11.29.2011

I'm gonna kill ya.

My computer is missing. Gallows, Shady, whoever the fuck else has been in my house, you better pray I don't find out who it is before it's returned. I'll find my shotgun and pull a damn Red Queen on your asses. This stupid cell phone is NOT good enough.

Off with your heads, bitches. Between SOMEONE trying to sneak into my bed every night, Josie learning how not to be such a pushover, and Shady twirling that fucking blue feather when she thinks no one's looking... (cold ass bitch), I'm about ready to say fuck it and start screaming off in the woods like Shady did the night we came home.

Blogger hates me, for the record. None of my posts are showing up when they're supposed to.

I can't even edit my past posts or comment on anyone's shit. I'll have to stick to stalking you all for a while, before I can explain what the fuck's been going on.

Seriously, a shotgun to the face people. You only have to shoot once. ;)

......I want my fucking shit back!

(excerpt from Dia's personal notebook)


No.

No.

No.

No.
Never again.
Please, never again.
They're all dead..

Bye-bye, never again,

never to see your awful

fucking disgusting lies.

See you in my nightmares.

Oh wait, no. Fuck you.

Stay out of those too!

You're worse than any story I could make up.

Fuck your nightmares.

Fuck my fears.

I threw the radio against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. Their voices will fucking stop. I WILL earn my quiet. I will get my peace and happiness back? Fuck this pain, fuck this path. If I have to die with your intentions, so be it. I will not be your pet.

"BE QUIET, YA FUCKIN' BASTARDS! ALL OF YA!"

11.25.2011

Heeey Doctor ;)

Well, my plans have somewhat been foiled. First of all, Free edited out some of our interview that was somewhat necessary to my explanation of Jesters Folly. Second, I still can't edit Jesters at all. I suppose you could say it isn't even my blog anymore. Thieving fucking bitch. Ahem. And the pink elephant in the room, the reason why my posting is so poorly formatted and I'm not explaining what happened at the party?

Well, Advy's party didn't exactly go as planned. I've wound up with extensive burns, a migraine from hell and a minor case of smoke inhalation among some scrapes and other assorted bullshit. I am rather sullenly posting from a shitty cell phone in a fucking hospital gown so no one will freak out and think I died. That's right kiddies my ass got hauled to the hospital again. As far as I know, no one died at all. But... well, you'll have to see for yourselves. My posts are going to wait until I can get my thoughts together and out of this hellhole. Sorry I let you guys down.

I'll try and bitch my way out of here as fast as I can. The only upside to being here is that I can hit on all the doctors I see, and they can't say anything. They think I'm delirious from the drugs and the smoke inhalation.

For those that have come after the fact, here is what happened at Advy's party:


I showed up about fifteen minutes early. Key in hand, I was looking over my shoulder and rather fervently hoping to myself I wouldn't encounter anyone in the search for my door. It was fairly easy to find, opening to what I can only describe as the 'stalker room.' Tv screens covered every wall, each playing some fucked up video detailing a private moment from people's lives. (A good deal of these were of Shady. Unsurprising, eh?) A laughtrack was playing in the background, as if there were a hidden live audience laughing at all the worst moments. Thrown in among the videos of Shady's and the rest of the guests were "live" videos of the Advocate torturing and killing people. One that struck me as terrible at the time was of Advy dressed as a stage magician. With a sick of sense apprehension, I watched as he made a big to do of shoving a girl into a large box with holes at each end for her feet and head.

He brandished a large steel saw, winked at the camera, and began to saw through the box. there were gasps and groans and screams of revulsion as the saw began to slice through the girl's body. Blood began to pour out the cracks of the box and pool around his feet. The audience beganto stand and act as if they were about to bolt. He held up one hand and smiled, then flipped the top off of the box. Inside were the two halves of the dead girl's body, slashed and torn, her legs laying seperately from the rest. As I watched in horror at this video and the many others covering the walls, the laughtrack began to grow louder and change in pitch. I snapped out of my trance as it reached a crescendo, sounding like so many screaming voices. The tv screens began to fade to black one by one until they were all blank. the door to my side unlocked and swung open with a bang. I muttered to myself, "Okay, okay, damn! I get the hint.." Through the door I went, ears ringing and a sense of unease beginning to pervade my mind.

