I took upon myself to take some cash, and buy a diary in which to write. I figure it would be the thing to do, to notate all my thoughts as I think them.
It’s all too strange. A sudden hurricane, a flash of light, a rose, three men, and me. That is how it started, or ended. I don’t remember how I got to here. My thoughts are instantly brought back to camp; the forestry club in the Pine Barrens. It was a lovely weekend; so much fun, and then these sounds that roused us from our tents. We thought it was the Jersey Devil. Hah. Or a prank, or even worse, the cops. We took our flashlights and went on the hunt, the sounds got louder, then the flash of light. And now I’m here, a diary in hand, sitting in a hotel room, alone.
My friends, my family, forgot their names. And yet it’s 30 years from that weekend. It’s 2015. No flying cars, no colonies in space. Nothing more than this scary hotel room.
About the three men, they’re in the same boat. They have no clue what happened before now. The youngest, Lindsey, he has ice blue hair, and scales over his arms that flash such light. It’s like I’m tripping but I know it’s real. For one so young, he’s smart and observant. He was only lost about a week. Our de facto leader’s name is David. His skin is like a story come to life. There’s writing, and pictures that move about his face and all over his arms and hands. He was gone he says for 5-ish years. I was gone the longest; 3 decades. I don’t know about the man called Hermes; he’s secretive and not willing to talk. Yet put us in a month long dream, and why? According to his journal, protection. From what? It says “the Mistress of the Garden”.. maybe that’s where the roses came from. Like the one I accidentally fused with a bunch of vines around my head.
I’m different, I’m changed, I’m not the same. I look like someone else I’ve never met. But I’m no mistress, no, I’m a monster. Maybe when we learn more, I can see exactly what these vines and I can do.