watch it Freddy" and
then he added "No, you better watch it."  
     I jumped up to my feet feeling like I was hurt all over. 
Blood was coming from my dirty palm as a twig had got itself caught
there.  The back of my clothes were dripping with mud and my new
blue shoes were black from it.  He was walking back to his fort and
I went after him.  I grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him
around, and stared into those deep brown eyes and said "Eat dirt"
and then I pushed him back into the other side of the creek and he
fell down into the mud.  
     Everything was becoming a daze after that.  I started running
because I knew if he caught up to me I would be dead.  I was
jumping the fallen tree branches and the tree trunks.  My shoes
were sliding in the mud making me lose my balance more than once. 
And I could here him behind me screaming "I'm gonna kill you."  My
breath was like fire coming out of my hot body.  Sweat was pouring
over my eyes making my vision falter.  
     And then he was in front of me, I don't know how a two hundred
pound fourteen year old boy does it but there he was, standing in
front of me with mud covering his clothes and rage covering his
face.  Seemed his muscles were twitching like crazy, waiting to get
a piece of me.  
     He came at me with fists flying and I could taste my blood
flowing out of my nose into my mouth.  He threw me against a tree
trunk and my back felt every piece of that tree ripping into my 
skin.  I protected my face after he smashed my nose but he
continued to bash my ribs.  And then it happened, I don't know how,
it just happened.  My hand lowered into my jeans and I felt the
cold touch of my brothers knife.  Freddy rushed me and before I
knew what was going on, the blade was thrusted in front of him and
he landed straight across the blade which punctured through
his stomach.  It made a squishy noise and then a plunk sound as his
hot blood started flowing down into my hand.
     His eyes opened wide with pain and his face fell against mine. 
I looked into his eyes but he didn't seem to be there anymore. 
"Freddy" I said.  Then I noticed that I still had the knife in his
stomach and I tore it out.  I moved away from him and he fell down
to the ground face first without trying to put his hands down to
soften his fall.  
     He rolled around in the mud like a crazy pig, clutching his
stomach.  The blood was running through his fingers turning his
skin red.  Finnally he came to a stop in a pile of dark brown Autum
leaves.  "Freddy, you alright?"  I asked him.  His eyes were still
open but he wasn't looking at anything.  He just stared forward
looking like he was seeing a ghost.  
     I was scared, more scared than any horror flick could ever
make me.  This was real, too real, his blood was creeping off my
skin, you would have thought I was bleeding.  I put my hands on his
fat arm and it was cold.  I knew he was dying.  I should have ran
for help, I know, I should stop writing know and go get help.  
But I was too afraid of what could happen to me.  Call it selfish
but I can't get help, never.  
     But it doesn't matter, he's dead.  His eyes never closed but
as I watched over him, his breaths became quicker and than dropped
till I couldn't see him breathing anymore.  A river of blood was
flowing out of his stomach and spawning into the black creek.  A
dark patch of mud covered his forehead above his eyes and his legs
were pulsating up and down like an epiletic seizure.  Then he
stopped moving and I walked away.  A tear had found it's way into
my eye which was something I thought would never happen.  Me,
crying over the death of Freddy Judge.  
     But I don't think I cried for Freddy Judge, I think I was
crying for me.  I'm in deep shit, no denying it.  They'll find him
soon and they'll know its me.  How do I know?  I can't find the
knife.  I must have dropped it near him, they'll see my brothers
initials on it and coming looking are way.  
     But what do I expect, diary?  I left a boy for dead, a boy I
killed, a boy I might have had a chance in saving.  But now it's
too late.  I'm going to sleep.  Goodnight Diary.


