I feel so sick. I feel as sick as I did when I went to that school. I can’t tell if it’s because of the Widow’s Silk, natural causes, or my own fvck|ng head. I still don’t feel as sick as I did on Graduation Day, though.
We have dispensed an experimental batch of Widow Silk into the air. To the residents of Forest Prairie, Texas, do not fear. Just breathe in deep, and you will come to see things our way soon enough. This is our message to you, Donnie. W-304 is being developed in collaboration with none other than the great Jennie Coüffàn, your loving mother.
TO ALL CURRENT OR FUTURE MEMBERS OF OUR ORGANIZATION
High alert has been set for two young men.
These names are to be remembered:
•Donnie Maddens •Charles Schreiber
Donnie is a runaway. Chucky is a nosey little weasel. Both of them are bastard children, peeking too closely into our origins.
These boys will learn one way or another that we are the ones who decide when play time is over. You two know your mothers never meant to hurt you. It’s time to grow up and let us help you. If you’ll simply contribute your intelligence, the breakthroughs and revelations are unimaginable.
I am at my best when I can stay in one place. But that’s not entirely true. I don’t know what my best is. I know what I do, though. This is the second time in the last week that I’ve sat in my closed car with music blaring. The rain and lightning have been scaring the ßhî5 out of me.
Fear. Blood. Flesh Everything. Constant.
An imposing tall figure with some kind of metallic headwear. A long blade clutched in his hand, dragging along the ground. Is it looking at me? Is it human? Is it alive?