Thia was followed home

My poor girl. I swear to god, if I ever see this guy, I'm going to cut his eyes out with a rusty, tetanus contaminated spoon.

Thia - my poor, poor Thia - was followed home after her last lecture today, by some tall badtard wearing a suit.

She was hysterical when she got in, and immediately started bleeding straight out of her nose, coughing like a plague victim. When she could talk through her coughing fits, she wouldn't stop telling me about how unnaturally tall he was, how his limbs were just a little too long for his body.

Or a lot too long.

With Snow White skin, and no face.

Logic compels me to believe that this is some fool in a mask. It can't be anything else. A mask and stilts. That's all it can be. And I'll kill him when I find out who it is.

I...  Told her I would.

She started shaking her head frantically, begging me not to.

No face. 

This is too much. I'm not sure she can handle any more of this madness - and she's always been sturdier than me, believe it or not. I can kick ass, but without her I'm more like a psychological and emotional wreck.

I'm really not dealing with this as well as I'm sure I come across.

She said we were being followed. 

And he chased her - whoever it is.

I want to hurt him.

But I don't know if I can, with her reaction like that. She's not prone to unreasonable panic.

Maybe we should leave town for a bit. Next time we get a week's holiday we'll...

I don't know. Get a hotel room in Liverpool? She likes Liverpool.

I'm going to keep her safe.

I'm going to find a way.

I just wish I knew what was going on.

Good night, my friends. Be safe, and may we all live on til morning.

~ Kev Elliot

Update - Scary Day

Very short update. Electronics functioning badly.

Disturbances continue. We are in the dark at present. Saw something at the window earlier. Probably nothing. We live on the 23rd floor.

Which leads me onto the next point.

That tree outside the window. Impossible. Too high up. Streetlight too, doesn't shine into the room like that. It was something else.

Hallucination? I don't discount it.

I am in pain. My girlfriend - I will refer to her as Thia - now feels the sickness too.

I have shown her the blog. Told her everything. She knows it all.

She is very scared. I am also very scared. I would ask for help, but you will not live nearby- and I will not disclose our location on here.

She...

She believes we are being followed by something.

And she is very intuitive. Rarely wrong.

I may find myself believing her soon.

Zack contacted me. Similar occurrences. His blog will be up soon.

Apologies for short post. Apologies for lack of post yesterday. We were lucky to have no lectures, and spent the whole day hiding together. Today was less lucky. I walked her there- or she walked me part way, however you take it- and we both felt the presence. Coughing followed.

Our lecturers told us to leave. Come back when feeling better. Fortunately, the lectures are recorded and put online. We won't miss learning.

Sorry. I have to go. She doesn't want to be far from me.

I don't want to be far from her either.


Sleep well. Be safe. May we all live on 'til morning.

~ Kev Elliot

Update - She's home. I'm happy.

For the first time in my life, my girlfriend is leaning on me in bed while I type this. My laptop is a little too warm, and burning my legs a little, but I daren't move to the desk, for fear of disturbing her.

I think she's asleep, you see. Occasionally, she fakes this, to scare me when I'm not on my guard (and occasionally, I deliberately act frightened to amuse her - she sees through me every time) but this time, I think it's for real.

It's what, 00:06 hours, as I type this very sentence? Ooh. Just ticked over to 00:07. It's entirely understandable that she'd be asleep by now. I've always been a little bit more of a night owl.

You can't see, but I'm smiling. 

She is adorable. And I love her. And one day- one day- I am going to ask her to marry me.

If this whole paranoid-creepy-creepy-scary-disease thing doesn't shatter us both, ending the relationship permanently. That's a grim thought. I'd honestly rather die than be without her - but I also don't think that's terribly likely. She's...

She's in love with me, after all.

Still smiling.

I think she's smiling too. Is she reading this? I shall have to think of something funny to write down here- she can never resist laughing when she finds something funny.

Hmm.

There was always this joke about those multinational compatriots who end up in pubs together. It goes something like "An Englishman walks into a bar. Normally, there's a Welshman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman with him, but they were all still at the rugby world cup."

No? Nothing from her, I'm afraid. Maybe it's just too old to be funny, now. I shall try something else.

You know, one time, I walked into our bedroom, and tripped on a bra of hers.

It was a booby trap.

Haha.

She laughed.

Well, she laughed and hit me, but not very hard. I'm not bleeding, so I must be ok.

