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another piece of paper taped to the light switch
nearest to the door. The same beautiful cursive, reading, ‘Cold.’ I tore the note
into pieces, in a fury. I trudged into the last room and found a
third note, identical to the others, reading, ‘Colder.’ I began to laugh in
frustration at this game and slammed the door, tearing up the taunt
while making my way down to the ground level of the
home.

Journal Entry Four
    I carefully
walked down the narrow, wooden stairway that lead to a spacious
entertainment room. The room was unexpectedly furnished to my
taste. It had wooden floors like most of the house and a large
oriental rug that covered the bulk of it. There was a large,
abstract painting hanging above a brown leather Chesterfield sofa.
The room contained several other abstract pieces of art from a few
of my favorite artists. There were pieces by Franz Kline, Sean
Scully, Anselm Kiefer, as well as some more modern timed artists.
These were all very expensive pieces of art.
    I
stared at the entertainment system sitting across from the couch
that was furnished with a stereo, giant flat screened LCD TV and
other technological ingenuities. It was all so very, very strange.
I began to swoon in confusion, setting myself down on the couch to
collect my wits and to try to understand my surroundings. Was
this my home? Did I furnish the
room, the entire house? Everything was to my style and tastes. I
absolutely hated this place, so why would I do such a thing? Even
sitting on this couch seemed comfortable and natural, as if I’ve
been accustomed to being here for years. I can even imagine myself
sitting here watching some of my favorite flicks, drinking a few
fingers of scotch or enjoying my favorite bands while surfing the
internet. I looked down at the glass coffee table sitting in front
of the couch and saw another piece of notebook paper sitting in
front of me.
    Goosebumps riddled my arm as I slowly picked it up and read
the cursive written note, ‘You’ll never find me lazing around on that ugly
couch.’ My face
crumpled in anger, I quickly jumped up and shouted at the
trickster, “Stop with these incessant games and show
yourself!”
    I ran out of
the room and into the hallway that led to the kitchen. The hallway
had long windows with burgundy drapes, looking out into the garden.
Volumes of light rays shined through the windows as I briskly
walked down the hallway. I took note of the bookcases lined up on
either side of the red walls. They were filled to the brim with
novels, comics, atlases, and guides. The quicker I walked the
harsher my fury rattled inside of me. I began rehearsing all of the
insults that I intended to fling at whoever was pranking me.
Colorful and ugly words alike thundered in my mind until the moment
I reached the kitchen and saw the first signs of true
life.
    My anger
melted away upon entering the grey tiled kitchen. Shivers went up
my spine as I approached the oak breakfast table sitting near the
large garden window. The table was cluttered with plates of stale
food, soft drink bottles, empty liquor bottles and red cups. The
bar that opened into the kitchen was a mess, covered in chips, chip
bags, candy wrappers and pizza boxes. As I made my way into the
main area of the kitchen, I looked up and took notice of the dozens
and dozens of multicolored balloons that littered the tall
ceiling.
    The kitchen itself was covered in red cups, dirty utensils,
and the fridge was rudely left open. I walked over to the fridge
that was leaking moisture onto the floor and stared at the empty
whiteness. The fridge was completely empty except for condiments
and a near empty gallon of milk. I closed the door to the fridge
and immediately saw a bright, yellow, sticky note that stuck to the
front of it. 'You
need to go shopping,’ was written in that annoying cursive, with a bold black
marker. I tore the message off of the fridge and threw it to the
ground. “Must you mock me to no end?” I muttered irksomely