I have to go. This blog, this account...
If someone listens to the Whispers again, if someone rises to come after me, this will be the first place they'll come.
Maybe I'll see some of you again. I doubt it.
Stay strong, runners. If there's a way to kill these things, one of us will find it.
itdoesnotendhere
- Arthur Pierce
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
Going Back, Part 2
Okay. Time for some honesty. I've put this off for the past week not because I haven't had an Internet connection, but because I don't like to think about what went on in that house. I just hate the damn idea of going back there, even in my head. I don't even know why I'm doing it now; maybe it's this compulsion thing I've heard about, where I need to write about what happened. Maybe I just need someone else to know.
... But who the Hell is going to listen, anyway? Heh...
I waited outside the house until dark because, well, if someone had been in it when it was daylight out they would have seen me coming. I was hoping for an element of surprise, and... well, I got it.
I approached the house about thirty minutes after sundown. No lights on inside, nothing to tell if someone was in there. Didn't like that at all, but whatever. Went in through the back door, into some sort of kitchen. The place looked kind of nice for an abandoned house, actually. The floors were a bit dusty and some of the cabinets had fallen off, but it wasn't like what you'd expect the inside of a house like that to look like. Not... falling apart, I guess.
Did a quick sweep of the house and didn't find anything at first. Not a sleeping bag, a backpack, nothing. I thought that maybe I was wrong, maybe amiwhereallcry/the hobo was somewhere else. But lo and behold, I was wrong: There was a door in the living room (I guess that's what it was) that I had overlooked during my initial look-through, with stairs leading down into what I thought was a basement. After a few minutes of hesitation, I went down.
...
It wasn't a basement.
I don't know what happened, I just don't fucking know I somehow ended up there and fuck I really don't want to talk about it.
The stairs were... normal. What you'd expect. But when I reached the bottom... It was like I had stepped into another place. I don't know if that's what happened. I don't know I don't fuck if I know.
It was some sort of den, like an animal's. Nothing you'd expect a human to build. a;BLGFKBS
How do I fucking describe it to you all? I
damn it
there were bodies on the walls, but they're fucking staring and blinking and still fucking alive
nodontthinkaboutit
kids bodies among the rest.. fucking hell... some even looked familiar to me, oh hell did i do that??
frozen exrpessions of pain and terero
alinfa;bgslhesgbs;ghnsigsgs
I can't say another word about it. No. Not about them. No, I fucking won't. You can't make me talk about them.
There were... passageways in the walls, going a long way away. Some were in the ceiling... but I dont know how they could be up there because its a fucking basement how the fuck do passageways go into the damn ceiling. And there were bodies along the sides oh you thought about it aigain you idiotr
DAMN IT
Holding myself together. Tell the facts. Don't let emotion get in the way. Don't let it control you.
Ok.
Ok.
We're ok? Good.
Followed one of the passageways, following a noise a noise that was like a shrill sound that you get when pressing a mic to a speaker or something like that. Hard to follow, hard to concentrate. Smelled so bad. stench of death is real and down there its turned up, i Swear. Keep my eyes on the subject, don't look at the walls, thats what i Told myself, you know/ but had to crawl through a tunnel and there were things on the floor og nonon
m<Aybe
OK.
OK?
I found the noise. I don't know what was making it, but the source of it came to a sort of chamber area... And... i watched for a few moments. couldnt take my eyes of f them. there were people there, all wearng different things. not like a cult where they wear robes. just different attire. The y were all staring at different things too but I don't think they saw my. I recongized one immediately though, tthe painted hobo but without the paint and
it was Charlie
I knew he'd been it the whole time but without confirmation i didn't know and i started to hate him and oh no it was never his fault he just wanted to have a fucking normal life you bastard
I walked up to im
none of the others stared at me but him, he knew who i was the minute he saw me.
But he was like the bodies he couldnt move and his whole face was contorted and shit and he kept repeating the same thing over and over.
i couldnty leave him there, to just dwell there until that fucking thing sent him out to kidnap others to place them on the walls until he became one himself. hes my friend.
but his mind is gone, dont you see? the thing that fucking thing the thing with the eyes it broke his mind. not a proxy, a gatherer a fucking ant is what charlie was.
thats what we all are to them, we're bugs just sent to do things before being stepped on
charlie had a knife n his beltt
i killed him oh please forgive me i killed him because there was nothing to do
ikilledallofthem
do you blame me? I couldnt let it continue. not for what they were doing. if i stop one, maybe i could stop the Entire thing. Maybe i don't know but we can't save them.
the sound stopped, and that thing crawled out of the floor claws and all. i couldnt stop it, i know, i'm just a human but fuck that thing ill take it out yeah take some you son of a bitch
stabbed it right in its eye
and then nothing.
