It has been over a week.

Over a week since the incident. Over a week since Kail has stopped speaking to us, or at all. Ever since Kail’s family was kidnapped and brutally murdered by Alana, he has retreated into his own mind, not coming out. Ever. The last thing we see every day is Kail sitting as far off into the distance as is safe, staring off, a tiny head disrupting the sprawling horizon. The first thing we see each morning is Kail, still facing away, small, hunched figure blocking the rising sun.

I figure he must eat sometime, sleep sometime, or he would have been with his parents by now. But we never see it. All we see is his back, curved and defeated, sometimes wracked with sobs too far away to hear.

I wish I could do something. We all do. But we know Kail would simply reject us and push us away. Besides, its better to give him time to grieve. He lost his family, his whole life, and he rightfully blames Alana, but knowing Kail, a little of his head blames himself too. I know I would.

We all suffer and go through loss. It’s a part of life. And in those times, we all need a little time alone.


Evolution of Thought and Realizations

Human evolution

Before Alana disappeared, I was hell bent on finding her, exposing her, destroying her. We all were. It was impossible not to feel that way. She murdered our friends and had gotten away with it. There is nothing wrong with wanting justice, after all. That was before.

When we were chasing Alana, the search only fueled the flame. Of course, is that not always how it is? Finally taking action, finally following through and making sure that our threats were not empty. It’s enough to make anyone excited. That’s right, we were all excited. It was a twisted sort of excitement, the kind that would only be satisfied through the downfall of the target. That or it would be calmed by failure. When Kail brought the computer to me, I could smell the success. We were so, so close.

After the video, after I called the cops, I sat in my room for hours. I was disgusted. I wanted to throw up everything in my stomach after what I had seen. This person was a monster. No, we knew that already. What I had discovered was that she was sick. Her mind was past the point of return and nothing would make her turn from her hideous ways. That was what I thought after.

Now, after we have heard the news, after Alana is already gone without a trace, now I wonder if it is all worth it. Is it worth the prolonged pain and suffering? The grief and hardships? Is getting revenge all that important? Sure, we could call it “justice” but in essence, it is revenge. 

It’s really not worth the trouble. Alana is not worth the trouble. I may change my mind in the future, but for now, I say that Alana will get what she deserves, sooner or later. Whether it is here on Earth, or in the pits of hell. She will get what she deserves.

Never. NEVER believe what you hear.

At least not without seeing for yourself, with your own eyes.

I used to believe everything my mother told me. That everyone who was different was evil. That everyone who wasn’t smart was a heathen. That every single thing that did not conform to the standards of society was just trying to be special. Not anymore.

As a child, I read the newspapers. Well, only one. I thought everything they said was the fact, the whole story. I trusted all their reporters and writers and photographers. I trusted that one single paper told the entire truth. I don’t believe in that anymore either.

Kail and I were able to get onto this blog in order to offer a new perspective. To report on the story from another side. I cannot tell you that Alana’s story is a lie, although I know myself. I cannot tell you to believe my recount of things any more than Alana can tell you to believe hers. And I cannot tell you who is in the right.

We write what we see. We give you our version of the story, and each person has a different version. All we can do is offer the outlines and leave them. It is up to you to decide who to believe, who to trust. You can even put together your own version of the “truth.” Any way you think of it doesn’t matter to us. After all, we live through this life. You just read about it.

News Travels

2In the old days, hundreds of years ago, when something happened, the news would be delivered by word of mouth or horses. Newspapers were common, and so were telegrams that carried messages to family. News travels so fast these days. The second something happens a camera crew is on the scene and millions of videos/pictures are uploaded onto social media. People call and text each other and the entire world knows in an instant.

Recently, there have been a lot of murders in our area. When people were kidnapped, everyone knew. When they were found, everyone knew. It didn’t matter how fast the news traveled, how quickly word spread. Every single time, no one would find the bodies fast enough. They would be found a week dead on a riverbank, in a shed, in the tall grasses of a field. There was absolutely no correlation between the victims whatsoever. None but one. Each body had strips of skin torn out. Some from the back, the legs, the softest part of the cheek. And their hair had been shaved. Man or woman, all the victims were found bald and mutilated. No other violations detected.

Recently, Alana had started a fashion blog. Kail had shown me the day before, saying that maybe Alana had given up the killer stalking routine and had moved on to more humane hobbies. We moved to the library and watched a few videos on Kail’s laptop, trying to be certain that Alana had moved on.

It was… normal. All she did was talk about the outfits that she had seen recently and drink dark red wine. Maybe she had gotten bored and moved onto a new subject. Maybe she finally grew a conscience and learned how to be a proper person. I was foolish to let myself hope.

