Sunday 16 December 2012

UPDATE

I lost track of time, sorry. Been real busy. Poked THE JUDGE some more and found myself a nice abandoned warehouse to hideout, as usual. As usual, nothing was as it seemed and my stay wasn't very long. After a good bit of exploration I found that it wasn't just any abandoned warehouse, it was an abandoned Archive outpost. Must of left in a hurry because they left a bunch of stuff behind, you'd think they'd take better care of their things. A couple cabinets of files about all sorts of PREs and UXPs and bits I don't understand or have even heard of. A little room full of weird devices, some nifty stuff, some weapons, which they really really should take better care of, seriously.

Of course. I was being set up. Seriously! What the hell is going on?!

I presume it was a set up, because the Archive left behind a load of interesting DEVICES, stuff that would be very interesting to a certain Towerborn. Was it a trap for it, are the Archive on our side? Or was it a trap for me? I mean, they could have told me if they set up the trap. Or maybe I wasn't being set up at all, but I've learnt that pretty much anything is part of the Long Game. The ultimate plan, it incorporates every single action, for who knows how long this thing has been in motion, I doubt anything's a coincidence at this stage.

I found the thing one night, in the techno-room below the warehouse, collecting the metal devices into its robotic arm. Mechanic claws grabbing the odd utensils and pulling them into its arm, transforming them, contorting them into new pieces of metal, the creature visibly growing. So I shot it. Figured it was the right thing to do seeing as it's still my target. Didn't go so well, the thing regenerated, the loose bits of machinery clicking and slotting themselves back into place, guess it wasn't the best idea to attack it when it had a fresh supply of metal. It ran at me, swinging a chunky metal arm into my chest and I was sent flying into a wall. The thing ran off, through a door and I ran after it.

Oh wait. No. That's not right. It didn't run through a door. It ran through a Door. Yep. Got itself its own bloody Door and I ran straight on through it.

Needless to say I lost track of the Towerborn fairly quickly, seeing as once you're in the Empty City you can end up going sideways by running in a straight line and then walk into where you were before you started running in the first place within half a minute and then run somewhere else entirely before looking upwards and seeing where you started which is now the sky even though it turns out you are currently standing where you started running anyway because you started running in two places simultaneously and were moving in two directions at once because FUCK GEOMETRY!!!

I was sincerely confused and lost in THE LABYRINTH, no way out as is traditional for it. And of course the shadows were moving. All of them. Even the building's shadows were twisting and slithering because of course they are. There can't be shadows here because there's no source of light. That's not to say there isn't light, there is. It's just ambient illumination. The sky is blue (when there is a sky), sure, but no sun. Just a blue sky that gives the illusion of broad daylight, the shadows cast pointing in any direction they feel like at the time.

I could feel them. Their eyes glaring at me. This probably explains all those ghostly experiences where they feel a "presence". Because it's the Nightlanders, sending a chill down your spine and glaring daggers from the dark. Just waiting for you to move something, to mess up their organisation, so they can mess up yours. The organisation of your organs. THE SHIFTERS are always watching me here.

I found myself a place to sleep. A nice room in a nice hotel in a weirdo city. After going up and down and sideways in the elevator, up and down and sideways on the stairs and going down 37 different corridors, not all of them with a floor or walls or even physically existent in the traditional sense, and through 54 different doors, yes I counted them, I found a coherent room to sleep in.

The next day I went on a Towerborn/Door hunt to try and find either. Preferably a Door but I don't like the idea of having an angry Towerborn living here with me. No luck. Next day. No look. Next day. No luck. Next day. Take a guess. Thank the nothingness there's food here.

Apparently THE LABYRINTH gets WiFi, because I get an internet connection to what I presume is Earth, maybe I'm sending this to multiple different Universes, that's an interesting thought. But I finally got a chance to update this, you'd think I'd have gotten more chance in a monotonous empty city, but most of my day is spent trying to survive in this crazy crazy world.

-Shady    


 

Tuesday 4 December 2012

That was a Bad Idea

So, yeah, I probably overreacted when I killed that guy. Under most circumstances that would be an understatement. But I don't really have a heart, neither physically nor the metaphorical heart that regulates several types of emotions. It's not very stable, being kept alive without a heart is tricky work (I'm guessing) and probably not an exact science. I feel better now, sort of. It certainly pisses THE JUDGE off, having to deal with someone who may or may not feel guilt at any given time. There's not much it can do though, except look at me, Eyes peering out from different places and surfaces to silently judge me. I got a fork from the kitchen, I carry it around with me now. For pokin'.

Another reason it was a bad idea, was because the guy I killed was now dead. You could probably have guessed that yourself. Buuuut, there's a very special side effect to someone dying. They tend to end up in the afterlife, otherwise to known as Bliss, otherwise known as THE FALLEN. Everything they were becomes part of Him, including everything they knew. Including their last sight, otherwise known as "me".

So Archie decided to pay me a visit, in the guise of the guy I killed. So, guess what? I killed him again! The man's body crashed into the ground, blood pouring out of the familiar hole in his head. Soon the man's flesh itself began to pour away, turning into liquid and sliding from Him, dissipating as it touched the floor. The shell flowing back to reveal a hoodied man in a gas mask, who casually got to his feet despite several extra bullets I embedded in Him.

He stepped forward towards me, and leaned in. His voice was like nothing I had ever heard before, my sight pounded and jumped and my ears thumped and ached as he whispered to me.

"DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH OF YOU?
DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU'RE SPECIAL? WHY THEY CHOSE YOU?
HOW YOU KILLED ALL THOSE PEOPLE AND SURVIVED ALL THOSE ENCOUNTERS?
then play along."

With that He left in a flash of godly light. I'm going to need a new place to stay before Mr. Fedora shows up with his squad of Timberwolves.

-Shady

Monday 3 December 2012

Judge

A man came by a few minutes ago, I don't think he was anyone of anything. Just a person.

I thought it was abandoned, but this guy came by and walked in. I'm on the run, I need this place to stay.

We argued, he was going to call the police. I shot him in the face. Point blank range.

He fell to the floor, a bleeding hole in his head. 

There was something inside him.

An eye peered out of the bullet wound and stared at me.

I shouted at it. 

I said it was the will of THE HUNGERING. To it or to myself? 

That made it go away. But it's still watching.

It's watching everything and everyone. 

I had killed a random person, a person who hadn't done anything. Wasn't a Timberwolf, or a Runner, or a Puppet, or anything. 

The Eye wanted me to feel guilty.

I don't even know if I do.

There's a hole where my heart used to be.

-Shady


Sunday 2 December 2012

On the Road Again

Not by choice, I'm still not feeling right. In any sense. But the Timberwolves have decided I've overstayed my welcome. I didn't feel like the sleeping too long last night, so I was awake in bed when I heard a mass of footsteps heading down the hallway towards my room. Orderly and uniform marching over the carpeted floor. Don't ask me how the Timberwolves found my location (This damn blog!), but I barely managed to grab all my things before the door was kicked in, revealing Mr. Fedora, from the Vatican chamber.

I had gotten out to the balcony, exposing myself to the cold winter air of Rome when the gas masked cultists flooded in. I didn't have anywhere to run but to the sides, so I clambered over the steel railing around the balcony and onto a conveniently placed stone ledge. The wind whipped at my clothing as I edged along the building's side, desperately trying to escape the Timberwolves' guns. They had run out to the balcony to pursue me, luckily enough the design of the building allowed me escape from their bullets, which threw out dust as they collided with a jut in the wall. I slid along the building, my hands grabbing at it as much as they could on the relatively flat surface and keeping my bag in place, as the Timberwolves climbed over the balcony in pursuit.

I moved as fast as I could, several stories off the ground, remind me to get a lower room next time. Until I eventually found my way to a window a couple rooms over. It would do me no good as the Timberwolves inside would get to it before I managed to even get through the window. There was one other option, so I got down on the ledge and turn my body towards the wall, letting my feet drop down towards the street below. I dropped, grabbing onto a window for support as my feet struck the ledge below and pulled myself closer before I had a chance to fall backwards.

I shot the lock on the window and pushed it in, leaping into the room and onto the carpeted floor within. Racing passed a shocked couple I ran from the room and into the hallway before the Timberwolves above could get down. I sprinted down the hallway and into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time and jumping down to the next flat whenever I was close enough. I made it down to the lobby and knocked out a couple Timberwolf guards with the handle of my gun. My possession must afford me extra strength and speed and come to think of it, probably aim, 'cause let's face it, I'm only 14! Nearly 15 but hardly old enough to do pretty much any of the stuff I have so far.

I got out on the street, looking up to my hotel room. There standing on the balcony ominously was Mr. Fedora the Apostle. He lifted a grey-gloved hand and waved at me, I just turned away and ran for it. I ran for the rest of the night until I was convinced the Timberwolves didn't know where I was anymore and weren't liable to find out any time soon. With the Towerborn's tracking device removed by the Timberwolves I'm back to square one. And with the Timberwolves on alert to my presence and actively hunting me, I've been pushed back into square zero.

I've got myself a new place to stay, and I'm not giving any information on it. I'm not risking the Timberwolves finding me again. I'm going to need a new plan.

-Shady

Addendum: Do I feel bad for killing all those Timberwolves? In the way I did? I didn't think so, I didn't think I was even capable of feeling bad after the Initiation. But something else thinks I do, or at least, something else thinks I should.

Saturday 1 December 2012

~~I Remain

Shady is weakened, his wound and exertion have allowed me to gain momentary control. I will relay what information and observations I can in the time I have.

Your possessions keep you alive.

