Spire O’Ashes

I wrote a thing last month and decided to expand a little on it. When last we saw our protagonist, she was stuck in a cabin in the woods and couldn’t quite remember who she was.


The wifi kicked in. Apparently my reception in the middle of nowhere is fantastic. I took a quick walk around and I can’t figure out how I even have electricity, but I do. And I’m deciding not to question it.

Luckily, I have a lot of accounts logged into my laptop and, according to Facebook, my name is Spire O’Ashes. It’s the name on my Twitter and everywhere else I tried as well. I get a weird feeling about it, like that’s only technically right and I’m missing something.

Then again, what’s in a name, right?

The nice thing is that if I want to know anything about myself, I can just look through my Facebook. Every time I see a post, I start vividly hallucinating about what happened. I saw a photo of a party I was at and ended up on the roof of the house by the time I was finished remembering what happened at it. That was a great night, but I think this trip down memory lane is starting to distract me.

But I can’t post anything. It’s strange, but I can’t seem to make a single post. It says I don’t have permission and to print out a form and bring it to the central office. I’m not sure what it means by that. I’m in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know what office it’s talking about or how I’d get there.

I mean, my car is back. Or it was. It showed up again in the night last night, but it vanished again this morning. This place is so weird and I don’t know what I should be more worried about. My car going missing? The amazing internet that won’t let me post or upload anything without a form? Those weird lights I see in the woods? The feeling that something is watching me whenever I leave this cabin? The fact that my cupboards are as full as they were when I first got here despite the fact that I know I’ve eaten that entire bag of Oreos three times already?

Maybe that last one isn’t so bad.

I really should start writing. That’s why I came out here, right? I wanted to get away from it all and get that book done. And started. Where did I leave those notes? I hope I brought them. I must have brought them…

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