...
Woke up a little while later in the house. Door to the "basement" was still there, but no way in hell was I going back down there. I took off. Took off fast. Didnt stopp running until i gbot to town.
i needed some comfort, so i stayed in a cheap motel.
And here I've been, most of my cash depleted because I don't ever want to stay on the road again. But I have to soon.
I know it wasn't a dream. I still have the marks the thing gave me, one right along the arm. Not too deep, but it's not healing correctly. I don't think I killed it, either, and if I did then something else will take its place. But I hit it. "If it bleeds, we can kill it"
One monster down (I hope), and one monster coming to get me. And soon, too. I've been looking through Charlie's research on Farstrider, and I'm going to keep reading through it to see if it can be killed. I'm not optimistic about it, though.
Thinking about making a new blog soon. I don't want to be on this one anymore, not after hearing what Charlie said. This would serve as too much of a reminder of what went on.
I didn't tell you, did i. but why would you want to hear it damn it you brought me back there to that place.
he kept repeating the same thing over and over.
"I am where all cry."
... But who the Hell is going to listen, anyway? Heh...
I waited outside the house until dark because, well, if someone had been in it when it was daylight out they would have seen me coming. I was hoping for an element of surprise, and... well, I got it.
I approached the house about thirty minutes after sundown. No lights on inside, nothing to tell if someone was in there. Didn't like that at all, but whatever. Went in through the back door, into some sort of kitchen. The place looked kind of nice for an abandoned house, actually. The floors were a bit dusty and some of the cabinets had fallen off, but it wasn't like what you'd expect the inside of a house like that to look like. Not... falling apart, I guess.
Did a quick sweep of the house and didn't find anything at first. Not a sleeping bag, a backpack, nothing. I thought that maybe I was wrong, maybe amiwhereallcry/the hobo was somewhere else. But lo and behold, I was wrong: There was a door in the living room (I guess that's what it was) that I had overlooked during my initial look-through, with stairs leading down into what I thought was a basement. After a few minutes of hesitation, I went down.
...
It wasn't a basement.
I don't know what happened, I just don't fucking know I somehow ended up there and fuck I really don't want to talk about it.
The stairs were... normal. What you'd expect. But when I reached the bottom... It was like I had stepped into another place. I don't know if that's what happened. I don't know I don't fuck if I know.
It was some sort of den, like an animal's. Nothing you'd expect a human to build. a;BLGFKBS
How do I fucking describe it to you all? I
damn it
there were bodies on the walls, but they're fucking staring and blinking and still fucking alive
nodontthinkaboutit
kids bodies among the rest.. fucking hell... some even looked familiar to me, oh hell did i do that??
frozen exrpessions of pain and terero
alinfa;bgslhesgbs;ghnsigsgs
I can't say another word about it. No. Not about them. No, I fucking won't. You can't make me talk about them.
There were... passageways in the walls, going a long way away. Some were in the ceiling... but I dont know how they could be up there because its a fucking basement how the fuck do passageways go into the damn ceiling. And there were bodies along the sides oh you thought about it aigain you idiotr
DAMN IT
Holding myself together. Tell the facts. Don't let emotion get in the way. Don't let it control you.
Ok.
Ok.
We're ok? Good.
Followed one of the passageways, following a noise a noise that was like a shrill sound that you get when pressing a mic to a speaker or something like that. Hard to follow, hard to concentrate. Smelled so bad. stench of death is real and down there its turned up, i Swear. Keep my eyes on the subject, don't look at the walls, thats what i Told myself, you know/ but had to crawl through a tunnel and there were things on the floor og nonon
m<Aybe
OK.
OK?
I found the noise. I don't know what was making it, but the source of it came to a sort of chamber area... And... i watched for a few moments. couldnt take my eyes of f them. there were people there, all wearng different things. not like a cult where they wear robes. just different attire. The y were all staring at different things too but I don't think they saw my. I recongized one immediately though, tthe painted hobo but without the paint and
it was Charlie
I knew he'd been it the whole time but without confirmation i didn't know and i started to hate him and oh no it was never his fault he just wanted to have a fucking normal life you bastard
I walked up to im
none of the others stared at me but him, he knew who i was the minute he saw me.
