Ink in My Hair

Dear Diary,

I honestly don’t even know where to start. I’m still not convinced that somebody didn’t slip me a Roofie or something at the bar—didn’t that used to happen in the sixties? Where people would go on bad trips and just…never come back?

I’m having a hard time deciding which would be worse—lying comatose in a hospital bed somewhere, trapped inside my own brain, or here, in this weird cottage, on this weird planet, with these weird people. Yes, I said planet. As in not Earth.

Aside from Halryan, who is the “sorcerer” (so he says) responsible for getting me here, there are four other guys, Koen, Minogan, Errigal and Feoras. They’re blue. Like Smurfs, but a different shade. Yeah, tell me pharmaceuticals are not involved here.

Oh, and did I mention I’ve changed color, too? I used to be Undead pale, but now I look Hispanic. Also, I’m speaking a different language.

Please, God, let this not be real.

June

P.S. Borrowed dip pen (quill? whatev) ink and paper from Halryan for this. No one tells you how messy these things are. I have ink in my hair.



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