Dear Diary                                   October 24, 1991

     It's been a week since you know what and they still haven't
found him.  I went back yesterday and I almost couldn't find him
but I did, he was under a tree trunk covered by leaves.  He must
have moved himself and then the leaves just found their way onto 
him.  The fools looking for him, including his parents, don't know
about his fort in the forest.  But I know they'll ask his friends,
if they can find any, where he usually plays and they'll tell them.
     But thats not the worst news diary, the worst news is he's
still alive.  I was sitting on the ground next to him, thanking God
that his eyes had finnally closed, when I saw his chest move.  I
fell back into the mud as he snored.  He was sleeping.  I must have
let out a small scream because he opened his eyes and looked at me. 
I jumped to my feet ready to run, but he smiled at me.
     "Don't go" he said to me.  I felt like I was talking to the
dead, he had no right talking to me, he was suppose to be dead.  I
don't think I've ever seen him smile more evil then he did that
day.  His dark mud covered teeth stretched across his lips as his
eyes floated in their sockets.  
     Here's your chance, I thought, tell someone and you won't be
a murderer, maybe you'll be somewhat of a hero.  Tell them it was
an accident and now you have found him still alive.  But I thought
that would still be a bad idea.  I don't know diary, I'm still
afraid to tell anyone, they kill murderers you know.  They'll send
me away to some reform center for boys and I'll never see my family
again.  No, let him die.  This is his problem not mine.  
     I stood looking at him, though my mind kept telling my eyes to
look away they just couldn't.  He was so grotesque it was hard to
turn away.  A stupid question popped into my head and before I 
knew it, it came right out of my mouth.  "How's it going Freddy?"
     "Ha" he laughed.  "It's going pretty good."  This was the most
uncomfortable position I think I've ever been in.  He wasn't saying
anything, just looking at me, and I really had nothing I wanted to
say.  I wanted to leave, to turn and run away.  But something
inside me wanted to stay and help him.
     "You tried to kill me" he said straight out.
     "No, not on purpose."  I could feel warm tears starting to
flood my vision.
     "Yeah, whatever you say.  Just remember, pay backs are hell." 
He started laughing, laughing through those dark black teeth and
that muddy face.  Laughing like it was his job, like he had heard
the funniest joke ever.  Tears were rolling down my face now.  I
didn't want to cry but they kept coming no matter how hard I tried
to stop them.
     "No Freddy.  No paybacks.  Your dead, so die" I screamed at
him.  I was frightened.  I think if I had that knife in my hand at
that moment I would have cut him again.  He started laughing louder
this time and I could feel that knife in my hand, ripping down his
stomach and maybe tearing into his throat to stop that agonizing
laughter.
     Instead I ran back home, with that laughter still echoing into
my head.  It stayed with me that entire day and then haunted me
that night in my dreams.  Diary I wish you could talk back to me. 
I don't know what I'm going to do.  For now I'll go to sleep. 
Goodnight Diary.


Dear Diary                                    October 31, 1991

     Two weeks later and I bring more bad news.  Still they haven't
found him.  They haven't even looked in the forst yet.  I think
Barney Fife is conducting the search.  I went back there yesterday
and he is still alive.  But its worse than that, he's looking
better.  
     His pale skin seems to have gotten its color back.  I don't
know what he's eating but he must be eating something.  I think
he's lost a few pounds but not enough if he was going without food. 
I don't see anything around him he could be eating so maybe he's
getting out and walking around.  But if he could walk wouldn't he
go for help?
     I didn't let him talk to me this time, I sneaked up on him and
just looked in to see if he was there.  But as I was leaving I
thought I saw him moving out of the corner of my eye.  I turned
around quickly and I'll be damned if I didn't see his eyes close. 
He knows I was there, but as long as he doesn't talk to me, I don't
care.  If he talked to me again I might go crazy.  Just seeing
those teeth again could drive me insane.  No I don't want him to
ever talk to me again.  I keep telling myself not to go back there
and ofcourse you know I always go.
     To sleep I go.  Halloween today.  I wouldn't be too surprised
if he was out there tonight walking with the dead.  His bloody
clothes and dirty face would blend in tonight.  Now I'm going to
have nightmares.  Goodnight Diary.      


Dear Diary                                   November 7, 1991

     He's not there!  I went back today and he's not there. 
There's no sign of him anywhere.  I know he's not home because they
had a thing about him today in the local paper and this being the
three week aniversary.  Where is he?  I didn't even see any
footprints.  The place where he was sleeping now looks like it
would be impossible for someone to even fit under the tree.  
     I'm scared diary.  Maybe even more scared then before, then
ever.  He's out there, somewhere, I know.  He hiding from everyone
so he can have revenge on me.  I don't think I'll be able to sleep
again until I know where he is.  So Goodnight Diary.  At least one
of us should have a good night.  