  • The first time you blacked out was when you encountered Slender Man. Danger. 
  • The second time the Cold Boy was about to freeze you. Danger.
  • Third time, Master Nowhere was attacking you with a knife. Danger.
  • And now you were being attacked by a group of Timberwolves, even shot. Danger.
Whenever you are in danger your possession kicks in and saves your life. You are being kept alive by a powerful force. Why, I do not know, as there are many like you. Many Runners and a good few Sine Corda, yet you specifically survive inexplicably against overwhelming odds.

One thing is clear. You are being kept alive for a reason. Odds are, it is not good.

The secret lies in your memories.

Good slumber.~~

And then...

I was running up the stairs when a bullet rang out, hitting me in the side. The piece of lead burst its way out my front, spraying blood with it over the steps. And then...then I blacked out, and woke up here. Except the black out was without a very key part of blacking out. The blacking out.

I could still see, but I couldn't think. My brain was being pierced right through, a loud and painful screech ripping my thoughts to shreds before they could even form. I couldn't hear myself think, yet I acted. My body moved without my consent, I walked back down the stairs, even as what remained of my will tried to push myself upwards, away from the angry men with guns. But my legs continued downwards, towards the Timberwolves, my brain unable to even register the pain of the bullet wound. The Timberwolves looked surprised, but the looks quickly changed to ones of fear and then agony.

I killed them. I killed the dozen Timberwolves. I moved in ways I didn't even know a human was capable of, my motions fluidic yet forced, graceful yet mechanic, natural and at all the same rehearsed to a perfection beyond humanity. I was something more. I wrestled a rifle from one of them with ease, twisting his wrist and shattering his arm. I let out multiple shots down the stairs, sending several tumbling back, their blood dripping down the steps. The others retreated back as I advanced, one neared me and I cracked his nose in with the butt of the rifle, then sent the side of it into his head and bashed him into the wall. I moved into the chamber and shot and fought, blood splattering about the room, screams of the Timberwolves echoing through the walls as I shattered bones and ripped through flesh.

The whole ordeal lasted a mere minutes, but the twelve Timberwolves lay dead. My thoughts returned to me, and my scrambled mind quickly reformed into simple terror at what had just happened. The train Apostle and Towerborn had since fled through another passage, but THE FALLEN and the other Apostle still stood where they were before, watching me curiously as I stood, watching them. THE FALLEN was in his classic form of a young man in a gas mask. He leaned in closer to the Apostle, presumably speaking words I couldn't hear and the Apostle nodded in response.

The blue-white tendrils formed around THE FALLEN in the shape of the Twin-Triangles for a split second before both He and the Apostle disappeared. Leaving me alone in the bloodied chamber, surrounded by the mutilated bodies and red stained floor. That's when I blacked out properly, waking in my room, a bandage around the bullet wound.

Blood on my hands, very little of it mine.

-Shady

Wednesday 28 November 2012

Of Towerborn and Timberwolves

I've been quite busy lately. Tracking the Towerborn while avoiding the Timberwolves. Unsuccessfully, by the way. The Towerborn decided not to leave Rome at all, but rather head further into the city, hardly a sound tactic when that's where I am. Or maybe it's hunting me. I think I'd win, I've got the gun and the hoodie.

But it traveled further in anyway, and I decided to ambush it at a street corner. Heading out of the hotel and avoiding contact with any Timberwolves, identifiable to me thanks to my super powers, or whatever. I traversed the streets of Rome, my phone tracking the Thing's movements. I made my way to intercept the little blinking point on my screen, but it began moving the other way away from me.

I walked faster and faster to catch up with it, but it was faster than me and less hindered by the desire to not call attention to itself by running like a mad man after something no one else even knew was there. Giving up trying to look inconspicuous I began jogging, weaving in and out of busy people. Then I was running, the Towerborn still leaving me behind, until finally I sprinted, faster and faster towards the point on my phone.

It was slowing down and I was finally catching up, closing in on it. But looking at my phone I made an odd realisation, the Towerborn was entering Vatican City. Why? What business could it have in the centre of Catholicism? So I pursued it into the small city, finding a less tourist ridden access point through the surrounding wall, discreetly dealing with a security guard.

Now within the city I continued towards Blinky (the Towerborn's new name after its representation on my phone). Inside the structure, through hallways probably no tourists would see, ducking around corners and into rooms to avoid being spotted, even knocking out a priest or two. They always bored me anyway. Even after all the supernatural I've seen I probably believe in God even less. Maybe it's because I now believe in the almighty power, purity and perfection of absolute and all-devouring Nothingness. Or something else, I don't know.

I found my way down several hallways through the labyrinthine complex that is the Vatican, I never knew it was so complicated when I want there a couple years back. I didn't know how a shambling, tatter cloaked, monstrous mess of metal and flesh managed to make its way through unnoticed.

Then I found out. As I neared the blinking light I realised Blinky was now on the other side of a wall. Unfortunately, the way behind the wall wasn't at that point, meaning it could have gotten through at any point up ahead. Regardless, I continued, hoping to find some sign along the lines of "Pull lever to open secret passage". Something told me I was aiming a little high.

But that was exactly what I found. Well, maybe not exactly. I slid into a small office of sorts, an ornate desk with a chair and topped with papers at the far side and lined with books and more importantly, bookcases. Bookcases that could hide a secret passage. Already got underground bases and tracking devices, why not secret passages?

The question was: Which book? The entire place was covered in books to choose from and if I didn't want anyone to know I was there I couldn't just start yanking out every book on the shelves unless I wanted to spend ages sorting them all back in their proper places, and just wait for someone to walk in/out to find me sitting on the floor trying to figure out where to put books that start with numbers in alphabetical order.

But the answer presented itself soon after. As I was perusing the books for clues, I found one. An extremely obvious one in that matter, they might want to be more secretive if they want to keep out meddlesome Hunters like I. On the bottom of one of the books were the good old Twin-Triangles. Seems Blinky had some business with the Timberwolves. I pulled out the book and failing that poked the triangles and pushed in the book, resulting in a satisfying click that signaled my victory over their devilsome puzzle.

The case slid away to reveal a medieval looking passageway behind. Now it was turning into some Da Vinci Code or Angels and Demons type goings on. Conspiracy theorists would have a field day. Heading down the flaming sconce lined steps (yes, there were really sconces) into the deep, dark Timberwolf territory. All my travelling finally culminating in some equally conspiratorial chamber, lined with sconces and a dozen Timberwolves, Blinky and three more Timberwolves in the centre.

I figured why let an opportunity such as this go to waste and hung out out of sight, listening in.

"He is here?" asked the lead Timberwolf, an elderly man in a dark grey hoodie and dark blue jeans that didn't seem to suit him, flanked by my Apostle friend from the train and another, likely also an Apostle. The first Apostle appeared the same as from our encounter, wearing the gas mask, except for a bandaged hand which he may have gotten from Collector Epsilon. The other wore a long, hooded, black coat and black trousers, except in stead of wearing his hood he wore an old, brown fedora. He was thin and deathly pale, probably didn't grow up in Italy.

The Towerborn spoke in a metallic, screeching voice that made my ears hurt, and from the fidgeting I could tell it had the same effect on the Timberwolves except the three questioning Blinky. "Yes," it screeched from behind its cloth mask, "Shade is here."

Aw, they have a nick-name for me. Sure it's a basic derivation from my blogger name, but still.

"Excellent. If we can kill him here, The Long Game can be stopped." Wow. People really don't like my blog. "THE HUNGERING shall never find purchase here. I have spent too long preparing this place for it all to go to waste!" spoke the leader in an oddly familiar voice, but it was different, and so didn't suit his body either.

"But I feel that won't be a problem," he spoke again, raising a hand and snapping his fingers. Streams of blueish-white, sparkling light latched onto me from all sides, pushing me from my hiding place. "Here, we have Shade!" he announced, to the gasps of everyone else in the room. He pushed his hood back a bit, and I could see his face properly. It was Beta/Theta. Yes, the person(s) I killed. Yes, he was THE FALLEN.

I ran back up the steps as fast as I could, a swarm of angry Timberwolves charging after me (yes, twelve Timberwolves does constitute a swarm). Then oh god -I mean Nothingness-! Talk about timing! My bullet wound is acting up again! Yes, I got shot. Yes, I have to continue this later.

-Shady  

Sunday 25 November 2012

The Hunt

A few days ago I was sent to hunt down something. They didn't tell me what it was or why I was hunting it, only that it's very important I find it, and that it would probably be hanging out its last known location. I have suspicions that it has to do with The Long Game. That it's part of the Next Phase which they've finally located. Nonetheless I set out, following the lead that it was somewhere in Italy. This piqued my curiosity as that is generally outside my jurisdiction, meaning that it was very important that I specifically hunt it. Also, Italy is swarming with Timberwolves.

I started out early and got several buses, taxis and trains for the rest of the day. Finally arriving Rome, late at night. Too tired to continue further I got a hotel and rested until morning. I wasn't fortunate in my selection of hotel. Rising the next day I realised too late that this particular Hotel had been chosen as a hub of sorts for several Timberwolves in town for a meeting. I'd wondered if it was a Timberwolf I was supposed to kill, but I'd have to hunt down every last one in Rome to ensure I got the target. Hardly a feat I'm capable of accomplishing.  

I cursed Master Nowhere for his vagueness, and managed to sneak past the Timberwolves in the lobby. Well, not so much sneak as walk casually, convinced there were no Apostles and hence none of them would be able to tell who I was and that I was a Sine Corda. Out on the streets I determined to head to the more specific last known location of the thing. Address in hand I grabbed a taxi, learning that the last known sighting was quite a bit outside of Rome. But the Nevermore Accord are anything but low on cash, and I had all the money needed to convince the driver to take me there.

