Marie- Deceased. Unknown circumstances. Last seen in the company of a man who goes by the alias "Shepherd". "Shepherd" denies involvement in her death. Called it "a waste". Later notes revealed her family to be involved in some form of conspiracy. None of the relevant people are alive now, other than Jared. Sacrifice, Bitter Fruit, Poison Thorn
Blake- Deceased. Shot with a .38, hollowpoint. Multiple shots to the stomach and chest. Last in the company of Tia. Had developed paranoia and delusions that he was the only one capable of keeping her safe. "Safe", in this case meant holding her captive in a basement. Body missing. Taken by the Tall One. Lover, Twisted Heart, Betrayer
Tia- Missing. Presumed Deceased. Last seen in the company of Lis. Supporting her as they got us away from one of the anomalies that has trapped those who have been documenting events on this blog in previous accounts. Had cut herself off from all but this small group. Grew more and more protective of Lis and the rest of us over the last few months, but especially Lis. After the abduction a month ago, as well as other incidents, she barely let her out of her sight. The tendrils were encroaching. Champion, Sparrow, Protector, Mother
Lis- Missing. Presumed Deceased. Last seen in the company of Tia. Mostly unconscious, and emanating a "light" to the way out of the anomalous location. Possible hallucination due to the nature of said location. She and Tia sacrificed themselves to get us out. Had been suffering increased amounts of weakness due to physical wasting, despite preventative efforts. Also had started to suffer from an increase in her "synesthesia" in ways that fall outside of the definition of such, after the incident with the sensory deprivation tank a month ago. Bloodstained Handmaiden, Heroine, Dreamer, Hummingbird, Delphi
Jared- Living. Injured. Whereabouts unknown beyond a note saying he'd "keep in touch" and that "there's always a light, she showed us that. Bloodstained or not. What she did was a final 'fuck you' to those who would have used her and used Tia against her. Especially after all that's happened over the last few months. They'll be watching you still, remember that, kid. I know you're not going to want me around after this. You're not the type. It was the girls who were keeping that from being an issue. You can take care of yourself. Even if it means lying low, that's probably a better option than my modus operandi. Take care of yourself, okay? For them, if not for you." Toppled Knight, Rusted Armor, Hidden Face
Kailin- Living. Increasingly cynical. The desire to be alone and disconnect grows stronger. For now, it may be the best to go alone against the Tall One. Raven, Butterfly, Changeling
...I don't know what to do anymore. I don't belong here anymore. It's getting colder. It's time to move on. No more mum's and no more lecherous flirts. This internet thing is too risky, too hard. And I'm thinking bonding is just the thing I shouldn't do anymore.
Lis. Tia. They were too good for these things. I'm the sort of scum that gets it. Alone is better.
Showing posts with label wtfery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wtfery. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Dream a little dream
How many dreams does a person have in a night? Too many.
Stars going out like candles, an image shown in so many media. The splintering of bone.Why dream about something like that? When we're children, we have nightmares even then. Glowing green eyes in the depths of a cave. A whispered name.
I dreamed tonight that I was in a maze. Not a labyrinth, a maze. A multicursal stucture, rather than a unicursal structure. The walls were not stone. The were gray, gray, gray and brown, with writing on them. Some form of concrete or stucco? Beside the point.
Alchemical symbols. Antimony. Silver. Platinum. Magnesium. Gold. All beneath a layer of dust so thick that I could see my footprints in it. Ahead of me was evidence of someone passing before. Small of stature, bare feet. Bare feet in that mess... I've stepped in worse, I guess.
As I ran a hand along the grime and rust-covered wall, watching the flowering of the rust along the surface, I began to notice lighter spots along the wall. They were rectangles, reaching from above my head to the floor. Like when you have a piece of furniture in a single place for a very long time and it leaves a mark when you move it.
It took a long moment as I looked at the marks, and I began to realize that they were doors. Or where there were doors. Places where the doors had vanished. What would happen if you were in a room and the door vanished? Would you try to go through the wall?
What if you couldn't go through the wall due to being trapped in an extradimensional pocket? Set fire to the room? Listen to the voices? Try to press on anyway? Curl up in a ball and give up? Rage against the sky that you no longer had access to and that would not listen, anyway? Skies are very bad listeners. They have no ears.
Pc ypn wngf ittlwf qxpy sff httn dwhh ui, ak ah httrw oqixs bw ttwozs tq evmccw spr rdrlmps.
There were true openings in the walls now. Tiny altars of perhaps-dead things that have been forgotten for many a year. A woman robed in cobweb, the wet, glittering black of her eyes shielded by skeletal fingers, a ring glinting on each. A small, stout man with the face of an reptile of some sort, eyes sparkling and following every movement, completely nude. A many-horned creature, vague in form, leathery and violent in its very appearance. A young woman with the eyes of a cat, snakes and the tails of scorpions woven into her sooty hair, a shattered hand outstretched in supplication. A child with her hands over her eyes, wings of light broken and shattered. Offerings become dust themselves, scattered and strewn away.
Some less forgotten, a woman of ironwood will, a misbegotten child, a singing cold wind, the faceless bachelor thief, and many more. Teir numbers grow. There are many ways to give something power, but why do people choose to? Do what ways they choose matter to the chosen? The dust was stirred more around some than around others, this part of the path heavily trodden and lit by the glow of screens unseen.
Other tiny staues are tucked in smaller nooks, most of them toppled over on their sides, a spread of acrid liquid spilling from their bases, discoloring the air and the mind with shades of dreams lost and unseen.
As I went further, the hundred alcoves became fewer. They were all empty, except for more graffiti, and the walls have elaborate water stains, dripping rust and orange colors down the concrete. One of the spaces had a small round opening, perhaps six inches in diameter, presumably the mouth of a pipe. It was also surrounded by a flower of rust stains, and some individual with a very strange sense of humor left a ragged black scrawl reading “The Chicken Goes Here” with an arrow pointing to it.
If only I’d thought to bring a chicken... and that was an odd place to wake up from, babbling and clinging.
Stars going out like candles, an image shown in so many media. The splintering of bone.Why dream about something like that? When we're children, we have nightmares even then. Glowing green eyes in the depths of a cave. A whispered name.
