“Maybe if I open my mouth wide enough, I can see his teeth too.”
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“Maybe if I open my mouth wide enough, I can see his teeth too.”

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Holly Jensen is in her early twenties, living just off a small road in the rainy PNW, working shifts at the Junco Diner and trying to feel like a real person with a real life. She records private tapes to “Jack”, just to prove she exists to herself.
But Cedar Bend has its own quiet rules. Don’t whistle after dark. Don’t answer if you hear your name outside at night. Never accept a room key that’s already warm. Holly says she doesn’t believe in superstitions… and still obeys every single one.
Found these tapes wrapped in plastic beneath the floorboards. They hum at night like they remember something.
Diary of a Lost Cause 2
Sept. 3rd
Dear Diary,
Yes, I know, I still haven't found a better name, and I neglected to write in you yesterday.
What a hectic day it was.
I visited the property yesterday to drop off the last load of things, and see how much more needs to be done.
I almost couldn't believe it. Sure, I've been to the 300 acre river lined lot often these days, but short of the old barn, and hot springs, I'd have never considered I would actually fall in love with the cabin.
I know I commissioned it, but still. I'd been rather... whimsical?
Yes, that.
During the decision making process, I truly did approve of every last little detail. This place is to become my final resting place afterall. Would be a shame to hate it. Even a little.
Still, altogether...
The place has become magnificenct, incredible beyond words even. Maybe I should photograph it?
We should start relocation within the next few days. The movers will be here soon to pack up the non-essentials.
It's days like today when there is somuch to do, I almost forget why I'm doing it.
So I can die... In peace.
Entry 3
Diary of a Lost Cause
Sept. 1st
Dear....
I'll think of a name for you eventually. Calling it a "Diary" feels... strange?
Unnatural?
Truthfully, I'm still unsure why I bought the silly thing to begin with. It's not as if I'll have that much to write about. Not now anyhow. 35 years I've lived on this planet, and not once, not even as a teenager, did I own or have the urge to keep a journal. Yet... here I am. Writing in one like anyone would even care to read it. As if anyone would be interested int he final days of my bleak life.
I suppose that isn't entirely true.
I did have fans once.
Maybe they won't forget me afterall.
Even if I was just a boring, faceless avatar.
Entry 2

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A high school student's notebook I bought at a thrift store without realizing there was highly personal stuff in it. She seems pretty serious about the goals since she expanded on each goal with another detailed plan. I hope she came out of it okay.