Silence on the Western front

Not really.

People keep dying, kids keep getting stolen, life goes on, yeah? No. I've lost track of how things crumble. How my dreams fold and unfold, showing the lines and pathways and things I can't put to words. There's always more than one path to take, if you're able to take the steps and your eyes aren't blind to them.

He was in the hotel this evening. The tall bastard. Just standing there. I was the only one awake for once (Yes, we have really weird sleep-schedules), and suddenly he was just there. Watching again, but as I watched him in return, he moved over to Tia's side of the bed, so silently, and shifted as though focusing on her. There was a long pause before a tendril of black coiled out and hovered over her. I couldn't make a sound. I tried. God, I tried. Everything was so gray and washed out.

It just hovered there, over her stomach for a long moment before I was able to move, shifting my position to place myself between Him and her. There was a tilt to His head, and a shift to his stance as though looking toward the other bed, where Kailin was.

The tendril moved at the same time, seeming to snag on my ponytail for a moment before Tia stirred. And then He was gone, and there was some confusion as to my position. Shielding her.

...Did He honestly just pull my hair before leaving? I... This was a weird day. We'll be moving. Soon. For the sake of all four of us.

More painting.

"Silence in the City"

Dreams, Dreaming, Dreamt

First, no, there hasn't been a test yet. Not enough time to be sure of accuracy, if the timing's what I'm pretty sure it is. Lovely.

Yeah, I've been dreaming again, and painting and drawing. Ya'll don't get to see those right now, though. My camera broke, and honestly, there are some things that don't bear seeing. Believe me, these don't.

Dreaming is always strange, yeah? Shadows on he horizon, becoming more distinct. But then, there's always been shadows on the horizon, they're just getting closer. Shadows have faces. Maybe it was easier when I couldn't identify the faces. Maybe it was easier when I didn't dream of people I've met and people I've never met dying or not dying. It's layered. Mutable. Things are changeable.

Sitting in a room as a teenager, talking to Doctor Sanchez. There's someone else there. I can't... I can't see. That's the weird part, because I always see, and I always remember. But this time, all I can tell is there's another person. It's like there's a gap in the dream, a place where the colors don't flow. 

There are always colors, especially in dreams. It's weird, I know. Colors and imagey sorts of things, feelings. It's usually not a big thing, not worth mentioning, I guess it's a form of synesthesia, though it's been getting worse over the last few months. Especially when I'm on pain meds, it's not just distracting little things in the corner of my eye. That's part of why I've been trying to wean myself off of meds earlier than I "should" every time I get hurt. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe I'm nutso. Well... That last part was a given.

Shadows. A teenager, hurt.Have to help. Can't... Can't tell a lot of things, but I hate this kind of dream. Where you're standing there, frozen, and you have to watch someone hurt or die. Can't change it... But you have to. Can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl. Dark hair, dark eyes. Two people in one shell. Fire... Ugh. I have to... Things can be changed.

Right.

Looking

Haven't found Tia or Blake yet. We're going to keep looking. She's not dead.
I'd know.
Shadows in my eyes and tired, but I'm steadier. I suppose I should just start expecting fun days to go wrong. We'll find them. As to my last post, am I not allowed to be angry? As always, I regret things I say. I'll deal.

Merry Merry merry

Compared to some I've been around
But I really tried so hard
That echo chorus lied to me with its
"Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on

He took her. He kidnapped Tia and stole my truck, stranding me and Shaun at the hotel. In the snow.  No. Nononono. 
Music. Breathe.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
All of us under its spell.
We know that it's probably magic.
Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.