I dreamed tonight that I was in a maze. Not a labyrinth, a maze. A multicursal stucture, rather than a unicursal structure. The walls were not stone. The were gray, gray, gray and brown, with writing on them. Some form of concrete or stucco? Beside the point.
Alchemical symbols. Antimony. Silver. Platinum. Magnesium. Gold. All beneath a layer of dust so thick that I could see my footprints in it. Ahead of me was evidence of someone passing before. Small of stature, bare feet. Bare feet in that mess... I've stepped in worse, I guess.
As I ran a hand along the grime and rust-covered wall, watching the flowering of the rust along the surface, I began to notice lighter spots along the wall. They were rectangles, reaching from above my head to the floor. Like when you have a piece of furniture in a single place for a very long time and it leaves a mark when you move it.
It took a long moment as I looked at the marks, and I began to realize that they were doors. Or where there were doors. Places where the doors had vanished. What would happen if you were in a room and the door vanished? Would you try to go through the wall?
What if you couldn't go through the wall due to being trapped in an extradimensional pocket? Set fire to the room? Listen to the voices? Try to press on anyway? Curl up in a ball and give up? Rage against the sky that you no longer had access to and that would not listen, anyway? Skies are very bad listeners. They have no ears.
Pc ypn wngf ittlwf qxpy sff httn dwhh ui, ak ah httrw oqixs bw ttwozs tq evmccw spr rdrlmps.
There were true openings in the walls now. Tiny altars of perhaps-dead things that have been forgotten for many a year. A woman robed in cobweb, the wet, glittering black of her eyes shielded by skeletal fingers, a ring glinting on each. A small, stout man with the face of an reptile of some sort, eyes sparkling and following every movement, completely nude. A many-horned creature, vague in form, leathery and violent in its very appearance. A young woman with the eyes of a cat, snakes and the tails of scorpions woven into her sooty hair, a shattered hand outstretched in supplication. A child with her hands over her eyes, wings of light broken and shattered. Offerings become dust themselves, scattered and strewn away.
Tell the king; the fair wrought house has fallen
No shelter has Apollo, nor sacred laurel leaves
The fountains are now silent; the voice is stilled.
It is finished.
Other tiny staues are tucked in smaller nooks, most of them toppled over on their sides, a spread of acrid liquid spilling from their bases, discoloring the air and the mind with shades of dreams lost and unseen.
As I went further, the hundred alcoves became fewer. They were all empty, except for more graffiti, and the walls have elaborate water stains, dripping rust and orange colors down the concrete. One of the spaces had a small round opening, perhaps six inches in diameter, presumably the mouth of a pipe. It was also surrounded by a flower of rust stains, and some individual with a very strange sense of humor left a ragged black scrawl reading “The Chicken Goes Here” with an arrow pointing to it.
If only I’d thought to bring a chicken... and that was an odd place to wake up from, babbling and clinging.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Breaking
Can't deal with this right now. My brain is fracturing. Crumbling in places. Shore up the walls and keep moving. Have to stay strong for Tia and Kailin... Ha. Strong. Right. Bullshit. I've never been the strong one. I've just been the one who's good at lying to herself.
Too much input, not enough output. Not enough output. Not enough output.
Day by day I'm here behind you
First I seek you, then I find you
Deep into the earth I grind you
Time stands still here, the air is stagnant, and things are twisting. Tia's mobile, at least. I don't care, as soon as we get out of this, we're getting her discharged.People say that hope is a fruitless emotion. They insinuate that we should simply roll over, expose our throats and stomachs and wait for the moment to come, and hope it's quick. That or allow ourselvesto be twisted and molded, made playthings of what is supposedly fate. Some have no options, but somewhere along the line, there were Choices.
There's a vulture on my shoulder
And he's telling me to give in
Always hissing right in my ear
Like it's coming from my own head
It's got me mixed up
Trying not to give up
Tell me there's a way to get out of here
Fixed at zero
There's someone in here other than us.... I'm not sure who, but I've seen them. All the more reason to find a way out. It's odd, walking along the halls and looking for weak spots.
Sometimes we come across tabelaux featuring people we've met so far. Friends. Loves. Names. Faces. Twisted and broken in ways I refuse to describe. I respect them too much to do so. Even if these are just shadows. That fact might even make it worse.
I could have done more. Somehow. Useless, pointless, worthless, ineffectual little bitch. We will lose everything and gain nothing. This is but one branch on the tree.
No.
... Tia's not going to be happy when she sees me saying things like that about myself. I just... It would be so easy to give in to the part of myself that says those things. To quit caring. To quit hurting. To quit loving. To be cold. To be empty. It sounds so tempting. Perhaps that's better than some of the other options.
I told someone once that I didn't want to take the easy path, though. He told me he was "something like proud" of me for that. Heh. I've spoken with others about such thoughts. Heaven forbid I go back on such a thing now.
The dominoes topple one by one. So few are left standing. Who will choose to help keep them standing? I wish. I wish I could do more. People hurting, preying on themselves and others. One side or another, it doesn't matter. Things will spiral away from the best-laid plans of all. The high and mighty, who believe themselves above such things, will topple just as the smallest of us has. No matter if they serve or do not. Humbleness is a virtue that would be well-recieved on the part of all.
Too bad the vast majority seem to prefer pride and vainglory.
I'm no saint. I'm no leader. I'm just an artist and a recluse. I will do what I can, though. I have people who rely on me. That's something. Right now, that's everything. A beacon, a path, a shining blade to cut through the shadows. I wish it were so simple.
Found it.
Too much input, not enough output. Not enough output. Not enough output.
Day by day I'm here behind you
First I seek you, then I find you
Deep into the earth I grind you
Time stands still here, the air is stagnant, and things are twisting. Tia's mobile, at least. I don't care, as soon as we get out of this, we're getting her discharged.People say that hope is a fruitless emotion. They insinuate that we should simply roll over, expose our throats and stomachs and wait for the moment to come, and hope it's quick. That or allow ourselvesto be twisted and molded, made playthings of what is supposedly fate. Some have no options, but somewhere along the line, there were Choices.
