I am writing this.

Writing in my own blood.

In a book of my own skin.

In a house made of my own plucked teeth.

...

Whoever finds this will probably wonder how?

How a house made of human teeth and bone could exist?

How all the furniture is made out of human skin?

How all the food in the pantry is just rotting livers?

My livers... My teeth&bone, My SKIN.

I will tell you but you won't like it.

My name was sarah.

I was a hermit.

Living alone in my cabin in the woods. I barely even went out to buy food&gas from the grocery store (I lived near a town called Sacremo). I would just live off their money for the rest of my life.

You see, My parents were very well off. And they left enough money for their only daughter for her to live off her entire life. That daughter was me.

So I just decided to live dangerously! Hunting, Fishing, Chopping trees and building a cabin. Buying an generator that ran off gas. Buying a rifle and bullets, And occasionally food if I couldn't find anything to hunt. I had bought an old beat up red Ford truck but the car itself still drove.

Life was good.

Until it happened.

I was minding my own business. Chopping some firewood. When suddenly my axe shot through the firewood and into my leg. And I do mean THROUGH the firewood. Like the solid log wasn't even there.

As the metal of my axe bit deeply into my leg I heard a CRACK! I collapsed. I hit the ground hard blood coating my grass stained jeans. Clutching my leg in agony. I reached for my phone to call an ambulance. Pushing down one of the silver buttons on the side of the machine. I waited for it to turn on!

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Then something awful happened.

My phone flashed a symbol of a battery with a red line at the bottom.

It was out of charge.

I was FURIOUS. Now of all times for something to go out. The one TIME it was important. I had CHARGED it last night. It had flashed the Charging symbol and everything.

Fury filled me.

Then fear.

I had no landline. I only had my cellphone. Idiot former me thought that would be enough. As long as I kept it charged with the energy from my generator. I thought that would be enough!

"Stupid" I said to myself.

I dragged myself toward my cabin.

And I do mean DRAGGED. I could not put ANY weight on my leg what so ever.

...

Heh. As if that injury was even close to the pain I feel now.

...

When I made it back inside I found myself in a dark cabin.

I pulled the small beaded chain connected to the lightbulb.

Nothing.

No nice warm glow!

No SMIDGE OF CHARGING.

Nothing.

That means my generator probably broke.

I had filled it with gas just last night! No way it was out.

I would have to drive to the hospital in Sacremo.

I moved out into the small gravel lot outside of my home.

My ford was parked there.

I got in, Put the keys in the ignition, And Tried to start the car. There was no sound from the red ford.

In fact there was no sound at all.

Then I heard a loud BANG! From inside of my house.

My rifle had gone off.

And it had shot me in the head.

But instead of dying or passing out. I felt every ounce of agony that went through me. Every single drop of blood that spattered out. I could see my rifle through my cabin window.

No one was shooting it. It had somehow gotten tangled up in the chain for the light. And the chain was moving unnaturaly.

BANG!

Another bullet hit me.

This one hitting my left eye.

Pain exploded across me.

I ducked under the dashboard of my truth.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Each of the last 3 bullets in my gun found their mark.

They each bounced off of different parts of the Ford and hit me in the back.

There were 5 even holes in my fords windshield.

Yet my body refused to die.

So it continued.

The blood splattered around my car. My wounds did not heal.

The blood writhed like it was alive. Twisting around and pushing me out of my vehicle.

I had Layn on the gravel watching the blood twist inside the car like some hideos serpent. My still bleeding wounds joining it.

Then it slide out of the 5 holes in the windshield of the car and spread around the entire shell. Like a form of morbid paint.

And so it continued.

I had more "accidents"

as I had lain on the gravel lot a racoon had began to scavenge my body.

He removed one of my teeth from my mouth. The pain of that was unbearable.

He sniffed the tooth and then he dropped it onto the gravel.

Where it multiplied like a wave of water.

Subsuming my home and killing the racoon.

My skin came off as I closed the door. I now ignore the pain. even though it all hurts.

I was the house. I was the car.

Then my skin multiplied too. It coated the furniture. The firewood, The larder, Everything that wasn't already made of tooth or blood.

I write in this book now to tell you this:

The universe plays fun games with us!

It likes to see how far it can push us before we break into shells.

Tiny flourescent shells that eat moons.

Baby's Hunting sharks.

It all MAKES SENSE!!!

-A book covered in human skin. Found in the dark.