Dear Diary                                     November 7, 1991

     Let me start at the beginning.  November the fifth, I went to
see if he was there and he wasn't.  Ever since I saw that he was
gone I'm having nightmares when I sleep but luckily I don't sleep
often anymore.  I would lie in bed watching the moons light gaze
into my room and I would see someone looking in my window.  I know
it was him.  He would leave before I could turn my head but I knew
he was there.  After a while I got so afraid that I might actually
see him there that instead of looking I would just throw my head
under my pillow.  
     On the morning of the sixth, I went outside and looked around
where my bedroom window is.  I wasn't surprised to see 
muddy footprints.  But there was only one pair of footprints, none
going away or coming, just two standing, facing my window.  There's
no doubt in my mind that he was there, watching me.
     And then everything came to a close that day, the sixth of
November.  I had come home from school, knowing that my father was
at work and my mother would be off shopping with one of her
girlfriends.  Standing on my porch directly in front of the door
were two muddy footprints.  He was here.
     I stepped into the house feeling like I was going to piss in
my pants if I saw him.  And though I didn't piss in my pants, I saw
the footprints walk through the front hall and into the den.  I
started walking, my eyes searching for an exit if I did find him. 
     I stepped into the den and besides two more sets of footprints
it was empty.  And then I felt his hot breath fall against my neck
as he creeped up behind me.  "Hey, kid" he said and I fell forward
screaming.  I landed hard on the coffee table but the pain didn't
mean anything to me at the time.  There was a real killer in the
house now.
     "Freddy, your alive" I said trying to act surprised though I
wasn't.  "Shouldn't you be at home with your parents?  You know
they're really worried."  
     He stepped into the den as I tried to get up but his foot
kicked me back down.  "I'll go home soon.  I just have some
business to take care of" he said.  He brought his dirty hand out
of his pocket and revealed a knife, my brothers knife.  It wasn't 
until that moment that I noticed his left hand.  I had thought it
was in his pocket but actually it was out, it was just deformed. 
And then I relized it wasn't deformed, it was just missing a few
fingers and most of the palm.  It was wrapped in red, wet leaves.
It hit me, that was what he was feeding on to survive.
     The knife danced in his right hand and he showed me that black
smile that would forever haunt my dreams.  He moved over me and
repeated his earlier warning "Pay backs are hell."  
     "Freddy" I yelled at him.  I looked into that black face and
it grew bigger as it grew closer.  Those black teeth were coming
closer to my own face.  The knife was rising in the air waiting to
take a final swoop down across my throat.  I backed up against the
heavy table feeling the wood jab at my side.  The knife came down
once and I moved out of the way.  It went up and came down a second
time and I blocked it with my naked hand and it tore into my skin. 
     The blood exploded out of the cut and this time I did release
hot piss down my pants.  His smile grew bigger and blacker and the
knife rose once more.  He was closer and I was feeling myself
growing faint.  I reached behind me and found my mothers glass
ashtray.  I moved out of the way of the knife and then with both
hands brought the ashtray over my head and down across the top of
his forehead.  
     Cigerette butts flew across his face releasing black ash 
down onto the floor.  I heard his skull crack as he flew 
backwards.  Red blood mixed with the mud on his face leaving a 
trail that looked as if his skull was a volcano.  He dropped my
brothers knife and I jumped over to it and picked it up.  He was
out cold, sprawled across my den's floor.  
     I quickly got up and ran to the bathroom.  I turned the cold
tap water on and ran it over my hand.  The blood wasn't slowing
down and I could feel that some of my nerves had been cut.  I
grabbed a towel and squeezed it tight around my hand and the pain
made me start screaming.  With my other hand I held the towel and
ran into the kitchen.  I dialed nine-one-one and placed the
receiver up to my ear.  
     I told the operator that someone had broken into my house and
tried to kill me and that I believed he was unconscious and I was
bleeding.  The operator told me they would have a police officer
and a ambulance over as soon as possible.  I didn't want police to
be involved but ofcourse they're was no other choice.  Everything
was happening too fast but I couldn't slow it down.
     I went back into the front entrance and opened the front door
for the ambulance and then went back into the den.  He was still
lying on the floor, still out like a light.  I sat down on my couch
feeling sick and ten minutes later my house was filled with police
and paramedics.  I hit him pretty good, it turns out.  He wasn't
unconscious, he was dead.  
     I'm still answering question and to be honest, I don't know
whats going to happen to me.  I've told them everything and I think
they believe me.  I don't know how much trouble I'm in but I think
I might be going to jail or where ever kids my age go.  
Self defense, I've heard a few people including my parents say. 
Murder, I've heard a few police officers say.  I won't know whats
going to happen to me for maybe a week, maybe a month.
     But tonight I'll sleep better knowing he's not out there. 
Goodnight Diary.

Dear Diary                                     November 9, 1991

     The funeral was today and I went.  His parents wouldn't look
towards me or my family and we tried to stay away from them.  I
think I'm getting off on probation which I hear is killing his
parents.  They want me locked up, for good.  To hell with them.  
     To be honest diary, I felt pretty good watching them lower his
coffin into the grave.  I was still afraid he might get me even
though I knew he was dead.  But until he was put to rest I still
had feelings he might still be out there watching me.  
     Oh well, it's over.  Except for the months of trials and
whatever else happens in my life.  There's only one thing, Diary. 
I've asked the police officers who were on the scene and neither
them nor I could find my brothers knife.  Oh well, guess I
misplaced it with all the excitment.  Well Goodnight Diary.