I was greeted by yet another chorus of screaming souls. This time... it was much worse. Inside was a room packed with cages occupied by naked, screaming lunatics. All malnourished and filthy, they turned at the sound of my entrance, and as one seemed to reach through the bars towards me. Whether they thought I was their savior or simply food, I had no idea. The continuous screaming from one room to the next made it so freaking hard to concentrate through the din. When I felt at my wit's end, I finally managed to hear a female's voice calling my name... I turned to see a dark haired woman, limping in my direction. Something clicked immediately at the sight of her. "Shady, thank god. Is that you? Where is the Advocate?" I moved to walk towards her, but flinched back as a particularly long arm tried to grab my hand.

The cages seemed to be built around the victims, but the thought of being grabbed, bitten or strangled by one of them wasn't an especially appealing idea. Shady in turn smacked away a hand that got too close for comfort, and replied. "Advocate? Probably getting off to his guests wandering around his maze." She shrugged and ran her eyes over me, asking if I was alright. I laughed and gestured around the room, implicating the ghouls around us as I did so. "As alright as I can be in the situation. I have an idea. Let's get out of here. The last room I stayed in too long 'punished' me. I don't want to see what this room's punishment would be." She nodded after a moment and agreed. She suggested we leave and simply go see what came next. She lead the way through the closest door, limping still as she did so.

I followed her through into pitch darkness. I groped around for a light switch, but I froze in my search to squint a little into the gloom as a cigarette tip flared to life in front of us. It threw an orange glow around it, illuminating a man peering at us malevolently, his mask pulled up slightly to allow for the cigarette between his lips. Shady muttered his name under her breath, the warning obvious. "Ferus." He began to speak, his voice cracking and hissing as he did so. "Ladies. Nice to see you. especially you, Dia. It's always fun to meet someone on the List for the first time." Shady and I glance at each other at this, and he snaps at me for it."Don't look at her. Look at me. The fun thing is, you're the first person to have truly brought this upon yourself. Everyone else is an innocent bystander, but you, you pushed until something snapped. Which is quite hard for somebody as thoroughly snapped as I."

"I would go on about a variety of things: the relative nature of self appraisal, the chaotic forces beyond what we can see that drive us in ways no one can understand, the little things that bring us to the places we go... But that would be silly, because I'm no philosopher." A machete appears from nowhere is raised up high as he speaks. "I'm a killer." The machete sliced down and left us in darkness. There was some muttered cursing here, and I could hear Shady telling me to just go through the first door I could find. I have to admit, I was terrified to even be in the same room as Ferus. Meeting someone that wants to kill you in person is much different than a stranger you know next to nothing about. That physical presence he carried with him... it was the stuff of nightmares. I would have been grateful to be back in one of my 'dreams' in comparison.

I walked into what must have been a mistake on Advy's part after that. There was a room full of birds and what seemed to be a few trees. I looked around suspiciously, and noticed a serpent at the room's floor. It was slithering around, with a few random bulges in its body. I soon knew why. The serpent opened its jaws wide and snapped one of the birds in half, coming over to eat its meal directly in front of me. One of its coils overlaps my foot, and I froze. I am deathly, deathly afraid of anything serpentine, and this had to be a sick joke on someone's part. I wonder who! It looked into my eyes and began to swallow. It remained like this for a few minutes, my sweating bullets and looking into this oddly malicious snake, when it finally slid off into the brush. I was grateful for the chance to escape at that point.

I ran through the door to the right and walked into a room with a very big hole, smack dab in the middle. I looked at it with some confusion, and began to tiptoe around it warily. After the last few rooms, I wasn't exactly keen on spending too much time in there. Down in the hole, I could see a small child whimpering pitifully and crying out for help. I was instantly angered, and looked around the room for anything that might help. On the wall was a timer counting down what looked like 5 minutes. I (stupidly) panicked. I went to peer down in to the hole and try to re-assure the child. To my surprise, I felt a shove from behind, and fell in to see no one there. I looked up to see the same child smiling at me. He tossed a rope down at my feet and walked off, whistling and acting nonchalant as could be.

