June 18

Well, my dear horror-diary-maybe I shouldn't call you that; hopefully I'll have some non-horror things to write about soon. Today was just like any other day, writing up plenty of obituaries...is it just me or are people dying more than they used to? Actually, here's the problem: that the editor used to toss together an obituary whenever it was needed but now I have that entire job with no help. And people apparently love my "gift". So they would rather send their obituary-request to me instead of any other paper. Good for my job, bad for my sanity. Anyway, I need to get my mind off that. Grrr, that's why I have you! So I have something else to think about!!

I've been reading my last post and...well, I'll tell you about Rob now.

Honestly, I don't even know who he is. I go walking at night to try and distract myself from my work...about nine o'clock every night. Sometimes I saw this guy walking down the street but all we would do is nod, say "hello", and keep walking. After about two weeks of doing that every night, I decided that it was time to say more than "hello". After screwing up my courage, I went on my walk but he wasn't walking that night. The next day was especially excrutiating at work and I went walking for two hours, around and around the block. When I was nearing the end of my third trip around the block, Rob came out of his door.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I replied with a small smile. I remembered my resolution from the previous night to say more than that so I opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it.

"This is a wonderful place to walk, isn't it?"

I nodded, "Indeed it is."

"Do you work at the newspaper office? I've seen you walk in there every day...I work across the street at the grocer's."

"Oh, yeah, I work there. That grocery is really cute. It has some very interesting little items that one can't find elsewhere." Anything to keep the conversation going, I thought to myself.

"Yeah, I'm one of the few full-time employees. The 'little interesting things' is what keeps us in business." He paused for a second then continued, "What do you do at the newspaper office?"

"I write columns." Why do you want to know, I asked him in my head. My face must have been telling of my mistrust because he said,

"Oh, I've always thought that writing is one of the most amazing jobs a person could have."

Phone just rang. It's my mother. She'll probably keep me up till I'm tired enough to fall asleep. Good-night, Diary.

Grim fear

Fear gripped me as I wrapped my fingers around the latest deposit from Miss Kim, the receptionist for our newspaper. I grabbed a deep breath from the inmost part of my being and hastily took a glance at the first sentence. "Speared to death by his brother," the sentence started. I didn't want to read the rest. This was the worst part of my job. I had to read how the people died and what they were like. And then make it sound pretty and make all the old ladies at the funeral cry, whether they knew the deceased or not. I am a very dramatic, over-reactive sort of person and that is what landed me this job with the Oval Eagle Reporter. I can write well and people gush over my "gift" but what they fail to realize is that I can't turn this "gift" off; I have to deal with it all the time. Nighttime is the worst. That is why I have resorted to writing in you, my diary. If I write in you, then maybe I won't...but no, I shan't write it. I will not jinx myself. Unless a major turn-around happens in my life, I doubt that I'll have anything in this diary but the sort of things that horror stories are made of. I can't even walk by the movie theatre in town anymore because of all the horror film posters. Only unimaginative people who don't work as obituary-writers watch those films. And now I'm rambling, trying to keep my mind off...

Good-night. That's enough for tonight. I'm just writing in circles, trying to use up all my nervous energy. Maybe I'll go take a walk. Maybe I'll meet Rob again. (more about him in another post)

Farewell for now, my dear horror-diary.

I write obituaries

I write obituaries for a living. Don't know how many people can say that they do that.