Honestly, you would think that I had never watched The Silence of the Lambs the way I didn’t put that together. Alana’s latest video was entitled “New Project” and depicted herself standing at a mannequin, wine glass in hand. Kail clicked on it and we sat through her long introductory spiel. Then she announced that her new project was called “Human” and took a swig of wine. Alana grinned at us through the screen, her teeth stained red.

Kail shoved the laptop away from him and pulled out his earbuds with such force that the laptop followed them onto the ground. I grabbed my phone and immediately called the police, directing them to Alana’s house. Maybe this would finally be over.

On the news the next day, videos showed the police kicking down Alana’s door and investigating her house. Everything was the way a normal house was supposed to look, at least until they reached Alana’s room. On the mannequin, was a thick wrap of mismatched leather. Different colors sewn together with brown, black, red, yellow, thread. Little pieces of thread were glued on in various places to synthesize fur. It was obvious now that Alana was never normal and could never be. She would always be a killer. It was then that we decided to search for and find her.

It wasn’t like there was anything that the authorities could do about it. Alana lived alone and was long gone by the time the police came around. We watched the news coverage live and listened to the commentary as it all happened. But it was still too late. News travels so quickly these days. Too bad it’s never of any use to anyone.

My Newest Fear

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I used to fear the monsters under my bed. The irrational thought of a creature below me as I slept terrified me. I had my mother check every night and still kept the light on, door cracked.

I used to fear the man at the window. The idea that there might be someone watching me was something that I was utterly convinced of. That was when I was five years old.

I used to fear the boys that bullied me. The ones that were bigger, the ones that were stronger. But I knew that I far outpaced them on the field of intellect and would leave them behind eventually. It wasn’t a real fear, just the primal aversion to physical pain.

I used to fear my parents. No, what I truly feared was failure. I feared bringing home anything less than excellent for that would mean a less than excellent life. That would mean failure in my future. It would mean that I was no better than the boys that had tormented me in my earlier life. I feared being less. I feared being average.

I used to fear Alana. It was, once again, a primal fear, something left over from our evolution. But this time, for the first time, I feared for more than myself. I feared for all of us. For the threat Alana posed to our safety, for the threat she posed to our lives.

For the longest time, I used to fear the ones we left behind. I used to fear the empty shells of Brad and Brandon. Of Justine. They came to me in my sleep, asking why, why, WHY I couldn’t save them, why I didn’t save them. I feared their cold faces and their haunted eyes.

Then there was nothing at all. There was only anger and the desire for retribution. Anger that I pushed down. Anger that I ignored. For all my earlier talk of revenge, I ignored my anger and got back to my life. Only now, over two years into college, do I remember. I remember and I fear.

I fear that I have lost it. That anger. I fear that I have pushed it down so far that it is unreachable. I fear that it has disappeared in my desire to ignore it. I fear that I have forgotten the horrors of what Alana has done to us. I fear it with more of my being than I have feared anything else. I fear I have forgiven.


I bet you thought you had seen the last of me. Yeah, well, I thought so too. The second we landed on Earth I had made a run for it. Some stupid, irrational part of me had this crazy thought: If I acted normal, Alana would leave me alone. Obviously, I was out of my mind. Luckily, Kail grabbed me and pulled me back to the rest of the group. As soon as we got all of our things together, we heard someone calling our names. It was Justine. She was in her private jet, waving to bring us over.

Only a idiot would have followed her. Or a group of desperate teenagers. Alana had just landed, 50 feet away, in full Shrek form. Justine’s private jet seemed heaven sent. We pprivate-jetiled in and with a knock on the cockpit door from Justine,
we were off, leaving Alana in the dust.

Flying away from where we landed was like taking a breath after being submerged under water for an eternity. It was the first time in a while that none of us were panicked or, in Brad’s case, crying. We sat down in Justine’s luxurious chairs and many of us passed out from exhaustion. We were finally experiencing peace, however short our rendezvous with peace may be. As my companions sleep, I am here, writing, putting my thoughts into this blog, now that I have the time. I don’t know when I will next be able to do this, seeing as Alana may just never stop.

Justine’s pilot has just turned on the speakers, possibly to announce that we have arrived in a secret hiding place.

“Justine,” he said, “I see something flying behind us.

Kail ran into the cockpit to look at the screen. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse, myself.