But he was like the bodies he couldnt move and his whole face was contorted and shit and he kept repeating the same thing over and over.
i couldnty leave him there, to just dwell there until that fucking thing sent him out to kidnap others to place them on the walls until he became one himself. hes my friend.
but his mind is gone, dont you see? the thing that fucking thing the thing with the eyes it broke his mind. not a proxy, a gatherer a fucking ant is what charlie was.
thats what we all are to them, we're bugs just sent to do things before being stepped on
charlie had a knife n his beltt
i killed him oh please forgive me i killed him because there was nothing to do
ikilledallofthem
do you blame me? I couldnt let it continue. not for what they were doing. if i stop one, maybe i could stop the Entire thing. Maybe i don't know but we can't save them.
the sound stopped, and that thing crawled out of the floor claws and all. i couldnt stop it, i know, i'm just a human but fuck that thing ill take it out yeah take some you son of a bitch
stabbed it right in its eye
and then nothing.
...
Woke up a little while later in the house. Door to the "basement" was still there, but no way in hell was I going back down there. I took off. Took off fast. Didnt stopp running until i gbot to town.
i needed some comfort, so i stayed in a cheap motel.
And here I've been, most of my cash depleted because I don't ever want to stay on the road again. But I have to soon.
I know it wasn't a dream. I still have the marks the thing gave me, one right along the arm. Not too deep, but it's not healing correctly. I don't think I killed it, either, and if I did then something else will take its place. But I hit it. "If it bleeds, we can kill it"
One monster down (I hope), and one monster coming to get me. And soon, too. I've been looking through Charlie's research on Farstrider, and I'm going to keep reading through it to see if it can be killed. I'm not optimistic about it, though.
Thinking about making a new blog soon. I don't want to be on this one anymore, not after hearing what Charlie said. This would serve as too much of a reminder of what went on.
I didn't tell you, did i. but why would you want to hear it damn it you brought me back there to that place.
he kept repeating the same thing over and over.
"I am where all cry."
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Going Back, Part I
First off, sorry for the delay. Not sure if it's the bad connection or blogger, but I haven't been able to log on for a while. Secondly, I apologize for the post the other night; I was in no danger at the time. See, I've been on the road for several days, and I decided it'd be in my best interest to take the long way around rather than meeting Farstrider in the middle. It didn't really help since the line started curving in my direction, but I managed to get here without incident.
Before I got back to town, though, I needed a way of stopping them from stalking me. Or, at least throwing them off my trail. I've thought about this for a while now, and I think it's time I told you all. I don't believe the Rake and the other one can work together, or, at best they don't like competing for the same victim. I decided to test this out by making a post where it seemed like Farstrider came after me. Since I'm pretty sure amiwhereallcry/hobo is connected to the Rake, my theory was that it'd back off and I'd be able to sneak up on our good friends back in town.
Well, it seemed to work. I didn't see the bastard for the rest of my trip, and... Well, I'll get to that in a minute.
I arrived back in town a few days ago. Things seem like they're the same, like they're going back to normal. One thing that stuck out were these FBI guys in the area, but I'm going to ahead and guess it's because of the kidnappings that I talked about a little while ago. Since the kidnappings went over the state line, it's within their jurisdiction to step in.
Media isn't talking, either, but that's nothing new. I'm sure I've said this before, but I'll say it again: Either these creatures can somehow unconsciously tell people to ignore violent crimes, or someone is covering the disappearances up. And since those FBI guys are in the area, the second reason is becoming more and more likely. Paranoid? Maybe, maybe, but ever since reading some of the other blogs... well, government cover-ups don't seem like they're as far out as they used to be.
Right. Onto the meat of the story.
I went to Charlie's house two days ago, around noon. His parents were away or something, maybe on vacation. I got in through one of the back windows. It wasn't unlocked, so... yeah, I had to break the window. I know what this sounds like, guys, and before you go calling me an idiot for breaking into a house in the middle of the day, let me point out that at least I'm not breaking into abandoned houses in the middle of the night.
I was only there for a few minutes. I had to get the "research" that Charlie had done last year. I believe I mentioned it a while back because I thought Charlie had been seeing Farstrider. Well, it wasn't in his former room; all of his stuff was missing. Hell, even the room looked like it changed. I checked in their basement, though, and found a few boxes of unlabeled things. And, as a stroke of luck, I ended up finding the stuff Charlie had been looking at.
