“Entry date: August 17, 2014.

My name is Ashley Davis. As an experiment, I would like to begin keeping a private written journal. The key word there is ‘private.’ That means that if anyone else is reading this, you must close it and walk away right now. If I ever discover that you read past this point, you will be subjected to unimaginable pain. This is your last warning.”

I figured it was only fair to give the hypothetical snooper a true chance to back away now, so I made a page break and continued on the other side.

“I’m fourteen years old, and I pretty much already have my entire life together. I’m a straight-A student and have made impressive progress on playing multiple musical instruments. And yet, there is something that has plagued me for just over two years now. It has plagued me since I first moved to my current home in Enchantment City, Texas. And that thing is that I have a crush on someone.

Now, you may think that this is a pretty typical high school girl thing, and it happens to almost everyone, right? Perhaps you would suggest that I quit worrying and learn to express myself to this person, to tell them how I feel. Well, I’m here to say that the world is not that simple. What a blessed existence it must be, to simply walk up to the one you love, and just tell them how you feel. I would give quite a bit to have a life like that.

And the problem is not that I’m not a socially-minded person, although I would say that’s true. I prefer to focus on my academic and musical endeavors over social ones. Humans are prone to misfire, to forget, to attack without warning. But if I focus on being the best person I can be, it won’t matter. The world will have no choice but to accept my skills.

No, the real problem here is that I carry a hand grenade everywhere that I go. I take it to school with me during the week, and I take it back home afterwards. I take it to church on Sunday. I take it to every class, every rehearsal, every family gathering, every performance, etcetera. I was given a second chance when I moved here, and since then I have managed to prevent the grenade from being activated. But it’s a heavy burden to carry. And each day, I have felt my resentment rise ever so slightly.”

I stop for a minute to admire my work, to check it for any grammatical inaccuracies, and to appreciate how cleanly I managed to articulate myself.

And then, I watch every word I just wrote fade from the page, and it reverts to looking as if it had never been written on.

What the fuck? Nothing could have prepared me for something this utterly absurd. Immediately, I am on high alert, mulling over every possibility of what this could be. Am I dreaming? Is there something wrong with the paper, or the pencil? Is there some serious supernatural bullshit happening? Am I hallucinating?

And then, something appears in its place right before my eyes, something written in a loopy handwriting that is not my own.

“Hi Ashley. I am terribly sorry, but I just read what you wrote. I promise I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t have a choice.

I know exactly how you feel. You have to put on a facade to hide what it is that you truly are, because you believe that it is shameful, or at the very least everyone else does. It’s a horrid existence. I knew it once, for all too long.

I think that perhaps I can help you. I can tell you’re the type of girl who has a vision. Who wants to make an impact. If you follow my advice, you can do much more than you ever imagined was possible.” Then, after I had read it, the text faded, leaving the page blank once again.

Well. How do you respond to that?

Let’s start with a recap. So, I write my deepest trouble into this dusty old journal that was inexplicably sitting around in my closet. My writing disappears, and now disembodied text is telling me that it wants to… What? Give me therapy? Get me to do its bidding?

I do not have too much unusual supernatural experience. I’m a Christian, so obviously I believe in the supernatural, but… not THIS kind of supernatural.

My first inclination is not to trust this. This is some type of spirit trying to fuck with me, or worse. If it needs a vessel like this to talk to me, there’s no way that the nature of this thing is at all godly. On that note, I have already told this thing way too much. I should not give it any more personal information.

Further, I wonder if I shouldn’t just destroy this book right now. Then again, with no basilisk fangs lying at my ready, who knows if an object such as this even could be destroyed.

Ultimately, I decide to try and question it.

“Who or what are you?” I write.

The words fade and, on the page appears this:

“If we’re going to do this, you need to trust me. Check your phone.”

And what is there to do but check my phone?

And that’s when I see it. A new app has appeared, a jarring black and red icon that resembles an eye.

And that’s the moment that I decide I’ve had enough.

I shut the book and, to be on the safe side, throw it across the room. I then go to delete the red icon…

But when my finger touches it, I get a dizzy feeling and the world itself seems to shimmer. And when it focuses again, I find myself somewhere I’ve never seen before in my life.

Well, actually that’s not completely true. The place I ended up in looked exactly like my room; same dimensions, same furniture, etcetera. Except for the tiny detail that everything, the walls and every piece of furniture, were dark and textureless, and the only light came from glowing red and purple veins that ran across everything.