There's a vulture on my shoulder
And he's telling me to give in
Always hissing right in my ear
Like it's coming from my own head
It's got me mixed up
Trying not to give up
Tell me there's a way to get out of here
Fixed at zero
There's someone in here other than us.... I'm not sure who, but I've seen them. All the more reason to find a way out. It's odd, walking along the halls and looking for weak spots.
Sometimes we come across tabelaux featuring people we've met so far. Friends. Loves. Names. Faces. Twisted and broken in ways I refuse to describe. I respect them too much to do so. Even if these are just shadows. That fact might even make it worse.
I could have done more. Somehow. Useless, pointless, worthless, ineffectual little bitch. We will lose everything and gain nothing. This is but one branch on the tree.
No.
... Tia's not going to be happy when she sees me saying things like that about myself. I just... It would be so easy to give in to the part of myself that says those things. To quit caring. To quit hurting. To quit loving. To be cold. To be empty. It sounds so tempting. Perhaps that's better than some of the other options.
I told someone once that I didn't want to take the easy path, though. He told me he was "something like proud" of me for that. Heh. I've spoken with others about such thoughts. Heaven forbid I go back on such a thing now.
The dominoes topple one by one. So few are left standing. Who will choose to help keep them standing? I wish. I wish I could do more. People hurting, preying on themselves and others. One side or another, it doesn't matter. Things will spiral away from the best-laid plans of all. The high and mighty, who believe themselves above such things, will topple just as the smallest of us has. No matter if they serve or do not. Humbleness is a virtue that would be well-recieved on the part of all.
Too bad the vast majority seem to prefer pride and vainglory.
I'm no saint. I'm no leader. I'm just an artist and a recluse. I will do what I can, though. I have people who rely on me. That's something. Right now, that's everything. A beacon, a path, a shining blade to cut through the shadows. I wish it were so simple.
Found it.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Witty comment
Still not sure of the time or the day. Funny, that. It's like, when I try to check on the laptop or my phone, my eyes just skid away from any numbers.
I know my blood runs hot,
And I've seen my blood is thick
I'm told my blood's not sweet,
And I cry, "my soul is sick"
Funny girl... We're on the move. It's eerie, the feeling of emptiness where there should be people. There are symbols scratched along the walls occasionally in this not-hospital. A certain symbol is absent, thankfully. Almost a week in the hospital or more. Yeah, more than a week we were there. This isn't the same place, though.
When I went to check the hall where the squeaking was, I saw, of all things, Marie... Who is dead. At least, it looked like her. I know it wasn't, though. I don't know how, but I know it was just a figment of this place... Of course, the dissipating into laughing mist might have helped that assumption.
The hospital grows more convoluted as we move, looking for a way out. Labyrinthine. Who is the Minotaur this time, and will we even see trace? Have to keep moving. The thing about true labyrinths is that they are not mazes. There is a path out.
I know my blood runs hot,
And I've seen my blood is thick
I'm told my blood's not sweet,
And I cry, "my soul is sick"
Funny girl... We're on the move. It's eerie, the feeling of emptiness where there should be people. There are symbols scratched along the walls occasionally in this not-hospital. A certain symbol is absent, thankfully. Almost a week in the hospital or more. Yeah, more than a week we were there. This isn't the same place, though.
When I went to check the hall where the squeaking was, I saw, of all things, Marie... Who is dead. At least, it looked like her. I know it wasn't, though. I don't know how, but I know it was just a figment of this place... Of course, the dissipating into laughing mist might have helped that assumption.
The hospital grows more convoluted as we move, looking for a way out. Labyrinthine. Who is the Minotaur this time, and will we even see trace? Have to keep moving. The thing about true labyrinths is that they are not mazes. There is a path out.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Wheelchairs are evil.
Seriously, have you ever noticed how often wheelchairs show up when something not quite "right" is about to happen? Wheelchairs are probably secretly planning the demise of us all. I won't be surprised if this is true, even if they are inanimate objects.
I should clarify a little, I guess. Maybe they fit some symbolic niche within the collective unconscious human mind. Helplessness? Maybe, though I know at least some people confined to wheelchairs would protest that. Probably pretty vehemently.
Anyway, Tia woke up. Almost amusingly, that's when things went to hell. There was a shift to the air as the colors started to fade. What day was it? What day is it? The last time I checked the calendar, it was the ninth or tenth, I think. The days have been running together here, even with everything.
Right, back on topic. It's always disturbing to me when the colors go. I don't think most people quite get what I mean by that, not really. Imagine that you spend your life at least partially in a vivid swirl of things, shifting in the back of your mind, in the back of your eyes. No, that's not right. I... Have a hard time describing it with just words. These times, though... Everything is just gray. Maybe not literally, but that's how it seems to me. I think it's hard for people to grasp how much that shakes me.
Things are thrown into such stark relief. The scratches on the baseboard. Patterns incomprehensible. Hello there, writing on the wall. No, I don't want to impart your words of wisdom to the dear readers, what there are of them. I will anyway.
It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first requirement in a hospital that it should do the sick no harm.
Someone has a sick sense of humor. No pun intended.
But Tia's awake. That counts for something, right? I sound so... hollow. For once, in this, we're together. Kailin's still at the bedside, something having snapped zer out of a doze in the chair. Pity, really, zie hasn't been sleeping much at all. Those dark eyes are locked on the door, though. Tia's awake, but god, she looks so pale.
There's a squeaking sound from the hall, and that's what triggered the thoughts on wheelchairs. The hospital didn't have any squeaky-rusty ones that I know of, though. But then, that assumes that this is anything normal. Even the squeaking is gray.
I don't want to go look. But you know me... I ran toward the screams, not away. Sometimes you have to.
I should clarify a little, I guess. Maybe they fit some symbolic niche within the collective unconscious human mind. Helplessness? Maybe, though I know at least some people confined to wheelchairs would protest that. Probably pretty vehemently.
Anyway, Tia woke up. Almost amusingly, that's when things went to hell. There was a shift to the air as the colors started to fade. What day was it? What day is it? The last time I checked the calendar, it was the ninth or tenth, I think. The days have been running together here, even with everything.