There were a few 'paranormal creature' books, a blank notebook with some pages torn out, and a polaroid of a guy walking out of a building. It's too blurry to tell and I haven't seen him in ages, but I think it might be Sarah's dad when he was a bit younger. I don't know why Charlie had that, and at that moment in time it wasn't my concern.
I found what I was looking for after checking the books: A list of directions to the house where I first saw Farstrider. Charlie was never one to remember exactly where something was, especially if it was in the middle of nowhere. If he was acting as an accomplice when he was living with his parents, I knew he must have either committed the place to memory or wrote down directions. It was a shot in the dark in my case, but I had to find out. Turns out, the place isn't as far as I thought. It was a while away (close to three hours if you're walking), but I was expecting half a day's journey there.
I made it there around four. It wasn't a very bad hike, though the forest gave me the creeps because... well, I shouldn't have to explain why. Anyway, the place still freaks me out even in the daytime. I didn't want to go inside, you know. I want to be done with creepy shit... But I did go in. I had to. And now I wish I hadn't.
I can't type the rest right now. I want to because I need to tell you all what happened, but not right now. I can't concentrate and I feel like I'm going to throw up again.. I might move tonight. Too close for comfort.
Until next time.
- Art
Before I got back to town, though, I needed a way of stopping them from stalking me. Or, at least throwing them off my trail. I've thought about this for a while now, and I think it's time I told you all. I don't believe the Rake and the other one can work together, or, at best they don't like competing for the same victim. I decided to test this out by making a post where it seemed like Farstrider came after me. Since I'm pretty sure amiwhereallcry/hobo is connected to the Rake, my theory was that it'd back off and I'd be able to sneak up on our good friends back in town.
Well, it seemed to work. I didn't see the bastard for the rest of my trip, and... Well, I'll get to that in a minute.
I arrived back in town a few days ago. Things seem like they're the same, like they're going back to normal. One thing that stuck out were these FBI guys in the area, but I'm going to ahead and guess it's because of the kidnappings that I talked about a little while ago. Since the kidnappings went over the state line, it's within their jurisdiction to step in.
Media isn't talking, either, but that's nothing new. I'm sure I've said this before, but I'll say it again: Either these creatures can somehow unconsciously tell people to ignore violent crimes, or someone is covering the disappearances up. And since those FBI guys are in the area, the second reason is becoming more and more likely. Paranoid? Maybe, maybe, but ever since reading some of the other blogs... well, government cover-ups don't seem like they're as far out as they used to be.
Right. Onto the meat of the story.
I went to Charlie's house two days ago, around noon. His parents were away or something, maybe on vacation. I got in through one of the back windows. It wasn't unlocked, so... yeah, I had to break the window. I know what this sounds like, guys, and before you go calling me an idiot for breaking into a house in the middle of the day, let me point out that at least I'm not breaking into abandoned houses in the middle of the night.
I was only there for a few minutes. I had to get the "research" that Charlie had done last year. I believe I mentioned it a while back because I thought Charlie had been seeing Farstrider. Well, it wasn't in his former room; all of his stuff was missing. Hell, even the room looked like it changed. I checked in their basement, though, and found a few boxes of unlabeled things. And, as a stroke of luck, I ended up finding the stuff Charlie had been looking at.
There were a few 'paranormal creature' books, a blank notebook with some pages torn out, and a polaroid of a guy walking out of a building. It's too blurry to tell and I haven't seen him in ages, but I think it might be Sarah's dad when he was a bit younger. I don't know why Charlie had that, and at that moment in time it wasn't my concern.
I found what I was looking for after checking the books: A list of directions to the house where I first saw Farstrider. Charlie was never one to remember exactly where something was, especially if it was in the middle of nowhere. If he was acting as an accomplice when he was living with his parents, I knew he must have either committed the place to memory or wrote down directions. It was a shot in the dark in my case, but I had to find out. Turns out, the place isn't as far as I thought. It was a while away (close to three hours if you're walking), but I was expecting half a day's journey there.
I made it there around four. It wasn't a very bad hike, though the forest gave me the creeps because... well, I shouldn't have to explain why. Anyway, the place still freaks me out even in the daytime. I didn't want to go inside, you know. I want to be done with creepy shit... But I did go in. I had to. And now I wish I hadn't.
I can't type the rest right now. I want to because I need to tell you all what happened, but not right now. I can't concentrate and I feel like I'm going to throw up again.. I might move tonight. Too close for comfort.
Until next time.
