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Questions And Partial Answers

(Michael Dominant)

I think I've figured out why I'm drawn to them, why I seem to need them.  I think it's because one of them can read the Enochian on my body.  One of them may hold the key to translating these sigils. 

I don't know what the sigils actually say.  It's possible that they will explain what's happened to me.  It's possible that translating them will be enough to cure me. 

But there's this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I'm completely wrong.  That the sigils were never meant to be translated, and the reason I'm so drawn to them has to do with something else. 

I don't know.  Maybe it's just a feeling.  After all, whatever happened to me clearly damaged my psyche.  Maybe it induced some kind of paranoia.  Maybe I'm just imagining things. 

Yeah, and maybe the sigils appeared because some kid decided to write on me with a magic marker one night. 

There's just so much I don't understand.  So much that's unclear.  Why me?  Why now?  What the hell are these sigils?  Why do I keep blacking out?  Why am I drawn to this crazed band of oddities?  I mean, one of them seems to thinks she's some kind of Hindu goddess.  Another can barely speak English, and clearly spends far too much under the influence of one illicit substance or another.  Their leader carries around copper plated vats of water on a regular basis.  And this is not to even mention the teenaged girl who I observed wandering around in a graveyard, trying to raise bodies from the dead.

Hah.  The worst part is that I don't even know if she succeeded.  I had one of my blackouts. 

I think I have to approach them.  Even if I wish I knew more about them, they're the only ones who seem even remotely capable of understanding my plight and helping me out.  They're the only ones who seem anywhere near as bizarre as me. 

I need to talk to them.  I need to get help from them soon.  Before the blackouts get any worse.  And before I change any more.

Oh, yes.  I'm changing.  I only began to notice it today.  I dropped my pen beneath my desk.  I tried to move my desk to get it.  Much to my surprise, the entire heavy, oak thing lifted right off the floor in my hands.  It felt like it weighed no more than a baby.

I need to talk to them.  Sooner, rather than later.

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