November 1, 1974
{National geographic report on a monster}
There in the snow lay the three hundred pound carcass of the famed giant Whaler seal. The eskimos in this area had held legends about him for the past one hundred years. During this time of course he had been greatly exaggerated. over the years his very practical teeth, made for capturing fish had gradually lengthened into two-inch fangs, his flippers into deadly, ripping claws, and his eyes into red-rimmed instruments of sizzling destruction. The legend reads that every fifth night the monster rises out of the depths of the icy waters and devours the first two people it sees. It is amazing that this legend has been kept alive because no one has ever been eaten.
(editor's note: here begins a second, private journal in another notebook)
November 1, 1974
Today is my mother's birthday. It is also the day after Halloween. I planned to start this journal yesterday but I didn't have the right notebook. Today I have been to school and later my friend Robert Merrill finished his lamp in shop. Robert goes to key intermediate school, I go to a private school called St. Stephen's. This evening I have been speculating on the possibilities of tape eventually replacing the written word.
I think that Mr. Lichtfuss, my math teacher is getting pretty mean.
My sister's friend Debby smallwood is going to spend the night at our house. She is pretty nice but I think her sister, who smokes but tries to hide it, and thinks everybody who speaks to her is madly in love with her will grow up to be one of the bad sort if she doesn't change her ways.
Me and robert went farther than either one of us had ever gone. We went all the way to thomas drive's end, including all the courts. We got loads of candy.
I am an amateur artist and maybe hope to be wither an artist or a writer. I have a flair for words. Tomorrow is my weekly art lesson.
I have a haunting, recurring thought: That is the fact that I will eventually die.
I love to walk in the woods. I presume that I know those woods better than anybody.
There aren't any stars tonight and the spotlight from Atlantic Research is out tonight.
In this notebook I plan to write just about anything
I am watching the six million dollar man.
GHOST STORY (during blackout)
Once upon a time there were two friends named Debbie and Jenny. One night Debbie came over to Jenny's house to spend the night. At about 10:10 a couple of main transformers in their neighborhood blew to smithereens and all the electricity went off. They happened to be watching the night stalker He, He, He,. One of the transformers was right in front of Debbie's house. Debbie's family came running down to Jenny's house Jenny's family had candles set up all over the place. Suddenly they all heard a strange, small, slow thumping noise. It grew louder and louder, and louder, AND LOUDER,. Then they heard a rough voice say: "Our street blew a transformer"
{National geographic report on a monster}
There in the snow lay the three hundred pound carcass of the famed giant Whaler seal. The eskimos in this area had held legends about him for the past one hundred years. During this time of course he had been greatly exaggerated. over the years his very practical teeth, made for capturing fish had gradually lengthened into two-inch fangs, his flippers into deadly, ripping claws, and his eyes into red-rimmed instruments of sizzling destruction. The legend reads that every fifth night the monster rises out of the depths of the icy waters and devours the first two people it sees. It is amazing that this legend has been kept alive because no one has ever been eaten.
(editor's note: here begins a second, private journal in another notebook)
November 1, 1974
Today is my mother's birthday. It is also the day after Halloween. I planned to start this journal yesterday but I didn't have the right notebook. Today I have been to school and later my friend Robert Merrill finished his lamp in shop. Robert goes to key intermediate school, I go to a private school called St. Stephen's. This evening I have been speculating on the possibilities of tape eventually replacing the written word.
I think that Mr. Lichtfuss, my math teacher is getting pretty mean.
My sister's friend Debby smallwood is going to spend the night at our house. She is pretty nice but I think her sister, who smokes but tries to hide it, and thinks everybody who speaks to her is madly in love with her will grow up to be one of the bad sort if she doesn't change her ways.
Me and robert went farther than either one of us had ever gone. We went all the way to thomas drive's end, including all the courts. We got loads of candy.
I am an amateur artist and maybe hope to be wither an artist or a writer. I have a flair for words. Tomorrow is my weekly art lesson.
I have a haunting, recurring thought: That is the fact that I will eventually die.
I love to walk in the woods. I presume that I know those woods better than anybody.
There aren't any stars tonight and the spotlight from Atlantic Research is out tonight.
In this notebook I plan to write just about anything
I am watching the six million dollar man.
GHOST STORY (during blackout)
Once upon a time there were two friends named Debbie and Jenny. One night Debbie came over to Jenny's house to spend the night. At about 10:10 a couple of main transformers in their neighborhood blew to smithereens and all the electricity went off. They happened to be watching the night stalker He, He, He,. One of the transformers was right in front of Debbie's house. Debbie's family came running down to Jenny's house Jenny's family had candles set up all over the place. Suddenly they all heard a strange, small, slow thumping noise. It grew louder and louder, and louder, AND LOUDER,. Then they heard a rough voice say: "Our street blew a transformer"
posted by Bill Davenport at 6:35 AM
<< Home