Gemotions

He saw the diary first. John was a practical man, not prone to flights of fancy. But this, he didn't like. The leather bound book lay on top of a stack of old newspapers. He picked it up.

He flipped through the brittle pages, the ink faded, the handwriting erratic. He stopped at a sentence, underlined. "They're always watching." A chill ran through him. He felt like they were watching him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt lightheaded. He quickly gathered the diary and the newspapers, stuffed them into a trash bag, and ran downstairs. He burned the items in the backyard. Then he changed the locks on every door and window.