After a while of driving, the car stopped just outside a dump. Needless to say, my curiosity was only further piqued. Leaving the taxi, I headed into the landfill. The smell is just as bad as you'd imagine, and the rats! I couldn't count how many rats I saw in that place. I was more interested in finding the target. Was it still here?

Yes, yes it was. I spotted a man, shambling its way through the garbage, clad in tattered brown wrappings. He was very tall and well built. How apt that last phrase was. He looked towards me, peering through the wrappings covering its face with a glowing eye for a moment before sprinting away from me at a speed no human could be capable of. I set after him, gun in hand. I fired, it struck him at the base of the neck. A loud ping resounded and the man continued unaffected by the bullet. I couldn't catch up with it, I couldn't kill it, not from here. Maybe I could outsmart it.

Racing out of pursuit of the monster, I ran around junk pile after junk pile and managed to cut it off, colliding with it as I leapt out from behind another pile. Caught by surprise it took the Thing a while to get me off of it, but not before I managed to shoot it in the face and knock the wrappings from its head. It struck me and I fell off of it. It was on its feet in an instant, glaring at me with one bloodied socket which I'd shot, and one eye, surrounded and augmented by a mechanical shell, stray strands of hair barely covering its head, its jaw mostly in bloody strips covering a metal replacement. It raced towards me, lashing out with a robotic arm and sent me flying into a pile of rubbish, my whole head aching from where it hit. Seeming more interested in escape, it wasted no time and ran off at that inhuman speed. By the time I recovered the thing was too far away to pursue. 

It wasn't a failure, though. I had managed to get some James Bond-esque GPS device on him to track his movements. Which I'm now doing from my hotel room in a Timberwolf infested hotel in a Timberwolf infested city, in a Timberwolf infested country...

...hunting a Towerborn.

-Shady  

Friday 23 November 2012

Disruptions

I have nothing against Runners, I was one not long ago as anyone who reads this blog would know. My occupation as a Runner didn't last long, not as long as many others, although of course anyone who was a Runner for a shorter time is probably dead, and any who's one for a longer time probably will be.

Then of course there are the ones that are just plain annoying. The Long Game is going, and anything that disrupts it must be dealt with by the full force of The Nevermore Accord. Occasionally Runners fall into this category, and as an agent of the Sine Corda and by extension The Nevermore Accord, it falls under my job description to deal with them. Of course this isn't my true purpose, they didn't "recruit" me because I was a master assassin, but until the next phase can be located -whatever that means- this is what I do.

I hunt.

It's what I've been doing for most of the time between my de-heartening and now. My first mission should have been fairly simple. A Runner had killed one of the other Sine Corda, however and for whatever reason I don't bother myself with. I was dispatched to deal with him, but it didn't exactly go to plan.

I set out from the warehouse, one of many under Nevermore control, with a gun and a box of bullets. I wasn't invisible anymore, when I lost my heart I was spat back out by THE HUNGERING (the capitals didn't go away) and now exist as much as you do (unless of course you're being unraveled), the privilege of invisibility kept for higher members such as Master Nowhere and the Menacing Men. So I had to be discreet, keeping the gun concealed and catching the Runner somewhere private.

I found the Runner in a bar at the edge of this French town late at night. I entered, my senses immediately assaulted by the scent of alcohol and the smoke-filled air, not exactly being old enough to be used to this I found it slightly disorientated, though the nerves of walking around in full sight with a gun in my pocket and the intention to kill likely added to it. My teenaged physique earned me a few questioning glances, though my "Null Hoodie" kept my face mostly hidden and, I don't know, Sine Corda have an air about them, I suppose you could call it a Menacing. I guess that means I'm not quite as existent as I used to be. The Runner, thin, tall and suited (no, not Slenderman) was seated at the bar, so I found a dark corner where I could make use of my new found Menacing to glare angrily at the Runner while I waited for an opportunity.

This only came hours later when he finally left the bar, dispensing some coins on the counter and exited, me following at a distance. He left and rather stupidly decided to turn into a dark alleyway next to the bar, I thought he mustn't have been very used the being a Runner if he's walking through dark alleys late at night. I followed behind, the gun having a silencer so noise wouldn't be a problem, until we moved out of sight of the street. He turned around and looked at me.

I thought little of it as I drew the gun and shot him in the chest, knocking him down. Then he got back up, straight up as if he was being pulled. Pulled by invisible strings.

"Crap!" I exclaimed as I shot again, in the arm, his arm jolting back in response before sliding back into position. He rose the arm in a mechanical motion and observed it for a moment, before walking forward again, his legs being raised and dropped by the strings like some horrid puppet controlled by an even more horrid Puppeteer, his previous facade of normality dropped.

Several more shots resulting in nothing, the strings pulling the body forward beyond the boundaries of death, animating the corpse in its deadly movements. It swung an arm around, surprisingly swift and precise for a puppet, I ducked under, but its arm struck out at me again, swiping me across the head, knocking me to the ground. It reached into its jacket and pulled out a long knife. I raised my gun towards him to shoot the hand with the knife, but as quickly as I fired he skillfully juggled the knife to its other hand, then lifted a mechanical leg to strike the gun away with a finely polished shoe, the gun sliding over the wet concrete.

It raised the knife, clearly preparing to drive it down, when the strings spontaneously snapped and the corpse collapsed in a heap on top of me. I pushed it from me and although confused, counted my blessings and took this as a kill. Since then I've killed two actual Runners and am currently after something else. I still don't know what happened.

-Shady

Tuesday 20 November 2012

The Beginning of the End

I did not think I would be updating this again, it seems so futile now. But I realised that some may be interested in knowing what is happening, and a part of me wants to tell you. I shall relate to you the first part for now.

The men of The Nevermore Accord dragged me away from the room the day after I (not Sleeper) last updated. I was pulled to another room of the warehouse where I was drugged and strapped to an operating table. Terrified, confused and unable to think properly my vision was hazy and my memory more so. A pair of men wearing green scrubs and surgeons' masks entered the room, their eyes sunken and dead. They were followed by a "thing" pushing a small tray-table. It was human, maybe, two arms and two legs, but its face along with any other exposed skin was covered with every disease under the sun, oozing pustules and dark red rashes, eyelids only half open at any given time, pushed shut by growths covering its face. It walked hunched over, down to just over a metre off the ground, it wore white scrubs and a surgeon's mask. It shambled off after pushing it in. A Riddled, as Master Nowhere would later refer to it.

The men on the other hand, were Oathbreakers.

Master Nowhere whispered to the two men, and the two walked to either side of the operating table, one taking a syringe from the tray and injecting me with a viscous blue fluid. I lost consciousness after this, mostly.

I couldn't see, feel, nor hear anything (nor taste or smell, but people tend to forget about those senses), or more specifically, I could see, feel and hear nothing. It was simply pitch black for all my sense, yet I could still think, and knew it was more than just nothingness. It was...Nothingness, with a capital N. This lasted for an imperceptible amount of time, until one of my senses was stimulated, returning me to the stream of time, I could feel. I could feel Nothingness. It struck me in the chest, puncturing through my flesh and into my heart, from which its dark, smoky tendrils spread outwards, wisps of non-existence consuming me and my entire body. I could feel in more ways than one, I could feel different emotions drained away. I was being touched by THE HUNGERING, It was releasing me from my bonds, showing me the truth of all things, everything was open to me, I could see the universe, the numerous galaxies looking as but stars in my vision, distant, I saw everything from outside everything. Nothingness exists outside all things, lurking between universes and raging within black holes. Drawing all things to it, ever hungry, ever ending, yet never ending.

I awoke back in my room an unknown time after losing consciousness, my body still intact, a long, sloppily stitched wound over my chest. Master Nowhere standing over me.

"Welcome to the Sine Corda."        

Monday 12 November 2012

~~The End of the Beginning

I do not know if Shady will be posting again, I guess only time will tell. There is something extremely wrong now.

I do not know for how long I may maintain control, even being within Shady is taxing. Had I not grown in strength I would not be able to remain.

We of The Dying Man latch onto a host's soul, now something else is trying to occupy Shady's and I cannot compete with its power.

I must remain dormant for the time being if I am to survive. If I can regain control I shall.

Good slumber.~~

Thursday 8 November 2012

Being Played

So I ran. It went horribly.

Just not before the note was confirmed. I lurked by the door, having lifted a gun from the armoury, holding a crowbar in hand and all my stuff in a bag, I waited in my room for who ever may or may not come. I felt Sleepy was awake too. The door clicked open as I waited behind it, a figure slid through, a knife in hand. A grey haired and heavily bearded head coming into view, it was Analyst Beta, with clearly murderous intentions. I cracked him over the head with the crowbar and he crumpled to the ground. It was confirmed, I'm screwed.

I stepped over the unconscious heap and out the door. The hallway was empty as I sprinted down, my escape completely unhindered. Until a rounded a particular corner and came face to face with Analyst Beta again, well, an identical face at least. Theta moved towards me, a gun in hand, ready to kill me if I didn't kill him first, which I did. Firing my gun at him I struck him square between the eyes, there must be something supernatural about my aim, maybe Sleepy helps.

~~I do not.~~

Well in any case Theta was now dead and I ran to the nearest exit, an emergency one that opens to a staircase up into an alley way down the street of the archive (the normal one), the Archive must stretch quite a bit under ground. My escape went better than I had expected, I wish I hadn't had to kill Theta but there wasn't anything I could do. I got the best I could have hoped for: Not having to find my way out through a veritable army of Archivists. But my luck ran out instantly.