Right, back on topic. It's always disturbing to me when the colors go. I don't think most people quite get what I mean by that, not really. Imagine that you spend your life at least partially in a vivid swirl of things, shifting in the back of your mind, in the back of your eyes. No, that's not right. I... Have a hard time describing it with just words. These times, though... Everything is just gray. Maybe not literally, but that's how it seems to me. I think it's hard for people to grasp how much that shakes me.
Things are thrown into such stark relief. The scratches on the baseboard. Patterns incomprehensible. Hello there, writing on the wall. No, I don't want to impart your words of wisdom to the dear readers, what there are of them. I will anyway.
It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first requirement in a hospital that it should do the sick no harm.
Someone has a sick sense of humor. No pun intended.
But Tia's awake. That counts for something, right? I sound so... hollow. For once, in this, we're together. Kailin's still at the bedside, something having snapped zer out of a doze in the chair. Pity, really, zie hasn't been sleeping much at all. Those dark eyes are locked on the door, though. Tia's awake, but god, she looks so pale.
There's a squeaking sound from the hall, and that's what triggered the thoughts on wheelchairs. The hospital didn't have any squeaky-rusty ones that I know of, though. But then, that assumes that this is anything normal. Even the squeaking is gray.
I don't want to go look. But you know me... I ran toward the screams, not away. Sometimes you have to.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
We Soldier On... Or Something
Maybe I was trying to be nice about your attitude and demeanor, Kailin.
They took Tia away yesterday. The doctors wouldn't tell us what exactly was wrong, but well... You saw what Kailin overheard. I was almost tempted to poke zer to nick Tia's chart. If nothing else, due to my job, I'm good at deciphering nurse's notes and stuff from doctors.
We couldn't chance getting kicked out, though. Of course. So we just sat yesterday, and talked some. Kailin's definiely interesting to talk to sometimes. But then again, I commend anyone that can keep up with my nervous rambling.
Essentially, due to the circumstances, they probably had to either induce labor or abort... It wouldn't even be counted as a miscarriage at this point. It'd just be count as a lost pregnancy. I just... This is wrong.
I hate being unable to do anything. They brought back Tia last night... She's so pale, and she hasn't woken up yet. She seems more stable, though. Less shuddery and at least there's a few positive things there... She's just... asleep now. I talked one of the nurses into letting us stay in Tia's room again with her. If nothing else, it would be good to have someone in here in case she wakes up.
I feel sure she's going to be disoriented when she wakes. Because she's going to wake up.
...One of the nurses just said the doctor wants to speak with me when he comes in today. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. This is going to be hell on our funds, but at least we have stuff saved up still. It's worth it, anyway. I just wish... I wish things weren't this way. But then, don't we all?
I've seen a few things around here that have put me on edge, but for now, my focus is Tia and Kailin and maintaining things as best I can. Everything seems to be trying to crumble, though. As always. And I've been making myself sick again. We'll manage, though. I don't know what else to say other than that right now.
They took Tia away yesterday. The doctors wouldn't tell us what exactly was wrong, but well... You saw what Kailin overheard. I was almost tempted to poke zer to nick Tia's chart. If nothing else, due to my job, I'm good at deciphering nurse's notes and stuff from doctors.
We couldn't chance getting kicked out, though. Of course. So we just sat yesterday, and talked some. Kailin's definiely interesting to talk to sometimes. But then again, I commend anyone that can keep up with my nervous rambling.
Essentially, due to the circumstances, they probably had to either induce labor or abort... It wouldn't even be counted as a miscarriage at this point. It'd just be count as a lost pregnancy. I just... This is wrong.
I hate being unable to do anything. They brought back Tia last night... She's so pale, and she hasn't woken up yet. She seems more stable, though. Less shuddery and at least there's a few positive things there... She's just... asleep now. I talked one of the nurses into letting us stay in Tia's room again with her. If nothing else, it would be good to have someone in here in case she wakes up.
I feel sure she's going to be disoriented when she wakes. Because she's going to wake up.
...One of the nurses just said the doctor wants to speak with me when he comes in today. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. This is going to be hell on our funds, but at least we have stuff saved up still. It's worth it, anyway. I just wish... I wish things weren't this way. But then, don't we all?
I've seen a few things around here that have put me on edge, but for now, my focus is Tia and Kailin and maintaining things as best I can. Everything seems to be trying to crumble, though. As always. And I've been making myself sick again. We'll manage, though. I don't know what else to say other than that right now.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Sleepless in the Waiting Room
I'm not sleeping. Chilled out is not the phrase that I would use for me, though Lis seems to think it appropriate (that's cute).
I did meet a guy in the caf last night. I think he had the hots for me. Totally drooling the whole time. Totally worthless. A waste of my time.
Sarcasm. I have it.
The doctor's are whispering things. They think no one can hear. They think we're asleep. They want to save Tia. Not the baby. It's too early on to save the baby. There's really no hope for it. Webbed toes and fingers and incomplete organs.
And it's pretty much not going to make it. Too complex. Black blood everywhere. It's started to die in the womb. And it could kill Tia.
I've said too much.
Tia doesn't know.
She's still K.O.
Lucky me. First to know, and no way to fix the situation.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Goodbyes
Death comes so often for those who don't even come close to deserving it.
Some people say they want to just forget things. They want to just forget anything bad has ever happened. Even if I could, I wouldn't. No matter how much it hurts, no matter what happens to me personally, I want to always remember the people I've met during this time of my life. No matter how terrible the other memories I'm stuck with are, I want to remember. They deserve that much. They deserve so much more, but I'm just me. As ineffectual and unfortunate as ever.
"Someone" left the scarf I gave August on the doorstep of our hotel room this morning. The golden yellow of the yarn was dark and stained with his blood... It's soaking in the sink right now.
For once I almost can't say "If I'd only done this one thing, something differently..." Doesn't stop the guilt, though. Irrational and stupid, I know. Seems to be a usual thing for me, being irrational and stupid.
I'm okay. I'm always okay. Heh.
Your soul glowed, August. See you later, kid. I hate goodbyes.
Some people say they want to just forget things. They want to just forget anything bad has ever happened. Even if I could, I wouldn't. No matter how much it hurts, no matter what happens to me personally, I want to always remember the people I've met during this time of my life. No matter how terrible the other memories I'm stuck with are, I want to remember. They deserve that much. They deserve so much more, but I'm just me. As ineffectual and unfortunate as ever.
