I am afraid that there will come that day, when I have a noodle-memory, everything just flows through, without even yielding, let alone stopping, like...water being poured over noodles, and I am forced to remember on paper anyway.I was awake. So melodramatic, but it was true; hey, I have to remember (well, that’s so ... different ... I made a pun) that this is MY journal, I can be melodramatic as much as I want! Okay, let’s get serious.I could remember waking earlier, or was that what had made me. When I got there, I found the other two also had weapons pointed at me. “Okay,” said Bill. “Start talking. Who are you and why are you here?”.I was scared and could see no point in trying to make up a story to bluff my way out. “I’m a cyclist, out for some exercise, that’s all,” I said, making eye contact with Bill so he could see how sincere I was. “I saw that sign, “Backstage Pass”, and took the trail just to see where it led. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just scared when I heard. More

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