I did actually use a vehicle to my advantage against some hoodie-clad zombie-esque mofos in a parking lot who were getting a little too personal with the girls. I'd do it again too.
Nothing was stolen. But losses in groceries were taken. Who the fuck jumps people at a 2 pm grocery run on a Friday afternoon? Who does that shit? People with no sense of criminal sense, that's who. I'm mostly perturbed by the fact that they didn't have the sense to wait until after dark than anything else.
I suppose that comes from city living; people get jumped all the time, it happens. That doesn't bug me. That they did it in the middle of the day? Totally irksome.
Also, driving 100 mph for about 10 hours straight will give you cramps, but get you far, far away.
We had some blue honda on the same stretch of highway for the first 6 hours of driving behind us, or occassionally in front of us. Before I started this madhouse roadtrip, I would've thought nothing of it. After this crazy road trip? I'm suspicious. We were going 100+, who the fuck keeps with that speed? So I took a random exit, drove like mad through some city's streets and lost them near the hotel heavy area, and then navigated back to the highway. I haven't seen the car since. I did have good sense enough to have Tia take down it's plates. They were CA plates.
I'm not sure if the sign of home is comforting or not.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Chapstick, Chapped Lips, and Things Like Chemistry
Things to not say while Running.
"What could go wrong?" Everything can go wrong.
"Things are looking good." Without appending "for the moment".
"Lookit what I can do!" Self-explanatory.
"Gun it."
"Let's go walk in the moonlight. It'll be romantic."
We went for a grocery run today, and of course, it went right sideways. Tia and I got jumped in the parking lot by some jerks in hoodies. Elaine, August, Spencer, there may be a delay on those scarves. I may have left my crochet hook sticking out of someone's face.
I'm a bit concussed and scraped up, among other things, but nothing that's not livable. Tia dealt with things rather a bit better, and Blake may have hit one of them with the Explorer when he came to pick us up from where he'd been parked. Oopsie. I'm not sure how things are going at the moment, but I've cleaned and dealt with any other injuries. Talked them out of taking me to the ER unless I start acting really off. If one of the others wants to be more talkative about what happened, they can. Worst part... My eggs got smashed, so I can't fix what I wanted. We're driving again anyway. Heh.
It's funny, in a sad way... I'm seeing so much more than I ever have, and so much more clearly. I've been a lucky, lucky girl, no matter what incidents have befallen me, they're not worth anyone's worry or stress. I just wish... I wish I could do more.
There are locks on the doors
And chains stretched across all the entries to the inside
There's a gate and a fence
And bars to protect from only God knows what lurks outside
"What could go wrong?" Everything can go wrong.
"Things are looking good." Without appending "for the moment".
"Lookit what I can do!" Self-explanatory.
"Gun it."
"Let's go walk in the moonlight. It'll be romantic."
We went for a grocery run today, and of course, it went right sideways. Tia and I got jumped in the parking lot by some jerks in hoodies. Elaine, August, Spencer, there may be a delay on those scarves. I may have left my crochet hook sticking out of someone's face.
I'm a bit concussed and scraped up, among other things, but nothing that's not livable. Tia dealt with things rather a bit better, and Blake may have hit one of them with the Explorer when he came to pick us up from where he'd been parked. Oopsie. I'm not sure how things are going at the moment, but I've cleaned and dealt with any other injuries. Talked them out of taking me to the ER unless I start acting really off. If one of the others wants to be more talkative about what happened, they can. Worst part... My eggs got smashed, so I can't fix what I wanted. We're driving again anyway. Heh.
It's funny, in a sad way... I'm seeing so much more than I ever have, and so much more clearly. I've been a lucky, lucky girl, no matter what incidents have befallen me, they're not worth anyone's worry or stress. I just wish... I wish I could do more.
There are locks on the doors
And chains stretched across all the entries to the inside
There's a gate and a fence
And bars to protect from only God knows what lurks outside
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Time
Another responsibility of mine was left behind today. I seem to be making a habit of abandoning those who rely on me, even if it's for the better. Even if this might be seen as a little meodramatic, as he'll hopefully be better off with a new family. One who won't drag him across the country while being chased by eldritch abominations and psychos. Hope. It's a good thing some days.
Geez, I'm such a child sometimes.
On to the next.
Geez, I'm such a child sometimes.
On to the next.
Monday, September 26, 2011
...Sorry. Again.
Note to self: Stop posting things directly after waking up and while meds are no longer in your system. It ends badly.
I...I'm doing better. I'm sorry for the post earlier. Really, terribly sorry. To explain a bit more, I was talking about my mother. As I've said before, she died in a car wreck on the way home from work. She was a nurse, however pointless that fact is. All the reports of her death and all of the police reports claimed it was a hit and run. They said a drunk driver hit her, ran her off the road, she was torn from the car when it flipped and sustained severe internal injuries. I'm not sure what to believe anymore.
I dreamed again last night. I dreamed that I was watching my mother at work, a child had come in with a burn on his torso in the shape of an elongated hand that trailed all the way up to his neck. A symbol carved into his chest. She made calls, did everything she could for the kid.
I wasn't there, but I was there. The crying parents, the empty look in the child's eyes. Broken. She saw it, too. She was nervous. She didn't know. She didn't see why she was nervous, but she knew it was wrong.
Then we were in the car. Driving, heading home. She was singing along with the radio, as always, keeping an eye out for deer. And then I heard it. Static. The sound warping and tearing and the world denying this presence that was there. A figure in the road. Why is it always in the road? She tried to stop. She didn't know what she was seeing. I hope.
And suddenly, there were black tendrils cutting through the windshield like it was water breaking it oh so easily, tearing her from the still-running car, and shoving it aside and off of the road like some kind of toy. The screaming. She was screaming, why didn't anyone see or hear? You'd think, you'd think. you'd think... I saw. The world was warping.
...It's funny in a morbid way. They said there were very few external injuries. There should have been. So much blood slickign the pavement. There should have been more visible injuries.
She had done nothing but try to help a child. She had done nothing to deserve this. She saved me from my own father. She saved me from myself.
Maybe if I say this was just a dream enough times, I'll actually believe it. Maybe I'll stop puking and maybe I'll stop seeing her stricken, panicked face every time I close my eyes. Maybes are fun things, huh?
Tia and Blake have barely left my side since earlier...
The world is getting weirder. Darker every single day. Things are spinning around faster and faster, and threatening to go completely awry. Falcons and falconers. The center cannot hold.
It's spreading.
I...I'm doing better. I'm sorry for the post earlier. Really, terribly sorry. To explain a bit more, I was talking about my mother. As I've said before, she died in a car wreck on the way home from work. She was a nurse, however pointless that fact is. All the reports of her death and all of the police reports claimed it was a hit and run. They said a drunk driver hit her, ran her off the road, she was torn from the car when it flipped and sustained severe internal injuries. I'm not sure what to believe anymore.
I dreamed again last night. I dreamed that I was watching my mother at work, a child had come in with a burn on his torso in the shape of an elongated hand that trailed all the way up to his neck. A symbol carved into his chest. She made calls, did everything she could for the kid.