- Art
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Independence Day
I haven't really had a successful day.
You know from my last post I tried to kill myself. Didn't work, though those cuts I got from the other thing started bleeding... Which is weird, because they're just scars. Or supposed to be. I don't know. whatever.
Then my cash is starting to run low. Gonna have to use it more conservatively from now on. Maybe it's for the best.
damn.
Its times like this when I miss the simple things in life. things yoiu dont think about after awhile. Like airconditioning. Holy shit, it's hot. Its almost midnight and it feels like it's 100 right now. And then theres my ipod. Or music in general, really. I miss it. whenever I would get really emotional or something, i'd listne to stuff in order to calm my mind. Didnt matter what it was as long as it had a good beat. I'd sing to myhself but I have a terrible voice.
Found a better wifi connection earlier today, so moved what i had over here. It's next to a kind of warehouse abandonedish place, whatever the hell you call it. signal is pretty good, so I'll stick here for a while. Not like itll matter in the end.
Managed to go through some of the other blogs that are subscribed to mine. A few don't have any blogs, but doesnt matter. The ones that do count.
Like Rachael. I reaed her's first. Not sure why, but i did. Made me even more despressed. Another person dead.
Looked at a guy called the Philosopher, or something like that. don't know what he's up to except for writing a book. Wish I had the time for that. I think its about bears though, so have fun with that, dude.
another was this blog called the Refugees. I thought maybe they were in the clear, but towards the end they got fucked big time. Peter and Natalie... Damn. Im sorry for you all. I know that doesnt mean much fcoming from a guy like me, a person who hasnt really had someone personal die, but you keep your heads on your shoulders. Keep running.
Last one was the detective I mentined a while back, the one i called a fake. Fuck... i feel so bad for that. he probably didn't see it, but i feel like i'm disrespecting his memory. i'm tempted to go and edit it out now. Damn it.
I can see why so many people liked him, gave them hope. yeah, Zeke was a little over the top. But he brought something to the table, fighting back. something i don't even have the backbone to do anymore. If Zeke cant survive... we're basically screwed. if what mary or whatever the hell her name is said is true, we're screwed anyway. no way of killing Him. no way at all.
i want to test my theory out, the one i posted a while back. I don't know if itll work though, and i dont want anymore blood on my hands.
heh.. wish i could get a chuckle out of myself. hacen't laughed in a while. maybe I'l get lucky and Riddles will say something on here. unless hes dead. he's a proxy, too, but what the fuck, who cares anymore. only proxy that tried to kill me is the hobo, and im not sure if he was even trying to kill me. or if hes a proxy at all.
Just came back from the roof of the warehouse. I was ready to jump, I really was. But something held me back. I couldn't do it. And then I looked over to my right and saw the other one. It was sitting on the ledge, looking away from me, and I couldn't tell if it was it or not at first because of the poor lighting. Just a hunched-over outline.
Then it turned towards me and I saw those damn eyes...
It's always the damn eyes that get me. Not the fucking Krueger claws or the Smeagol skin. No, it's the fucking eyes. I can't describe them, but the feeling I got afterwards... It was almost like that feeling you get when you go into your bedroom and found someone's moved your stuff around. That sense of violation.
I don't claim to know Farstrider's motivations. Some claim he's the Angel of Death, some think he's the Devil. Some think he's just a fucking alien, or just a being from an alternate dimension that likes to screw with humans. Whatever it is, no one knows for certain what His motivation is. No one can know for certain if he's necessarily good or evil (though I'm guessing a lot of people are leaning towards the latter).
But there's one thing I know for certain: This thing, the one people call the Rake... It's evil. No, it's not just evil. It goes beyond that, goes beyond the meaning of evil. If there was another word to sum up just how fucking evil it is, that word would describe it.
It took Sarah's dad and turned him into bits and pieces. I'm fairly certain that it brainwashed Charlie and made everyone except me forget about him. And I'm pretty sure it did the same to everyone I knew, as well.. But it doesn't stop there. If from what I remember is true, how I used to have nightmares about a bogeyman in my room before we moved from New York, then this thing has been there my entire life. Farstrider? Yeah, fuck him, he comes for you when you're a kid and if you get away you get off easie-peasie until later. But this thing I'm sure didn't go away. No, because it's fucking evil. It's always watching, making it's move. You don't always see the pieces moving, but they're there.
So, right. I'm there on the roof, watching this thing for the first time in months. The cuts I got way back when are starting to act up, but I don't give a shit. I stare at it for a few moments, terror-stricken like some are when they come face-to-faceless with Farstrider.