See, the thing is, Blake, sweetie, you want to protect her? You want to steal her away and keep her locked up to keep her safe because you love her? It doesn't work that way, buddy-boy, if it's against her will. You are not the dashing prince in this story, sweeping back in after going missing, to save the princess. You are, if anything, the witch keeping her in a tower. You made a mistake, turning her into the damsel in your head. But you know what? You want to play Ladderlocks, that's fine. Let's play pretend. Just keep in mind what happens to the prince, my dear. And I don't think her tears will heal you in this story. You've got worse things to worry about than anything else that might be coming out of the dark after you... If things haven't gone a certain way before I even get there. I'll probably regret saying this within ten or fifteen minutes of posting it anyway. I regret lots of things. Heh. I don't want you dead, don't worry. I just want you incapacitated. I want you incapacitated a lot. This is not something you do to someone you claim to love. This is not something you do to my best friend.

For life is quite absurd
and death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin.
Give the audience a grin.
Enjoy it. It's your last chance, anyhow.

She shouldn't have to make this choice. You have no right. Neither of you have any right to do this to her. Why? Why them? Why anyone? How much do people have to hurt and suffer? Shepherd, you're a dead man. No matter how long it takes, even if I have to go down, too. The second you touched them, you were dead. This is not a game, and even if it were, you are not the one controlling the pieces, sweetie. You never have been. You like to play pretend, though. That much, I've seen. You like to pretend that you're in control and manipulating things yourself. You make me laugh. Oh look, bravado. This should be amusing. Bit late for that though, isn't it? No. No, because you want me to want you dead. You want me to want to hurt you. I... No. Nothing doing. I

Sing for the bartender, sing for the janitor, sing
Sing for the cameras, sing for the animals, sing
Sing for the children shooting the children, sing
Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn't sing
Just sing

focus
Focus
FOCUS
Need to do something. Breathing is a good start.
...Have a very Merry Christmas, everyone. I know mine will be memorable.

watching me. watching me. watching me.

Off. Everything's Off.

I'm not feeling right. Still. I pushed the girls to start moving anyway. I'm going to survive. Whatever. My head aches all the time but we've been stationary way too long and maybe the place is contributing to the way everything's grating on my nerves lately. I'm antsy. I know it. It's off. I'm trying not to be.


Every little thing though. Just rubs me the wrong way. I'm going to pull myself together.


If it can be described in medical terms, it's like I've developed acute paranoia in the past week and a half and I'm trying to keep it where I was before. But you know, this recent development keeps me from keeping my calm.


And, you know, seeing things doesn't exactly help. I don't think I need to clarify on the sort of things, do I?


Apparently I'm paranoid schizophrenic now. Delusional, hallucinating, paranoid, argumentative, angry, inappropriate emotional responses. Is this the part where I just go 'eh, it happens'?


No, no this is the part where I pull myself back together. Or try to.


Guess we'll see.

Tendrils Dark are Eating up the Light

Do you know that feeling, like when you don't know where to start a story? Like when you wish it was just a story and nothing real at all? Like when you're stuck thinking 'If this were just a story, it would be much, much easier to tell'? All the jumbles of words can't seem to coordinate themselves into a proper sentence and we're just stuck... staring into the dim light of your computer screen, asking yourself, repeatedly 'Where do I even start?'


That's where I am, right now.


...


So tell me, where do I start this story?


On a roller coaster. I start this story on a roller coaster. I'm going to openly proclaim right now I never want to ride a roller coaster again. I never want to see fair food or hear jingling key chains or see smears of spilled slushie on hot cement. I used to have fond memories of these things. I don't anymore.


Maybe it starts when we got off the roller coaster. When did the people start fading out? I'm not really sure when the park started emptying or the dark started settling in. When did the air go stale and still? I'm not sure where things started going wrong. It seemed like all of a sudden things just weren't what they were before and suddenly we three weren't together anymore.


They like leaving me alone in these places. They like having me run about and look for people in large empty spaces. They like giving my panic attacks because they can. I think in a cruel way, they like making me feel the need to release my lunch everywhere. You know, and then I actually do. It happens. Happened. A bit. Maybe more than a bit. I'm feeling a little prideful about it.


I kept a handle on it though. It wasn't so bad this time you know? No curling in on myself. No falling asleep and thinking 'well this is it'. None of that self-deprecation shit either. It's not my job, according to certain other members of the party.