"Someone" left the scarf I gave August on the doorstep of our hotel room this morning. The golden yellow of the yarn was dark and stained with his blood... It's soaking in the sink right now.
For once I almost can't say "If I'd only done this one thing, something differently..." Doesn't stop the guilt, though. Irrational and stupid, I know. Seems to be a usual thing for me, being irrational and stupid.
I'm okay. I'm always okay. Heh.
Your soul glowed, August. See you later, kid. I hate goodbyes.
Monday, January 30, 2012
If you're going through hell, just keep moving
We've got a kid sleeping in out hotel bathtub. Well, not a kid, a teenager. Okay, let me backtrack a little bit.
We ended up heading southeast a bit, I think? Okay, I'm honestly so bad with directions. But that's beside the point. We were out shopping today, getting some groceries, essentials, mostly. Eating fast food can only go so far, especially with my making myself sick with stress half the time and Tia well, needing actual food. So we got food.
All nice and you know, not that strange. We were actually having a bit of fun, chatting, all that nice stuff. Things have been... nice between Tia and I recently. Yeah, nice. Hee. Umn, no creepy notes have been showing up, no anything. I've been reading through Marie's notes again, but that's stuff for another time. Anyway.
We were driving back to the hotel, and suddenly about halfway there, there's this... grayness. I mean, I feel sure the colors weren't actually bleeding away and fleeing from that... wrongness. From what I can tell, Tia didn't really see it that way. It's weird, how these things happen, it's like this warping of the fabric of things, the fleeing of normalcy. But yeah, that's when we heard it.
We followed the sounds, and there's this kid, curled up, praying, looking like shit at the end of the street. Things are eerily quiet other than that, empty. Hate it when things get like that. It's just wrong. Well, a lot of this is wrong, but back on the subject. Zie's just a-praying. And there He is, standing over the kid, all this rippling around Him, looking like a squid orgy, the sound of...tearing, and then gone. Like He was never there, the colors are back, the sounds after a few minutes. Well, other than the fact that we now have a really screwed-over teen on our hands.
We snagged zer and bolted for the car after checking for broken bones. It hurt thoguh, I could tell that much, considering the outright scream when we first touched zer. Surprisingly, there were none, just these... burns on the chest and back, fairly extensive. They're all black and gross, but I'm tending to them as best I can now that we're back at the hotel. I wanted to go to the hospital, but zie was vociferous about negating that idea. Zie calmed down quick enough, but there's this tenseness there, which is understandable, really. Two strange chicks pop out of nowhere. Got the kid to give me a name, at least. Kailin. That and the fact that I was apparently to use gender-neutral terms once zie noticed I was writing a bit.
Skinny, skinny kid, about fifteen or sixteen, if I had to guess, long black hair, darkish skin, big brown eyes. Obviously been on a good few miles of hard road. We got Kailin cleaned up and I've been tending to zer a bit. Talking a little, abut me and Tia... Talking to Tia.
She was slightly reluctant at first to pull Kailin into our little fold despite being concerned, but I'm not going to abandon zer, not like this, not in this state. So... She's trusting my judgement on this, though she says it's sort of probationary (I'm paraphrasing, but she cussed and I'm not in the mood to do that.)
We decided since it's a one-bed hotel room, once the tub was scrubbed out, that would most likely be better than the floor. I dragged my pillows out of the truck and into the room, and called for some extra blankets, and we padded the tub up into a pallet. So there we are at the moment. It's time to do what I can, at least.
We ended up heading southeast a bit, I think? Okay, I'm honestly so bad with directions. But that's beside the point. We were out shopping today, getting some groceries, essentials, mostly. Eating fast food can only go so far, especially with my making myself sick with stress half the time and Tia well, needing actual food. So we got food.
All nice and you know, not that strange. We were actually having a bit of fun, chatting, all that nice stuff. Things have been... nice between Tia and I recently. Yeah, nice. Hee. Umn, no creepy notes have been showing up, no anything. I've been reading through Marie's notes again, but that's stuff for another time. Anyway.
We were driving back to the hotel, and suddenly about halfway there, there's this... grayness. I mean, I feel sure the colors weren't actually bleeding away and fleeing from that... wrongness. From what I can tell, Tia didn't really see it that way. It's weird, how these things happen, it's like this warping of the fabric of things, the fleeing of normalcy. But yeah, that's when we heard it.
We followed the sounds, and there's this kid, curled up, praying, looking like shit at the end of the street. Things are eerily quiet other than that, empty. Hate it when things get like that. It's just wrong. Well, a lot of this is wrong, but back on the subject. Zie's just a-praying. And there He is, standing over the kid, all this rippling around Him, looking like a squid orgy, the sound of...tearing, and then gone. Like He was never there, the colors are back, the sounds after a few minutes. Well, other than the fact that we now have a really screwed-over teen on our hands.
We snagged zer and bolted for the car after checking for broken bones. It hurt thoguh, I could tell that much, considering the outright scream when we first touched zer. Surprisingly, there were none, just these... burns on the chest and back, fairly extensive. They're all black and gross, but I'm tending to them as best I can now that we're back at the hotel. I wanted to go to the hospital, but zie was vociferous about negating that idea. Zie calmed down quick enough, but there's this tenseness there, which is understandable, really. Two strange chicks pop out of nowhere. Got the kid to give me a name, at least. Kailin. That and the fact that I was apparently to use gender-neutral terms once zie noticed I was writing a bit.
Skinny, skinny kid, about fifteen or sixteen, if I had to guess, long black hair, darkish skin, big brown eyes. Obviously been on a good few miles of hard road. We got Kailin cleaned up and I've been tending to zer a bit. Talking a little, abut me and Tia... Talking to Tia.
She was slightly reluctant at first to pull Kailin into our little fold despite being concerned, but I'm not going to abandon zer, not like this, not in this state. So... She's trusting my judgement on this, though she says it's sort of probationary (I'm paraphrasing, but she cussed and I'm not in the mood to do that.)
We decided since it's a one-bed hotel room, once the tub was scrubbed out, that would most likely be better than the floor. I dragged my pillows out of the truck and into the room, and called for some extra blankets, and we padded the tub up into a pallet. So there we are at the moment. It's time to do what I can, at least.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Found and Lost
We found her.