I don't know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was just some part of me that had been buried for a while resurfacing, or maybe I was pulling a bluff.
I started calling the thing names.
I don't remember any specifics, so don't ask any questions on that. But I just remember this look it got on its... face. It was really subtle, and I may have imagined it, but it looked to me like it was confused.
I took a step off the ledge, keeping my eyes trained on it. It kept watching me, its head starting to turn in a way that more than creeped me out.
And as I took those steps, thoughts came pouring into my head. The depression I've had for a few weeks, the thoughts of ending it all but not being able to... I'm confident it's that thing that was sitting on the ledge. I don't know how it does it, but it did.
And by simply showing up, it made all of that go away. I'm more determined than ever to fight these things. I'm just a kid, but I'm willing to give it all I've got in order to take these things down. If I don't - if anyone affected by these beings don't, then all of the people who have died fought for nothing.
So, my first order of business?
I'm coming after you, Charlie. Or whatever you are nowadays. I know you're still out there, and I know you're waiting for me back there. And if you honestly think that a being that has a knack for impaling people on tree branches is going to stand between me and you, you're going to have a rude wake-up call.
Oh, and if the Rake or one of its slaves are reading this right now, I have just one message for it:
Nice job fixing it, motherfucker.
You know from my last post I tried to kill myself. Didn't work, though those cuts I got from the other thing started bleeding... Which is weird, because they're just scars. Or supposed to be. I don't know. whatever.
Then my cash is starting to run low. Gonna have to use it more conservatively from now on. Maybe it's for the best.
damn.
Its times like this when I miss the simple things in life. things yoiu dont think about after awhile. Like airconditioning. Holy shit, it's hot. Its almost midnight and it feels like it's 100 right now. And then theres my ipod. Or music in general, really. I miss it. whenever I would get really emotional or something, i'd listne to stuff in order to calm my mind. Didnt matter what it was as long as it had a good beat. I'd sing to myhself but I have a terrible voice.
Found a better wifi connection earlier today, so moved what i had over here. It's next to a kind of warehouse abandonedish place, whatever the hell you call it. signal is pretty good, so I'll stick here for a while. Not like itll matter in the end.
Managed to go through some of the other blogs that are subscribed to mine. A few don't have any blogs, but doesnt matter. The ones that do count.
Like Rachael. I reaed her's first. Not sure why, but i did. Made me even more despressed. Another person dead.
Looked at a guy called the Philosopher, or something like that. don't know what he's up to except for writing a book. Wish I had the time for that. I think its about bears though, so have fun with that, dude.
another was this blog called the Refugees. I thought maybe they were in the clear, but towards the end they got fucked big time. Peter and Natalie... Damn. Im sorry for you all. I know that doesnt mean much fcoming from a guy like me, a person who hasnt really had someone personal die, but you keep your heads on your shoulders. Keep running.
Last one was the detective I mentined a while back, the one i called a fake. Fuck... i feel so bad for that. he probably didn't see it, but i feel like i'm disrespecting his memory. i'm tempted to go and edit it out now. Damn it.
I can see why so many people liked him, gave them hope. yeah, Zeke was a little over the top. But he brought something to the table, fighting back. something i don't even have the backbone to do anymore. If Zeke cant survive... we're basically screwed. if what mary or whatever the hell her name is said is true, we're screwed anyway. no way of killing Him. no way at all.
i want to test my theory out, the one i posted a while back. I don't know if itll work though, and i dont want anymore blood on my hands.
heh.. wish i could get a chuckle out of myself. hacen't laughed in a while. maybe I'l get lucky and Riddles will say something on here. unless hes dead. he's a proxy, too, but what the fuck, who cares anymore. only proxy that tried to kill me is the hobo, and im not sure if he was even trying to kill me. or if hes a proxy at all.
Just came back from the roof of the warehouse. I was ready to jump, I really was. But something held me back. I couldn't do it. And then I looked over to my right and saw the other one. It was sitting on the ledge, looking away from me, and I couldn't tell if it was it or not at first because of the poor lighting. Just a hunched-over outline.
Then it turned towards me and I saw those damn eyes...
It's always the damn eyes that get me. Not the fucking Krueger claws or the Smeagol skin. No, it's the fucking eyes. I can't describe them, but the feeling I got afterwards... It was almost like that feeling you get when you go into your bedroom and found someone's moved your stuff around. That sense of violation.