I emerged into the alley to come face to face with Master Nowhere.

"Hello again," came his voice in my head.

"Hi," I responded, nothing I could do now, I'm screwed.

Several other figures emerged from the shadows of the alley, wearing hoodies similar to Master Nowhere, except their ones had an image on the chest, a circle with a line through it. They advanced towards me with almost comic menacing.

"You should probably come with us now, you are prepared," he said.

"Prepared? For what?" I asked, "And while your answering questions why did you send information to both the Archive and the Timberwolves?"

"I can't answer the first one, not yet. The second one however, I sent the information to the Timberwolves to protect you. Apostles are important to THE FALLEN and the other Fears can't kill one without...incurring his wrath. Thus I informed them of your presence so that they could be present on the train and the Fear would not attack it, you didn't really think it was just technical difficulties did you?" Knew it! "Then I informed the Archive of your presence on the train to ensure your survival passed the Timberwolves own attack on the train, I need you alive, for now."

"But why send me to the Archive in the first place? And who left me that letter?"

I could feel his sigh in my head. "I sent you to the Archive so that you'd find out about The Sleeper and He'd grow stronger," ~~How kind of him.~~ "He's an important part of our plan. As for the letter, that was Scribe Theta, it was left to draw you out to be captured by me without alerting the rest of the Archive, that is why the rest of the employees are currently taking part in a fire drill, the sound of which I drowned out for you with my eldritch powers. Now," he said, swinging his hand and pointing at the end of the alley, "Let's go."

The Menacing Men led by Master Nowhere led me through the streets of Paris, rendered invisible by THE HUNGERING and finally bundled me into the back of a van that could only be described as "nondescript". Driving for a couple hours we ended up at an abandoned warehouse where I was led into an enclosed room with a bed, a toilet, and an excellent internet connection.

The note did say I was being played, I just didn't know I was being played by reading it. Things are getting interesting.

-Shady

Wednesday 7 November 2012

I Simply Don't Know

Well, it's odd having a "thing" inside me, controlling my actions, posting on my blog. But there isn't anything the Archive can do about it, so, since I'd rather I didn't spend the rest of my life in quarantine, I'm going to ignore him.

It is officially confirmed that THE HUNGERING did not erase the files, I don't know how, the Archive has its ways. Also, in other news, the Archive centre was attacked! From the inside. One of the Keepers started shooting people in the hallways, the other Keepers, Martyrs and Inquisitors took him down fast enough and took him to the infirmary to treat his wounds and then question him. 

When I returned to my room, I found a note on my bed.

 The Sine Corda want you because you can die.
Don't trust the Archive, they are with them.
You are being played, you must run. 
They will be here in one day. 
The Long Game never ends.

The Sine Corda want me because I can die. What the hell does that mean?! A lot of people can die. And the Archive are in league with the Sine Corda? If this is true, this is not good in the slightest. This also raises another good question, why did I name this blog The Long Game. I have no idea, I thought it would be cool but I don't have any reason for it. I've got a feeling I've been being set up for a long time. Played like a piece in a game. Why? What does the Sine Corda want with me and the Sleeper? What does Slenderman have to do with it, and THE RIPPER and THE FROST? And that's got THE FALLEN after me! And why the hell do I keep using alternate names of Fears in capital letters?! Bloody mind-fucked Fear lettering.

I don't know if I should run or not. If the Sine Corda and the Archive are working together than I definitely can't stay here. I have no idea what's going on anymore, I thought I did for a while there, now I'm just as confused as ever.

-Shady





Tuesday 6 November 2012

~~I Believe Introductions are in Order

It is strange how the universe works, is it not? Knowledge alters reality. What you do not know does not exist, until you know it and then it has existed since the beginning. He did not know I existed inside him and I slept for so long, I lay dormant within him and would have slept until death when I would find my way to another where I could continue. Now he knows of me, now he is aware of my existence and now this very knowledge, simply knowing that I exist, has stirred me. Of course this is an over simplification of the physical laws involved, but my very existence is testimony against the utter accuracy of the physical laws believed by humans.

You may refer to me as The Sleeper and I am what you people refer to as the Dying Man. For convenience I will keep my speech confined to between the ~~'s, as no one shall ever say I am not considerate. I am far too tired to be much of a nuisance and I despise the stereotype that we are all, as Shady so delicately put it, Cosmic Abominations. Some of us only wish to continue, just as you do. This is not to say I do not have other desires, but they are none of your concern. I shall retire for now, if anyone here desires to communicate with me comment here and I shall seize control whensoever I can and if I so desire, I shall respond.

Also, before Shady asks, I do not know why the Nevermore Accord wants me, or you[Shady]. You may not edit this post, I prefer to keep my work away from human influence.

Good slumber.~~

Sunday 4 November 2012

Answers and Questions

By now you've probably come to the fairly obvious conclusion that I am currently a host to a fragment of THE DECAY. You're probably thinking: "How could you be a host to THE DECAY, you're not even decaying!" Well, I asked this very same question.

"It's weak," replied Analyst Beta through the intercom as I sat in the quarantine area, the white walls making it look more like an Insane Asylum, "The weakest fragment I've ever seen, or heard of. It doesn't seems capable of exerting much control over you or effecting your body to any significant degree."

"So, is the fragment why I was blacking out? When I encountered THE FROST and Master Nowhere, and maybe Slenderman, though I'd probably put that up to just being Slenderman."

"No, not as far as we can tell. When a fragment takes control it shows signs, altered brain waves, bodily decay, no signs of it ever having taken control are present."

"So there's still something else weird about me. Great." I muttered, the relief of knowing what's wrong with me rapidly fading, "Any ideas how this makes me important to Master Nowhere and the "non-existent" Nevermore Accord, because trust me, being non-existent doesn't make you not real." I laughed slightly.

"No idea. Some larger fragments seek to absorb other weaker ones into them, but this one is hardly worth all the effort Master Nowhere and the other PRE's are putting into finding you," he replied, "Meanwhile, the Nevermore Accord remains unknown to all of our operatives and databases."

"Have you tried asking...Him," I asked innocently, "You know, the man upstairs. Or downstairs, if you're talking geographically."

"The Grandfather? No. He usually doesn't give US information on other Fears and their operations, though I have filed a report to Archive Central. He's reads those for information, if He does have information he wishes to disclose, then He'll do so."

"And if He has information He doesn't wish to disclose? Sorry for being mistrusting, but He's still evil," I said, hoping there wouldn't be any repercussions for saying it in the presence of an Archivist.

"If He doesn't wish to disclose information, He won't," he said, I could see him packing up his things through the observation window, "And whether you believe He's evil or not, He's our Grandfather."

With that he left, leaving me alone in the quarantine chamber. I played some space invaders and read some Fear Blogs to pass the time before going to sleep. They put me in here when they discovered THE DECAY was inside me, they're keeping me for observation until later today when they're sure the fragment is too weak to gain control.

Scribe Theta came in a while ago, with an expression of confusion and worry.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pressing the button for communication.

"The files, on Master Nowhere, they're gone," he said, "Archive Central reported a complete absence of his mention in their entire database. The same happened to the report on the Nevermore Accord, Archive Central denies ever receiving them. Something's wrong, because they reported receipt of them yesterday!"

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know, but someone, or something has completely removed the files from the entire Archive network! No one can do that, we have the best computer security system on the planet!"

"Clearly someone can do it," I replied, "And if anyone could do that, they'd have to be in the Archive."

"Exactly," he replied, "We have a spy. The Keepers are going nuts!" He paced back and forth for a moment, "That's not all," he finally said, before pressing a button in the observation room and calling for someone by the name of Infiltrator Gamma. Infiltrators are a special brand of Collectors who infiltrate other Fear groups for information. A couple seconds later the door to quarantine opened and a man with light brown hair and beard enters, IΓ sown onto his shirt. He was flanked by two keepers.

He held two tape recorders and set them both on my table. "This is the call made to the Timberwolves, the source of their information about your train." came Theta's voice, "And the other is OUR contact about it."

Gamma pressed both buttons simultaneously and the same voice came over both. Master Nowhere.

"Are you sure it's him?" asked Theta. "Of course, his voice was in my head," I snapped, "I'd know it any where. Wh- why would he be contacting both organisations about me?"

"We don't know," he replied, "We'll look into it."

They all left, with the two tape recorders, leaving me with my thoughts and a massive conspiracy.

-Shady

Friday 2 November 2012

Dying Man

I was the only one there when my grandfather died, my grandmother had passed away years before. I went to visit my grandfather with my parents every month, 2nd Thursday, January to December, each year. So long ago now. We'd go out and play games, childish games. I'd hide in the woods and he'd lurk around after me, searching for me and inevitably finding me, hiding in the hollow of an old oak tree. It was once so vibrant, the tree, leaves covering the thing most of the year. Somehow it never lost its leaves in Winter, sure they'd discolour, its discarded foliage littering the ground of the clearing where it resided, transforming it to gold and brown. But its branches always looked so full.

But each year a little more leaves would be lost, a little more green would fade, a little less leaves would return when Spring dawned. Each year, the tree would die a little more, and my grandfather would do the same. He grew older, of course he did, but I was young, I knew these things happened but not why. I simply couldn't understand why every time I visited he'd walk a little slower, he'd cough a little more, his eyes would sink a little deeper.