Approximately an hour after that post went up this morning, I recieved an email from someone I've been talking to a bit over the last month or so. No name's given, ever. I have my suspicions, though. And I'm not overly happy with where those suspicions lead.
Shaun's been keeping me steady and focused. I feel like I'd have been flying in five directions at once if not for his getting me to focus better. It wasn't exactly panic. Something else. A mixture of manic energy and depressive anxiety, oscillating wildly. In all of this, this is the deepest anger and fear I have felt. For Tia. Maybe caring too much is a weakness, but if it is, I don't want that level of strength.
Anyway, I recieved an email with a street address in it. Nothing more, nothing less. The location was outside of the range Shaun and I had been searchign the last few days. There was some understandable supiscion, of course. I mean, obvious trap, right? Right? It was the only lead we'd gotten, though. I left some stuff behind at the hotel, but we moved into gear. We took a taxi from the hotel, and had the driver drop us off a few blocks from the location. Not an unreasonable precaution, I think. We stashed a few things and then went to check out the location.
Sure enough, the truck was parked outside. Is it bad that I'm glad that my truck wasn't trashed? I mean, I know it's selfish, but having a reliable vehicle is a plus.
The building seemed abandoned, but it did have power. That much was obvious. We made our way inside, and started searching. There was a basement apartment. Blake was there.
There was blood in the room. A good bit of it, too. The blood led off to the bathroom, where the shower was running. I was honestly almost afraid to go in, but I had to find Tia. No matter her state. She should have had to. She was there, huddled under the ice-cold spray, sobbing. We got her out and dried off, bundling her up against the cold. She was shaking so hard. I want to stop that pain.
Blake is dead. Shot with my revolver that he'd apparently taken from the truck. Believe me, I checked. I had to get the keys off of him, after all. He was dead when we got there. Probably happened not long before that post went up this morning. Tia's not talking.
That's when things went even more to pot for a little bit there.
Twisting, warping. Tearing. He was there. Standing over Blake. I called for Shaun to get Tia out. Maybe it's more accurate to say shouted? Cried? I followed, but it took a moment to get my legs to work properly. There are colors still. Colors and shadows and awareness. Blank spots that I wasn't even aware of before. Funny, that. This isn't about me, though. Can't focus on that right now.
Blake's gone.
We've been driving since then, and have finally stopped. Maybe we should keep driving, but Tia's not in the best way. I don't think there's anything physically serious, but... yeah. She's not talking about what happened. She's shocky, which obviously, I don't blame her for.
Blake was the most stable of the three of us, which is, of course, why he just had to fall. And possibly why he fell so hard. I don't want to know the extent of what happened in that little basement apartment, but on some level, I'm going to need to. Eventually. Comunication is invaluable. I'm hoping we can get her talking about at least normal stuff soon.
We have to figure out what to tell his family.
We'll manage. We have to.
We have to heal. Somehow.
Approximately an hour after that post went up this morning, I recieved an email from someone I've been talking to a bit over the last month or so. No name's given, ever. I have my suspicions, though. And I'm not overly happy with where those suspicions lead.
Shaun's been keeping me steady and focused. I feel like I'd have been flying in five directions at once if not for his getting me to focus better. It wasn't exactly panic. Something else. A mixture of manic energy and depressive anxiety, oscillating wildly. In all of this, this is the deepest anger and fear I have felt. For Tia. Maybe caring too much is a weakness, but if it is, I don't want that level of strength.
Anyway, I recieved an email with a street address in it. Nothing more, nothing less. The location was outside of the range Shaun and I had been searchign the last few days. There was some understandable supiscion, of course. I mean, obvious trap, right? Right? It was the only lead we'd gotten, though. I left some stuff behind at the hotel, but we moved into gear. We took a taxi from the hotel, and had the driver drop us off a few blocks from the location. Not an unreasonable precaution, I think. We stashed a few things and then went to check out the location.
Sure enough, the truck was parked outside. Is it bad that I'm glad that my truck wasn't trashed? I mean, I know it's selfish, but having a reliable vehicle is a plus.
The building seemed abandoned, but it did have power. That much was obvious. We made our way inside, and started searching. There was a basement apartment. Blake was there.
There was blood in the room. A good bit of it, too. The blood led off to the bathroom, where the shower was running. I was honestly almost afraid to go in, but I had to find Tia. No matter her state. She should have had to. She was there, huddled under the ice-cold spray, sobbing. We got her out and dried off, bundling her up against the cold. She was shaking so hard. I want to stop that pain.
Blake is dead. Shot with my revolver that he'd apparently taken from the truck. Believe me, I checked. I had to get the keys off of him, after all. He was dead when we got there. Probably happened not long before that post went up this morning. Tia's not talking.
That's when things went even more to pot for a little bit there.
Twisting, warping. Tearing. He was there. Standing over Blake. I called for Shaun to get Tia out. Maybe it's more accurate to say shouted? Cried? I followed, but it took a moment to get my legs to work properly. There are colors still. Colors and shadows and awareness. Blank spots that I wasn't even aware of before. Funny, that. This isn't about me, though. Can't focus on that right now.
Blake's gone.
We've been driving since then, and have finally stopped. Maybe we should keep driving, but Tia's not in the best way. I don't think there's anything physically serious, but... yeah. She's not talking about what happened. She's shocky, which obviously, I don't blame her for.
Blake was the most stable of the three of us, which is, of course, why he just had to fall. And possibly why he fell so hard. I don't want to know the extent of what happened in that little basement apartment, but on some level, I'm going to need to. Eventually. Comunication is invaluable. I'm hoping we can get her talking about at least normal stuff soon.
We have to figure out what to tell his family.
We'll manage. We have to.
We have to heal. Somehow.
Friday, December 23, 2011
In Memoriam. Because.
I had planned to do a post yesterday, but I am, for once, in no place to mourn the loss of people I never had the fortune or misfortune to meet. There is nothing in that area for me to say that has not already been said. May they rest in as much peace as they can manage, if that is at all possible.