I grabbed onto the rope and started to climb, irritated with myself for falling for such an obvious trap. Or "into", as the case may be. Of course the fucking rope had tiny thorns woven into it. I very seriously began plotting the Advocate's demise at this point. I admit it. I was not a very kind person as I was hauling my ass over the top of that fucking hole. After I stood up and looked around, I noticed a messaged had replaced the timer. "Appearances are deceiving." No fucking shit, Advy, thanks for the moral lesson here, you fucking douchecanoe. I wound up sitting down at the edge of the hole, looking down and trying to calm down over Advy's latest attempt at a morality lesson. Seriously, the fucking jackass should have had his ears burning by that point, from all the awful and deliciously painful things I was imagining happening to him by then.

"Oh yea. Punish me now for sitting down and picking the thorns out of my hands!" The room was completely silent, so apparently the Advocate either didn't care or was preoccupied with his other victi- I mean, guests. Maybe just maybe he was wise enough to keep his fucking punishments to himself for once. I finally stood and walked through the next door, somewhat confident I had removed all the thorns from my hands before I grasped the door handle. It opened, and my first thought was "Oh fuck." I had wandered my way into a room filled with these... defiled, fucked up mannequins. I had a terrible experience while playing the Silent Hill games when I was younger, and these mannequins looked disturbingly like the nurses in the hallway leading to the little girl's lair. Oh, just fucking peachy, yea? Foreshadowing. Again. Douchecanoe.

There were candles scattered across the room's floor, casting shadows accross the mannequins' bodies. Their faces looked alive, and tormented. I turned slowly in one spot, trying to find the doorway out before I actually had to pass the mannequins. Stupid, irrational fear of oversized dolls. A light flickered off in a corner, and it cast shadows over a face dramatically different from the rest. It was alive, and watching me move around, it's eye glinting at me in amusement. The face was directly next to me, and I... well, I did what I'd done a few times already. I panicked. I took the pocketknife I had from my pocket, and stabbed at the figure. I connected with a disgusting, squishy sound into his side. I let the blade leave my hands. He began to cackle and walked me forward backward. He wrapped his hand around the blade itself, and yanked it out without a flinch. "Dia, in the flesh, I see." He paused then to rake his eyes over my body, pausing at my face once he was finished. "I like this a lot better than text."

I shrank back into the wall behind me, pressing myself against it in a desperate attempt to put space between us. I returned his appraisal, stopping to take notice of the skeleton hoodie and pitch black clothing he was wearing. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to silently pray I would make it out of this encounter. there was no consuming darkness to protect me this time. I murmured out loud, almost to myself, "Hello, Gallows. It's, um, nice to see you at last." Gallows tossed the knife over his shoulder, barely missing Graves. She moved off to his side, watching the two of us. He slammed his hands against the wall, close enough to my sides I swore I could feel them without his touching me. He began to drum his fingers against the wall's surface, making my skin  crawl from the vibrations.

"Ya haven't been round much, girlie. That's ok, though. We're gonna get all caught up." I cleared my throat and opened my eyes to look into his. They were searching, staring at me intently, as though he were memorizing who I was. I hesitantly turned my gaze from his, and moved to put my hand over one of his. "Creevey's been taking all your time lately, Gallows. I've been.." I paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "...worried about you." He glanced down for a moment before looking back up at me, studying my features once more. "Is that so?" He drawled, his head cocking slightly to one side. He remained silent for a few long seconds before he turned his hand over in my grasp and holding it briefly.

His eyes narrowed in amusement as he pinned my arm to the wall. "Why?" He inquired merrily. I squirmed as a flash of heat darted through me, my eyes shifting back to his. "Because I wanted to. After the incident at the warehouse, I stopped thinking you were invincible. And that, well, that scared me." I closed my eyes once more after this, tilting my head to the side and squirming again in his grasp. It was ridiculously hard to keep this man's gaze, especially in the situation in which we found ourselves. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Hell, for a moment, it was hard to breathe under the pressure of the question he had asked me. "Because ya want me to live?" Gallows questioned with a light chuckle. He leaned into my body, the face of his mask burrowing against my exposed neck, resting at the crook for a moment and breathing in in obvious pleasure.