The oak tree had no leaves last time I visited, it hadn't all year, it had aged so fast. Trees were supposed to last hundreds of years. They're supposed to take years and years to die, not a few months. Why didn't it work the same for humans? This time it did, but not the way one would want. The tree was gnarled, the bark damp and black. And my grandfather was barely able to walk after me through the woods, I fled into the damp hollow of the dying tree, containing my laughter, believing as I always did that this time he'd never find me. He never did.

His legs passed by the small hollow, where my young body was huddled, my knees pressed to my chest to conceal myself within. He had stopped outside, the sound of his hand coming to rest on the bark of the tree with a soft thud above me. He dropped to his knees, before his torso flopped over to rest on the lifeless soil, his hand clutching a clump of shirt just over his chest. I crawled out slowly, thinking he must have slipped, or tripped. It couldn't have been anything more serious.

He had done it. He had taken as long as a tree to die, but the tree was dead now too. I grabbed his hand, and he grabbed it back, he wasn't a dead man, simply a dying man. He pulled me closer, trying to pull his head towards me but unable. He simply whispered to me where he lay, whispered his dying words, words I'd file away in my sub-conscious, unimportant and forgotten.

"Let me in."

-Shady

Archive-ception!

We arrived at the Archive Centre yesterday evening. The building was under the guise of, guess what, an archive. Really original. The front of the building is full of old books and documents about this part of Paris, where ever this part of Paris is, I wasn't really paying attention. I know the street, from my messages with Scribe Theta (they won't let me tell anyone), but I couldn't give directions if I wanted to. I can see the good ol' Eiffel Tower from here, but that can be seen from anywhere in Paris if movies are to be believed.

Epsilon and Upsilon guided me through the stacks of books and documents to the back section where the The Archive was. I was introduced to Scribe Theta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard, and the head the Paris Archive, Analyst Beta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard. They were twins, and made no attempt to make it possible to discern between them apart from the monogram on their uniforms, over the left breast.

'SΘ' for Scribe Theta.                                                                                                 'Aβ' for Analyst Beta. 

I was taken down an elevator to some James Bond-esque underground lair. Fortunately they don't take all of their master's habits, like hanging out in Catacombs. The place looks much like the above ground part of the Archive, despite being a basement it's well lit and well dusted. No spiders in here -bone spiders on the other hand, hopefully not. I was introduced to a small room with another rough cot that seems a lot like the warehouse 'bedroom'.

They certainly don't waste time because after only a few minutes Scribe Theta returned and took me to the infirmary for the medical tests. A blood sample was taken, I got an MRI, another thing that was kind of like an MRI but wasn't in a thick black scanner with lots of science-fiction blinking lights, put into a chamber and bombarded with some kind of radiation, injected with various liquids and fluids, and numerous other tests, I'm surprised I'm not dead from the chemicals and drugs. They're certainly thorough I can say that, but the whole ordeal left me exhausted.

I awoke this morning for a few more tests. They had to test my reaction to some of the previous tests, such as the injections, and if I was still medically sound from radiation exposure, chemical poisoning, blah blah blah. Now I'm left to wait for the final results in the waiting room, they got me a nice new laptop to update this blog. Apart from all the poking and prodding and the service to a monstrous evil, they're nice people.

Analyst Beta told me about how he and his brother are Gifted, they got the memories of another's childhood after theirs were stolen by THE UNSEER. The funny thing is, they got each others' memories, so there wasn't much of a problem integrating the new memories because they were already a part of them and have identical appearances.

It'll be a while yet, I'll probably head for the cafeteria for lunch. See you later.

-Shady



Thursday 1 November 2012

Happy Late Halloween!

Sorry I didn't wish everyone a happy Halloween yesterday, thus, I have done it now.

Epsilon, Upsilon and I are in the car and on our way to Paris. Upsilon is very disgruntled, no reason I can see, just an angry man in general. He doesn't talk much, and most of what he says is grumbled under his breath angrily. I don't think he like me very much, I think he blames me for the Timberwolf trouble, which may or may not be my fault, but it's not like I asked for this. He also mistrusts me, due his primary suspicion that I have a Dying Man piece inside me, aka. the "something very special". This has crossed my mind too, but I'm not jumping to conclusions, especially as a fragment of THE DECAY tends to show signs of its presence by decaying the host body. I'm fine as far as I'm aware; apart from the arm wounds, bullet hole and minor burns. And the non-existence thing.

Epsilon on the other hand is very friendly and talkative, ignoring Upsilon's angry mumblings and is the source of most of the communication between I and the facts of the Archive. She told me about multiple other Fears, the few that I haven't encountered, from the Black Dog, to the Unnamed Child; and UXPs (Unexplained Phenomena -which I find an odd name seeing as the Fears are no more explained as a phenomena) such as Jack of All, and the Bleeding Tree.

Data can be found here at The Archive.

Not much else to report for the moment, shouldn't be too long more to Paris, we'll be stopping in another small town as a pit stop shortly. I'll keep you posted.

-Shady


Wednesday 31 October 2012

The Collectors

Train exploded. Yeah. It exploded.

The Apostle and Timberwolf boarded the same train to Paris as I was going on. It was the only train departing from that station for hours so it was to be expected. It started as uneventfully as the first one, but became much more 'eventful' mainly by the explosion of the train. The Timberwolf sitting next to the Apostle got up with his bag and left the carriage, a few moments later a large ball of fire was consuming the front of the train.

The entire thing keeled over, different carriages colliding with each other as the forward force of the train push them into one another. Fire flying everywhere. How I survived, I couldn't tell you, maybe it was my semi-existence, maybe I'm just lucky. But I managed to push my way from the rubble, fires licking at my feet. And of course the Apostle had survived as well. Except now he had his hood up and his gas mask on, his grey long-coat billowing enough to reveal a yellow Twin-Triangles emblazoned on his hoodie. An assault rifle cradled in his arms.

A piece of rubble near him moved, pushing its way off a bloodied body, who cried out for help. The Apostle turned the rifle towards them, releasing a short burst of bullets and cutting the screams short. He was making sure there was no survivors. He was probably looking for me. Scribe Theta said that the Sine Corda -and by extension myself- were hated by followers of THE FALLEN. He must have been sent to kill me, as only Apostles can see me. Make sure I was no longer a problem.

As other survivors sprinted for the safety of the treeline they too were shredded my hails of bullets. I couldn't run, but I couldn't stay here either, he was shooting corpses as he slowly walked the length of the train wreck, there would be no survivors. I crawled silently under the cover of the twisted metal, shattered glass cutting my underside. I made my way as far as I could and waited, waited for the sound of bullets that would follow as the Apostle turned his attention to someone else.

I scrambled to my feet and keeping as low and fast as I could headed for the forest, bullets whizzing around me the entire way, one connected with me and I slammed to the ground. Several more gunshots sounded, but they weren't the bursts of the assault rifle, no they were the shots of a smaller gun. Looking back from the now bloodied grass I saw the Apostle fleeing from view as a young, red-haired woman with a handgun sent bullets after him.

Satisfied that the Apostle was gone the woman ran towards me and picked me up from the ground.
"Come on." she had said as we ran from the train wreck through the forests, myself limping the whole way, the bullet hadn't struck my leg, but the wound in my back was enough to make any actions painful. Eventually coming to a road, she pulled out a radio and called for a car which arrived mere moments later, driven by a blonde man in his thirties. We piled ourselves inside and she introduced herself as Collector Epsilon of the Archive and he as Collector Upsilon, before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

I awoke later on a rough cot in a small warehouse in a small French town, where Upsilon was treating my wound. He explained it as a safe house for the Archive, as their line of work may quickly become dangerous with the increase in Timberwolf activity recently. I asked how he knew I would be there, and how the Apostle knew the same.

"Anonymous tips came in for the Archive about a sabotage of your train," chimed in Epsilon as she sat nearby, "I don't know about the Timberwolves."

Upsilon finished sowing up my back, and replaced the bandages on my arm, the wounds from THE RIPPER never did heal, but there isn't an infection. After that they left me here to get some rest. It still really hurts. Now I've got an Apostle and how many Timberwolves after me, at least now I've got a couple of Archivists helping.

-Shady

Tuesday 30 October 2012

And So Begins My Epic Journey

On a train.

I boarded a train that should take me about half of the way, to where I could take another train to take me to Paris. I grabbed a seat and people instinctively avoided sitting in it; I'm not completely gone, not yet. I thought the journey would go uneventfully, I was wrong.

The train sped through the dark German countryside, suddenly reminding me of the old tales of early Slendy sightings. Der Ritter and Der Großmann in early 1600's. Obviously, the Der Ritter woodcuts were fakes, but some of the legends were probably true, based on what I(we) know now.

As if on cue the train suddenly shrieked as the wheels scraped to a halt, on a hill in the middle of nowhere in the dark near a forest. Yippee! Oh, did I mention the lights went out? Everyone else appeared more annoyed than anything else, but I was being hunted by evil monsters and am much more skeptical about any unfortunate circumstances circling around me and was immediately on my feet. There wasn't exactly much I could do, even if I could talk to the head of the train, it's not like there was anything I could do to make him work faster, everyone wanted to get out of this creepy countryside.

A man came through the doors with a flashlight and several lamps and moved to the centre of the carriage and placed a lamp on a table there, then moved on to the next carriage. A voice sounded over the Tannoy system, giving its address in German, before beginning in English with a very strong German accent.

"Hello, people. This is your driver speaking. The engine system has cut. We apologise for the inconvenience, and hope to have this problem fixed as soon as is possible. Please remain calm and in your seats, food service will begin shortly to keep your minds off the scary forest outside. Thank you."

