Wednesday, August 31, 2011

A few more pages

"maybe making me bleed
will be the answer that could wash the slate clean"

The more I read, the more it looks like Marie felt that she deserved to be punished for something, or that she needed to sacrifice something. It gets a little confusing once in a while.

"There once was a little bunny who had done no wrong.
She was given a knight and a handmaiden with blood on her dress to watch over her.
The knight rode off into the shadows when the shadows came the first time.
This left the handmaiden to be the guard.
The handmaiden did her utmost when the shadows came again, but fell.
The little bunny was broken because she had done wrong."

Okay, back to this little excerpt. Once again referencing the fact that Marie believed she deserved the things that were happening. "Bunny" was something Jared used to call her when we were younger. It seems like she likes to assign roles to people, like this is some kind of story. Roles seem to play an important part in the minds of some people involved with these messes, like this is some big play and someone is watching. I wonder who is the understudy and who is the lead. Not me for either, I feel sure. I'm far too boring to be any important role.

Jared, as her older brother, is obviously the knight mentioned. As to the handmaiden, I guess that's me, though I'm not sure why I'm designated as being covered in blood if that's the case. Should I worry about that? Nah. Paint, blood, same difference some days, right?

I know this much, I failed at any sort of guarding, and whatever the circumstances, Marie did not deserve what happened. I both wish for and dread the possibility of remembering what happened during the day or so I was missing. 

And interesting note, this excerpt has little illustrations to go with each line that I may be uploading as soon as I get things set up better and where Patch won't try to tangle himself in the cords. He's a sweet puppy, but he's a puppy. I think that's all that needs to be said. He keeps scratching at one of the wall like something's in there. Not the one to the adjoining room, at least. I guess that's a good thing.

Removing the stitches in my shoulder today. All the others are dissolvable, but I popped about half of the ones in my shoulder at least twice. No sign of infection to the wounds since we left town, and I've been good with taking the meds, even though they make me sleep. I guess that just means more paintings. Yes. I brought them with me. I have to get these pictures out of my head or they'll eat their way out slowly but surely and bleed down over my face.

Monday, August 29, 2011

A moment

Figured I'd work on some things while I ignore Tia and Blake in the other room. Couples are weird sometimes, and Blake's been a little twitchy all evening... I need to do something other than paint or cuddle the puppy, anyway.

I've been looking at the binder full of notes I found in Marie's room while we drove. They don't seem to be in any particular order and the handwriting is worse than the chickenscratch I deal out on a bad day, but I'll work on deciphering them. There are worse things to focus on. I'm not sure how much I'll get done tonight.

First of all, there's a scrap of paper stapled to the first looseleaf page, with this excerpt typed out on it:
“Research is unearthing significant ties between memory and emotions or mood. Schacter (1996) credits Mark Williams and his colleagues as the first individuals to report that emotions can bias perception and memory. Williams’ research compared two groups, one in which people reported depression type symptoms, and another in which no such symptoms were reported. They found that the group with depressive mood symptoms would focus on generally negative experiences more than their counter parts: “They tend to encode (and therefore retrieve) everyday episodes through a negative filter that confers a kind of repetitive and pervasive drabness on all their experiences” (Ratey, 2001, p.211).”

Various parts of the excerpt are underlined with a red pencil, which I've replicated in the typed text to the best of my ability at the moment. What bearing this has on the current situation, I don't completely know, but it sounds like some of the things Doctor Chavez would say to me. I hope he's okay... The poor guy's put up with me for the past few years. I tried, at least. It was the responsible thing to do.

Anyway, there's nothing else on that page, other than a few scribbly stick figures and a doodle of a rose, all in the same red pencil. I'd scan it in, but I haven't unpacked the camera or the scanner yet. I really wouldn't take Marie to be the type who reads pyschological texts or journals, but I'm not going to make any assumptions on that. Assumptions are stupid and lead to mistakes that we can't afford.