"Would ya miss me, Dia? Would ya cry and squirm..." He whispered, as his free hand slid down the wall to my hip. "Like you are now?" He chuckled, pulling back his hand, his hand running up my side until it reached my throat, pulling my attention back onto him, He forced me to meet his gaze. The feeling of his mask scrapping against my neck made me shudder, the hand trailing up and down my side made me shudder violently. But the hand on my throat? That convinced me to look at him, finally. Fucking intimidating bastard. It felt like the world had stopped spinning as long as his eyes were on me. My confidence grew, and I whispered back harshly, "Yes, I would miss you. and you know I would." Graves backed to blend with the mannequins, holding both his and her weapons. I assume now this was to give us some 'privacy.'

Gallows giggled to himself, as if it were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Ya want me to live!" He pulled me forward by my throat, head cocking further to the side. His gaze traveled over all of me that he could see, an eerie imitation of his first look-see in this same room. His eyes gleamed and he grinned widely, almost as if to express his unseen face. Gallows leaned in closer to my face, a mere inch apart. "You liiiiiiiiiiiike me~ ya squirm, I FEEL your heat from here." He hissed, "I can touch you now, Dia. I can rip and tear, listen to you scream, and pant, and cry my name." His hand tightened around my throat then, though not quite enough to cut off my air supply. My vision danced at this, and I began to see an odd aura surrounding him. The colors swirled and danced around him as if he were constantly moving, but the most overwhelming thing was how dark and oppressing it was. Like the devil himself had come to stand in front of me, and I could see him at last for who he was. It was not a pleasant revelation at the time, being held by the throat as bruises formed.

I leaned forward, his hand tightening further on my throat as I did so, my arm straining at the awkward angle as I moved. "Sure you could, Gallows. But... we have a party to attend. I'm sure you wouldn't want to ruin your fun by rushing it in a place like this. Not when you could come hide with me any time you please after this. Josie needs a safe place to stay, no? I made a promise. Unfortunately, that involved you and Graves." I knew full fucking well at this that Josie had already decided to stay with Shady, and that the prospect of coming to stay with me excited him. Dangle a carrot in front of his face, and possibly, maybe, he would be distracted enough to give me enough room to breathe. I grinned, elated that I had been able to counter his words and hoping rather fervently that it would work in my favor. The finger digging into my neck barely registered in my excitement to get away from him, away from the situation I had found myself in.

Gallows pressed his forehead against mine and chuckled softly, "I".. he took in a deep breath and released it slowly, his body straightening and easing up. "am going to listen to you scream in every pitch humanly possible." He finally let me go, letting me stumble forward from the loss of support as he walked over to Graves, taking back his farming scythe. His sickle looped on his belt. "But you're right, we have a party to attend to." He swung the scythe over his shoulder, much like Graves. His hand motioned for me to venture forward, beckoning like the devil he was, was about to close a deal, his scythe glistening menacingly under the candlelight. I smiled, delighted he had stopped touching me. I made no sound, refusing to confirm or deny his words. I simply walked forward after him. Following the scythe as if I was about to travel the River Styx.

We all entered the next room, Gallows last, shutting the door behind all three of us. The heat of the room was immediately noticed. The room was a warm, tinted red room. "Ho ho ho~ are we gonna get cooked like 'em turkeys?" He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to us at this point. He began wandering around the room with his arms spread out, reveling in the heat and, more likely, the insanity of being cooked alive. The scythe began spinning, dangerously close to Graves and I. I flinched back from both the scythe and the heat, my elated mood rapidly disappearing. Between the external heat and the flush I still had from Gallows' threats, it felt like I had been in the room for minutes, rather than seconds. Graves moved behind us to check the door we came through, only to find it locked. There was little noise as she checked the other doors, to the same result. Gallows and Graves looked at each other and communicated silently as the temperature began to rise steadily.

Gallows reached up to the base of his skull, grasping the zipper and pulling it down over the front of him. The hood split open, but curved around and over his face, hiding it within the darkness for the most part. His grin poked from the gloom at certain angles. He unzipped the jacket down to the top of his hips, parted, it was still closed over the end. His skeleton-like hand rubbed his abs absently, tapping when a thought came to mind. Looking straight at me, he let his arm drop back to his side and grinned widely, teeth on the sharper side of shark shining through the darkness. "Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a bit, Dia." I gaped for a moment, shocked and rather irritated by the unexpected news. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me! I finally convince you to go further on, and leave me alone, and what happens? We wind up locked in a boiling ass room together. That's it. Advy's officially on my shit list. I wanna kill him!" I muttered to myself for a few more minutes, trying to distract myself from the sight of his exposed skin.