Not much I could do, so I sat back down and waited for the problem to be "fixed as soon as is possible". I felt odd, like there was something unnatural going on, I couldn't place the feeling. I could see a guy looking around with a look of angry confusion. In his late twenties, brown hair, strong build, wearing a dark grey long-coat and a black hoodie. Nothing strange about that. Not until he glanced over in my direction, not until his eyes hesitated on me. I think he could see me. He didn't stay on me though, I think he could feel my presence, like Scribe Theta said, proximity to people who have been touched by THE HUNGERING have adverse effects on Timberwolves and Apostles, who I think this guy probably was.

It was confirmed when he brushed a strand of brown hair from his face, momentarily revealing a scar in the left of his forehead, a scar in the shape of the Twin-Triangles, symbol of THE FALLEN. He was an Apostle! What he's doing on a train I had no idea, odds are there are a whole group of Timberwolves on board. I sat back, tapping my backpack which contained my gun. I have no idea what would have happened if a firefight broke out, my actions are being erased, what if I die? Is that erased too? Would I come back to life after being killed? Would the unraveling bring him back or was that a perk reserved for Master Nowhere or other members of the Sine Corda.

I didn't have to find out. In what would seem like an anti-climax the lights came back on and the train started back up, heading back off down the tracks. Which it's still doing, no Fear interference here, just normal technical difficulties, hmm! The Apostle stopped looking around and started chatting to another younger man sitting next to him. Likely a Timberwolf. I'm writing this while still on the train. We'll be reaching our destination any moment now. I don't know what to do about the Apostle or the Timberwolves. How much do you want to bet they're going to get the same train to Paris that I am?

And what the hell is an Apostle doing on a normal train in the first place?!

-Shady



Actually GETTING Information

This E-Mail was received this morning at 7:00 am., the same moment I awoke.

Paul [Rescinded],
aka Shady,
As stated in your post we have indeed been watching your blog and have been keeping a close eye on you and your actions. This communication shall be short, we may have some information pertaining to your condition and we shall communicate this to you. This interaction between yourself and The Quiet has rarely been recorded and we have little information on this phenomenon, we would enjoy discovering more about it through study of the quantum interactions of your matter during "unraveling". We regret to inform you that we have no methods to stop the progress of The Quiet, but any information we may get from you shall go forward to uncovering a way to do so. Please enter [Rescinded] into your internet search engine of choice so we may communicate further.
-Scribe Theta,
The Archive
I did so.

SΘ: You're here?
Shady: Yeah.
SΘ: Good.
SΘ: Firstly, we shall answer what questions you have to the best of our ability.
Shady: Fine then. What can you tell me about the Nevermore Accord?
SΘ: Nevermore Accord -File not found.
SΘ: The Nevermore Accord does not exist.
Shady: That's a real comfort when I'm being unraveled by them.
Shady: What can you tell me about Master Nowhere?
SΘ: Master Nowhere -Agent of the Sine Corda. Sightings go as far back as the 16th century. Whether it is one person given long life through some unconfirmed means or a title passed down, along with the ritual destruction of their flesh, is unknown.
Shady: Hmm. What about the Sine Corda, anything you can tell me about them that I don't already know?
SΘ: Sine Corda .narrow search. -Archive investigation has been unable to confirm nor deny the claims of "heartlessness" held among members of the Sine Corda. Dissections of deceased Sine Corda have discovered the presence of a basic human heart, however [Classified] has stated that the hearts of Sine Corda agents are returned upon death. Living members of the Sine Corda have not been recovered for testing. [...]Due to the nature of the Sine Corda and their service to PRE19, their souls are claimed by The Quiet upon death, as such they cannot be used by PRE03: "Archangel" as hosts. Nor may they pass on to any possible afterlife that may await one upon death.
Shady: Okay then. Any theories on the "something very special" inside me?
SΘ: The vagueness of the statement renders it impossible to confirm any suspicions.
SΘ: If you would join us at the Archive Centre at [Rescinded], Paris, France, we shall examine you and uncover both what is inside you and the effects of PRE19 on a body. The Grandfather's blessing renders us immune to your alternate quantum state.
Shady: I'll think about it.
SΘ: We hope you will.
SΘ: Also, watch out for Timberwolves. They are not immune, although an Apostle would be. They do not take kindly to any presence of The Quiet as its presence destroys their connection to their master.

Not a lot there, but it helps. I'll probably start out towards Paris later today. I hope I don't run into any Timberwolves, they're a gang of nasty Archangel cultists who, as stated above, won't take kindly to me passing through their territory.

-Shady





Monday 29 October 2012

Getting Information

Needless to say, I'm curious as to what's going on. I know what the Sine Corda are, I said that in my last post. However, the Nevermore Accord and the "something very special" inside me, I have no idea about. So I'll start this off asking if anyone has ideas. Theories. Any information that may be pertinent to my current situation.

Leaving people to think about that, I'm going to do some research of my own. The best place to get knowledge is the Archive. Followers of the Blind Man. Despite being servants of a Fear, they appear mostly benevolent and only interested in the acquisition of more knowledge for their master. To be honest, I'm skeptical, THE UNSEER has been compared to THE HUNGERING on occasion, both being Fears of Losing Things -memories and objects respectively. There has been a speculated connection between the two.

Hopefully it's not true. Or at least, hopefully I'll be able to interact with an Archivist who will help. The main problem (for now at least) is that to get information, I'm going to need information. There are Archivists everywhere, there's probably one reading this blog, anywhere they can get information on the other Fears they're going to be lurking. But I need to find one, or in the very least talk to one through some means. I'm hoping that as Fear servants they'll have a certain immunity to my 'non-existing-ness'. If they don't then we'll have to communicate through this blog.

So, to summarise:

  • Anyone who has information on the anything of interest, please tell me.
  • Anyone who has information on the location of an Archivist, please tell me.
  • Anyone who IS an Archivist, I refer you to point one.
Thank you.

-Shady


Sunday 28 October 2012

Heartless

I was sick and tired of it. The Stitched Man as far as I could tell wasn't a Fear, unless there's others out there that people don't know about, making him likely a proxy of some kind. Proxies can die. Mr. Proxiehunter can vouch for that. Shoot it in the face and it should die. That was the plan anyway.

The way I saw it: He only appears when he wants to, he can appear anywhere he wants, if he wanted to kill me he would/could have done it by now, showing up with a gun will either kill him or not. If so, hooray. If not, nothing changes, if he can't die I'm no threat to him and things carry on as normal. I couldn't make things any worse.

I went out walking with a gun. No one can see me so being inconspicuous wasn't a problem. I was expecting the Stitched Man to show up and low and behold he did. I found him at the edge of the city, hood down, still invisible, just staring at me as usual. I aimed the gun at his head, which he tilted curiously at the sight of it.

Bang.

I honestly didn't know I was that good of a shot, but the bullet came out, and blood burst out the back of his head. The gun wasn't unraveled, the bullet wasn't unraveled, everything was there and everything went according to plan. He collapsed onto his back. Dead as far as I could tell. I think he was dead, he just didn't stay dead. Or as I guess you could say, I never even shot him.

He rose to his feet without any support, the bullet shot out of his face, the blood spraying back inside his skull and flesh reforming over the hole. The bullet re-entered my gun and everything was as it was before I had shot him. It was undone.

I was useless, everything I did would become moot. All actions become obsolete. I had no reason for anything. Stitchy started walking towards me, I dropped to my knees, nothing I could do to stop him. He kicked me onto my back, placing a black boot on my chest and glared down at me with his lack of intact eyes. He leaned down close, a knife in his hand, brandishing it like some stereotypical serial killer.

"Have you realised the futility of your actions?" his voice inside my own head.

"Who are you?" I asked, figuring if he thought my actions were futile he could be reveal information and I could do nothing about it. Clearly his reasoning too.

"I am Master Nowhere of the Sine Corda," he said within my mind. 

The Sine Corda. Agents of THE HUNGERING. Supposedly there is a hole where their hearts should be, created by THE HUNGERING. Hence the name, Latin for "Without hearts." It's been speculated that the Sine Corda don't actually do THE HUNGERING's bidding as It cares nothing for anything, thus it's only their delusions that they do as THE HUNGERING wills. I don't know. It unraveled my attempt to kill him. 

"Well then..." I gasped, his foot still pressing down on my chest, "Why me?"

"You have a very special quality," he said, "There's something very special inside of you. It gives you something that we of the Nevermore Accord are very interested in."

"Are you going to tell me what?" I wheezed.

He shook his head, "Not yet. Not now. Just wait."

"Oh..." I said, "Okay."

I turned the gun towards him and shot his face again, sending him flying off me. I clambered to my feet, racing off as quickly as I could. Glancing over my shoulder I saw his death in reverse, the bullet falling out of his face as the flesh regenerated. He glared after me, before dispersing into void.

I'm going to live. If not for me than I'm going to find out everything about THE HUNGERING and the plans of the Sine Corda and the Nevermore Accord and I'm going to tell everyone that'll listen and maybe together I can stop the whole thing. S said this blog will survive. Then I will too. Screw their plans! I'm going to shoot his face off and I'm going to make it stick!

-Shady





Saturday 27 October 2012

Matters in my own Hands

I have a gun.

I'm going to use it.

Stitchy won't know what hit him until it's bursting out the back of his head.

-Shady

Friday 26 October 2012

I'm Back, Baby!

To cut a long story short I got to mainland Europe fairly uneventfully. I got to the airport, bought myself a ticket to Berlin (cause I know 'some' German), boarded the plane to said destination, flew there, and arrived. A process usually known as "air travel".