I'm not sure why I'm rambling here, but I need to focus on something before I start painting or drawing people or those trees again. Besides, I'm a transcriptionist. This is what I do, I guess.

Finally Stopped Driving


Oh god I'm so tired.

Yay a bed.

And a continental breakfast.

I think I'm in heaven.

I could be wrong though.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

So... I can't say I entirely agree with all the decisions being made here, but I'm going to trust Elisa in this. She does seem to be the more experienced one in this... area. Whatever this area is. Supernatural, something weird and possibly deadly, or hallucinations. I can't... really say.

But my emotional breakdown is over. For now. And I have to say, I'm ready to not let my emotions run the show again. Patch cuddled me while I was in that emotional space. Thank gods for puppies and lovers. I don't know what I'd do without them.

So Blake and I packed what little we had packed up. So we can be ready to go, whenever Lis gives the send off. I suppose I can understand why running is the logical choice, judging by Elisa's research and if what we're dealing with is equivalent to her research. And I'm all too eager to get out of the house surrounded by forest anyway. It's been constant nightmares about that forest whenever I manage sleep. Don't know where we'll go, but away is the best solution any of us can seem to come up with.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

There once was a little bunny who had done no wrong.
She was given a knight and a handmaiden with blood on her dress to watch over her.
The knight rode off into the shadows when the shadows came the first time.
This left the handmaiden to be the guard.
The handmaiden did her utmost when the shadows came again, but fell.
The little bunny was broken because she had done wrong.

Four people meet at a crossroads.
How long until they all are gone?
Four people meet at a crossroads.
Who will be the first to go?
Four people meet at a crossroads.
Which of the paths will they take?

It's a game of masks.
The innocent, the victim, the caretaker, and the lover.
What lies behind those faces?
When will they fall?
When will they crumble?
What will it take?
Will new masks be rebuilt upon the ruins, or will you simply fall?

She can hear the screams.
She can smell the blood.
The paintings show as much.
How long until she breaks?
It should be easy, as hard as she tries to shield others.
She's no protector, and she knows that.

One will walk away, and another will come.
That should be interesting.

Don't trust me.
Don't trust anyone unless you have to.

It's time to wake up to the hard choices, kiddies.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Less something

Okay, sorry about that post earlier, not that anyone noticed other than Tia. I passed out again about ten minutes after posting it, anyway.

Marie's been found, a few hours ago, and it looks bad on all fronts. She was found in the woods about a mile or two away from my house, and isn't in good condition. A quick run-down, from what I've managed to get from her parents and from just listening. Funny how someone with purple hair can go unnoticed sometimes, and I'm good at listening. Also, nurses are gossips. Anyway, before I get distracted: She's in a DKA-induced coma (guessed as much... I guess it's better that dead from it), which is likely compounded by a depressed cranial fracture, there's some damage to the orbit of the left eye, a spiral fracture to the humerus of the left arm, as well as other damage to the arm that I haven't heard the extent of. There's apparently some damage to her ribs, and the lumbar portion of her spine is screwed to hell and back.

Her parents are oddly quiet about this whole thing, though they did visit me and let me know she was found and everything. I don't know what to think. I should be out of the hospital tomorrow, once they're done with the run of antibiotics they have me on. If they don't decide to think I did this. It's not like they can do much about the ribs other than give me pain meds, which I already had anyway, and there's no damage other than some general... offness from the concussion. The stitches I can deal with myself, probably.

I'm pissed, to say the least. Pissed and depressed, and I fucked up. I fucked up. I was supposed to keep her safe and keep an eye on her. I'm leaving this here because if I get any more upset, someone's going to come check on me. Not that it really matters, anyway.
Going to go find her, soon as they stop wtching me. They probly think this was me. Stupid pain meds aking me really out of it, though. Ti left my lptop, though. An I'm awake, so that's smthing.

I don't remember anything but screaming.