The sight of his abs, combined with the still wet blood and sweat running down... yea, it was rather obvious that worked WONDERFULLY, so I finally stopped perving long enough to start stripping. Off went my socks and shoes, and I began to roll up my pants legs. I eyed my tank top warily, in deep thought as to the wisdom of my possible next acton. It was hot as fuck in there, but stripping down completely in present company would have been... unwise. I decide against it, and begin to fan myself lightly, trying my best to stare anywhere but at the man across from me. Gallows spun, twirling the farming scythe around his side and above him, his laughter echoing mockingly across the room. "Ya didn't convince me, girlie. All ya did was state the truth. I'd have more time with ya at your place than I would here." He stopped and looked at Graves who was absently fanning herself with her hat, the flat look in her unblinking eyes staring back at us both.

He shrugged in my direction, loosely pointing at me. "Y'know, in a minute, that top ain't gonna matter cause I'll be able to see EVERYTHING." He hopped from one foot to the other a moment, giggling hysterically before stopping almost immediately. "I like Advocate. He makes good things happen to bad people." I muffled a scream. "Yea well, fuck Advy. And ya know what? Fuck you too, for that matter." I spun on one heel to face the opposite direction, crossing my arms in front of me and sitting down Indian style. I thought maybe, just maybe if I ignored him for a while, there would be a chance to get out of there unscathed. In hindsight, of course I was wrong. It's never, ever a good idea to turn your back on someone that has told you he would like to kill you slowly simply for the asthetic pleasure of it.

Gallows edged up behind me, plotting himself directly in the path behind me so that I wouldn't notice him. His scythe came around my stomach, the inward curve following the line of skin just above my hips as it rested in my lap. His hand was firmly on the weapon as he drew it back a fraction, digging the blade into my flesh enough to make an indent, not quite enough to cut me open. Yet. It was an obvious reminder to watch myself. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He purred from behind me, the blade of his scythe moving my shirt upwards. An inch before my ribs, he pulled on the scythe again, leaving it to rest against my bare flesh. "Ya know what I'd like?" He asked, grinning next to my ear. "To just cut you in half and watch what fell out. Fell how heavy your heart weighs in my hands." He sighed at the thought. "But that's too quick compared to the other things I have in mind. " I cringed as he spoke into my ear. I spoke to him quickly after that, my voice cracking and probably wavering on the edge of tears.

"You talk big, but you know the rules as well as I do. If you kill me here, your life is forfeit. And besides..." I turned towards him and spoke in a stage whisper, eyeing him over my shoulder, more than a little aware of the irony of the situation. "You could do that to anyone. It would also be rather boring and unimaginative of you compared to your past work. Are you trying to disappoint me?" I turned my gaze back to my lap, absentmindedly tracing the line the scythe pressed into my skin. He grinned, leaning his forehead against the back of my shoulder. His eyes gleamed as he considered murdering me, shuddering violently against me as he fought the urge. I thought for a moment he was actually going to do so. He laughed quietly, giggling now and then as I spoke. Taking a few deep breaths, he spoke, chuckling between words. "If I cared about what you, or anyone thought, I wouldn't slaughter people so quickly, so easily. I'm not a serial killer, girlie."

He spoke, his Southern tone light, but as serious as I've ever heard him speak. "I don't got no one to impress and don't care to impress anyone. No messages to leave. I kill for me." Gallows tilted the scythe, brushing it against my thigh. "I never said I was gonna kill ya presently. Just said I wanted to. I've been patient until now, I can wait until we're outta here to watch you writhe." I shivered and leaned back slightly, debating on how much I should tell him. "I like living. You have nothing to prove to me. I simply hope at the end of this mess I still will be. Since you aren't killing me now, is it really necessary to touch me?" I was zoning out and staring at the scythe as I spoke, almost speaking to myself than to Gallows. He leaned back, his head tilting to one side lazily. "Not particularly necessary, but ya aren't exactly bitching off in my ear about it." He mused.

