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The journal ends abruptly with a cryptic, paranoid entry.
February 13, 1976
There is nothing left for me here – nothing but dismissals and denials, ignorance and boredom. I am a fly caught in a web, a fox with its leg in a trap.
I can’t stand by anymore and let this happen without saying something. They don’t belong here, and neither do I.
I have deciphered their final message, and decided it is time to leap. I will enter the light, or be lost in darkness, but I will not turn from my path. I am concealing this journal where I hope it will remain safe until I return – or until it is found by someone who can carry on this work.
I must save them, so that they can save us.
After that entry, there’s some random detritus stuffed in the back of the book – a grocery list, dry cleaning receipt, a few used bingo cards – but nothing important. Surely it can’t just end right here?