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Thursday, August 1st
1:32pm

Dear Diary,

Something big happened today. Well actually something small… But look! I found a person! A living person, unconscious on the sidewalk in front of my house. I was leaving to go on my afternoon jog, and there he was! A person! Well… I can scarcely call him a “person”. Not a person in the sense that I’M one. You see, … he’s quite, well … small, to put it simply. Like, REALLY small. I just measured him with the ruler in my desk drawer and he’s only an inch and a quarter! Can you believe that?! This is some Gulliver shit! And the poor little guy’s still unconscious.

I’ve been splashing water on him from a Poland Spring cap for the past ten minutes. I’d do some CPR on him (after all I learned the proper technique when I worked as a life guard last summer), but I’m afraid I might crush him! He’s smaller than my pinkie finger! Oh, I really hope he wakes up soon. I want to figure out if this is a dream or not. Oh! And I should probably describe what the little guy looks like too. So he’s got a narrow face that’s probably only a fraction of my pinkie nail, short brown hair that appears to be crusted with some blood … And I swear I found him like that! I think he might’ve bumped his head, which would explain why he’s unconscious. Anyway, he’s also got high cheek bones, a bit of hair on his little chin … Oh, and his arms and legs look pretty muscular. Hehe, I mean as muscular as limbs the size of twigs can look right? And in terms of clothes, well … The best way to put it is he looks like a miniature caveman. He’s dressed in a fuzzy mud brown vest and shorts that look like they’re made from animal fur. Maybe squirrel? I wonder if he’s been living out in the woods. But if that’s the case, then I wonder what he is: a person who’s miraculously shrunken, or like … part of a different species altogether?

Oh hang on! He’s opening his eyes. Gotta go.

Jaimie

…

Thursday, August 1st (same day)
10:04pm

Dear Diary,

So I’m starting to rule out the possibility of this being a dream. Not after talking with “Michael” all day (and admittedly pricking my finger with a needle a few times). Yes, he told me his name. Unfortunately, that’s the only bit of personal information I was able to get out of him. When I asked him where he came from and why he was so SMALL, to put it bluntly, he grabbed the top of his head (probably the place where he bumped it), and got a really distressed look. Enough to make me feel for him a bit. “I ... I-I don’t know…” was his only response. When I saw him struggling I did my best to reassure him. But only with words of course. I did not dare venture to touch him (I only did THAT when I was retrieving him from outside, and he was unconscious at the time. I can’t imagine that he’d be keen on being poked and prodded by fingers the size of tree trunks to him when he’s awake). I even invited him to stay.

Yes, I gave a one inch tall man permission to stay with me! Never thought I’d be doing that in my lifetime … And I'm not sure if it was the right call either. After all, I share this house with my parents (I’m only here until college starts back up in the fall). And I REALLY don’t want to imagine what would happen if my parents ever discovered him. ESPECIALLY my mom. The woman who stomps out ants and spiders without a moment’s hesitation, … despite me telling her repeatedly how much it bothers me (I’m kind of a softie when it comes to bugs).

But anyway, Michael’s reaction to my invitation was well … a bit split. He looked despairing at first, which I can’t blame him for. I mean, I must seem hundreds of feet tall to him, and if I were in his place I TOO would probably be a little reluctant to agree to staying with the strange giant monster I’d just met that day. But thankfully he came around in the end. And even showed some gratitude! “Th-Thank you Jaimie … Th-That’s really generous of you.” Not gonna lie, my heart skipped a little when he spoke my name in his adorable little voice. “And don’t worry. You can leave ANYTIME you want. You’re a guest here. Remember that. I don’t want you to get the sense that I’m keeping you here or anything,” I assured him. “But maybe stay until your memories return, yeah?” He seemed to relax from my reassurance, and agreed that waiting for his memories to return was probably for the best.

Well, after feeding him a meal of Cheerios (which I’m pleased he really enjoyed!), I realized Michael would need somewhere to sleep. That took a bit of ingenuity. I eventually settled on the shoebox that once held my newest pair of pink running shoes from Famous Footwear, and some supplies from my mom’s craft station in the basement (some cotton balls and pieces of felt). With the crafting material, I made him up a makeshift bed at the bottom of the box. Then SUPER carefully lifted him inside (I could tell from his trembling that he doesn’t like me holding him), and fitted the lid of the box over the top. Michael expressed some worry about the lid beforehand, but I made sure to snip LOTS of air holes and promised him repeatedly that I wasn’t trying to trap him. I just needed to make sure that no one else in my family spotted him while I was asleep. Well, I think that convinced him because he finally gave me a little thumbs up and told me I could go ahead. “Good night Michael. First thing in the morning I’ll take you out of there. Don’t worry,” I said in a gentle tone. “Okay … G-Good night Jaimie.” And with that he curled up beneath his green felt blanket and I placed the lid over him. I then slid the box under my bed. Can’t be too careful.

I’m now lying on top of my lavender colored comforter, looking up at the ceiling, and writing this by the light of my Little Mermaid lamp (Don’t laugh! It’s a relic from my childhood). I don’t know what else to write. It’s been such a weird day. I just hope tomorrow makes more sense.

Jaimie