I passed Kail as I ran into the cockpit and he ran out. It was with a panicked look on his face. He sat down in the first available seat, next to Brad, and put his head between his knees. I stayed in the cockpit, watching. It has now been forty minutes of nothing but us flying at full speed and Alana keeping up behind us, no effort from her. It seems this will simply be a race of who can last longer. I had sat down in the copilot seat and am now attempting to start up writing again. Maybe I should just take one more loobvfhidszdjk ivjfdnc



Perhaps I should explain what happened then. It has been two weeks since the accident. Only now have I just remembered that this blog exists, and that I need to tell the world of Alana’s crimes. I had just looked up to the screen, when I saw Shreklana open her mouth. From it, came a gigantic missile, that crashed into the plane. My head had smashed into the keys from the impact, and I had blacked out. It must have only been for a couple seconds, but I came to with blood in my eyes and alarms and screams all around. I managed to stumble into the main area to take in the sight around me. Brad and Kail were holding each other, Justine was hugging Brandon, despite not knowing him at all. Both were screaming. Tiffano and Alex were each on opposite sides of the plane, huddled up in little balls in between seats. All this, I saw in an instant. I turned back around, to find the pilot. Dead. The ground couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet away. In my panic, I pushed the pilot aside, and somehow managed to keep us from being completely crushed against the ground. By some twisted mercy of the gods, we were headed to an empty field. I got the plane horizontal. We hit the ground. I was pitched all the way to the back of the plane. Hitting the wall, everything went dark for the second time in a few minutes.

I opened my eyes to see Brandon staring back at me. Except he wasn’t. His eyes were open, but Brandon was not looking. Him and Justine were slumped against each other, each eternally captivated by something the rest of us would not see until we met them again. I backed away, and hit Kail’s leg. I glanced up to see him sobbing. It was Brad, his eyes closed in the dreamless sleep, never to open again. Tiffano and Alex emerged from where they hid, and we all gathered around Kail, me on the floor, Tiffano and Alex standing, and Kail, crouched over the motionless shell that once was Brad.

These are the crimes of the woman named Alana. Forget her invasion of privacy, forget that Justine was a nuisance. The deaths of four people were her crimes. The death of the pilot, whose name I never knew, the deaths of Justine, Brandon, and Brad. They are her crimes. They are the reason she deserves, no, needs to be punished.

Looking Back

Oh dear lord. What a journey this has been. A long, difficult, and downright unbelievable journey, if you ask me. It’s also one that I am ready to end. At all costs. This is the journey of Fake Implants.

We began in a library. It was a normal day, or as normal as it got in high school. Things were finally beginning to look up for me. I had my perfect GPA, extracurriculars stacked to the roof, and was even tutoring someone. But the girl, the one sitting in the back corner of the library, she ruined it all. Granted, my student wasn’t exactly the teacher’s dream either. Justine was the incarnation of a pink, blonde, nightmare. What I wouldn’t give to be as careless with my grades, my reputation and my life as she. Actually, I would


Photo Gord Webster 2/14/12 © CC BY-SA 2.0

Justine will be with nothing but her bright pink lipstick. The one who I actually wouldn’t mind switching places with (for the time being) was my classmate, Kail. He was currently lazily wandering through the shelves and aisles, browsing books to his heart’s content. Instead, I waited until the day my air-headed student deigned to make my acquaintance. As I said: I lived a relatively normal life.


When Justine entered the room, I felt everything go down the drain. Not my hard work or my future, not yet, but the quality of my day. A superficial thing, now that I think about it. Justine had serious problems with focus, and that was when the nightmare began. She had noticed Kail in an aisle near our table. Of course you all know what happened next. Justine


Photo Brockovich 3/10/10 © CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

had always considered flirting her “fortissimo.” I kid you not, she actually mixed up forte and fortissimo.  Ok no need to get nerdy on a shared blog. Justine actually began chasing Kail up and down the bookcase aisles. At this point, I couldn’t take any more. I had better things to do with my time than to watch a child play around. What happened next I would not be able to tell you. All that I know is that evil snake blogger Alana documented it all. She e-mailed the link to me the very next day. Somehow, it had gotten into the post that Justine was a man, Kail liked men, and that Alana was Shrek. At that moment, I knew that my life as I knew it was over until this crisis was resolved.

All I wanted, was to eat my lunch in peace. I was having lunch with Kail and the new kid, Tiffano, one day. We were in the back of the lunch hall, unnoticed by almost everyone. And I say almost because the very people we were trying to avoid found us. Justine came first.


Photo Mike Mozart 3/9/14 © CC BY 2.0

She sauntered over, planting herself across from Kail. Due to her utter stupidity and overall lack of brain cells, Justine threw a Cheez-It at Kail that ended up hitting Tiffano. Apparently, Tiffano had an allergic reaction specifically to Cheez-Its. Her face swelled and turned green. Literally. Tiffano turned into Pepe the Frog. Unknown to us, at the time, Alana watched this all and put it right onto her blog. Like the plague, she, once again, sent me the link to her blog post, this time with an audio message of her maniacal laughter in the background.

