Dear diary

When your dreams become less fantastical than reality, you know something has gone wrong. Nothing much has changed since the last entry, I’ve just been sitting around in the little cabin they assigned me. I have this horrible feeling that spits and claws at the back of my mind, something too horrific to even comprehend. That I may not be on earth -at least earth as I know it- anymore. I try and chalk it down to my imagination, brought on by the stress of the situation, but ignoring it is getting harder with each day. It’s been a week since I was bundled into a camper van by the three. I still have the bruises along my arms from where they grabbed me, deep purple facing into green. When I awoke, I was on my back, lying on a mattress. I just don’t know what they want from me. I feel like screaming now, but I won’t.

There’s only one mattress and a tiny bathroom. No windows, it’s extremely cramped. There’s lights on, so I guess I can’t complain too much, but they don’t ever go off and there is no switch. It’s messing with my head, never knowing how much time has passed, or if it’s night or not. We’re always in motion, still driving no matter what. My sleep has been messed up, but I know for a fact they don’t stop when I’m asleep. I’m almost sure of it. There’s one door that leads into the front, and I tried it today. It was unlocked, something I didn’t expect at all. It swung open with a creek, and all three swivelled around to look at me. It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. Their faces were all pretty much the same, I’m supposing they must be triplets, but they were completely void of all emotion. Like they were wearing matching masks. They seemed too pale, their eyes oddly large. There was only one seat for the driver and the other two stood, it made me begin to doubt if this even was a camper van as I’ve never seen anything so oddly laid out. The windscreen was pitch black. I felt so unnerved by them all staring at me that I went back into the cabin and closed the door.

It’s the small things that are beginning to add up. When I looked in at them, there were no belongings in the front. No sleeping bags, although even if they did I doubt they’d have enough space. No food bags, unless it was hidden by the drivers feet. No toilet. I just don’t understand. They haven’t stopped once. I can’t even feel the camper van going around corners. Like we’re on the worlds longest road. Maybe I am losing my mind. It’s not just that though. It’s the sounds. When I awoke on the mattress a week ago, I stayed on there for a while and just listened to the sounds of the road. The sounds of cars revving, of lorries overtaking, of angry drivers beeping the horn. Sometimes I’d hear loud music streaming by. But now, I hear nothing. Just the rumble of our engine. It must have happened so gradually I didn’t notice until it was completely gone.

The mini fridge is a mystery in its own. The canned drinks seem to be in a different language, and looked as if someone tried to recreate a popular brand they only saw a glance of once about twenty years ago. The can looks like it should be Fanta, the font looks about right and the colours look close, but instead of “Fanta”, there’s a zigzag-y scribble in its place. The can doesn’t have a tab to pull, it has this button that opens and closes it. It gets weirder, although I often wonder whether it will ever stop getting weirder. The ‘liquid’ is like gloop, and is completely flavourless. It’s not just the “Fanta”, it’s every single drink in there. No matter how much I take out of the fridge, it never seems any emptier, although I won’t test that theory too much in case I’m stuck here for longer. The food is the same, off branded in the weird mimicking style, and all has the texture of gelatine. My mind finds it hard to comprehend biting into chicken chunks and instead tasting flavourless jelly.

I don’t know where our final destination will be. There seems to be nothing but questions. The more I think about it, the more I begin to doubt how long I’ve been stuck here. Or how much of what I’m seeing is real. If they’re driving me out to kill me, or if they’re abducting me and asking for money. Maybe I’ve been hallucinating this all, and I’m being transferred to a nice hospital to get better. Or maybe a cult sacrifice. Maybe aliens have abducted me.

I may open the door again tomorrow, see whether I can look out the windscreen and ask them what’s happening. I don’t want to make them angry, as they’ve got my life in their hands. I just want to go home.

I’ll write again once I’m brave enough to confront them, but until then, I think sleep is calling me. God, I hope it goes well.