She's, uh... she's asking me to put this thing away and pay some attention to her, now. Whether or not it's what you're inevitably thinking it is, I'm going to oblige her before

Static. Static and disturbance and disruption on the laptop's screen. In the middle of that word. It came and stayed for ten minutes before I could type again. I've checked the post and it doesn't seem to have been corrupted - it was just the display going wild - and my wifi is still functional.

And my head.

This has never happened before. I feel intruded upon, like, for a while there, we weren't alone in our home.

This is not good. I must get in touch with Zackery.

I'm going to get under the covers with my girlfriend, hold her very tight indeed, and not come out until morning. 

Good night. Be safe. May we live on 'til morning.

~ Kev Elliot

Update - A quiet day

Nothing much has happened today. I ate, drank, lord forbid I even slept a little. My significant other is more than a little drunk, very giggly, and spending the night at her friend's house. In fact, she'd intermittently on the phone to me, even while I type this.

She keeps telling me she loves me.

Which makes me smile.

Smiles are a little rarer than I'd like these days. A fuse broke or something this morning, and managed to blow out all the ceiling lamps when it did. I'm currently sitting in darkness, with only a small desk lamp and my screen for light.

Oh, and the streetlight from outside, of course. Still projecting creepy shadows from that damn tree onto my wall as well. If I were ten, I'd be quite terrified.

Instead, I feel only unease.

Perhaps I should see a psychiatrist. This presence is still following me, and the whispers I only really thought I'd been hearing until now are definitely a thing - though quiet enough that they could pass for blood rushing in my ears.

Only I'm a medical student, and I know that that's not what that would sound like.

I think.

Maybe.

I hope.

I don't know. Maybe I am incompetent. Maybe I am being stalked by an eldritch abomination. I'm certainly acting like I am. Paranoia, deja vu, forgetfulness-cum-amnesia, and -

A nosebleed. My nose is bleeding. Literally right now. Let me get a tissue quickly.

Ah yes. Kleenex. Friend to teenagers everywhere, and now, friend to me. I would apologise for my absence, but I doubt you felt it, given that you're just reading a blog post. I mean, I hope you're reading this. As much as the Brit in me is whipping me mentally for admitting this, I'm...

I don't want to feel alone right now.

Ignoring the fact that I don't feel alone, that I feel very much watched, I've been feeling isolated more and more recently. Zack hasn't spoken to me in a week - not out of malice, I think (I hope) he's just busy - and my dear girl seems to be spending more time away.

Hm.

No. She just told me she loves me again. And she can't lie when she's drunk. Also, she says 'Hello, internets.'

Hello, Internets.

Actually, I know she doesn't read this blog, but I've been contemplating showing it to her - telling her about... this. Whatever it is. She's an extremely understanding woman, and stunningly intelligent. She would know what to do.

But would that just be 'see a doctor'?

Correction. It would be 'See a doctor again.'

Maybe I shouldn't be drinking; my head's just gone off on a painful, migraine based tangent again, and she's devolving into fits of laughter - I think she's playing with her friend's cat - and it's really very late over here. I am excruciatingly tired. As in, my bones are tired. It's a deep kind of tired.

Soul tired. Like there's something draining me.

I wonder if it has a face.

Hehe. Now I'm drunk too.

Night, you lot.

~ Kev Elliot

PS: Forgot to wish you a happy Hallowe'en. Happy late Hallowe'en.

Update - looking over notes

I've been looking over my old notes. I thought I'd burned them, honestly, but it seems that even then part of me knew it wasn't over.

Or I'm as forgetful as my friends make a point of telling me I am.

Either way, it's nothing I don't remember already. Things like chills, waking up at odd hours in the night, talking in my sleep. Always, there was a persistent sensation of being watched, too - which is also the most prominent thing I feel now.

I must have just been starting medical school when this all started, too. I found a few files on my decrepit 2013 laptop about what I might have, plus the doctor's report from the monthly appointments I was booking myself into to deal with it. He was just as puzzled as I am now. Yes, coughing, hacking, all that, could just be a chest infection, but there are other, odder things, that he couldn't explain so easily.

"An unfortunate combination of a chest infection and migraines. Advise change in diet as caffeine intake could be stimulating pre-existing tendency towards migraines, and full course of clarithromycin."

He also told me I should come back in if it started giving me headaches, dizziness, or any ridiculous side effects. Irate, I told him that I was already getting headaches. He sighed and informed me that the chances of me having anything that would result in this specific set of symptoms was very low.