Off in the distance, I could hear Graves checking the door handle once more. Gallows looked to her momentarily before he looked back to me. "Y'know, Dia. Ya should stop telling yourself poor people around ya those little lies." He said, the scythe around me disappearing as he pulled himself up. Giving a stretch, he walked to the middle of the room and gave a lazy spring on the hell of his shoe. "You and your friends, so many lies ya'all tell yourselves." I speak softly in his direction, getting ready to stand and follow him out. "No idea what you're talking about, love. Are we able to leave now?" Gallows sighed lightly, as if he were disregarding what I had just said. I found out otherwise when he reached around me and grabbed my throat. He hauled me to my feet and spun me around, then slammed me back into the wall. This was beginning to be a pattern, and my back was starting to ache from the repeated abuse.

His scythe leered down, tip sticking below the top of my tank top and meeting flesh. "You're a liar, girlie. Lying to me, even to Graves over there, Advocate who is listening, all your readers, all your FRIENDS, most importantly, yourself." The scythe began to cut into my skin, right above my heart. It wasn't deep enough to do serious damage, but it did plenty to make me bleed. "You. Are. A. Liar." He smirked, his head shaking in disappointment. He motioned to Graves to check the door, and as she did it opened. "You keep telling yourself those lies, girlie." He mused to himself, leading ahead. Graves paused to look back at me and held the door open for me to follow through. Once I was close enough to hold the door myself, she moved on to follow Gallows. "Graves!" He called, not looking back. "We get to see Ferus again!" He sang, zipping up his jacket once more.  "Indeed. You must be happy." Graves replied, her voice emotionless and low.

Looking over to me, she forced eye contact. "Though, I cannot say everyone is happy he is either. Some would be wise to stay away." The suggestion was subtle, but nonetheless there. Graves knew firsthand Ferus's ways from their past. Gallows, ahead of us, merely cackled. "I hope not, I want to see some trouble!" I rolled my eyes, and paid attention to the room we had come to. It looked like a creepy imitation of a disco club, complete with pulsing lights shifting through all the colors of the rainbow below our feet. This "central room" was apparently where the party was to actually take place. It was... gruesome. It looked like the Nightmare Before Christmas had a love child with the entertaining hall of Hannibal Lector. In the very center stood the cake. The "cake" was made of dead and rotting bodies, arranged in crude poses for the "entertainment" of the guests. "Damn Advy, the cake is not a lie, but couldn't you have splurged on some fucking cake mix? Nasty ass bastard." I continued to mutter to myself for a few minutes. Advy.. was annoying me by that point. It seemed like a whole lot of lead-up to come out on the other side to a sickly themed gathering with... what reason? To fuck with us? There had to be more, and I didn't even care at that point.

Tables of nauseating food littered the sides of the room, and what looked like gruesome depictions of Hangman and Russian Roulette were going on in the back. Gallows popped back up at my side, two cups of drink in his hands. He wordlessly handed me one and turned his attention to Graves and began speaking under his breath with her, glancing at me occasionally. I drank, and went to find Shady once more. I was curious to see where Josie was as well. If Gallows and Ferus had fucked with me as hard as they had, I was, admittedly, worried to see whether they had broken the rules or not. I spotted a few dubious characters standing around, looking uncomfortable and scared. It was apparent we all were here for less than happy reasons. Advocate began to speak, and said something about a timer and... balloons?

Everything was a little bit fuzzy from there. I remember Gallows dragging me around the room, and a panic ensuing about fifteen minutes later. A fire broke out, and I could smell propane. I tried to stumble my way out, but at that point I was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. I realized that Gallows had slipped me something, and turned to accuse him. I watched him waggle his fingers and disappear out a door with Graves in tow. I fell to my knees, desperate enough to begin crawling. I looked up to see Ferus laughing and staring at me. "Really, you're ready to burn here? Dia, the world is burning. You've only just started smelling the smoke." He grabbed me by the arm and began to drag me through the wreckage the other guests had left in their herding out the door.

