Is there any point in living, if the only future is one of lost possibilities? No, but you must all the same.
I'm back. In my former home.
It's... odd. We lived in a sort-of-urban location; one which was near a farm, and only fifteen minutes' jog from here to the nearest town. The house is still here, of course. And yet, it seems untouched by human hands for an age.
I, perhaps, should explain how I have Internet access here. It's a dongle thing; I'm not sure of how it works, since it's something I took from Dan's house -- it's a blank USB drive. But the reception's good here, which is good for me.
I'm sitting in what I think was the old living room. The walls have an odd mould covering them... I don't know. I'm going to finish looking over the house; perhaps, my family left some clue as to what happened here. When I left, did the Whisperer... no. There would be signs, there would be blood.
One moment. I hear footsteps. I'll be bac