August 2000

Elliot's not here right now. He had to go away. He realized that they were on to him, so he had to quickly pack his things and go. He doesn't know where he'll be next week, or even tomorrow for that matter (though chances are he'll be just a day's walk from wherever he was today). He couldn't write this column, he knew he wouldn't have time to make the deadline. He also figured they might try and trace his whereabouts through it. He just doesn't know.

He won't be checking his e-mail on a regular basis, either. He doesn't have the time and figures that if they can trace an electronic transmission of a column, then they can easily hack into his email account, read it, and watch and wait for him to make a fatal mistake. One that will cost him is freedom. One that will cost him his anonymity... one that will expose him for who he truly is.

It's not that he's paranoid or anything. It's just that recently his facades have been slipping, and the make-up (pardon that drag of a pun) is starting to show. He's slipping up, making little mistakes here and there. He even told his sister his dark secrets.

That's another reason he's gone away. Having to watch her choke on the tears was a little too much for poor Elliot. It nearly drove him mad. And when she wouldn't let him hug her, when she drew away, it hurt him so much it made him cry.

Those who seek him out probably won't be able to find him. He doesn't really want to be found. He wants to go all Fugitive-like. You know, underground, helping people in need, trading help for food and shelter. He wouldn't be a mercenary, all Hannibal Smith-like, that'd be too risky; he knows they can trace money. And if they trace his money, then they find him. That can't happen.

Elliot left a few days ago. It was a "middle-of-the-night" kind of happening. It was a "cloak and dagger, slipping out under the shroud of secrecy" kind of event (or non-event, since it was secret). It was a "stuff some clothes and a good book (Tom Holland's "Lord of the Dead") into a backpack and go" thing.

Who knows when Elliot will be back, or if he'll ever return at all? He asked me to write this so I do. He asked me to put to words what he can't, so I try. Even his close friends, like Mike, have deserted him. Left him on the side of the road in Ft. Lauderdale, speeding away in the passenger seat of some cute guy's car; thus revealing another reason Elliot took off: he had no one to ask him to stay. (That season finale of Dawson's Creek made him cry: "Ask me to stay"). Wait.

What's that sound?

That can't be good.

It doesn't sound good at all.

I've got a bad feeling about this.



Elliot, 22, lives and breathes in Boca Raton, FL. He attends college there and also works really hard (insert SNL Copy-guy voice here) "making copies." Those who wish to contact him can do so at kalelliot@hotmail.com. Those who don't wish to contact him can fuck off. He's an anti-pride kinda guy, so go wave your pink flags and rainbow triangles in someone else's face; they're annoying me. Elliot voted for Bob Dole in the last Presidential election, and wishes he could again this time around.

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