I jolt to my feet, my brain charging to try and make sense of everything that has happened, emotions crashing into my like tidal waves. Confusion, anger, and worry setting in.

[But fear too.]

[Fear most of all, in fact.]

[Fear like I’ve barely ever felt before.]

So. I’m clearly having some sort of unforeseen supernatural experience.

So where am I now? Am I in the same place, but my vision is distorted? Am I in a parallel world? Is this all an illusion? Am I just developing schizophrenia? (Probably not the last one, since schizophrenia usually doesn’t manifest itself until adulthood.)

I look to the other side of the room, where… the book is gone. Well, that’s just peachy.

I get my phone back out, but I’m not able to unlock it. That damn thing must not want me to leave just yet.

So, I have no choice but to begin exploring.

I take off from my room and down the hall. Passing the bathroom, I notice that the toilet looks just as fucking weird as everything else, so if I have to pee while here, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.

I head to my parents’ bedroom. As I pass through the living room, I feel a strong presence coming from their room. I can’t describe why I feel this way, it’s like… my body is anticipating something. (Or someone.)

However, whenever I walk into their room, there is nobody home. Interestingly, there is a red aura lighting the room, as if there’s some giant lamp I can’t see hanging above the room.

I wonder what my parents would think if they could see me now. Would they be angry? Concerned? Either way, they probably would not give me a free pass to mess around with this supernatural stuff to my heart’s content. I decide that I probably should not tell them about this unless I have to.

[It’s no big deal.]

[Just add it to the list of secrets I’m keeping from them.]

My next stop is the front yard. If the inside of the house looks this fucking bizarre, I can only imagine what it looks like outside.

The outside does not disappoint. Everything else looks just like the inside of my house. The sky is pitch black, with not so much as a star or the moon to light it. In the distance, dark fog obscures the horizon. No sign of any other life anywhere. Just me.

Okay, I think I’ve had my fun. Time to go to sleep.

...Nope, damn phone still won’t open. I guess it wants something from me.

So, with the whole town available to me, where do I go? I could go by Zoe’s house, perhaps. However, given that the other people in the town seem to not be here, there doesn’t seem to be much point in that.

Given that this stuff is all clearly supernatural, I’m kind of curious to see what would happen if I went to church. Having no other leads, that’s exactly what I do.

It’s a pretty decent walk to get there, about 20 minutes. But I guess I’m in good enough shape thanks to marching band that I’m able to go the whole way without getting tired. (In fact, I really don’t feel much of anything at all as far as my senses are concerned.)

The church is in the middle of residential area, surrounded by small houses. It’s not quite a mega-church, but it’s still pretty big, probably the largest one in town other than the Catholic church.

I walk up to the sign in front of the building. Normally, the words “First Baptist Church” are printed there, but now it’s blank, only covered by one particularly large vein that goes straight over the top. Very helpful.

I enter through one of the side doors. Inside the building, the veins become thicker and more plentiful, sprawling around in every direction across it. And there’s a very faint crimson-colored tint to the place. Like the black fog outside, it becomes more noticeable the further I look into the distance.

I think the most interesting place to check out would be the sanctuary, so I go through the wooden doors to the right.

The sanctuary’s pretty decently sized, a stage in the front to my left, rows upon rows of pews, including a balcony at the back. Right behind the stage is an enormous stained glass window. There was no design on it; however, the glass seemed to have an odd shimmer to it.

This catches my attention, so I make my way up on to the stage.

Looking more closely at the stained glass, I can’t quite describe what it is about it. It’s black like oil, but also strangely shiny. I may dearly regret doing this, but I’m going to try touching it out of curiosity.

Before I can even really touch anything, I am rewarded by being blinded by a bright light, as well hearing an ear-splittingly loud sound of breaking glass. It take me a minute or so to come to. And when I do, I immediately begin to regret every decision I’ve made in the past hour.

I turn around and survey the sanctuary, and am greeted six creatures, circling around the stage like a pack. They resembled coyotes, but they had blood red fur, and their legs and paws were made up of a strange, angular pattern.

Which is absolutely great. I’m still wearing my pajamas and I don’t have any weapons. These odds are not good. Still, there doesn’t seem to be any way out of this, so I move to the front of the stage past the choir pews so I have a clear shot at them.

I make a wide stance and draw my fists, as they’re basically all I have right now. All they do is growl at me threateningly for a few seconds. Then, something interesting happens.

[I see a man in front of me with flowing, shoulder length curly hair, two enormous wings, and a warrior’s garb.]