That's when the creepiness started. Wandering through the Berlin airport with my bag, moving out of the way of the swarming people as they had no intention of moving for me, my phone out, writing a post for this blog to update everyone to my situation. I saw the un-Hooded Stalker Freak. His face out for all to see, presumably just as invisible to the people around as I was. Looking at him all noise seemed to drain from the area, dulling to white-noise and then nothing. Becoming Quiet.

He didn't appear to have any intention of moving against me and I didn't really like the notion of engaging him. I don't even know if he can die. Nonetheless, we fought in a sense, a staring contest. He may have had the advantage, not actually having eyes, but I was unable to break his gaze. My hands just as unmoving and unable to continue writing. I heard it before I saw it, the first sound in a while, a creaking and cracking. The windows behind him were turning blue, frost spreading over them. I heard a distant voice. A child. The words drifting to me on the cold air.

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the water spout.
Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain
And the Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the spout again."

The cold had become too much to bare, I had to escape. I used what will I had and managed to snap from the gaze of the Stitched Man, turning to get as far away as I could from him. Which as it turns out wasn't very far.

I spun around, coming face to...kind of over face with THE FROST. The boy's face gazing up at me curiously, a small hand of ice reached out. I was frozen in more ways than one, unable to pull back from his reach. His cold fingers came into contact with my hand. The pain was impossible. My hand completely frozen in an instant, the cold burning it more than any fire. I screamed and dropped to the ground, my phone falling from my hand. The shock to my system was enough to snap me from my Isolation, sound once more returning to the world, the air being pumped with heat, colour filling the previously icy air.

I jolted to my feet, my hand still completely unable to move. I'm amazed it didn't succumb to frost-bite and fall off, but maybe that's because it wouldn't hurt so much then. Hand can't hurt if I don't have one, there's a reason these things are called Fears. I ran out of there, not even noticing my lack of phone. I got onto a bus to the city, prepared to pay the fee, it wasn't necessary. The bus-driver couldn't see me. I was almost completely gone now. I could walk right past anyone and go anywhere. It hardly made me feel any better. Not emotionally and needless to say, not physically.

I figured if I'm going to stay somewhere, now that I'm invisible I may as well stay somewhere with class. I went to the nearest 5 star hotel and grabbed a key from behind the counter, no one stopping me or even looking at me. I got up to my room and climbed into bed, exhausted in so many ways, wrapping my hand up in the blanket. I fell asleep and dreamed of nothing, not not dreaming, dreaming of nothing.

I awoke the next morning, the room bright, warm and undisturbed by evil monsters. This certainly did make me feel better, in both ways. Man, I wish that had lasted longer. I reached into my bag, figuring this was a good time for a blog update, only to discover there was no phone in that bag. That wasn't terrible, I could just use the hotel internet or get a new one, all for free. Then it struck me. Without my phone I no longer had my protection from Time-Lapses, no phone = no story = Aaaah!

I raced from the room, something told me the hotel internet wouldn't cut it. I don't have a rule-book on this sort of thing (If anyone has one, please tell me!), but I felt I needed something in my inner circle. I needed to own it. I ran through the city, fortunately I never undressed when I went to bed to night before, searching for a phone or laptop store. I wasn't fast enough. I keeled over, every atom in my body being wrenched from the time-space continuum before being dropped back inside eight hours later.

I continued on my trek, finding a phone shop, running inside and grabbing a phone (a nice upgrade in fact), no one intercepting me or disturbing me as I desperately waited for the thing to turn on. Navigating my way through it to where I could re-write my story. Bleep! 

No Battery.

Grabbing the appropriate charger I ran to the nearest place with an outlet, an internet café, and plugged the thing in. A few eternities later the little battery bar had moved up two places, only to drop one. THE HUNGERING has decided, yeah: DECIDED, it was going to unravel my bloody battery! I dropped to the ground again, tasting blood in my mouth as my surroundings buzzed, picking myself back up nineteen whole hours later! AND THE BATTERY WAS ONLY TWO BARS FULL!!!

I spent the next few days in that café. I tried using a computer provided: No use. I lifted someone else's phone: Bleep -No Battery. I took a laptop to the same result. They only intensified, skipping hours at a time, more than once vomiting, more than once it was blood. I thought I was going to die then and there (when/where ever then and there was), when I heard the phone Bleep! the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. Grabbing it again I flicked it through as fast as my fingers could, my injury completely overcome by pure adrenaline. Writing the whole thing out again, I sat back. It was earlier today at about two in the morning and I dragged myself back to my hotel room, lying in bed and sleeping until a few minutes ago. Satisfied I had stopped the lapses, I finally managed an update to my blog, recounting what had happened, ie. This!

You didn't think the "Long story short" remark at the start was referring to the whole post did you? Long story short: I'm back, baby!

-Shady

PS. Thank you Mr. Knight for saving my life with your suggestion.


Thursday 18 October 2012

Hunted by a Garden Tool

Get it? It's a rake! Man, I'm so unfunny.

Anyway, yeah. I swore a lot there. It seamed like the right thing to do. Essentially, THE RIPPER decided it wanted to kill me now.

I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep, it's not that easy when your in this much danger. The leaking tap in the bathroom along with the flickering neon sign outside didn't help much either. Sleazy motels don't just exist on TV. I was lying on my back, staring at the grey mould above my bed, hoping it wasn't THE CHORUS, when I started hearing unintelligible whispers; first thought: THE CHORUS. It wasn't.

I heard scraping at the door, something with large claws trying to get through. I was up like a shot, grabbing any loose possessions and shoving them unceremoniously into my bag, along with my phone after I made my post. I grabbed the lamp from the bedside table, holding it at the ready like some majestic sword. The door didn't hold up long, chips began to fly as long claws began to slide through, tearing out chunks of wood until a hole big enough was made for the thing to get inside.

It sat in its freshly made doorway, down on its haunches, claws lightly tapping the ground. Long, metal blades fused into its fingers, bloodied and rusted, pustules have sprouted where the claws meet the fingers. They tap the floorboards almost hypnotically, the sounds of scissors accompanying each movement. Then there's its eyes. Wide and almost curious, giving it an almost innocent look, but they're wrong! Just wrong! They're human. Young, bright, human eyes, a cheerful shade of blue. Looking at them they look like a child's eyes, they don't fit this thing, they've been twisted into service for a monster. A monster is looking at you with the eyes of the innocent! It's wrong.

The creature swept into the room, scurrying along gracefully, its claws making periodic scrapes on the floorboards. The thing was on me within a second, before I even had time to strike out with the lamp. It forced me against the wall, my eyes fixed to its own, unable to break the gaze. It rose slightly, still hunched over but just slightly below my face. It raised a hand to my face, touching me with what could almost be thought of as...as care. Its claws were in the way however, and as it soon as it made contact a small cut was made on my cheek. I recoiled and it quickly whipped its hand away, opening its mouth and revealing its yellowed and decayed teeth.

It screamed. A scream I refuse to describe for the sake of my sanity.

Startled out of my trance I realised that it would probable kill me any moment now, so I lifted the lamp, slamming it into its head. It stumbled back and I seized the opportunity instantly. Grabbing my bag I sprinted out the door, squeezing through the hole it had made rather than fumbling with keys. It wasn't dazed for long and gave chase almost instantly, pursuing me down the hallway, scurrying like an insect.

I reached the elevator, already at my floor in an act of extreme luck, pulling open the old-fashioned grate acting as a door and got inside, slamming the button for ground floor. The gears creaked and groaned as the elevator began to lower itself at a painfully slow pace. THE RIPPER reached the elevator just before it dropped out of sight of that floor, reaching a hand in. Its flesh wasn't enough to stop the elevator and the metal ripped its hand from the limb, landing in front of me as I pressed myself against the side of the elevator, panting heavily. The hand twitched repeatedly, like some dead spider, but didn't seam to have any remaining motor function.

My relief didn't last long however. THE RIPPER dropped down on the top of the elevator, the claws on its remaining hand scraping against the metal as they reached in, I had dropped to the floor and they were unable to reach me. Then something impossible happened: They grew. The metal stretched out, elongating just enough to reach me. They "raked" me across my arm as I raised it defensively and blood rapidly began pouring from the wounds.

The elevator reached the ground and I opened the grate, rushing out, hugging my bleeding arm. The creature let out a scream after me as it was trapped atop the elevator. I ran and didn't stop running for several blocks. After ensuring I had escaped I dropped to ground, exhausted from running and loss of blood. I had bandages in my bag so I began wrapping up my arm as skillfully as I could.

Now I'm just walking around aimlessly. I've heard THE RIPPER can infect people with its claws. Make them sick and delusional. That's all I need right now.

-Shady

Wednesday 17 October 2012

An Appropriate Response

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!

The Great Wallet Heist

Some of you may have noticed that I have redesigned the layout of the Blog, if you haven't, open your eyes! Although being a Runner may occupy my legs most of the time, my hands are mostly free, hence this. It also serves to help keep my mind off the COSMIC ABOMINATIONS HUNTING ME!!!, a very pleasant distraction from that.

On to the thievery. I left the motel and headed into the main parts of the city, I was hungry so I decided to find a café so I could get some food before I robbed the place. I found one with a self service buffet-type deal, which is necessary as no one ever remembers my orders, and got some food. I payed the woman at the counter and sat at a table, eating my "meal" of a chocolate-chip muffin and coke.

I took this time to check up on my blog, deciding to pimp it out, give it a more personal feel, this is the result. After I was finished I popped the last bit of my muffin into my mouth and grabbing what remained of my coke I made my way to the bathroom. Emerging again to stand near the counter, I was looking at my phone to make me look like I was texting or some such, 'not' waiting for a chance to grab some cash. Although it probably didn't matter, people never take any notice of me anymore, as long as I'm not directly interfering with them -such as stealing their wallet.