I wasn't there, but I was there. The crying parents, the empty look in the child's eyes. Broken. She saw it, too. She was nervous. She didn't know. She didn't see why she was nervous, but she knew it was wrong.
Then we were in the car. Driving, heading home. She was singing along with the radio, as always, keeping an eye out for deer. And then I heard it. Static. The sound warping and tearing and the world denying this presence that was there. A figure in the road. Why is it always in the road? She tried to stop. She didn't know what she was seeing. I hope.
And suddenly, there were black tendrils cutting through the windshield like it was water breaking it oh so easily, tearing her from the still-running car, and shoving it aside and off of the road like some kind of toy. The screaming. She was screaming, why didn't anyone see or hear? You'd think, you'd think. you'd think... I saw. The world was warping.
...It's funny in a morbid way. They said there were very few external injuries. There should have been. So much blood slickign the pavement. There should have been more visible injuries.
She had done nothing but try to help a child. She had done nothing to deserve this. She saved me from my own father. She saved me from myself.
Maybe if I say this was just a dream enough times, I'll actually believe it. Maybe I'll stop puking and maybe I'll stop seeing her stricken, panicked face every time I close my eyes. Maybes are fun things, huh?
Tia and Blake have barely left my side since earlier...
The world is getting weirder. Darker every single day. Things are spinning around faster and faster, and threatening to go completely awry. Falcons and falconers. The center cannot hold.
It's spreading.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Slightly Delirious Posting
Rough coughing nightly
This sickness is far from kind
Feel like vomitting.
*
Barely left the inn
Total bill for our take-out?
Way too goddamn high.
*
Need to make money
Working on a few edits.
Writer's annoy me.
*
Be positive T,
Try to look on the bright side
...Is there a bright side?
*
I don't know why I felt the need to write my current state of mind in depressive and dire haiku. It seemed like a good idea ay the time. Of course, I'm still in a half sleep daze, so clearly I'm not the best judge of what's a good idea and what's not.
This sickness is far from kind
Feel like vomitting.
*
Barely left the inn
Total bill for our take-out?
Way too goddamn high.
*
Need to make money
Working on a few edits.
Writer's annoy me.
*
Be positive T,
Try to look on the bright side
...Is there a bright side?
*
I don't know why I felt the need to write my current state of mind in depressive and dire haiku. It seemed like a good idea ay the time. Of course, I'm still in a half sleep daze, so clearly I'm not the best judge of what's a good idea and what's not.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Just keep on rolling
We're in a new hotel in a new town in a new state. Saw our favorite burn victim lurking around the other night and we decided it was time to move on. Hello again, Crispy. I don't know if you have a name or some sort of designation, and at this point, I frankly don't care.
A note about the previous post, the one from from whoever is using Marie's account. When I came rushing back home from college due to my mother's wreck and having to deal with all of that, I looked for our old photo albums. I turned the whole house upside down looking for them. They were't there. Three photo albums and approximately four hundred pictures, just missing. I thought my mom got rid of them due to certain events, but I guess I was wrong.I honestly don't want to have been wrong, because that just... Well, it adds another, different sort of creepy to the mix, doesn't it?
It's something that needs to be pursued, but right now, we're just focusing on getting by and dealing with the day to day insanities of this situation. Tall Dark and Creepy's been around as well, usually just watching. There one second and gone the next, like some sort of trick of the eye. Except you know by now that it isn't. You know by now that the things you see moving in the edges of your vision are at times real, and you know that they can see more of you than you can even see of yourself.
But you just keep going and keep resisting, because that's what counts some days. The ability to be stubborn and rebel against the roles you are set in. The ability to fight against the supposed fate somoeone has laid into your path. Maybe free will, as some claim, is an illusion, but you cling to it with all of your might, and fight for it. You fight for the things that matter, the things that are worth something. If you're lucky, maybe you find those things that matter enough to fight for.
...Look at me, getting all psuedo-philosophical. Sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick, I need to shut up before I dig myself a bigger hole to lie down in. Not like anyone gives a care about my ramblings.
Tia and Blake are keeping an even closer eye on me than usual after last night. I'm... I'm fine. For a given value of fine. I dreamed again last night, and woke up on a scream, drenched in sweat and my face covered in blood. Self-inflicted bleeding, at least. I clawed the facemask off in my sleep again and sliced open my cheek. It's not deep, just annoying...
I'm not sure why people read this, at the moment, but thanks for those who do care on one level or another. Really, it means more than you know. In fact, I barely know how to read. I don't even know what I'm typing right now. I'm just hitting random letters and punctuation and hoping it fools everyone fishcakes; saddlebag me dingo.
The jig, it is up.
Yeah. I've got to go. Feeling sick again, and I have some work to do and music to listen to.
A note about the previous post, the one from from whoever is using Marie's account. When I came rushing back home from college due to my mother's wreck and having to deal with all of that, I looked for our old photo albums. I turned the whole house upside down looking for them. They were't there. Three photo albums and approximately four hundred pictures, just missing. I thought my mom got rid of them due to certain events, but I guess I was wrong.I honestly don't want to have been wrong, because that just... Well, it adds another, different sort of creepy to the mix, doesn't it?
It's something that needs to be pursued, but right now, we're just focusing on getting by and dealing with the day to day insanities of this situation. Tall Dark and Creepy's been around as well, usually just watching. There one second and gone the next, like some sort of trick of the eye. Except you know by now that it isn't. You know by now that the things you see moving in the edges of your vision are at times real, and you know that they can see more of you than you can even see of yourself.
But you just keep going and keep resisting, because that's what counts some days. The ability to be stubborn and rebel against the roles you are set in. The ability to fight against the supposed fate somoeone has laid into your path. Maybe free will, as some claim, is an illusion, but you cling to it with all of your might, and fight for it. You fight for the things that matter, the things that are worth something. If you're lucky, maybe you find those things that matter enough to fight for.
...Look at me, getting all psuedo-philosophical. Sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick, I need to shut up before I dig myself a bigger hole to lie down in. Not like anyone gives a care about my ramblings.
Tia and Blake are keeping an even closer eye on me than usual after last night. I'm... I'm fine. For a given value of fine. I dreamed again last night, and woke up on a scream, drenched in sweat and my face covered in blood. Self-inflicted bleeding, at least. I clawed the facemask off in my sleep again and sliced open my cheek. It's not deep, just annoying...
I'm not sure why people read this, at the moment, but thanks for those who do care on one level or another. Really, it means more than you know. In fact, I barely know how to read. I don't even know what I'm typing right now. I'm just hitting random letters and punctuation and hoping it fools everyone fishcakes; saddlebag me dingo.
The jig, it is up.
Yeah. I've got to go. Feeling sick again, and I have some work to do and music to listen to.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I Have a Gadget
And I'm totally playing on it. Oh my god, ereader, library that only weighs some tiny amount compared to an actual library. I was starting to fear I'd have to start trading books in and whatnot, but now I can hoarde them all! Blake is such a good boyfriend. And yes, this is a huge pick me up.
