After driving to and from work on Friday, I realized my brakes pedal was unusually free-flooring. But I was too sick to check it out. And didn’t want to, especially since the brakes was holding fine. Or so it seemed. This morning, since I’m feeling much better, and that cold shows signs of leaving, I go check on the car.

What I found was puzzling, to say the least. My brake line is cut. There is no brake fluid in the reservoir. It is dried up. So I fill it up, and have my daughter pump the pedal. And yes, with the engine on, the fluid gushes out.

Then I think back to me driving down the Bocage hill a bit faster than normal on Friday to get home because I needed to rest my sickly body. I think of me not taking my daughter to school that day because I was too late that morning. She took the bus again.

Then I try to think of which lil rascal would try to hurt me. Do I have enemies? Why would someone do such a thing? Who would do such a thing? This is like fucked up crazy. Movie shit. Not real-life Lucian stuff.

People, the devil is alive. And maybe he’s trying to keep my voice from being heard. Silence me. Silence my poetry & prose.

But good triumphs over evil. I do believe that God is alive watching over us. He watched over me.
I will continue to write until my pen bleeds, poetry.

As for contacting the police, I believe it’s a waste of time and resources. I’m better off investigating it myself.