Day 2,566

The ruins of the old Abbey, the warning signs, the man hanging from the sky. 

There's no place like home. 

I used to think I could leave home when I was a kid, dreamt I could go away to university and never come back. Trick the whole village into thinking it was only going to be a brief sojourn and then burn every bridge that led me back.

As a teenager I truly felt like I'd managed to escape the village's oddities only whenever I mentioned any aspect of home life my roommates all looked at me like I'd grown a third head and it was insulting their mother. I quickly learnt what it meant to grow up in a place full of horror and how hateful it made other people.

I even began to miss the village, the crows that chanted your name and death date, the way the warning signs made your vision blur and bleed around the edges. I even missed the evenings my family spent barricading ourselves in the attic while the souls of long dead monks begged us for shelter. 

When one of my roommates mentioned seeing a weird sign out by the river, I knew I hadn't escaped at all. I knew it would only be a natrer of time before worse things came and my choices would be go home or wait for home to come to me. 

So I chose to run until there was no world left to run to.