Before it started raining we also managed to make our way out to a sushi bar for lunch and there was laughter and bonding time and actually it's the first time I've been relaxed in... a long while. It felt damned good. While it lasted.
Now that it's raining, Lis is just staring out the window as we're slammed with the wet. It's almost like she's hypnotized by it, except I managed to catch her attention long enough to actually have her turn down my offer for tea or coffee. She's paused her long staring to fiddle in the blogs she's following, but it almost looks like she's going to cry over there...
Fuck this I'm going over there and hugging the hell outta her.
Before it started raining we also managed to make our way out to a sushi bar for lunch and there was laughter and bonding time and actually it's the first time I've been relaxed in... a long while. It felt damned good. While it lasted.
Now that it's raining, Lis is just staring out the window as we're slammed with the wet. It's almost like she's hypnotized by it, except I managed to catch her attention long enough to actually have her turn down my offer for tea or coffee. She's paused her long staring to fiddle in the blogs she's following, but it almost looks like she's going to cry over there...
Fuck this I'm going over there and hugging the hell outta her.
Monday, September 19, 2011
An Odd Couple of Days
Tia's still not feeling well after the incident in the hotel, not that I blame her, but I think it's mostly psychological at this point. She sleeps a lot. She's definitely a little bit more... clingy with us. Not that I mind. Not that Lis' minds. I'm just worried about her. I want her to be okay, I want us all to be okay.
She doesn't remember making that last blog post... I don't necessarily think she did. She doesn't exactly want to blog right now, or write at all, she just wants to sleep. I think she's a bit depressed, and maybe reliving some memories she'd rather not be. Of course, this is just all speculation on my part.
On a lighter(?) note Lis is being an odd rapid furious typer on her laptop again, which is good, because it's semi-back to normal. Even if she's still a little beat up. The typing's not about anything too pleasant, from what she tells me about Spence across the room, but at least she's back to her normalish self, from what I can surmise from our short time together. Yes Lis, I am maybe teasing you a small bit from over the internet. What can you do about it?
She's threatening me with pillow fights, Miss Reads Blog Posts Before I Can Even Finish Them. Oh, if only I were 15 again this might appeal more.
I think tomorrow I'm going to attempt to take the girls out and treat them to something relaxing. I don't know what, but something not alone and not in a forest and not in a hotel and not stressful. See, I can be nice and not utterly sarcastic sometimes.
She doesn't remember making that last blog post... I don't necessarily think she did. She doesn't exactly want to blog right now, or write at all, she just wants to sleep. I think she's a bit depressed, and maybe reliving some memories she'd rather not be. Of course, this is just all speculation on my part.
On a lighter(?) note Lis is being an odd rapid furious typer on her laptop again, which is good, because it's semi-back to normal. Even if she's still a little beat up. The typing's not about anything too pleasant, from what she tells me about Spence across the room, but at least she's back to her normalish self, from what I can surmise from our short time together. Yes Lis, I am maybe teasing you a small bit from over the internet. What can you do about it?
She's threatening me with pillow fights, Miss Reads Blog Posts Before I Can Even Finish Them. Oh, if only I were 15 again this might appeal more.
I think tomorrow I'm going to attempt to take the girls out and treat them to something relaxing. I don't know what, but something not alone and not in a forest and not in a hotel and not stressful. See, I can be nice and not utterly sarcastic sometimes.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Story Time
Here's a story boys and girls. Pull up a pillow and let's talk.
I didn't used to be this puling, quivering, worthless wreck I tend to be at times, and the fact of the matter is, most of that has nothing to do with our pale-faced friend. It's a funny world like that. Unlike seemingly a lot of people involved with this stuff, as far as I know, I was a pretty darn normal kid. Well, for a certain value of "normal". A bit precocious at times, but hey, that's life.
I did Girl Scouts, Ballet, and even 4-H. I was in the band and played clarinet in middle school and high school. I wore frilly dresses and gave my mother conniptions by climbing trees and playing in ditches in said frilly dresses. I went hunting with my father... Not in the frilly dresses. I miss how things were back then, of course. I hadn't met Tia at that point though, so that's one thing I don't miss.
Heck, I even did pageants some when I was little. A shocker, I know. It was kind of fun, actually. At least up to a point. Except for the time I got kicked out of one. One of the little tiara-hogs was being a bully to one of the other girls because it was her first pageant, and the kid had braces, so I "accidentally" spilled some juice on the brat's pretty little rabbit-fur coat. Honestly, who needs furs in the area of the country I'm from, anyway?
Miss Priss got really quiet for a moment, an then started screaming at me and tried to claw me. I'm not ashamed to say that I punched her, right in the nose. And that's when everything fell apart on a spectacular level and mom and I got kicked out of the civic center until the pageant was over. She was a bully and totally deserved it, though.
...I wish I had half the guts now that I did as a kid. I'm not a fighter. I'm barely even a survivor. And as odd as it sounds, if not for this turn of events, I'd be very, very alone. Wow, that's selfish. Maybe that would be for the better, though. My dad got laid off, things happened, my parents divorced. My mom was in a severe car wreck and died. For obvious reasons, it's not fun to talk about. I don't have many big, dramatic reveals to show, like some of the others I've seen, but I don't know anymore. I don't know.
~Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past~
I didn't used to be this puling, quivering, worthless wreck I tend to be at times, and the fact of the matter is, most of that has nothing to do with our pale-faced friend. It's a funny world like that. Unlike seemingly a lot of people involved with this stuff, as far as I know, I was a pretty darn normal kid. Well, for a certain value of "normal". A bit precocious at times, but hey, that's life.
I did Girl Scouts, Ballet, and even 4-H. I was in the band and played clarinet in middle school and high school. I wore frilly dresses and gave my mother conniptions by climbing trees and playing in ditches in said frilly dresses. I went hunting with my father... Not in the frilly dresses. I miss how things were back then, of course. I hadn't met Tia at that point though, so that's one thing I don't miss.
Heck, I even did pageants some when I was little. A shocker, I know. It was kind of fun, actually. At least up to a point. Except for the time I got kicked out of one. One of the little tiara-hogs was being a bully to one of the other girls because it was her first pageant, and the kid had braces, so I "accidentally" spilled some juice on the brat's pretty little rabbit-fur coat. Honestly, who needs furs in the area of the country I'm from, anyway?
Miss Priss got really quiet for a moment, an then started screaming at me and tried to claw me. I'm not ashamed to say that I punched her, right in the nose. And that's when everything fell apart on a spectacular level and mom and I got kicked out of the civic center until the pageant was over. She was a bully and totally deserved it, though.
...I wish I had half the guts now that I did as a kid. I'm not a fighter. I'm barely even a survivor. And as odd as it sounds, if not for this turn of events, I'd be very, very alone. Wow, that's selfish. Maybe that would be for the better, though. My dad got laid off, things happened, my parents divorced. My mom was in a severe car wreck and died. For obvious reasons, it's not fun to talk about. I don't have many big, dramatic reveals to show, like some of the others I've seen, but I don't know anymore. I don't know.
~Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past~
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Where were you, Elisa Danielle Jackson?
Where were you when girls went missing at camp as a child?
Where were you when your mother had that horrible accident?
Where were you when your dear therapist, who has saved your live more times in the past few years than you care to count was stalked and who even cares to know what else?
You're a coward and a failure at everything you set out to do.
You're going to give up, just like with everything else.
And I'm going to laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
Where were you when girls went missing at camp as a child?
Where were you when your mother had that horrible accident?
Where were you when your dear therapist, who has saved your live more times in the past few years than you care to count was stalked and who even cares to know what else?
You're a coward and a failure at everything you set out to do.
You're going to give up, just like with everything else.
And I'm going to laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
We're moving again. I found a box outside the hotel room door today with my name on it. Why did I bother opening it? I feel like puking. Inside was a little toy mouse, a microscope slide with a drop of blood on it, and a name tag belonging to Doctor Chavez. My fault. I don't want to check and see if he's missing. I'm going to have to, though. My fault. No time for more right now. Using some wi-fi at where we stopped for lunch for a quick post. I flipped slightly. We were planning on heading out today or tomorrow, anyway.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Things I have learned today
1. Blake has awesome taste in music. (Mine's better, though)
2. Marie Sinclair is still in a coma (Called her parents)
3. There are people who give a damn about me. (Surprise, surprise. No, seriously. I'm honestly surprised)
4. August St. Claire makes awesome pancakes and is beyond nice to talk to. (Also, even terribly mature teens make me feel old.)
2. Marie Sinclair is still in a coma (Called her parents)
3. There are people who give a damn about me. (Surprise, surprise. No, seriously. I'm honestly surprised)
4. August St. Claire makes awesome pancakes and is beyond nice to talk to. (Also, even terribly mature teens make me feel old.)
Where to Even Begin?
I'm the guy Tia and Lis keep mentioning: the boyfriend, the nice guy, Blake. I guess introductions are a good place to start.
Lis won't stay asleep. Tia just went to sleep. She doesn't trust sleeping after being left alone for I don't know how many days. It was a lot to go through, I don't blame her really. Admittedly, I'm no better at the moment, but I did sleep some in the car.
So, I suppose it's me who gets to go over what happened after Lis found me. I don't actually remember much about my little corner or phase of existence or dimension or whatever you want to call it. I remember blood. A lot of it. On the walls and floors and me. It was just gorey and brutal. Most rooms didn't have any reason for the red everywhere, but where Lis found me, with the body, that was where I went into shock. I couldn't tell you how long I was standing there. I could tell you that my legs are still sore from standing and my wrists are still raw from how long I was wringing them.
After Lis snapped me free of my shock, something shifted and we left the mess behind and found ourselves in a pristine part of the hotel. Everything was symmetrical and clean and it was cold. Very, very cold. If it weren't for the pressed flowers framed in the hallways there wouldn't have been any color in the place at all.
Lis had to stop for a spell, so she made a blog post, and then we kept going. We checked a few rooms, but they were all empty and blank. Lis was smelling fire, but all I remember smelling was the flowers. We followed Lissie's nose, as she seems to be the one who can figure these places out for whatever reason, and it led us to Tia.
She was sort of in the check-in area, sort of not. It was more like a living room, with just a coffee table and a couch. The not-quite living room was uncomfortably warm, especially compared to the halls and rooms we'd gone through before finding Tia. Maybe that was due to the candles surrounding her. They were almost... ritualistically placed. They weren't standing on anything, and they didn't burn down or melt. They just were. They seem to match Tia's candle from before she passed out. I didn't notice that until later, and I didn't count them; it didn't matter when we entered the room anyway.
She was passed out on the floor between the couch and the table, I could tell she was breathing, but it didn't change the panic attack I almost had. It was terrifying to think that what happened to Marie could've started to happen to Tia. My Tia. She didn't wake up when I held her or called her. She didn't stir even a little when I touched her.
It wasn't until Lis started snuffing the candles out that Tia started stirring. Smart Lissie, always figuring out things that I wouldn't think of at all. I'm not... familiar with this sort of situation. When the last candle was extinguished Tia woke up, and the surroundings shattered. We were back in our hotel. Lis managed a raspy crack about Tia being sleeping beauty and then we checked out. Right fucking then. Didn't bother showering, just grabbed our things, checked out, and started driving.
We got ourselves a fair distance away and stopped for a decent meal, and by decent meal I mean Waffle House at 4 am. It was the best damn meal. I'm still not entirely comfortable with this situation, but this isn't really the sort of situation people get cozy in. We'll survive.
Now we're... where we are. Location released at Lis's discretion. Maybe we'll catch a break. I can be optimistic.
Lis won't stay asleep. Tia just went to sleep. She doesn't trust sleeping after being left alone for I don't know how many days. It was a lot to go through, I don't blame her really. Admittedly, I'm no better at the moment, but I did sleep some in the car.
We're a good distance away now. Not that it feels any safer. Still, it's something to get distance between us and that hotel. I am not leaving either of the girls alone again. It's just not going to happen.
So, I suppose it's me who gets to go over what happened after Lis found me. I don't actually remember much about my little corner or phase of existence or dimension or whatever you want to call it. I remember blood. A lot of it. On the walls and floors and me. It was just gorey and brutal. Most rooms didn't have any reason for the red everywhere, but where Lis found me, with the body, that was where I went into shock. I couldn't tell you how long I was standing there. I could tell you that my legs are still sore from standing and my wrists are still raw from how long I was wringing them.
After Lis snapped me free of my shock, something shifted and we left the mess behind and found ourselves in a pristine part of the hotel. Everything was symmetrical and clean and it was cold. Very, very cold. If it weren't for the pressed flowers framed in the hallways there wouldn't have been any color in the place at all.
Lis had to stop for a spell, so she made a blog post, and then we kept going. We checked a few rooms, but they were all empty and blank. Lis was smelling fire, but all I remember smelling was the flowers. We followed Lissie's nose, as she seems to be the one who can figure these places out for whatever reason, and it led us to Tia.
She was sort of in the check-in area, sort of not. It was more like a living room, with just a coffee table and a couch. The not-quite living room was uncomfortably warm, especially compared to the halls and rooms we'd gone through before finding Tia. Maybe that was due to the candles surrounding her. They were almost... ritualistically placed. They weren't standing on anything, and they didn't burn down or melt. They just were. They seem to match Tia's candle from before she passed out. I didn't notice that until later, and I didn't count them; it didn't matter when we entered the room anyway.
She was passed out on the floor between the couch and the table, I could tell she was breathing, but it didn't change the panic attack I almost had. It was terrifying to think that what happened to Marie could've started to happen to Tia. My Tia. She didn't wake up when I held her or called her. She didn't stir even a little when I touched her.