The cash register was "heavily guarded" by a twenty-something year-old woman with short blonde hair. But then a better(or at least easier) opportunity came, a man left his wallet on the counter to reach for his ringing mobile-phone, I steeled myself, for once hoping that I'd be rapidly forgotten. I swooped in, discreetly swiping the wallet and slid around the man, walking swiftly out the door.

"Hey! You!" I'd been spotted.

I sprinted out, over the street and into the square across the way, careful timing allowing me to avoid being splattered by oncoming cars. The man emerged from the café, shouting after me, but the traffic wasn't so light for him and he was unable to pursue me across the road. I watched from the cobbled ground of the square, drinking from my bottle of coke, as a confused expression spread across his face. He reached to his back pocket, and failing to find what he sought, began to frisk his other pockets and coat.

"Where's my wallet?" he mouthed, turning and heading back into the café.

Huzzah! My first successful robbery. Maybe I'll try a bank next time. Or a train! That would be cool.

I searched the wallet, finding several dozen euro, a library card and a couple credit cards. He was wearing a business suit so I'm presuming he has a fair amount in his account. I'll try the airport tomorrow, fortunately people don't seem able to look at me properly so my age shouldn't be a problem when trying to buy a ticket.

Back at my motel for now, still no further sightings. I drank all my coke.

-Shady

Thief with a Twist

Now that I'm a Runner, I need to run more. Or at least move a lot. I always need to either be moving, or sleeping so I can regain my energy for more moving, preferably at the same time (three cheers for public transport!). Ireland isn't the best place for this, it's small, so all I can really do is catch buses in circles around the island. What I need to do is get to mainland Europe, then I've got all of Europe, Asia and Africa to roam around without having to buy an expensive plane ticket, my money is after all in short supply.

Unfortunately, to get there, I need to buy an expensive plane ticket.

I don't know how much it costs to get a plane ticket to mainland Europe, I only need to get to the coast, or even just to Britain and then I can get across the channel, in any case I've only got a few hundred...€237 to be precise. I don't think that's enough to get a plane ticket, not a last minute one at least which I'd need if I didn't want my ticket to unravel before I even got on board.

I need a way to get some money. Stealing! The victim wouldn't remember me a few moments after I took the money. I'm like the Silence from Doctor Who, that's kinda awesome. And the money would slowly ravel its way back to the owner and they wouldn't even know they were stolen from. It's a win-win, I'd win 'cause I get extra money, and they'd win 'cause they wouldn't lose any. No harm, no foul. No consequences!

Now I just need an opportunity. Time to take a stroll and see what shops have left their cash registers momentarily unattended.

-Shady


Tuesday 16 October 2012

I Believe the Term is 'Runner'

-Someone or something that runs. Duh.

Or, in this case: Someone who runs from Fears.

I now fall under this title. Mainly because I now run a lot. I run as far as I can for most of the day, getting whatever transport I can afford while still rationing what money I have. It's disappearing rapidly, both spending and unraveling, a couple of the stuff from my bag have already gone. I've also decided to start labeling my posts, in case there happens to be anyone searching the blogs for Runners to miraculously save and I miss out (-is that even how labels work?).

I'm not exactly at peek physical condition (all this running will help fix that) and I can't get very far everyday. At least not on foot. I bought a bus-ticket to Dublin, it wasn't an eventful journey, thank the Lord. I slept for most of the trip, public transport is my favourite place to sleep:

  1. It's crowded, so if something creepy happens there will be plenty of warning, depending on creepiness - by screaming. This may awaken me if I'm asleep.
  2. It's one of the few crowded places it's socially acceptable to sleep. Even in my highly forgettable state I'd prefer not to raise any suspicion, trying to sleep in, say, a restaurant, may do this.
  3. I can move while sleeping at the same time. It's like an extension of my new occupation as 'Runner', I can stay on the run while sleeping, killing two Convocation-birds with one stone.

I'm now staying at a Dublin motel, no further sightings of abnormal entities (Hooded Stalker Freak, Slenderman, THE FROST, THE RIPPER etc.) but it'll be a long time before I can even begin to think that I may be able to perhaps relax...slightly. 

How many are there out there? The Runners. How many people are running? Where are they? Do we have any hope?

-Shady

Monday 15 October 2012

And So, the Mystery Continues

I ran. I took my bag and ran for it. Little hope to escape but maybe I can slow It down somehow, maybe if I can run far and fast enough THE HUNGERING will have to move to catch up. Just to slow down my inevitable demise. Maybe I can avert these plans S spoke of, I don't trust him, that doesn't mean I don't believe him, if THE HUNGERING does have plans as he said, then odds are they're not good, if there's a chance to stop them, then maybe I can go out of this world in some heroic fashion like an idiot.

I wasn't on the road 5 minutes before he appeared again. The Hooded Stalker Freak. I was running down the street when he collided with me, slamming me into a wall. I slumped down and he punched me square in the nose and blood immediately began pumping from it. I managed to scramble to my feet, swinging my bag at his head, it wasn't particularly hard but I managed to gather enough force to daze him for a moment. I sprinted down the path, as fast as my legs could carry me, grabbing a shirt from my bag as I ran and pushed it to my nose. But he was faster. He tackled me and I skid across the ground, scraping myself in multiple locations. I rolled over and started kicking and punching and flailing out at my attacker while he struck me several times in my chest and stomach. A kick landed in his face, sending him back upright, his hood falling back...

His face was just the sort of creepy shit I was expecting. His eyes were cut and ripped open, his cheeks mangled and burnt, and his mouth was stitched shut. His hair was scraggled and shockingly white. He gazed at my look of shock and horror with an expression that could be described as a smile at a stretch. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a long knife. I backed away, still on my back, as he walked calmly towards me.

Then things got creepier. My ears were filled with a screeching sound, like a broken radio, my vision was blurred over, segments of my eyesight blurring and spreading and shrinking across my field of vision. A twig snapped in a nearby lightly wooded area, somehow resounding over the piercing screech. A faceless visage gazed out of the trees.

- Slenderman - Pain - Blood - Trees - Running - FATHER - Thud!

I awoke in a ditch, covered in mud and blood, most, if not all, of the blood my own, a large wound ran down the side of my stomach, stitched up. My bag lay a small way away. I rose, retrieved it, and wandered from the scene. I bought a room at a nearby motel, the guy who gave me the key didn't give me a second glance, I just gave him some of my parents' money and he gave me the key, not questioning my age or why I was covered in blood. I guess being forgotten has its advantages. I "re-raveled" the short story to avoid time-lapsing and went to sleep. Whatever happened, a lot happened, and I was still exhausted.

No answers, more questions. Oh, joy.

-Shady




Friday 12 October 2012

Anachrophobia

-The fear of temporal displacement; from a Doctor Who novel of the same name.

That should explain why it is I did not post yesterday. Serious disorientation. Every hour, I skipped about two - four. Between them I was busy preparing for the running away. Every time my vision gets fucked up, everything going bright and blurry, I believe the term is "Seeing stars" but I don't think that gives it justice.

Imagine trying to find your way through a maze, a maze of those warped mirrors at fairs, lit by strobe-lighting! While being chased by Slenderman like one of those 'Slender' games! Pounding headache, blinding light, muscular...'giving up'. It wasn't like this yesterday, it's only getting worse. Every time it happens I grab my head and fall to the ground, my brain melting inside my skull and squeezing my eyes shut, opening them a few seconds/hours later.

I managed to stop it, thanks to Mr. Knight. I wrote a short story or poem kinda thing. I didn't think it would work but I did it anyway and I haven't Time-Lapsed in a few hours. It doesn't make THE HUNGERING back off, I don't think. I'd say it's more like: It's eating something that's regenerating itself. To get to me It has to get through everything I've ever done, if I create something It has to get through that to get to me, it gets erased but if I re-write it It has to eat it again and again. It's small, so it's already disappeared once, but that just means I can write it again quickly before anything drastic happens.

On to the preparing to leave, I've been preparing to leave. Packing up what little I have left in my rapidly shrinking life, grabbing some of my brothers clothes and as much money as I can find in the house (when everything I've ever done is erased all the stuff will return to their preset locations). You're probably thinking it won't matter, I can't run from THE HUNGERING, It's latched onto my mind and will stay there with me where ever I run.

That doesn't mean I can't try.

-Shady

 

 

Wednesday 10 October 2012

A Cry For Help

...Am alive. Just thought you'd all like to know. I must have passed out from the cold, which is odd because I seam to have taken the time to sign off "-Shady" at the end. I woke up in my room, where I've been laying unable to move for the past couple of hours. I don't know what happened, how I went from being frozen to death by THE FROST to being in my empty, abandoned room. The floorboards highly uncomfortable on my back.

There isn't much point of this post. There isn't much that I can do. THE HUNGERING is unraveling me; the Slenderman is...well, kind of inactive lately; THE FROST only recently appeared only to disappear for no reason I can see; and the Hooded Stalker Freak, I haven't seen him since that day he ran off, he's probably 'S' so may still be contacting me; the suspected THE RIPPER hasn't done anything since it compelled me into the forest.

I have no hope of surviving all these Fears. I don't even have a hope against THE HUNGERING alone. My unraveling is inevitable, as far as I know. I've been searching for any hope against THE HUNGERING. Does anyone know how? Does anyone know of any hope? Anyway to escape the unraveling? Anyway to escape THE HUNGERING after my unraveling?

Should I run? Is there any point? Should I just lay on these uncomfortable floorboards and relish the fact I can still feel?

-Shady