Not Sure if this is Better or Worse

Lis appeared in the front yard today. She's in pretty bad shape. Not quite coherent, not to mention all the physical damage. She's at the hospital... they wouldn't let me stay overnight with her. It's alright. I just want her to be okay. She's got three broken ribs and is apparently concussed.

Think that part was sort of obvious. All she kept saying was "need to find Marie, need to find Marie." That was... odd. I spent most of there with her.

Marie is officially missing, with the cops and everything. Her parents were pretty upset. I have to admit though... something felt off about the rents. Just not quite as... upset as I think they should be. It was just muted. I don't know though, maybe I'm just imposing my own personal reactions on them. Maybe they let it show more at home. I just expected a little... more. Some unknowable quality.

Patch is still hiding under the couch. Poor pup. He's so freaked out.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


Yes, I'm cussing on your blog Lis. Not that you're anywhere around to fucking see it.

Jesus where the fuck did you all go? Blake and I just went out to the bakery to get cake for Marie and we come back and everyone is fucking gone. And the car is still in the drive way.

It looks like murder in the workroom. Some of Liss's paintings are missing, I'm not too surprised by that though, she's been burning some of them. I don't know what's going on. At all. I called the Sinclair's and the neighbors and all the business associates we have... nobody saw anything. Nobody heard anything. It's not like Lis is the type to just up and disappear while I'm away, no note or text or anything. It's just that she's fucking gone. And Marie too. It's her goddamn birthday why the hell would she up and disappear like this? 

Oh did I forget to mention it's her goddamn birthday? Yeah, it's her birthday. And we were going to go to her parents house and we were going to have a party and it was going to be fun and cute and sweet and shit, but now this is shit. It's all shit.

Blake and I searched the roads and trails surrounding the house, but it's started to get fucking dark, and I needed my goddamn meds. Blake made me come back. He's still searching but I'm starting to freak out a bit... I told him not to stay out longer than an hour. And made him promise not to wander the forest. Fuck I hate being alone right now. I hate that right now, while Liss and Marie are MIA, I'm going and worrying about myself. I'm just... so fucking frustrated right now.

Need to call the cops.

Also, fuck tears. They make it so goddamn hard to type.

Monday, August 15, 2011


I don't even know what's going on with these anymore. I need to get them out of my head and out on canvas or paper, though. I'm not posting any of the more... worrisome ones. I've been burning some of the paintings in the backyard again. There are people I don't know in some of them, but most aren't detailed enough that I think anyone would recognize them, anyway.  Even if they were recognizable, I'm not sure I'd want to post them.

Sorry so short. I have to go. Marie's semi-freaked by something again.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Creepy Creeper Creeptastic

So I'm not denying that there's a definite element of creepy in this town. I need to first clarify that something was always off when I lived here. I never had so many repeat nightmares in California as I did here... as I do here.

I had a nightmare last night, same as the one from junior year. And I can never remember all the details, but there's the forest out next to Lissie's house and there's something coming for me. It's coming from the forest. I'm usually with my mother, and she's telling me to quit worrying, but she gets tugged into the darkness. She's blind: never saw it coming.

This time it's Blake. But he gets caught. Darkness takes him, and I know it's coming for me next. I have nowhere to go, just blackness everywhere. And then I have a panic attack and wake up.

Now see normally I'd attribute this dream to paranoia and my abandonment complex, but I haven't had it for a number of years now... and I want to attribute it environment. It just seems to be the only thing that fits now.

On another note: there was some creeper who followed me to the grocery store today. He stayed off a ways, but it was still like he was watching me. I made a good show of not noticing him. Maybe it's the same creeper who Lissie met with a flare gun? Dunno, doubt it. Either way, next time I'm not going alone. Taking Blake or Lissie with me.


I know I could have saved us
But we'd have never known this day
If this is where we had to go
Well then I'm glad we went this way

All that's left to see is
What kind of flowers we'll become
I'm sure we'll be the kind
That bring children out into the sun

I keep hearing them, but it's quiet now.
I hope they stay quiet.

I don't want to be alone.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

What to Think?