It wasn't until Lis started snuffing the candles out that Tia started stirring. Smart Lissie, always figuring out things that I wouldn't think of at all. I'm not... familiar with this sort of situation. When the last candle was extinguished Tia woke up, and the surroundings shattered. We were back in our hotel. Lis managed a raspy crack about Tia being sleeping beauty and then we checked out. Right fucking then. Didn't bother showering, just grabbed our things, checked out, and started driving.
We got ourselves a fair distance away and stopped for a decent meal, and by decent meal I mean Waffle House at 4 am. It was the best damn meal. I'm still not entirely comfortable with this situation, but this isn't really the sort of situation people get cozy in. We'll survive.
Now we're... where we are. Location released at Lis's discretion. Maybe we'll catch a break. I can be optimistic.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Idiocy
I went toward the screams. Like an idiot, I went toward the screams.
I'm not good at this kind of thing, if you haven't noticed. I'm not a bad-ass, I'm not a fighter, I'm just a painter. I'm trying, though. God dammit, I'm trying.
The screams died off as I got closer, and I had to pause. I honestly didn't know what I expected to find in there. Maybe that's for the best. Expectations screw you over in these situations. You know, when everything else isn't screwing you over already. I read, ooh. I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry.
I shoved the door open with my shoulder, the dog in tow, and gun at the ready. What I found wasn't pretty. Blake was kneeling over a body, breathing heavily. The body was young, male, wearing jeans and a football jersey.
Oh, and he was missing half of his head. Well not missing. It was spread all over the floor. Blake was in shock, I think. Honestly, there's no thinking to it. He was in shock. I could've shot him or something right then, and I don't think he would've even noticed. Of course I didn't. Honestly, it's rude to shoot your best friend's boyfriend.
I moved to his side, keeping Patch's shivery, whining self away from the body as best I could. I wanted to be the shvery, whining one, dammit. From the look on Blake's face, I honestly don't think he did this. I moved over to him and touched his shoulder, jarring him out of his stupor.
He flailed. Of course he flailed, and I got hit. Not that I blame him. I should've said something, but if the puppy's whining and the fact that I'd puked up blood and who knows what else yet again due to the sight and smell of the room didn't stir him, I doubt he would've noticed me talking.
And that's when the puppy started barking, and he started apologizing and acting like he'd seen a ghost, and I flipped, got him to shut up, and accidentally coughed blood in his face. Sorry about that by the way, Blake. It was completely unintentional.
Anyway, we calmed down a bit, and moved away from the body. His version of the hotel was a lot more... visceral than the one I'd been in. I kept walking, trying to ignore the gore and other such things. Talking is a great distraction from things. As are hugs. I gave him a hug, thoguh I couldn't let him hug me. Not with my ribs acting up again. I need to talk more. It hurts, though. I think he's starting to understand the depth of this situation more... Blake's a nice guy. Like, honestly nice. I really feel bad for dragging him into this... Whatever happens to him, it'll be my fault.
"Fear of blood tends to create fear for the..."
Great, someone other than me has sense of humor here. I kind of hate that, because it makes things worse for some reason. Blake and I talked a bit while we searched for the way out of his personal trap. Another door, another patch of inpenetrable black. It was worth a shot.
"You fucking brat, you ruined me..."
I dragged Blake through the door before we could hear more or see the source of the voice. More blood and cobwebs and god, my throat is on fire. I don't want it. DON'T WANT THIS.
Inevitability.
We're still in the hotel, or a version of it. This one is quiet and pristine. Not unkempt like what I found or terrifying like where Blake was. Everything's muted, and it's so... Lonely. I'm leaving this post before we go to look for Tia. Because I need to fall apart soon. Priorities, I have them. I patched Blake up as best I could with the first aid kit in my backpack, but he's fine to move.
I smell fire. Talk to you later.
I'm not good at this kind of thing, if you haven't noticed. I'm not a bad-ass, I'm not a fighter, I'm just a painter. I'm trying, though. God dammit, I'm trying.
The screams died off as I got closer, and I had to pause. I honestly didn't know what I expected to find in there. Maybe that's for the best. Expectations screw you over in these situations. You know, when everything else isn't screwing you over already. I read, ooh. I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry.
I shoved the door open with my shoulder, the dog in tow, and gun at the ready. What I found wasn't pretty. Blake was kneeling over a body, breathing heavily. The body was young, male, wearing jeans and a football jersey.
Oh, and he was missing half of his head. Well not missing. It was spread all over the floor. Blake was in shock, I think. Honestly, there's no thinking to it. He was in shock. I could've shot him or something right then, and I don't think he would've even noticed. Of course I didn't. Honestly, it's rude to shoot your best friend's boyfriend.
I moved to his side, keeping Patch's shivery, whining self away from the body as best I could. I wanted to be the shvery, whining one, dammit. From the look on Blake's face, I honestly don't think he did this. I moved over to him and touched his shoulder, jarring him out of his stupor.
He flailed. Of course he flailed, and I got hit. Not that I blame him. I should've said something, but if the puppy's whining and the fact that I'd puked up blood and who knows what else yet again due to the sight and smell of the room didn't stir him, I doubt he would've noticed me talking.
And that's when the puppy started barking, and he started apologizing and acting like he'd seen a ghost, and I flipped, got him to shut up, and accidentally coughed blood in his face. Sorry about that by the way, Blake. It was completely unintentional.
Anyway, we calmed down a bit, and moved away from the body. His version of the hotel was a lot more... visceral than the one I'd been in. I kept walking, trying to ignore the gore and other such things. Talking is a great distraction from things. As are hugs. I gave him a hug, thoguh I couldn't let him hug me. Not with my ribs acting up again. I need to talk more. It hurts, though. I think he's starting to understand the depth of this situation more... Blake's a nice guy. Like, honestly nice. I really feel bad for dragging him into this... Whatever happens to him, it'll be my fault.
"Fear of blood tends to create fear for the..."
Great, someone other than me has sense of humor here. I kind of hate that, because it makes things worse for some reason. Blake and I talked a bit while we searched for the way out of his personal trap. Another door, another patch of inpenetrable black. It was worth a shot.
"You fucking brat, you ruined me..."
I dragged Blake through the door before we could hear more or see the source of the voice. More blood and cobwebs and god, my throat is on fire. I don't want it. DON'T WANT THIS.
Inevitability.
We're still in the hotel, or a version of it. This one is quiet and pristine. Not unkempt like what I found or terrifying like where Blake was. Everything's muted, and it's so... Lonely. I'm leaving this post before we go to look for Tia. Because I need to fall apart soon. Priorities, I have them. I patched Blake up as best I could with the first aid kit in my backpack, but he's fine to move.
I smell fire. Talk to you later.
//
Tried not to fall asleep again... failed...
////
Woke up someplace not where I started... everything's bright and dark and harsh and burning all at the same time. Red on my hands. Can't breath.
//////////
Thirsty... so thirsty.
///
Don't want to sleep again. Don't know where I'll end up. Don't want to be here either...
/////
Tried not to fall asleep again... failed...