Which, in doctor speak, means that it would only be a concern if I had been to the tropics recently.

Which I had not - and still have not. I hate mosquitoes. I'm much more of a winter person.

Now, I took the antibiotics, felt awful, and stopped drinking coke, coffee, and tea - and anything even remotely chocolate based was right out, too.

No change. Not until it went away of its own accord after all this medical stuff had packed in and told me that if it wasn't getting any worse, then they didn't need me coming in all the time, and that they'd give it a good look while I waited and saw.

Ugh.

I'm sorry. I have a splitting headache right now too. The branches on the tree outside are making odd shapes on my wall against the streetlight, and this is all just terrible. Really, really terrible. I hate this, I really do.

Let's see, now. What else in this update?

I started looking over some old webpages, actually. Quite interesting, occasionally, but by and large it was just holistic nonsense, from what I could tell of it. I might have another look in the morning, but it all seems quite idiotic, I won't lie. They blame monsters and demons and spirits that possess the living - they're telling me that I'm being possessed.

Indeed.

That's all for tonight. I am, quite frankly, knackered. I'm going to crawl into bed with my dear girl, and hope she can make me feel warm again. It's too cold in here, and I've even got the radiator on.

~ Kev Elliot

I'm Back. And so is It.

Two and a half years, boys and girls. Two and a half years of peace and health and joy, during which I could study, cry about exams, wonder if medicine is really for me, kiss my lover, think occasionally about marriage and children, and play chess drunk.


For two and a half years - from the last day I made a post of this damn blog, to today - I was free.


You don't understand. I was free from the sickness that had been burning in my chest, and frosting in my skull. I was free from the torment of something that, actually, I can only put down to some kind of odd radiation poisoning. I was free from the strange, bewildering, frightening presences and whispers I felt following me like some kind of deranged, sadistic cloud. Even that poem I found on my bed amounted to nothing.


I, Kev Elliot - not my real name - was free.


And safe.


And happy.


And with the woman I love.


And only worried about cuts to the NHS.


And only stressed about exams.


And only angry towards the tories.


But not anymore.


I just can't seem to have anything, really. Not for long. Not without it being spoilt by some invisible source of radioactive menace. Not without the sigma.


She warned us. The woman with the purple scarf and insane look in her eyes, in Bury St. Edmunds. She told us it was 'The Sigma'. I still don't know what that means.


But it's back.


God damn it all. It's back.


I abandoned this blog two and a half years ago - in the April of 2013 - because I had finally been convinced that my paranoia was all for nought. I abandoned it... because I didn't see the danger any more. Because the coughing and hacking and electronics going haywire had diminished to the point where it was gone. I made it originally to document my findings with regards to this Sigma thing, and the illness, and how me and Zack - you do remember Zackery, right? - were going to deal with it.


I made it to try and save us.


You will never truly know how painful it is to have to log back into it.


I thought it was over.


I was so wrong.


Welcome back to The Sigma Studies, ladies and gentlemen. I'll never say I missed it - I didn't.


But I guess I always knew I'd have to fight it again one day.


Maybe Zack will even join in this time.


Maybe you lot will even join in this time.


Until then, my friends. May we all sleep safely, and live through 'til dawn.

~ Kev Elliot. Again.

The man is there

There is a man outside my house,

Pale as moonlight, but a dark soul as the dark night,

He stands there as if simply taking the air, with suit and tie of a gentleman fair,

But he watches with such grim intent, with pain and malice in an eyeless stare,

He stands and watches all night long,

Not long to go now, it won't be long.



I found this poem- if you can really call it that- on a note on my pillow. Although ordinarily I would simply apologise for my inactivity in the investigations and continue as normal, this is absolutely terrifying, so I will put off formality for another day when I can ensure my survival through my sleep; someone was in my bedroom during the day. It was not me, as I was working, and not my girlfriend because she was with her brother. This means that someone got into my home without needing to even force entry as all of the windows were intact and the locks have been designed against picking, which means they can do it again of they want to- and do anything they want to while we sleep.



Elliot out.


Ps: I feel I should probably mention that wherever i go I have the feeling of being watched and followed, and my sickness is slowly returning. I doubt this is of any real importance as I'm naturally a concerned person, and I'm feeling paranoid as hell lately, but nothing isn't worth me mentioning any more, and anyone reading this should probably feel the same way if things like this are happening to them at all. Email me, or comment.