Loss is a terrible thing, honestly. To lose someone you care for, someone you feel responsible for is no better. Shep offered to send me pictures of the state of the Sinclair house. I feel sure he knew I don't trust him as far I I can throw him. Which, given the differences in our height and weight and the fact that I'm not exactly... Yeah, I need to stop go off on a tangent.
Marie Jenette Sinclair. The vast majority of her posts on this blog have been unpleasant at the very least, and needlessly cryptic at times. Except for perhaps the very end there, she was not the girl I had promised to keep an eye on and protect. This much became obvious in the emails she continued to send me after some time. They were hurtful and bitter, barbed and intended to make me hurt, but it was no less than I deserved, yeah? I left her.
Do I feel guilt over her death? Yes. Despite everything, Marie was my responsibility. Maybe if, as soon as it had become obvious that she was awake, we had gone back to Alabama, this could've been prevented. I could have done something, as unlikely as it sounds for someone as ineffectual as myself.
Instead, she's dead, and her parents were slaughtered like so much cattle. I should've been there, even if it meant that I would've died as well or instead.
Marie was not a bad person. She never was. She was hurting and twisted by something outside of herself. There was an inherent frustration to her posts and emails. Whoever did this killed not someone who could even attempt to fight back. They killed a diabetic, paralyzed, weakened, brain-damaged, and mentally-altered teenager who was defenseless, and by all accounts, given into that state fairly willingly by her parents. That is the act of a coward. Especially if Shep is right and it wasn't Slim Jim.
I'm going to leave this here, but I had to get this out. People are going to contradict me, of course, but this, on some level, is my fault. The least I can do is remember the good parts of her.
Loss is a terrible thing, honestly. To lose someone you care for, someone you feel responsible for is no better. Shep offered to send me pictures of the state of the Sinclair house. I feel sure he knew I don't trust him as far I I can throw him. Which, given the differences in our height and weight and the fact that I'm not exactly... Yeah, I need to stop go off on a tangent.
Marie Jenette Sinclair. The vast majority of her posts on this blog have been unpleasant at the very least, and needlessly cryptic at times. Except for perhaps the very end there, she was not the girl I had promised to keep an eye on and protect. This much became obvious in the emails she continued to send me after some time. They were hurtful and bitter, barbed and intended to make me hurt, but it was no less than I deserved, yeah? I left her.
Do I feel guilt over her death? Yes. Despite everything, Marie was my responsibility. Maybe if, as soon as it had become obvious that she was awake, we had gone back to Alabama, this could've been prevented. I could have done something, as unlikely as it sounds for someone as ineffectual as myself.
Instead, she's dead, and her parents were slaughtered like so much cattle. I should've been there, even if it meant that I would've died as well or instead.
Marie was not a bad person. She never was. She was hurting and twisted by something outside of herself. There was an inherent frustration to her posts and emails. Whoever did this killed not someone who could even attempt to fight back. They killed a diabetic, paralyzed, weakened, brain-damaged, and mentally-altered teenager who was defenseless, and by all accounts, given into that state fairly willingly by her parents. That is the act of a coward. Especially if Shep is right and it wasn't Slim Jim.
I'm going to leave this here, but I had to get this out. People are going to contradict me, of course, but this, on some level, is my fault. The least I can do is remember the good parts of her.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Elaboration
I'm going to try not to be overly emotional. Meaning I will probably fail. But I'm going to at least attempt it for everyone who reads our blog so that they are properly informed of the situation.
Blake has been... well I think it's obvious from the previous posts. He's not been himself. He's very kind and loving and puts everyone else first and thinks about every action and consequence before doing anything. I know most of you are just taking my word for it, but he genuinely meant for good things to come for people. He's normally a very loving man. He does things that are unnecessarily kind and unfathomably sweet.
You know that we went to Barcelona on a three month leave once over our years together? Well, for our anniversary that just passed he had recreated our trip on the roof of Hope (may the building and all who fell with it rest in peace). He had wine and tapas and flamenco music and it was really a beautiful night. Of course my favorite part had been hiking up to Montserrat and Sant Miquel de Fai, but you can't really bring that part to a rooftop dinner can you? At least we had some height.
And that was the man that I loved very, very much.
...he fucked that up today.
It was early, we were all tired admittedly, but there are no excuses and he crossed a line. You know we were only discussing where to go next? We were just talking like normal and then Lissie interrupts him without thinking and all of a sudden there's a loud smack of a noise and Lissie's crying and covering her just barely recovering face and his fucking eyes were all wrong. He just wasn't him. The Blake I know could hardly harm a fly, and Lissie? Oh that's several steps beyond a fly.
The very first thing I did was pull her behind me and clarify very specifically that he had indeed crossed a goddamn line and he would not be travelling with us or even me whilst he was still behaving badly. And under no circumstances will I change that. No, while Blake is behaving irrationally and angrily and badly he will not be in Lissie's, and thereby my, company.
I don't think I've glared that hard since... well since Micheal, but before that since High School.
We left then. It was deceptively easy. Our things were already packed and we had everything in the truck. We just threw him his two bags and booked it. Drove for like 6 hours before we even stopped for the lady's room break. Food was take-out and unhealthy, I'm surprised we both managed to keep any food down considering things though.
I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I just walked out. I didn't know... I could do that.
I'm not going to lie, this stings, it stings a lot. Like when little angry bumblebees are buzzing about you because you're their flower and you won't yield any pollen, and then they're dropping dead around you because of all the teeny tiny angry pokes at your skin. It hurts like that. And hundreds of little bees leaving their venom inside of you makes you tired, drowsy, sick, nervous, wishing for the perfect antidote. I guess victims of angry bees are lucky that an antidote exists at all aren't they?
I, however, am not so lucky am I? It's okay. I'll survive. It's what I do after all.
I'm tired now.
'Oh god, now when's the time for me?
Oh, when will you see me through?
Oh god, mind is eating my heart out
Oh god, my heart is beating my mind out.
Oh god I can't believe in you
Just because I'm afraid you're true.'
-Ida Maria, "See Me Through"
Blake has been... well I think it's obvious from the previous posts. He's not been himself. He's very kind and loving and puts everyone else first and thinks about every action and consequence before doing anything. I know most of you are just taking my word for it, but he genuinely meant for good things to come for people. He's normally a very loving man. He does things that are unnecessarily kind and unfathomably sweet.