////
Woke up someplace not where I started... everything's bright and dark and harsh and burning all at the same time. Red on my hands. Can't breath.
//////////
Thirsty... so thirsty.
///
Don't want to sleep again. Don't know where I'll end up. Don't want to be here either...
/////
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Well, then.
It's been a bit since my last post. Maybe not as long as some might prefer, but I need to get this out there.
After my last post, I did as I said I would. I trekked back down to the first floor to the room where I'd heard the crying last time. I brought Patch with me, because after what happened to my other dog, I wasn't about to leave him all by his lonesome, especially in a place like that. I must have looked a sight with my backpack, puppy, revolver, and crossbow. Not that there was anyone to see or care at that point. Not that I expect anyone would have cared other than to think I was crazy even had they been there. And I'm not going to deny them that fact.
The hotel was still quiet, but as I walked down the stairs, the atmosphere began to change again, becoming more oppressive. There were scratches on the walls that weren't there before, and all the colors were washed out. As someone who thrives on color, that was one of the more unnerving things so far. Until I saw the writing on the wall, at least.
"Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police always come late
If they come at all"
I tried to ignore it and keep walking, but I was having to drag Patch a bit. The poor baby liked Silent Hill Lite even less than I did. He was shivering and whining again as we exited the stairwell. I sure as heck wasn't about to trust the elevators in that place. I like to think I'm not quite that stupid.
There were other scribblings on the walls as I moved toward the Crying Room, including a few instances of the symbol that's popped up a few times before. There weren't many of too much note until I reached the door itself. The soft sobbing was still there, and I was terribly worried about what might be happening to whoever might be in there. Though, I have to say, red stands out wonderfully against a gray background.
"Follow, little Dormouse.
The time has come to sup.
What are Dormice good for?
Being gobbled up."
Those words shook me to the core. I am not anyone's mouse. I never will be. I may be broken and fearful, but I will never be anyone's Mousie.
I tied Patch's leash off to one of the other doorknobs after checking to see if the door was locked. Of course, it was. Heaven forbid anything be simple. While I was doing so, I made the mistake of looking out the window at the end of the hall while my stomach was churning again and the puppy started making this whimpery little growl. He was there again, just... watching. That dark figure, half hidden by the dense fog. I nearly threw up again right then and there, but the next blink, he was gone, like some goddamn, overtall Weeping Angel.
Good. that's all I could think in that moment. Good. It wasn't, of course. Seeing is better in some ways. The unseen is so much worse, isn't it?
Sorry. Back to what I was saying... I shot out the lock as I had to Blake and Tia's room, and of course that freaked out Patch even more, and he started barking. There was a small whimper from inside the room as my ears slowly stopped ringing, but I moved back to calm the puppy.
It took a few minutes, but I managed finally, and untied his leash. He was back to cowering, but it was better than nothing. I went in.
And I almost wish I never had.
It was a mirror image of the rooms we'd been in upstairs, laid out like some grisly series of tableaux. Macy, torn limb from limb. My fault. Marie, shattered and broken, flat blue eyes empty yet accusing. My fault. Tia, burned to a nearly unrecognizable state, her abdomen sliced open. My fault. Blake, his throat slit, a second, gaping mouth at his throat. My fault. Jared, bloated and waterlogged with drowning. My fault. My fault. My fault. There's no hiding from some things. I don't make things better.
... I'm not ashamed to say that at that point, I promptly gave into the urge to puke, and may have fainted for a bit.
When I came to, they were all gone but for the blood. Patch was licking my face and shivering, but we weren't alone. Of course. I couldn't just have one moment to curl up into a fetal position and have the nervous breakdown I so wanted.
There was a teenage girl there who hadn't been there before. She was tied to the bed at wrists, ankles, and waist with what looked like ropes made from shredded bedclothes braided together with some kind of wire, and her eyes were wide and dark with fear and pain. I had found the crier, apparently.
I moved as quickly to her side as I could, which caused her to flinch and squeeze her eyes shut. Matted strawberry blond hair fell into her eyes as she struggled for a moment before giving up again. I said whatever I could to calm her in that moment as I careful began unwinding the makeshift bonds from her torn wrists. She was silent as I did so, her face set. I knew this girl, even if she didn't know me.
She was covered in bruises and small, round burns, and her frame was painfully thin under the oversize t-shirt she was wearing. It was her only covering, and I was loathe to see what lay beneath it. The girl continued to cry as I retrieved the first aid kit from my backpack and began to tend to her wounds as best I could. The only things that came from her mouth were little whimpers, and hushed, rapid, repeated apologies. I had to do something, though. Leaving her in that state would have been wrong. Broken and injured and trying to forget everything that may or may not have happened to her.
I gave her my water bottle and stood back up, watching her as Patch slunk closer and began to lick her hand. At that point, the room... rippled. I don't have any other way to describe it. It wasn't something I saw, but something I felt. There was new writing on the wall next to the door leading to the adjoining room.
"A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession."
Is it?
I looked at the girl again, and knew. I took Patch's leash away from her and moved to the door to the next room. She watched and tried to stand as I did so, but she stumbled and ended up in a heap on the floor. Now, I was taught as a child to never stick my head in an evil-looking mysterious hole in the wall, but this was an ominously normal looking doorway that I couldn't see the other side of. That's a big enough difference, right?
I tied the puppy's leash off to my wrist and forged my way through. it was like falling through a five-foot thick wall of densely packed cobwebs strung with shards of glass. In other words, not fun. I collapsed on the floor after I made my way through, coughing up blood, my throat as raw as if I'd been inhaling smoke for hours and scratches welting up on my exposed skin. I was in the lobby of the hotel. Not the same lobby I'd been in before. This one was... different. Trashed and not washed out, blood smearing the walls and graffiti under the blood, and not just from the fact that it looks like I'd popped a capillary or something in my throat. It was quiet, though, so I set up on one of the couches an decided to write this up, if I could. It seems I can. I'm shaking so hard now, and it feels like things are running differently again. When I entered the Crying Room, it had been approximately an hour since my initial post about the hotel being empty. It's been a few hours since I fell through the "glass and cobwebs". Patch is seemingly okay for the moment, though I bet he's hungry.
I left her behind. I had to. It wouldn't have made any difference if I'd tried to bring her along. It wouldn't have changed anything. She wouldn't have... Never mind. Forget it.
Next time we get a hotel, we're getting a single room. Forget privacy.
...Fuck. I think I have to go. I can hear screaming from somewhere, and the dog is freaking out again. I'm not sure what to do. Following that kind of sound seems like the worst kind of horror movie cliche stupidity. I have to do something, though. If I don't go check, something's going to come looking for me. That's the way these things go, right? I just want to have my nervous breakdown or go into shock or something. Is that so much to ask? A moment to fall apart or to bake something?
After my last post, I did as I said I would. I trekked back down to the first floor to the room where I'd heard the crying last time. I brought Patch with me, because after what happened to my other dog, I wasn't about to leave him all by his lonesome, especially in a place like that. I must have looked a sight with my backpack, puppy, revolver, and crossbow. Not that there was anyone to see or care at that point. Not that I expect anyone would have cared other than to think I was crazy even had they been there. And I'm not going to deny them that fact.
