It's been 213 days since the world ended and I miss you.
I saw one of the Bookmen today. I had heard stories about them. One of my coworkers said they saw one at night, looking in windows. I didn't believe him until today.
He (I assume it was a he) was wearing a suit and was walking upright, although how he was walking, I have no idea. His face wasn't there -- it was an open book, the pages flipped open. He would occasionally stop and turn one. I couldn't see the words and I'm not sure I would want to read them.
I'm not sure I'm describing it correctly. It wasn't like someone glued a book to his face. It was like his face was removed and there was a book there instead. Maybe the book was made from his face. Maybe the pages were his flesh and the spine...
God, I threw up after seeing him.
The worst part? He was outside, walking during the day. He moved slowly enough so that everyone could see him coming and find some hiding place. I knelt under the counter at work. He looked in our window. I'm not sure how he looked without eyes -- maybe there are eyes on every page? But he looked into the window and I hoped to hell that he couldn't see me. The pages rustled against the glass and then he was gone.
I don't know what would have happened if he saw me. Maybe nothing. But I can't help but think that perhaps he had a real face before and then something happened to turn him into a Bookman. I'm not sure if that's more or less comforting than the alternative.
I'm sorry for being morbid again. I'll try to think of some happy memories tomorrow.
It's been 213 days since the world ended and I miss you.