[“Who are you?” I ask.]

[“I am Saint Michael, he says.]

[I blink. “You’re not who I was expecting.”]

[“The Lord has called you to something greater that your secluded introspection. You have waited in the shadows for long enough- it is time to come out.”]

[“ That’ll raise some hell,” I say. “But I guess it’s past time I got to do some of that.”]

[“We will form a pact then… but be warned, that there is no returning once you’ve started down the path.”]

[I find myself grinning. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s save this nation, or die trying.]

My body convulses. I feel uncomfortably forced forward. It makes my arms tremble and knocks the breath out of my lungs. Without thinking, I reach up to my face, where a white mask had formed, which I promptly tore off. It hurts like hell, causing blood to pour out of the open wound, but I bear with a wince… Then, my whole body is engulfed in blue flames. When they burn out, I'm wearing a golden set of armor and brandishing a silver longsword. In the middle of my chestplate is a small indentation. And behind me, I could see the ghostly figure of St. Michael.

The animals standing below me ought to be afraid, but they do not back down, growling more menacingly than ever. And so, feeling much more confident, I make the first strike.

I lunge forward, sending my new sword crashing down into two of the coyotes and knocking them into one of the pews with a thud. From there, the coyotes dissipate, disappearing into a dark mist.

But then, the others pounce onto me before I had re-oriented myself from the last attack. I pivot quickly to the left and manage to knock one of them backwards with my sword, but was too late to stop the others, who topple me over onto the floor.

As so here I am, sitting here on my stomach, defenseless, feeling the other coyotes frantically scratching at my armor, trying to find bare flesh to tear into. I try to push them off, but they’re too heavy.

And yeah, I guess that’s pretty much it. I’m fucked.

At that moment, I hear a bang from right above me that echoes throughout the sanctuary in a cacophony. I feel a weight lifted from my back, and so I scramble to face forward and find that the four remaining coyotes were blasted several yards towards the other end of the sanctuary. They are badly hurt by whatever the hell just happened. The one I had knocked back now dissipates into the darkness with the first two, the the other three begin bounding around and back towards the stage area. They sail over the stairs, and then the choir podiums, until they go straight through the stained glass window in the back.

And with that, it is dead silent.

I get to my feet, and begin slowly turning to check my surroundings. And I'm quite startled when I find that on the stage behind me, a large blue armadillo stands on its hind legs. It's standing at only about 3 feet tall, has a red bandana cover its neck, wears a ten gallon hat, and has a revolver in the holster of its belt.

(If you think THAT’S funny, what happens next is even better.)

The armadillo tips its hat to me, and speaks in a deep, manly voice with a thick, southern accent; “Howdy, pardner.”

After all of the confusion, stress and fear of what had just happened, I come very close to just bursting out into laughter right there. However, I manage to keep it together.

“Hello,” I say to it. “I don’t suppose you just saved me from those things, did you?”

The thing just looks at me, which I take as a yes.

If it weren’t for the fact that literally nothing that has happened so far has made any amount of sense, I probably would have been freaked out by this turn of events. But given everything else, sure, why not, why not just have a friendly chat with a talking armadillo that speaks like a stereotypical cowboy? That makes sense, right?

“Are you the being who is inside my journal?” I ask it.

“Ma’am, I don’t believe I have any business being inside of any such object.”

“That’s good for you, then,” I say. I realize that I had subconsciously raised my sword at it, and drop it. “Because when I get ahold whatever that thing is that trapped my here against my will, I am going to have words .”

“Thank you for releasing my from my prison,” the armadillo says, tipping its hat politely.

“Um… you’re welcome?” I respond. “Not sure what I did, exactly.”

He gestures backwards towards the not-actually-stained-glass window.

Oh.

That’s right, I touched the thing.

And then, at that moment, right in front of us, a small, glowing pink object emerges from the glass, and slowly floats forward until it lands right into my hands. Observing it up close, it was clearly some type of gem.

“Do you know anything about this gem? Or… well, any of this?” I ask the armadillo.

However, it was just pointing at something. I look down, and find that it’s the small indentation in my armor.

Which looks like about the right size for the pink gem to fit into.

“You think I should… stick it in there?” I say. (Get your mind out of the gutter.)

“You will need more that just a sword for the upcoming battles,” he says.

“Oh will I now?” I don’t know what he means by “upcoming battles,” and I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.

But, for a lack of better ideas, I go ahead and put the gem in there. And then, pretty much as soon as I do, my cell phone starts ringing.