It seemed that our only escape was away from the planet. Now, that may have been a bit of an overreaction, but Kail and Tiffano convinced me that escape into space was our only option. As we loaded the ship, a couple guys ran up, begging us to allow them to escape. They, too, had been terrorized by Alana, and wanted nothing more than solace. We arrived at the shelter and were able to relax for some time. Some. Before long, Alana arrived. This c038c021-f9cc-45ea-bd3e-1bd07390bdc1time, she was also bringing a clueless Justine in tow. We were completely lost, but the brave Tiffano decided he would take one for the team. He ripped open the cupboards and grabbed a box of Cheez-Its from within. Shoving a handful into his mouth, Tiffano went to greet our guests. The rest of us ran frantically to the basement and out to our ship, not wanting Tiffano’s sacrifice to be in vain. This escape plan was an utter disaster. We only barely managed to get Tiffano onto the ship before Alana and Justine rushed out to try to catch us. Looked like we evaded them for the first time.

I think these people are completely mental. I need to be done with this nonsense and get back to my life. My boring, routine life. At least there was consistency and no fearing for your life. In fact, I have a couple projects due soon and I cannot afford to waste any more time. Time is a short thing is this world and in my life, especially with Alana after my friends and I every other day. But no more. If she comes, I will fight her. Because I have really wanted to read this new book I bought and watch a documentary I found (called From the 50 Yard Line.)I can’t do that with Alana on my back. I have a life, with AP classes, college apps, and marching band. That is reality. Not some crazy adventure with bloggers and teenage drama queens. Bye bye escaped convict lifestyle, hello, normality.




Goodbye Alana.


I honestly don’t know what I was expecting. You may have heard from Kail, but Alana caught up to us, and we really should have seen that coming. That girl is a monster. Literally.

Outside the window of our hideout, we could see Alana emerge from the new rocket ship with Justine. We reacted immediately, all running to the basement as Tiffano pulled a box of Cheez-Its from the cupboard.

In case it slipped your mind, Tiffano has a severe allergy to Cheez-Its, the only symptom being her transformation into Pepe the Frog.

He was able to distract Alana as I got everyone else into the ship.

We were in, and, leaving the door open, I began to start up the engine, preparing to get us out. Tiffano/Pepe made an honorable sacrifice and it was up to him to get back to the ship before we took off.

And out he came, right when we were about to lift off, he sprinted out the back door, full Pepe form. The second he jumped into the ship and we took off, Alana bursted through the back door of our hideout. Or, it was what I assumed was Alana. It was this huge ogre creature, something that looked like it came straight from a movie.

Looks like I need to catch up on sleep.

We Made It


God, being on the run is exhausting. The air here is so thin I can feel my brain cells dying, my IQ deteriorating. This must be where Justine spends her off time.

Tiffano landed the ship a couple hours ago and the two of us, along with Kail, Brandon, Brad and Alex are now taking refuge in the bunker. (Brandon, Brad and Alex are a few guys who had also been previously terrorized by Alana.)

At least I brought my reading material, I have to finish reading The Odyssey for my English class and I cannot fall behind. Hiding from a crazed blogger or not. Sitting in the kitchen of our bunker was a great place to get ahead so that I could deal with anything coming later. Unfortunately, five other guys in a room do not make for a great reading environment, especially for something as foreign to me as The Odyssey. That needs at least a little concentration, of which I would never be able to get if I had stayed in the kitchen.

Thankfully, a fully equipped bunker will always have multiple rooms. After a bit of exploring, I found one at the back at the bunker containing nothing but a single couch. Perfect.

So here I am, jotting down some notes before I settle down for reading. We have lost Alana, for now. I wonder how long it will be until we have to be on the move again.

They’re Coming.


Oh God no. We are on a freaking rocketship. How the hell are they following us? You know, Alana is probably still laughing her butt off at us, just waiting to get her hands on a story. At least she won’t have any material for the time being. Perhaps she will become bored and turn around. Or, even better, accidentally drive her ship into the darkness of space, never to be heard from again. I desperately hope for the latter, however, EVEN THE FORMER WOULD BE A GOD GIVEN GIFT. At the moment, Kail looks panicked. He is on the space couch, nervously glancing out the window, as if he can spot the other ship. I, myself, only know from the call that I got from Alana, featuring only a prolonged, cackling laugh. From that, I knew. I cut off the connection before she could say any more. I was horrified. When will we ever be able to escape the Wicked Witch?