"There once was a sparrow,

who met his doom at the fate

of an outline; Farmer John

did not let it down."

Doesn't quite have the childhood innocence of the poem you'd expect an insane person to leave you with. But it's been pounding through my head all night. Mostly the bit about an outline. An outline? How the fuck do you meet your doom at the FATE of something, no less an outline? I could understand if it were a hunter of some sort, but I really have no idea what the fuck is up with these people.

That aside, I think it's time I properly introduce myself, as I'm told that introductions are important frequently. So please, drop your cognizance of a fourth wall for a few moments. I don't have time for my life story, so you're lucky you get anything.

I'm not really too sure who I am, as that blow to the head seems to have disoriented and jarred a lot of, shall we say, important memories loose. i have small recollections here and there, enough to tell you that my name is Edgar Crenshaw. But really, any simp who can think hard enough to check my wallet could tell you that. If only I still had my wallet.

As to where I'm from, how I'm here, and all those juicy plot devices that I know you want to hear, you'll just have to wait until I figure them out for myself. Rest assured, though, that time will clear things up. Or it won't, and I'll die like this. Only one way to find out! You can resume believing in your False Idol, the Fourth Wall, now.

Looks like I managed to survive over night. I ended up finding the nearest overpass, and just passed out on the spot. Probably should have been a bit more careful, as I know the fall to the ground knocked me up a little bit more, but hell, we all gotta die some day anyways. Can't say I'm looking forward to it coming sooner than earlier, but, hey, if you gotta go, you gotta go.

So, all that business aside. After having gotten up, I managed to carry my hulking stature around town, probably limping heavily as I did so. I managed to walk, from what I could discern, east for a few miles, ultimately ending up at a bowling alley. Well, for all the shit I'm going through, I figure I could at least sit in somewhere that has some air conditioning. I don't remember last night too well, but somehow, probably through some contrived sort of panhandling, I had $20 in my left pocket. So, I continued and walked into the bowling alley, allowing myself to sit in the air conditioning for a moment before I did anything.

In retrospect, I should have kept walking. Shame hindsight isn't future sight. We could really make a living out of all the things we shouldn't have done. Though I'm not too sure if it really mattered anyways, because I'm starting to think that they just Know. Capitalize that because it's an ineffable sort of awareness. It's just… they seem to be omnipresent, they seem to know where I'm going.

I saw them there last night as I laid down and fell asleep. I remember it clearly. They were standing across the street, watching me. It gave me a little chill, but when I had ultimately decided that they were just going to move on, after of course watching them move on, I could rest easy. But they seem to know where I am, and where I will be.

Those fucking Shades. I know no one else can see them, but I can see them, clear as day. And they can see me too. But I digress; they will become relevant momentarily, and I suppose I should narrate that moment into reality, no?

At the time, I had no clue what they were capable of. I just knew they were bad. And I had that bad feeling as I walked in. I could… I don't know. I could FEEL them watching me. Does that make sense? It's like their eyes were digging into my skin. As I stood there by the wall to catch my breath and enjoy the air conditioning, I could feel their presence. As I walked to the counter to purchase one game at whatever lane I would be (un)lucky to be given, I felt them. Behind me. And I know the cashier knew something was wrong too, because he was pale as a ghost.

They didn't do anything though. They just… stalked me. They watched me. They observed. I don't get it. Maybe they're just some demented predators. Maybe they're the cat, and I'm the mouse. Well, you sick fucks, if I ever find a way to return the favor, rest assured I will. Rest assured…

As the cashier told me my lane, and bid me farewell (and not a moment too soon from the look in his eyes,) i pivoted about, expecting to see a few of them right there. But there were none. Okay, maybe I'm just going insane. Who knows? So I just drop it and walk to my lane, get everything set up, and relax for a moment before I begin the game.

As I grab my ball to roll it down the aisle, as I let it go, I notice there's one in the aisle, staring straight at me. I could see every detail, from those acrid, yellow eyes, forming into pupils possessing the intensity of a black hole staring me down; those perfectly white teeth, or were they fangs? They were teeth, but if you weren't paying attention, they started to look like fangs. Or maybe it was the other way around. It was impossible to tell, as they seemed to be just shifting back and forth.

And their face… that pale white face… Completely devoid of any pigmentation. It's like someone came in and just plastered drywall over their face. But you couldn't see much of it, because the rest of them was covered in this… I can't really explain it. It's like a loose fitting cloak, I guess. That's the closest comparison I can muster. It's a jet black trenchcoat of angst, of anxiety, of death. I felt frozen in that moment.

Especially when it began to drop the hood. I never have seen hair so unruly, so… so horribly plagued with dirt. It had hair, running down to its shoulders. And the hair was obviously pure white, but it was clotted up with so much debris, so much dirt and blood, that it turned to a savage dark brown. I felt my sanity just slipping looking at it…

And then it disappeared. Right as the ball was coming in contact with it, I saw it. It just… poofed out of existence! Like that! I know it was trying to tell me something though. For some reason, despite all the fear I experienced, for how those few seconds felt like an eternity, I felt calm. I felt at peace. Beneath all of the feelings that make me want to just completely shit myself.

Luckily, I was able to pull myself together, and finish the game out. I didn't really pay attention to the score, as at the end, it's more about just watching the ball smash into the pins. It's so calming. I really should do it more. But thereafter, I walked out of the arena. It had been a few hours, or so it had seemed. I take my time when I'm doing any recreational activity. Makes the fun last longer. It seemed to be about 2 PM, from what I could tell. Maybe 3. Not like I have a phone or anything to check it. Ah, the lovely aspects of being mugged. I decided to head back to what I now choose to refer to as "my" underpass. Good environment, if you ask me.

On the way there, though, I felt something pulling me in a different direction. Specifically, I came across a road called Payton Gin, and for some reason, I couldn't help but change my path to direct myself down that road. It almost felt like I was at home. Or at least, in a good place. I didn't feel paranoid. I didn't feel anything. So I continued walking for a while, ending up out on a field next to a road called Hunter's Trace. By this point, it was easily 4 or 5, as I'm not really the fastest walker.

A little tired from all the walking, and also somewhat dehydrated and malnourished at this point, I ended up collapsing on the grass. It was honestly one of the best feelings I've had in a long time. You know, except for hitting my head on the ground. The few moments I had of consciousness were agonizing, but the hours of unconsciousness… never a better feeling in the world.