So it finally happened. After days of hearing my friends advices at Lulu's, to not going alone to the streets at night, I eventually did it and got in trouble. I should've known better. Yet the boredom of an almost empty town with few distractions forced me to wander around the streets and take pictures.
 
It was at the top of the hill, where a small wooden shack is, that everything happened. I can still feel his cheap cigar smell, the balded head reflecting with the moonlight. A sadistic look in his eyes, humming a song, like he done this all his life. Focused on the photos I didn't see him coming. He grabbed me from behind and putted a wet rag of cloth over my mouth and nose, pressing firmly. In a matter of seconds I started to feel a strange smell entering my nostrils and going up my head. Things started to get blurry. I tried to punch the mans groins and kick him in the leg, but that just made him furious. He almost chocked me with his arms, but the effect of the drug was to quick for me to feel it. His humming got distant and faded. All went black and the last thing I remember is my body hitting the ground.
 

I just found this notebook in my desk in my apartment.  I'd forgotten about it, and only just reread what I'd written.  It's been an humbling experience, being here over the past few months.  It hasn't broken me, not as I'm now sure my old Captain believed it would, but it hasn't been easy.
 
I've caught a person or two, but nowhere near a many as I used to before I transfered here.  The criminals here, they're a more slimy brand, they seem to slip through my fingers often.  Thugs line the streets as much as law abiding citizens, and not all law abiding citizens dress well and maintain their appearance.  Most of them look just like any other thug, and it's made for paranoia on my part.  I hardly know whether to greet someone or take out my cuffs.
 

Tinkel's Journal - 13 February 2010

 
Seven months ago I left my home and my job to start a new life. With no family or friends who would care, I decided to embrace a new freedom and travel alone in my car, with no particular destination. The only goal is to find the inspiration that is lacking, for me to write and paint again.
 

*written on an crumpled piece of paper pinned near a sewer entrance*
 
Long must I swim and swim and swim
in waters so dim, so dim, so dim
to seek my food and feast my fill
hard must i hunt and often kill
small is the game, and all too hungry
 
the croc, the croc, the croc
 
ages ago, ago, ago
it was not so, not so, not so
Mammoth, Mastodon, giant Sloth
covered the world like a moving cloth
a single kill could easyly feed
 
the croc, the croc, the croc
 
they have all gone, all gone, all gone
and left me alone, alone, alone
left me endlessly seeking food,
few my numbers now,
small my brood,
the world has grown too petty to feed
 
the croc, the croc, the croc
 
but now comes man, comes man, comes man,
who breeds as he can, he can, he can,
vast in numbers and easy to kill,
from his hordes i can eat my fill,
I will not starve while man can feed
 
the croc, the croc, the croc

I was on my way to a board meeting to let my colleagues know of a finding in my studies of AIDS that seemed particularly promising to aide in finding a cure. As luck had it I got stranded in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere. A few miles ahead...Dead End City....