Today I insisted Liss let me look at her research. It seems to be her life lately; I had to know what was going on. It's taking a physical impact, I knew it couldn't be good. And I was right. It's not.

One has to wonder: these blogs, this research, these legends, they couldn't possibly be real could they? No, no they couldn't. Reality doesn't work that way. These common threads have to be coincidences.

But then I really think about it. And I mean I really think about it. It's way too many to be coincidence, or even planned similarities. It doesn't make sense. There's no logic behind it, but then if you work at mythologies, when do they ever make sense?

I'm sure, of course, referring to it as a mythology is insensitive, but I need to look at it clear, concise. I'm really not sure I can believe any of it. But it has Lis and Marie really shaken up, so there must be some standing right? I mean... it's not like Lissie's one to fuck around with your sensibilities.

I don't know, but I'll let it all sit a bit longer. And just take it as it comes around. I'm not going to deny or accept until I see something.

...Did I mention I've been drinking? You can tell by my lack of typos. Silly OCD drunk girl.

This shit is too heavy to take sober though.


I got rid of some of the paintings today. Burned them in the little fire pit in the back yard. It was an oddly cathartic feeling, though I had to be careful of the fumes. They're a waste of space, anyway. Funny, that. A waste of space making things that waste space. Tia's not going to like that assertion. Marie's been spacing out worse today, but I've been talking to her and keeping an eye on her. I've been finding more little notes tucked around the house with ominous crypticness on them, but the scanner is acting up again, so I won't bother trying to post them at the moment. I will say this, though. I don't recognize the handwriting, and some of them seem fairly old.

It's been nice having Tia and Blake here, really. Even though it's someone else to worry about. I don't personally know Blake very well, but he seems nice enough. Yes, I'm "talking" like he or Tia might not read this, but I'm trying to be candid here. I may shy away from expressing things verbally at times, but this is where I'm trying to be more real. Oddly enough, I don't think either of them have been directly effected by this yet, even with having come down here. If they have, neither one is saying anything yet.

Hopelessness is an aspect of this situation that I've already started to feel. There's a sort of sense of inevitability at times, even when nothing big is happening. And now that I've said that, something big is likely to happen. That's the way these things seem to work.  I've been working past that, of course, though there are very real legal issues with heading out of the area right now, considering our little group. And yes, I know there are ways to avoid some of the problems, but in the end, it would still look like abduction of a minor. With the few kids who have gone missing in the last few months, I really don't want it thought that I could have done those as well.  If something happens, it's going to be my fault, either way.

I've been forcing myself to eat and stay rested, though half the time it's hard to keep things down. It's not as bad as before, but most foods taste like they're seriously burned or ashy. I know I look terrible, even though Tia's been mostly nice about it.  It's funny, because isn't losing weight what every 20-something female wants? And I've even got a tall, pale, mysterious stalker. *swoon* Oh, and if you couldn't tell, that was full of tangible sarcasm.

I don't even know why I'm writing this anymore.

Sunday, August 7, 2011


It's been.... nice, since Tia showed up, which probably means things are going to go down the shitter on one level or another fairly soon.
But anyway, it's just calmer here with someone other than just Lis and her huge mood-swings.
At least her manicness is directed toward a productive source, though she's said that of course she could never attempt to sell any of the paintings that are currently piling up in her studio room.
Blake's cute, by the way....
I know, I know.
He's taken, and in his twenties.
But hey, I'm allowed to notice, just like I'm allowed to notice a few other things.

Apparently, I went missing for about thirty minutes earlier, and freaked everyone out a bit.
I remember going out to the utility room, looking out of the window of the back door, and then suddenly I was sitting in the grass in the back yard and it was raining.
I didn't have any blood on me or anything creepifying like that, and I doubt anything happened, either way.
Elisa's worried, of course.
She's back on the research thing, looking up "missing time" and such.
Tia and Blake are apparently still a bit skeptical, but Tia, at least, is humoring her.
I still think she should write up some of the things she's compiled for people to read, but she says it's just collected thoughts on different stories she's read on blogs and such, and not anything really original.
Anyway, I should go.
The thunder's really getting to me, and I'm having a little trouble typing properly.


