Secrets from a Church Basement: The Desperate Diary of Fresco Ayers

Insanity Will Be My First Defense

Insanity Will Be My First Defense

I wish I had some clarity. If you've got it, you're lucky. Believe me, I know a few things about clarity. I had it once. But things change. Boy, do I know that too.

I'm just another symptom of a wider disease taking hold of the world's people. We're all paying attention to the wrong things. A person can work for years to bring about something wonderful, be so close to making it happen, and then get shut down and told to shut up.

That's what happened to me. I stay quiet about my former work so that I don't have to bury my daughter prematurely.

I'm so tired of being punished for doing the right thing, for working in the interests of humanity. Science should be used to bring us together, to bring us closer to the mysteries of our existence here, not to make it easier to destroy each other or give the elite a way to escape the mess they've made of the planet.

I've tried talking to the priest about it, but his answer to everything involves God. I'm just not sure I'm ready to concede myself to a supernatural higher power. Mind you, I might be getting close.

It's cold down here. That's one problem. This place just never warms up, even in the summer (which I'm thankful is close to arriving). And the light down here is spotty at best. The shadows have replaced my dreams. I can't sleep.

What I see is not right. But it's what I hear that is pushing me toward insanity. When I get a recorder, I'll find a way to capture it and share it with you. If it's on tape, at least I'll know it's not all in my head.

No matter, though; I have on several occasions now thought seriously about what to do about the creatures that move in the shadows and ask me for favors. Should I kill one to see what I'm dealing with? They can't be human. For one thing, their skin has a deep-red shimmer to it. (I call them blood drifters. The priest is convinced I'm just having waking nightmares caused by sleep deprivation.)

These blood drifters speak of a curious place, a different kind of reality that parallels our own. They even mentioned my discovery, something I've been trying hard to forget since I'm not allowed to speak about it.

They say they are just messengers. I say the jury is still out on that. They want supplies from me (paints and canvas). If they turn out to be nothing but art students pulling a prank, I'll be pissed. Hell, I already am! Do you have any idea how much art supplies cost?

I'm not sure what to do. I know that if anyone ends up dead, it'll be because I've already gone crazy. I'm hoping that doesn't happen. 

But I've got to go. The shadows are moving again.

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