I didn't sleep much over those days.
Couldn't.
Too full of energy.
Didn't eat much either.
Wasn't hungry.


So I looked. I looked hard and long. And I found what I was looking for, eventually. Blake was on one of those big swinging ships, strapped in, passed out. I had no idea how to operate the thing. It seemed to be operating on this infernal timed loop. Stop. Start. Go go go. Stop. Start. Go.


So I waited. Eventually it stopped again. And then I went and grabbed him quick as I could manage, before it started up again.


So now I had a passed out Blake on the loading dock of this swinging ship, and I'm crying and screaming at him to wake up, because I need him to wake up. I need him to wake up right then.


And by some miracle or magic choice of words, he does. He snaps his eyes open and he's there with me again. The rush of relief right then? Unspeakable.


After a time I manage to get him walking, and it's back to looking. I keep his hand in mine. I never let go.


We found Lissie in the fun house after what felt like a whole nother day of looking. She barely awake in the mirror room. I found her by her manic laughter. It stopped when we got into the room. Turned to a more sick gurgling. All the blood in her throat. It's a miracle she didn't choke on it.


Oh god that was a sight to see.


Zip-ties, curled in on herself, blood under her finger nails (not entirely sure that it was hers), nose a shambles, neck bruised and caked with dried blood, ribs broken - again. When we cut the ties off her, she could hardly stand on her own. We didn't make her.


She guided us out, she knew how to navigate it, someway or another. Maybe it was instincts in this place, maybe she's got a talent? I don't get any of it, but I'm practically dragging the two of them out, Lissie coughing out her guidance.


I still hadn't let go of Blake's hand.


He was right there with us. Right there. Next to me. He felt that first breath of fresh air. That life again. And then he was being dragged from my grip. Dragged. Clawed. He clung. I clung. I reached. He reached back for me. Everything was warped.


A face. There was a face behind him. Or the shape of a face. A warped image of a not-face. Seen it before. I couldn't hurt it. Never could. Couldn't sway it. Couldn't make it's grip on Blake loosen. Me? Just a non-consequential being. Powerless. Everything distorted in that moment. Suffocating. Somehow.


I couldn't pull Blake back. He was out of my grip. Then he was gone.


I'm getting him back. Don't you think for a second that I won't.

We're All Adults Here... Let's Chat.

Trapped. Knees, ankles, arms. Curiously enough, not hands. Crude. Free now. Is it mad to pray for better... hallucinations? Now that I see this place for what it is, it's crude. Like a high schooler stitching together plagarized bits of literature for a report. You barely know what you're doing with this whole thing, do you? You're a child gluing together bits of colored paper in preschool and hoping it makes a picture.

Funny, that. I'm not sure how I can tell, anyway. I see the seams of your stolen bits or "reality" though.
Shepherd, was it? It hurts oh god, it hurts, but now I'm laughing. It's a high, manic sound, and I can barely stop it, even to breathe. You're going to want to hurt me more for that fact, aren't you? You don't strike me as the kind that likes to be laughed at, Shep. Too bad. I rather like laughing, and even if it hurts, I don't see myself stopping for a while.

I'm going to find them, and we're going to get out of this. Maybe I'm a mouse, maybe I'm useless, but I'm learning. And almost nothing you can do will stop that. For better or worse... With the way things are going, I feel sure worse on one level or another. Well, I can think of a few thngs, but no matter.
I'm the weak one, right? I'm the weak one. Go for the weak link. Heh.

Come on, then. Let's talk.

I've been seeing that thing off and on a few times while we've... I've been here. At the moment, I will not dignify it with a name or even a gender. I am tired. I am tired and it is wrong. Forever watching. Wearing things down. Even here, things warp around it, tearing and.... I hope Tia and Blake are okay. At the moment, if they found some way out and left me, I wouldn't hold it against them. But when would I ever?

...Tia won't leave without me, though. Even when maybe she should.

No. Not going to think that way. Not going to think that way. Shep, sweetie, let's have a chat.