The hotel was still quiet, but as I walked down the stairs, the atmosphere began to change again, becoming more oppressive. There were scratches on the walls that weren't there before, and all the colors were washed out. As someone who thrives on color, that was one of the more unnerving things so far. Until I saw the writing on the wall, at least.
"Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police always come late
If they come at all"
I tried to ignore it and keep walking, but I was having to drag Patch a bit. The poor baby liked Silent Hill Lite even less than I did. He was shivering and whining again as we exited the stairwell. I sure as heck wasn't about to trust the elevators in that place. I like to think I'm not quite that stupid.
There were other scribblings on the walls as I moved toward the Crying Room, including a few instances of the symbol that's popped up a few times before. There weren't many of too much note until I reached the door itself. The soft sobbing was still there, and I was terribly worried about what might be happening to whoever might be in there. Though, I have to say, red stands out wonderfully against a gray background.
"Follow, little Dormouse.
The time has come to sup.
What are Dormice good for?
Being gobbled up."
Those words shook me to the core. I am not anyone's mouse. I never will be. I may be broken and fearful, but I will never be anyone's Mousie.
I tied Patch's leash off to one of the other doorknobs after checking to see if the door was locked. Of course, it was. Heaven forbid anything be simple. While I was doing so, I made the mistake of looking out the window at the end of the hall while my stomach was churning again and the puppy started making this whimpery little growl. He was there again, just... watching. That dark figure, half hidden by the dense fog. I nearly threw up again right then and there, but the next blink, he was gone, like some goddamn, overtall Weeping Angel.
Good. that's all I could think in that moment. Good. It wasn't, of course. Seeing is better in some ways. The unseen is so much worse, isn't it?
Sorry. Back to what I was saying... I shot out the lock as I had to Blake and Tia's room, and of course that freaked out Patch even more, and he started barking. There was a small whimper from inside the room as my ears slowly stopped ringing, but I moved back to calm the puppy.
It took a few minutes, but I managed finally, and untied his leash. He was back to cowering, but it was better than nothing. I went in.
And I almost wish I never had.
It was a mirror image of the rooms we'd been in upstairs, laid out like some grisly series of tableaux. Macy, torn limb from limb. My fault. Marie, shattered and broken, flat blue eyes empty yet accusing. My fault. Tia, burned to a nearly unrecognizable state, her abdomen sliced open. My fault. Blake, his throat slit, a second, gaping mouth at his throat. My fault. Jared, bloated and waterlogged with drowning. My fault. My fault. My fault. There's no hiding from some things. I don't make things better.
... I'm not ashamed to say that at that point, I promptly gave into the urge to puke, and may have fainted for a bit.
When I came to, they were all gone but for the blood. Patch was licking my face and shivering, but we weren't alone. Of course. I couldn't just have one moment to curl up into a fetal position and have the nervous breakdown I so wanted.
There was a teenage girl there who hadn't been there before. She was tied to the bed at wrists, ankles, and waist with what looked like ropes made from shredded bedclothes braided together with some kind of wire, and her eyes were wide and dark with fear and pain. I had found the crier, apparently.
I moved as quickly to her side as I could, which caused her to flinch and squeeze her eyes shut. Matted strawberry blond hair fell into her eyes as she struggled for a moment before giving up again. I said whatever I could to calm her in that moment as I careful began unwinding the makeshift bonds from her torn wrists. She was silent as I did so, her face set. I knew this girl, even if she didn't know me.
She was covered in bruises and small, round burns, and her frame was painfully thin under the oversize t-shirt she was wearing. It was her only covering, and I was loathe to see what lay beneath it. The girl continued to cry as I retrieved the first aid kit from my backpack and began to tend to her wounds as best I could. The only things that came from her mouth were little whimpers, and hushed, rapid, repeated apologies. I had to do something, though. Leaving her in that state would have been wrong. Broken and injured and trying to forget everything that may or may not have happened to her.
I gave her my water bottle and stood back up, watching her as Patch slunk closer and began to lick her hand. At that point, the room... rippled. I don't have any other way to describe it. It wasn't something I saw, but something I felt. There was new writing on the wall next to the door leading to the adjoining room.
"A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession."
Is it?
I looked at the girl again, and knew. I took Patch's leash away from her and moved to the door to the next room. She watched and tried to stand as I did so, but she stumbled and ended up in a heap on the floor. Now, I was taught as a child to never stick my head in an evil-looking mysterious hole in the wall, but this was an ominously normal looking doorway that I couldn't see the other side of. That's a big enough difference, right?
I tied the puppy's leash off to my wrist and forged my way through. it was like falling through a five-foot thick wall of densely packed cobwebs strung with shards of glass. In other words, not fun. I collapsed on the floor after I made my way through, coughing up blood, my throat as raw as if I'd been inhaling smoke for hours and scratches welting up on my exposed skin. I was in the lobby of the hotel. Not the same lobby I'd been in before. This one was... different. Trashed and not washed out, blood smearing the walls and graffiti under the blood, and not just from the fact that it looks like I'd popped a capillary or something in my throat. It was quiet, though, so I set up on one of the couches an decided to write this up, if I could. It seems I can. I'm shaking so hard now, and it feels like things are running differently again. When I entered the Crying Room, it had been approximately an hour since my initial post about the hotel being empty. It's been a few hours since I fell through the "glass and cobwebs". Patch is seemingly okay for the moment, though I bet he's hungry.
I left her behind. I had to. It wouldn't have made any difference if I'd tried to bring her along. It wouldn't have changed anything. She wouldn't have... Never mind. Forget it.
Next time we get a hotel, we're getting a single room. Forget privacy.
...Fuck. I think I have to go. I can hear screaming from somewhere, and the dog is freaking out again. I'm not sure what to do. Following that kind of sound seems like the worst kind of horror movie cliche stupidity. I have to do something, though. If I don't go check, something's going to come looking for me. That's the way these things go, right? I just want to have my nervous breakdown or go into shock or something. Is that so much to ask? A moment to fall apart or to bake something?
Haven't Burned the Place Down
Just so everyone knows. Because apparently Lis is posting and I can't see those posts.
So I was right. Haven't been able to get back in the room again, so I've been hanging out in the lobby. There are comfy couches here. I'm still not quite ballsy enough to head out into the fog.
Instinct tells me there's nothing I want to find out there. I'm going to run on instinct for this one.
Found a candle here. It was already burning. And it hasn't burnt down at all. There's something off about it. It doesn't cast the light quite right. I'm not even sure if it's really here, except that it's actually hot to the touch.
I'm going to let things stew for a while on that flame. Not sure what to do about it.
So I was right. Haven't been able to get back in the room again, so I've been hanging out in the lobby. There are comfy couches here. I'm still not quite ballsy enough to head out into the fog.
Instinct tells me there's nothing I want to find out there. I'm going to run on instinct for this one.
