My Dear Public,

The fog rolls in. Unlike most of my generation, I sleep soundly most nights, but lately...

I am standing on paper. White paper. I am in a large, flat field, a hundred acres or so. In the distance, I hear a scream. There is something dark against the far treeline. It is coming to me.

It leaves a trail behind it, and as it moves, I see that it is a stream of blood, moving quickly, its head driving towards me. I try to dodge around it but it widens, and my tiny white paws are turning red. All around me invisible people – men, women, children – are screaming. Their voices hem me in and I am vomiting more of the white paper.

I wake up.

Ever thine,

Marvin Quincy Longbody-Horriblekitten