You know that we went to Barcelona on a three month leave once over our years together? Well, for our anniversary that just passed he had recreated our trip on the roof of Hope (may the building and all who fell with it rest in peace). He had wine and tapas and flamenco music and it was really a beautiful night. Of course my favorite part had been hiking up to Montserrat and Sant Miquel de Fai, but you can't really bring that part to a rooftop dinner can you? At least we had some height.
And that was the man that I loved very, very much.
...he fucked that up today.
It was early, we were all tired admittedly, but there are no excuses and he crossed a line. You know we were only discussing where to go next? We were just talking like normal and then Lissie interrupts him without thinking and all of a sudden there's a loud smack of a noise and Lissie's crying and covering her just barely recovering face and his fucking eyes were all wrong. He just wasn't him. The Blake I know could hardly harm a fly, and Lissie? Oh that's several steps beyond a fly.
The very first thing I did was pull her behind me and clarify very specifically that he had indeed crossed a goddamn line and he would not be travelling with us or even me whilst he was still behaving badly. And under no circumstances will I change that. No, while Blake is behaving irrationally and angrily and badly he will not be in Lissie's, and thereby my, company.
I don't think I've glared that hard since... well since Micheal, but before that since High School.
We left then. It was deceptively easy. Our things were already packed and we had everything in the truck. We just threw him his two bags and booked it. Drove for like 6 hours before we even stopped for the lady's room break. Food was take-out and unhealthy, I'm surprised we both managed to keep any food down considering things though.
I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I just walked out. I didn't know... I could do that.
I'm not going to lie, this stings, it stings a lot. Like when little angry bumblebees are buzzing about you because you're their flower and you won't yield any pollen, and then they're dropping dead around you because of all the teeny tiny angry pokes at your skin. It hurts like that. And hundreds of little bees leaving their venom inside of you makes you tired, drowsy, sick, nervous, wishing for the perfect antidote. I guess victims of angry bees are lucky that an antidote exists at all aren't they?
I, however, am not so lucky am I? It's okay. I'll survive. It's what I do after all.
I'm tired now.
'Oh god, now when's the time for me?
Oh, when will you see me through?
Oh god, mind is eating my heart out
Oh god, my heart is beating my mind out.
Oh god I can't believe in you
Just because I'm afraid you're true.'
-Ida Maria, "See Me Through"
Friday, November 25, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Agh, people
Okay, we've had people at Hope all along, but it oddly feels more... full at the moment. Or maybe it's just my head. I don't know. August and Doc arrived yesterday, and today, Elaine and Shaun got back with the kids that they and Konaa went after. Not that I mind. I'll probably just hermit myself away again for a bit.
I'm glad they were able to get at least some of the kids away from there.
There was also a slight incident yesterday, before Doc and August showed up. A... guy with a kite with recording equipment attached to it. Tia and I dealt with it handily, with some support from Lucas. Guy claimed to be a student studying meteorology for college. We confiscated his equipment. I did rather try to be polite and diplomatic, but he freaked. Well, people can fuss as much as they like, but in this case, I freaking love private property laws in Texas.
Blake's taking a look at the equpiment from the kite, and will probably take it to someone who knows more about the device that it's supposed to be. He does say it looks rather patched together, though, so we're doubting it's a piece belonging to any professor.
All in all, at things weren't exactly boring while Elaine and Shaun were gone, but they weren't bad, either.
I'm glad they were able to get at least some of the kids away from there.
There was also a slight incident yesterday, before Doc and August showed up. A... guy with a kite with recording equipment attached to it. Tia and I dealt with it handily, with some support from Lucas. Guy claimed to be a student studying meteorology for college. We confiscated his equipment. I did rather try to be polite and diplomatic, but he freaked. Well, people can fuss as much as they like, but in this case, I freaking love private property laws in Texas.
Blake's taking a look at the equpiment from the kite, and will probably take it to someone who knows more about the device that it's supposed to be. He does say it looks rather patched together, though, so we're doubting it's a piece belonging to any professor.
All in all, at things weren't exactly boring while Elaine and Shaun were gone, but they weren't bad, either.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Roll on, highway
I see Blake started to write up a post on what Tia saw yesterday, but he's busy comforting her again now that we've stopped again. She's honestly not saying much about it, and neither of us is pushing her. Sometimes you just... know, though. Does that make sense? Seeing something like that as a nearly tangible thing. Maybe it's just another dream.
The same jerk who's been dogging us since Alabama, watching, waiting, trying to push buttons. The same one from before. Shot him in the face with the flare gun. Stabbed in the face with the crochet hook. Not sure how I managed that. On to more important things, though.
He decided to start screwing with the hotel guests, apparently. Too much of a coward or at least too much of an ass to come at us directly. Not that I'll complain about that on some levels. You know, other than pulling more people who have no tie to this in to die. Tia saw him in the parking lot with a young woman, the skin on her her arms sliced up into little symbols, her hair hacked off to expose her scalp, dragging her away... Tia cut off there, but I know. I know what she saw. I see it. How?
Another town, another hotel. So tired of this... Need to give the lovebirds some time soon. Even if it's stupid. Someone needs to have something good right now. When it rains, it pours, and cliche little things like that. I can't do much of anything for anyone else at the moment other than them... I can only hope it counts for something in the long run.
The same jerk who's been dogging us since Alabama, watching, waiting, trying to push buttons. The same one from before. Shot him in the face with the flare gun. Stabbed in the face with the crochet hook. Not sure how I managed that. On to more important things, though.
He decided to start screwing with the hotel guests, apparently. Too much of a coward or at least too much of an ass to come at us directly. Not that I'll complain about that on some levels. You know, other than pulling more people who have no tie to this in to die. Tia saw him in the parking lot with a young woman, the skin on her her arms sliced up into little symbols, her hair hacked off to expose her scalp, dragging her away... Tia cut off there, but I know. I know what she saw. I see it. How?
Another town, another hotel. So tired of this... Need to give the lovebirds some time soon. Even if it's stupid. Someone needs to have something good right now. When it rains, it pours, and cliche little things like that. I can't do much of anything for anyone else at the moment other than them... I can only hope it counts for something in the long run.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)