I don't claim to know Farstrider's motivations. Some claim he's the Angel of Death, some think he's the Devil. Some think he's just a fucking alien, or just a being from an alternate dimension that likes to screw with humans. Whatever it is, no one knows for certain what His motivation is. No one can know for certain if he's necessarily good or evil (though I'm guessing a lot of people are leaning towards the latter).
But there's one thing I know for certain: This thing, the one people call the Rake... It's evil. No, it's not just evil. It goes beyond that, goes beyond the meaning of evil. If there was another word to sum up just how fucking evil it is, that word would describe it.
It took Sarah's dad and turned him into bits and pieces. I'm fairly certain that it brainwashed Charlie and made everyone except me forget about him. And I'm pretty sure it did the same to everyone I knew, as well.. But it doesn't stop there. If from what I remember is true, how I used to have nightmares about a bogeyman in my room before we moved from New York, then this thing has been there my entire life. Farstrider? Yeah, fuck him, he comes for you when you're a kid and if you get away you get off easie-peasie until later. But this thing I'm sure didn't go away. No, because it's fucking evil. It's always watching, making it's move. You don't always see the pieces moving, but they're there.
So, right. I'm there on the roof, watching this thing for the first time in months. The cuts I got way back when are starting to act up, but I don't give a shit. I stare at it for a few moments, terror-stricken like some are when they come face-to-faceless with Farstrider.
I don't know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was just some part of me that had been buried for a while resurfacing, or maybe I was pulling a bluff.
I started calling the thing names.
I don't remember any specifics, so don't ask any questions on that. But I just remember this look it got on its... face. It was really subtle, and I may have imagined it, but it looked to me like it was confused.
I took a step off the ledge, keeping my eyes trained on it. It kept watching me, its head starting to turn in a way that more than creeped me out.
And as I took those steps, thoughts came pouring into my head. The depression I've had for a few weeks, the thoughts of ending it all but not being able to... I'm confident it's that thing that was sitting on the ledge. I don't know how it does it, but it did.
And by simply showing up, it made all of that go away. I'm more determined than ever to fight these things. I'm just a kid, but I'm willing to give it all I've got in order to take these things down. If I don't - if anyone affected by these beings don't, then all of the people who have died fought for nothing.
So, my first order of business?
I'm coming after you, Charlie. Or whatever you are nowadays. I know you're still out there, and I know you're waiting for me back there. And if you honestly think that a being that has a knack for impaling people on tree branches is going to stand between me and you, you're going to have a rude wake-up call.
Oh, and if the Rake or one of its slaves are reading this right now, I have just one message for it:
Nice job fixing it, motherfucker.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
When I was twelve, my grandpa passed away. This wasn't the first time I'd experienced a relative's death, actually; another grandparent died when I was a bit younger. But it wasn't the same, because as a kid I didn't realize what death meant. Back then, it was just a bad guy getting his just desserts, or one of the good guys disappearing until they could bring him back. But real people aren't superheroes. We can't come back, and what's after that is final. We're dead. End of discussion.
So, when I was twelve, my grandpa passed away. That's the first time I realized what death was about. How it could be there, just like that. But my grandpa was older than dirt, right? So that meant I would live a long time. Well, joke's on me, I guess. I know I'm going to die eventually, because that's what happens to people like me. We make a blog, we try to run, and then bam, we're dead. Dead, dead, dead. That's what happens to us, to all of us, and there's no escape. It's a loop that just keeps on repeating, over and over, and there's no stopping it. People reading this that aren't hooked on this overall story will be soon, they might make their own blog, and then they'll die, too. I'm killing people right now, aren't I? Great. I'm a damn murderer. I'm already responsible for several other deaths, though, so why not a few more?
I think the saddest thing, though, is dying alone. My grandpa died alone, you know, and that's because he had a heart attack while grandma was shopping. No one was there to comfort him when he died. And then you have to take into account all of the people in the world who have died like that. A hiker that got lost in the woods. A homeless person who couldn't get anything to eat. A person who got into an accident in the middle of nowhere.
The one thing that those things have in common is that the people have a chance of getting out of it. The hiker could be rescued, the homeless person could be taken into a shelter, and by some miracle the person in the accident could get to the hospital. But there's people like me, people who are being hunted by these damn things... We have no chance. There is no one coming to save us. No matter how long I run, no matter how hard I try to evade them, nothing is going to work.
