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
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
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
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.
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
Paul [Rescinded],I did so.
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
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:
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 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
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.
"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
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.
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.
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