Friday, August 5, 2011

Whose Awesome? I am.

So I apparently put Lissie in an ice cream coma. She slept for like the past 4 hours. I win. At life.

Thursday, August 4, 2011


Yep. That's what I'd call this place. Cozy. At least there's still privacy.

Also, yaaaay I missed having Lissie about. Talked lots of nonsense this day about random happenstances and life and there may have been binging on ice cream. I have no regrets. Even if it wasn't the "healthiest" of hellos. Oh well, there are worse ways to get reacquainted with old friends.

So much unpacking to do. And so much more procrastination.

Can't deny it, Lissie's no more unstable than she ever was. She could -look- a little healthier though. Talk about bags under ye eyes.

I still think the forest out here is creepy. I guess some things never change. Not taking any late night walks here boyo.

Painting time

Just spent the last fifteen minutes tagging posts rather than sleeping.
I should not be so amused by the fact that I can't walk in a straight line.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Cryptic Short Blog Post Aside

I meant to post a longer bit earlier when I had the net in my tiny, shithole of a hotel. But that didn't work out. Net cut out on us. So I have it back again, here's a more complete update:

Blake and I sit about 9 hours driving distance away now. But we need sleep. We drove way too long today. All together about 18 hours, stopping only at the fastest of food joints and for the quickest of bathroom breaks. Also, we got a little mixed up in New Mexico, but it only set us back about an hour and a half. We aim to leave 6 am tomorrow, so we should, travelling forward in time, arrive about 4 pm Lissie's time. Just so everyone knows.

My family's having an utter freak out and setting my cell on fire with voice mail and text messages. See, they're a settled kind of people now that Dad's out of the service and me moving with little to no heads up and moving so far away, they're a little unsettled. Grandma especially. She wants grandbabies. And to be able to raise them. Nooooot gonna happen anytime soon is what I'm sayin'.

Blake's family, on the other hand, is being really quite relaxed about it. Then again, his extended family equals a third of mine and they're all rather distant anyhow. I envy that in some ways.

I'm kind of anxious. I don't know why the thought of heading back to Alabama makes me so anxious, but it does. I had the trippiest dreams last night. I can't really recall all the details, but everything was in grayscale and distorted. It was just weird. Haven't dreamt in a long time. I think I'll chalk my nervousness up to the dreaming.
Weaponizing Ke$ha does not work. But hey, smashed CD player. I can use these parts in something.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The hell?

Okay, tonight's been interesting so far.
I was fiddling with a few things in Lis's studio room/den, considering she's been in there a lot recently and hasn't cleaned up, when there's this crash in the living room.
As she said, someone threw a cinder block through the window, and left some kind of splotch of blood or something in the yard.
So what does Lis do?
She takes the cinder block out back, stalks to the edge of the woods and throws it as far under the trees as she can, saying a few things that I think she would rather I not repeat while she did so.
She then came outside, ran an extension cord out there, set up a CD player on a chair, and is now blasting the woods with trashy pop music.
The fuck.
... What crack are you on, Elisa?
I'm really not sure what to think
She's painting again, now that she found her mom's old gun.

I know she was talking to Elaine about me.
Hi, Miss Elaine, if you're reading this.
Not many people are, which is probably for the best, anyway.
After a few discussions, I think we figured out why the whole cutting thing started up.
It's something I have control over.
Because I sure as hell don't have control over the weirdness that's been going on.
Which is interesting, probably.
Following that logic, I'm surprised that there aren't more reports of Runners with eating disorders or something.
Though, you have to be able to eat, first.
Or you have to be kind of stupid.
Which I think is the reason that makes more sense.
Though you do hear of those who turn to drugs or other addictions to take off the edge.
I know it's stupid, but even when I try not to do it, I find myself picking at the older ones when I'm not paying attention.
It does help to keep things from disappearing, though.