Found a candle here. It was already burning. And it hasn't burnt down at all. There's something off about it. It doesn't cast the light quite right. I'm not even sure if it's really here, except that it's actually hot to the touch.
I'm going to let things stew for a while on that flame. Not sure what to do about it.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Still Positively Fucked
I ran out of book to read. It was all well and distracting enough. But now it's done. I'll have to nab one from somewhere else... if I ever get out of this weirdness.
I slept for 20 hours today. According to the hotel clock. The hotel and my laptop seem to be running on slightly different patterns of time. Not that if I go by my notebook it's any better. According to my notebook I slept 18 hours. I have no idea what I dreamed of. I do know I was parched when I woke up and the sheets were positively drenched with sweat when I woke up.
I've got to do something. Just sitting and waiting is not making the situation any better. Neither is practically starving myself because I hardly trust any food in the hotel. As in I don't. I know this isn't fairyland (or maybe it is, True Fey are vicious from the tales) or silliness like that, but they teach you valuable lessons in old fairy tales. Don't eat the food with wicked witch provides. Or you get fat and lazy and end up in someone else's oven.
So I've been living on breakfast bars and a small supply of apples I had kept with me. And I'm starting to get hungry. And the protein in my diet is utterly minimal.
I have to leave and I'm getting anxious. It feels like something's trying to crawl into my head. I don't trust the outside though. Conundrum. Every day I look out of the hotel window and see the same thick fog. We're on the 3rd story and it's all the way up my window. It doesn't bode well.
I've contemplated burning the whole place down. I don't trust that either. What if Lis and Blake are still here I just can't see them? But it is... something. I've been wondering if maybe I'm stuck in my own head and I have to break the illusion to break free. Burning would maybe do that. Maybe. I don't know.
Before I resort to that sort of drastic something I'm going exploring. Maybe the hotel will have something that I can work with. I'm taking all my stuff with me. I only had a hiking backpack and my notebook carrier with my in the hotel room anyway. I can only hope the internet will work elsewhere so I can let you all know if I'm still alive in a day.
I don't think whatever has me here will let me back in the room once I leave it. Wish me luck?
I slept for 20 hours today. According to the hotel clock. The hotel and my laptop seem to be running on slightly different patterns of time. Not that if I go by my notebook it's any better. According to my notebook I slept 18 hours. I have no idea what I dreamed of. I do know I was parched when I woke up and the sheets were positively drenched with sweat when I woke up.
I've got to do something. Just sitting and waiting is not making the situation any better. Neither is practically starving myself because I hardly trust any food in the hotel. As in I don't. I know this isn't fairyland (or maybe it is, True Fey are vicious from the tales) or silliness like that, but they teach you valuable lessons in old fairy tales. Don't eat the food with wicked witch provides. Or you get fat and lazy and end up in someone else's oven.
So I've been living on breakfast bars and a small supply of apples I had kept with me. And I'm starting to get hungry. And the protein in my diet is utterly minimal.
I have to leave and I'm getting anxious. It feels like something's trying to crawl into my head. I don't trust the outside though. Conundrum. Every day I look out of the hotel window and see the same thick fog. We're on the 3rd story and it's all the way up my window. It doesn't bode well.
I've contemplated burning the whole place down. I don't trust that either. What if Lis and Blake are still here I just can't see them? But it is... something. I've been wondering if maybe I'm stuck in my own head and I have to break the illusion to break free. Burning would maybe do that. Maybe. I don't know.
Before I resort to that sort of drastic something I'm going exploring. Maybe the hotel will have something that I can work with. I'm taking all my stuff with me. I only had a hiking backpack and my notebook carrier with my in the hotel room anyway. I can only hope the internet will work elsewhere so I can let you all know if I'm still alive in a day.
I don't think whatever has me here will let me back in the room once I leave it. Wish me luck?
Nothing
There was nothing in there. I shot out the lock to the adjoining room, and there was nothing in there. No sign of Tia or Blake. Not even their luggage. I'm updating here so hat I know I updated. Maybe it'll be useful at some point.
Once upon at time, there was a little girl who loved to wander by herself. Once upon a time, she knew every little creek, every tree, every bush where here family lived. Once upone a time she saw a tall black scarecrow in the funniest place. Once upon a time, she watched it and watched it until it moved. Once upon a time, she thought the scarecrow could not see her as she wandered into the forest. Once upon a time, she was very, very wrong. Once upon a time, the she found the black trees and they found her. Once upon a time, the little girl looked deep into the pool and forgot, forgot, forgot.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Back
Sorry to update again so soon, but I figured I'd let everyone know I'm not dead. I checked around, and yeah, the side door is unlocked, so I took a little look-see. It's kind of like Silent Hill out there, only quieter, gray, and more boring. (Now that I've said that, I feel sure something's going to come after me) Most of the hotel rooms are locked and apparently abandoned, though I did hear what sounded like muffled crying in one I checked. I'm not sure I want to see what's inside.
So... It's me and puppy now, because I can't get back into the adjoining room, and Tia and Blake aren't answering the door. Fuck. It takes a lot for me to say that kind of thing, but I'm at a fucking loss at the moment. If I can't get Tia or Blake to answer the door, I think I may shoot out the lock... It's not like anyone's around to hear it. I have to go... Feeling sick again, and Patch is freaked.
So... It's me and puppy now, because I can't get back into the adjoining room, and Tia and Blake aren't answering the door. Fuck. It takes a lot for me to say that kind of thing, but I'm at a fucking loss at the moment. If I can't get Tia or Blake to answer the door, I think I may shoot out the lock... It's not like anyone's around to hear it. I have to go... Feeling sick again, and Patch is freaked.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Dammit
Hotel called up to the room last night to tell us someone left a letter down at the front desk for us. Which is already suspicious, because we haven't exactly told anyone where we are. Blake went down to get it. He hasn't come back up since then.
I knocked on Lis's door for... I don't even know how long. My knuckles are all sore from how long I was banging with no response.
I went down to the lobby this morning to try and figure things out. No one was down there. No receptionist, no bellhop, no people out in the streets or driving. I thought about leaving the hotel for about 2 seconds... then thought better of it and came back to the room.
Blake wouldn't leave me all night, and Lis is always responsive. My cell phone's not working. At all. I have no idea why my little notebook's working enough to post this. But maybe Lis'll see it wherever she is.
I really, really hate being alone. And waiting. I'm not leaving this hotel room. I wish I had more reading material.
I knocked on Lis's door for... I don't even know how long. My knuckles are all sore from how long I was banging with no response.
I went down to the lobby this morning to try and figure things out. No one was down there. No receptionist, no bellhop, no people out in the streets or driving. I thought about leaving the hotel for about 2 seconds... then thought better of it and came back to the room.
Blake wouldn't leave me all night, and Lis is always responsive. My cell phone's not working. At all. I have no idea why my little notebook's working enough to post this. But maybe Lis'll see it wherever she is.
I really, really hate being alone. And waiting. I'm not leaving this hotel room. I wish I had more reading material.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
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