Ghost…

Today I wrote few words in this logbook and then sat for hours staring at them. Nothing happened. No effect at all. the words remained. But that wasn’t the real test. I didn’t want to do it. But I had to. I closed the book and opened it again immediately. The book was completely blank.
It doesn’t matter what direction. Every way I go the wind is head on and blowing like a hurricane. I can’t stand up against the wind. It drives me back here again. Has there ever been a blizzard in Scotland which has lasted so many days? I don’t think so. I don’t know why I bother to write these words. They will disappear as soon as I close the book.
More voices. They are here – right now. They seem to be sitting all round me. I can’t hear the words just the voices. Outside the wind is roaring. Inside the fire is burning. Why do I bother? It produces no heat.
I’m definitely frightened.
What is this place? A prison? It keeps me here. It turns the wind against me and drives me back. I surrounds me with wordless voices. I burn a fire – but there is no heat. I write, but there are no words.
I’m frightened.

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