Michael Bach

Paying for all this stuff, all these tests that showed nothing.

The bookstore wasn't doing well at all.

And now I was trying really weird stuff when I saw the family.

These experiments.

Like, I'd charge at them.

That did no good.

it made them vanish.

Or I take a picture, but they wouldn't show up in it.

I was ready to accept that I was schizophrenic or, you know, whatever went hand in hand with something like that.

Time for psychiatric help.

Absolutely.

So around that point, some lawyer called me, said that the family cabin up in Pennsylvania was now technically mine with Tabby being gone.

I needed to sell it to keep the bookstore going, but I decided to go up there one more time first, all alone.

It was a little ways up in the mountains, up near Tartown.

Nostalgia messed my judgment up pretty bad.

Tabby and I spent a lot of summers in that cabin, so I felt like I absolutely had to spend a couple days up there for her, you know.

And my AA friend, Treva, warned me.

She said, do not go off anywhere alone now without letting me know exactly where you are all the time.

I drove up there and my psychology at that point was I just didn't care much what happened to me.

I thought, yeah, whatever happens, just let it happen.