Tuesday, May 10, 1978
Maxwell was an artist! Today I found an old comic that he drew by himself. How I knew this, I’m not sure. There was no name or anything proclaiming that he drew it, but I just had a feeling that he was the man behind it all. It was a fine piece of art, and I stopped my research and began reading it.
I’m sure that if Maxwell survived, he would have gone on to become a great artist.
What are the odds that Maxwell’s comic was still there? I mean, it survived all these years of abandonment and the changing of tenants! Intrigued, I started reading it too.
It tells the story of a young boy who moved into a new home with his family, and started becoming obsessed with a family heirloom until it consumed him.
‘My name is Michael. My life was never meant to be a story. Until I read the atlas. That darn atlas. At first, I thought it was a gift. Now I really see that it is a curse. A curse that I hope ends with me.’
Thursday, May 31, 1978
Is it odd that I somehow feel that the comic is now mine? I feel like I am its owner now. It’s quite unbelievable, but that’s how I feel. Maxwell is an amazing artist. I feel everything that Michael feels. I see everything that Michael sees. I know everything. It’s as if I was being sucked into the comic itself. It really is spectacular.
I was on my way home that day when I felt like getting a cup of coffee. Stopping at a local diner, I ordered my favourite cup of cappuccino to bring home, but not before telling the waitress to take care not to spill the next order, which of course she did. How I knew this, I do not know. But it feels awesome! When I got home, I started reading Jack’s journal to see if this ever happened to him.
Thursday, June 7, 1978
This is exhilarating. I have never felt so amazing in my life. It was just like what Maxwell said. First, I started seeing things. I saw how time passes by. I saw patterns in human behaviour. I see everything. Today, I told Colin to go to his locker to get his spare clothes so that he would not get wet. Nobody believed me until a car passed by and the puddle of water nearby splashed into Colin as a result a few hours later.
Michael must have felt this way too. I don’t know how to explain it, but it is exciting- it’s as if I inherited Michael’s psychic powers somehow. Suddenly, everything has become clearer, sharper. As time passed by, I began to expect and predict events. I could tell when Dad would be back from his work, I could tell when Mum would announce that supper’s ready. I could tell when a car would pass by the road outside the estate. I feel truly invincible.
I went for a boxing class today, and it was amazingly fun. I knew exactly where my opponent was going to attack and could defend myself against her. After my lesson, the instructor told me that I’m a natural at this.
Life in this small town really is turning out well. I think I might find a way to document this experience. Maybe I should record videos everyday? There’s no point in uploading them online, but it would be nice to have a collection of my memories somewhere.
On my way home, I was too absorbed in my thoughts to warn the girl to not let her cellphone ruin her life. I should have paid more attention; I could’ve prevented the car from ramming into her.
Friday, October 13, 1978
Something is not right. My head is getting flooded with things and patterns. It feels like it’s exploding. In the past few months I’ve witnessed too many accidents and events that I could have prevented that I fear I am slowly losing my mind. I’m starting to lose my focus in smaller things- I can barely pay any attention in school, I can barely eat. All I can think about is everything that’s going on in my head.
I found some journals that belonged to Stanley Beck, Maxwell’s father. According to it, Maxwell had started getting disoriented and started hallucinating. His lack of awareness and ability to care for himself wasted him and caused him to contract a weird disease. Apparently, he had then infected the entire family one night.
What this means, I do not know. All I know is that if this doesn’t stop, I’ll have to put an end to it myself. I already know where I can find the quarry. That would be a fitting place.
‘Oh shit’, was all I could say as I shut Jack’s journal.
And that's the conclusion! With this story I was really pushing myself trying to write this exactly as I had imagined it- trouble is I had envisioned certain parts of the story only and so had to fill in the blanks and so this really pushed my creativity and writing skills. Hope you enjoyed it!