Still having trouble keeping solid food down, on top of everything else.

Nobody's found the kids or searchers who went missing last month. Of course.

It's funny. I remember back when things were "normal", when dad hadn't disappeared off into the aether, and mom was still alive. We used to go camping all the time. I took comfort in those times, when I was spending time with my parents, dad taking me hunting. I thought we were happy. Heck, I even went to Girl Scout camp for seven years. All that sort of thing.

Looking back on that, I have to laugh a little. I'm not sure why I'm laughing other than the fact that the woods used to be a place I was never afraid of. I do remember the feeling of being watched, but that's it. That's not an uncommon thing in quiet areas, though.  maybe I'm weird, but that's something I've dealt with ever since I was a kid, that feeling of "Something's watching you from the dark". I never knew until recently how right I was.

My first nightmares were of the dark. I would be in some pitch black place, with near silence. It's funny that I remember it so clearly all these years since those specific dreams stopped. I would be in some sort of cavern, though the only way I could tell that was by touch and the sounds of water dripping. Things were moving around in the darkness around me, slight rustlings amplified by the weird acoustics. I would end up crawling along the floor in an attempt to get away or find my way out, but there was never any way to do so, the chill of the cavern seeping into my bones as I crawled farther and farther into the depths. In some of the nightmares, there was this horrible screeching sound, but I always woke up before anything else happened.

Not like anyone gives a rip about these little stories. This, the undertoad, it's all just stupid history compared to right now.

Later: Sorry, I had to leave this window up for a bit due to the fact that someone threw something through one of the front windows of the house. I'll have to fine some way to seal that or get that repaired... Lovely... And of course, the piece of cinder block has a few symbols painted on it...And what looks and smells like blood. Getting that thing out of the house as soon as I can. I saw blood in the grass out there, but I'm not going to go check on it right now. Looks like it's just blood, nothing with it. Ugh. I've got the shakes somethign fierce right nnow.  Patch is frreaking out, and Marie is having her own tizz. I need to puke or cry, or something.

Monday, August 1, 2011

En Route

I'm on my way to Alabama to see if Lissie's unstable. I posted in my blog, but since this largely pertains to Liss, I'm also going to post it here. as well.


Tell me no more stories
And I'll tell you no lies
No one wants to hurt me
But everybody tries

Apparently I caused a little worry by my refusal to eat for the last few days. Believe me, if anyone can afford to go a few days without, it's me. I just couldn't keep anything but water and fruit juice down. I've forced myself to eat a little, though. Staying hydrated will only do you for so long. Probably not going to be eating much for a while, though. Everything tastes like I took the blowtorch to it for about an hour, but I need to keep my energy up, especially since I've been having trouble sleeping.

Other than that, I've just been painting still. I'm almost out of some colors, but I'll make do. It's funny how being in a bad situation can cause those disposed toward artistic endeavors to produce what some may call their finest work. What some might call their swan song. After all, the only really lucrative artist is a dead artist or a crazy artist. You can see where I'm going here.

I've quit my job at the thrift store. Sure, not giving a two weeks is going to look bad, but balls to it. I've got my main job to fall back on, and I don't have to leave Marie alone to do that. I knew going for that medical transcriptionist certification first was a good idea. Tia's still getting her ducks in a row, apparently.

I've been working on focusing on positive things, and it's been mostly quiet here for the last few days, other than some really messed up dreams that I don't feel like recording right now. Insomnia has become my friend again. I'm not taking much comfort in that fact, though.  Everything has its upswing and downswing.

It's been interesting, gathering and comparing different reports of these incidents, though. Someone could write a freaking thesis on this junk, not that anyone in the know would want to, unless it was... Never mind, that's a bad idea. Ignore that. I'm just going to go back to painting and cataloging things. God, I'm a nerd. I mean, really? A thesis? And the idea of doing a sociological paper on Runners as a subculture. Wow.