There's something I didn't want to mention in my last post. I was looking for news in my home town a few weeks ago. There's nothing there about me; no mention of me missing, nothing. It's like I dropped off the face of the earth.
Just like Charlie.
But there was something on the news. A few miles away from my town, a kid disappeared. Five. I think his name was Bradley. Amber alert went out, but no one's seen him since.
A few days after that, I checked the site again. Another kid disappeared, this time a few miles away from the other town. A girl named Cynthia, seven. She was shopping with her mom and wandered off a few feet away. Mother couldn't find her after that. Cameras did pick up a man, though; a guy in a suit. Here's the thing - the guy's face looked like that of the child killer they caught near my town. Yeah, you remember that guy, the one who made me think Farstrider was after me. There's one problem: The killer is in jail, so police think maybe they got the wrong guy since the disappearances have started happening again.
A week after the girl disappeared, Bradley's body was found on the side of the interstate. Limbs were broken, head turned around. Another kid disappears, and everyone starts freaking out just like they did last year. But somehow, none of this reaches the national news. Weird.
This pattern has been repeating for the past few months, and while a lot of the children aren't showing up, at least two other bodies have been recovered.
I looked at a map, started connecting the dots. The disappearances are all in a line.
A line that's headed straight towards the town I'm in.
I don't know why He's doing this. Maybe to make me paranoid or anxious. Maybe to torment me. Probably to torment me. Definitely. He knows I have no chance of getting away in time, not with the ground He's covering. I'm running out of time, and I have no plan.
Maybe I should go ahead and end it. That's got to be better than what He has in store for me.
So, when I was twelve, my grandpa passed away. That's the first time I realized what death was about. How it could be there, just like that. But my grandpa was older than dirt, right? So that meant I would live a long time. Well, joke's on me, I guess. I know I'm going to die eventually, because that's what happens to people like me. We make a blog, we try to run, and then bam, we're dead. Dead, dead, dead. That's what happens to us, to all of us, and there's no escape. It's a loop that just keeps on repeating, over and over, and there's no stopping it. People reading this that aren't hooked on this overall story will be soon, they might make their own blog, and then they'll die, too. I'm killing people right now, aren't I? Great. I'm a damn murderer. I'm already responsible for several other deaths, though, so why not a few more?
I think the saddest thing, though, is dying alone. My grandpa died alone, you know, and that's because he had a heart attack while grandma was shopping. No one was there to comfort him when he died. And then you have to take into account all of the people in the world who have died like that. A hiker that got lost in the woods. A homeless person who couldn't get anything to eat. A person who got into an accident in the middle of nowhere.
The one thing that those things have in common is that the people have a chance of getting out of it. The hiker could be rescued, the homeless person could be taken into a shelter, and by some miracle the person in the accident could get to the hospital. But there's people like me, people who are being hunted by these damn things... We have no chance. There is no one coming to save us. No matter how long I run, no matter how hard I try to evade them, nothing is going to work.
There's something I didn't want to mention in my last post. I was looking for news in my home town a few weeks ago. There's nothing there about me; no mention of me missing, nothing. It's like I dropped off the face of the earth.
Just like Charlie.
But there was something on the news. A few miles away from my town, a kid disappeared. Five. I think his name was Bradley. Amber alert went out, but no one's seen him since.
A few days after that, I checked the site again. Another kid disappeared, this time a few miles away from the other town. A girl named Cynthia, seven. She was shopping with her mom and wandered off a few feet away. Mother couldn't find her after that. Cameras did pick up a man, though; a guy in a suit. Here's the thing - the guy's face looked like that of the child killer they caught near my town. Yeah, you remember that guy, the one who made me think Farstrider was after me. There's one problem: The killer is in jail, so police think maybe they got the wrong guy since the disappearances have started happening again.
A week after the girl disappeared, Bradley's body was found on the side of the interstate. Limbs were broken, head turned around. Another kid disappears, and everyone starts freaking out just like they did last year. But somehow, none of this reaches the national news. Weird.
This pattern has been repeating for the past few months, and while a lot of the children aren't showing up, at least two other bodies have been recovered.
I looked at a map, started connecting the dots. The disappearances are all in a line.
A line that's headed straight towards the town I'm in.
I don't know why He's doing this. Maybe to make me paranoid or anxious. Maybe to torment me. Probably to torment me. Definitely. He knows I have no chance of getting away in time, not with the ground He's covering. I'm running out of time, and I have no plan.
Maybe I should go ahead and end it. That's got to be better than what He has in store for me.
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