He started to fucking run, giving less than a fuck about whether he dragged me through needles, glass, or fire. From that point on, I have no memory. I've been told I crawled to the car and hid until Shady came and 'rescued' me, and took my keys. I don't know. the next thing I saw was the ceiling to the hospital room I wound up waking up in. Next post, I'll explain what's happened since. I think I hear someone screaming?

11.16.2011

Interviewing the Messenger

Before I show you all the transcript of Messi's interview, I have a few things to say. First of all, he's nearly as infuriating to interview as my former 'victims' have been, including Peter. I'll go ahead and admit that I used the oppurtunity to perv on yet another proxy, and I have no qualms saying so. With all of that mentioned, I'd also like to say that you have to read between the lines... quite a bit to salvage the purpose of this interview. I got what I wanted, and I know what I need to for the next step in my.. -ahem- work. Go ahead and have fun with this guys, I have some things I have to do.

Messi: All right, I'm here. Happy now?

Me: A little. It depends on what you have to say. Not to mention that I expected more of a fight. I live with people who legitimately belong in an asylum. I have more fights than I know what to do with. I just want to get this over with so you stop fucking nagging me about it. Fine, fine, jeez. You ought to treat your fangirls better, you might get better reviews, love.
How's your finger? For that matter, how's the situation with Screwtape?

Messi: Fuck you is how it is. Yes, I'm still bitter about the whole "shipping" thing.

Me: Aww, now see, there's that fighting spirit. I was asking seriously, for the record. Why so bitter? I was at least nice and shipped you with myself, all the others shipped you in some kind of gangbang or kinky homosexual relationship.

Messi: Oh, yes. I suppose I should thank you for being very slightly saner than everyone else. But the finger's healing. Slowly. And I haven't seen Screwtape since. We don't interact that often.

Me: That's why I suggested Skype to begin with, so you wouldn't have to type so damn much. Would it kill you to be nice about it? As for Screwtape.. I'd have thought he'd be shoved right where the sun didn't shine, trying to preach or show you the error of your ways. Would it kill you to be nice about it?

Messi: How considerate. I'm so grateful.

Me: This is eerily similar to the irritation I got from Kk. -sigh- He hasn't contacted you since the incident about Eternity?

Messi: Nope. Sort of been lying low. I have, not him. He's just been working.

Me: Sorry homicidal bastard ought to take a bullet between the eyes. -ahem- Alright... have you heard from Poe? Any idea what she's up to these days? Last I heard, she was still struggling with the former Hallowed situation. I don't think that situation is something she's ever going to stop struggling with.


Messi: Apart from that, it seems like she's okay. She's just been kind of distant. Pretty sure I mentioned that in my last post. Like I did with the finger and Screwtape situation. I mean, if you're just going to ask things I've already answered, I don't really think I have time for this.

Me: I just barely had the chance to read your post before I posted mine, forgive me for not paying attention to your being an asshole AGAIN. So I'll tell ya what, let's do it a different way this time. I'll sit back and perv on your voice for a while. You, you'll tell me YOUR side of the story. You'll get the chance to tell me what you want people to know. You get the chance to say whatever you want this time, and I'll ask questions as we go. Is that good enough for you, your Highness Messi?

Messi: You know, most people decide to either bitch at someone or hit on them. Y'know, one or the other. Do you have issues you'd like to discuss?

Me: I like to do both. I hope you don't mind, I'm a bitch and a perv and damn, I can walk and chew bubble gum at the same time too! I'd like to hear about your feelings about Eternity, and your feelings towards Poe (don't lie, I'll know), and hell... if you still really even like your job anymore. Plus, whatever you'd like to talk about.


Messi: ...all right, then. Let's see here. Gimme a sec.

Me: I'll wait, then.

Messi: Eternity...is a prick. He's conceited, self-absorbed, and worst of all, he knows that he's completely untouchable. Don't know if he's lying or not. No reason to suspect he is, but Poe and Screwtape both seem convinced he's exaggerating. As for what it means for me...I don't know. I'm not about to take a chance and jump ship just yet.

Me: He sounds a touch like you, minus the untouchable part. I believe you're still mortal, eh? Do you think Poe and Screwtape know something you don't?

Messi: They know plenty of things I don't. They've been around a lot longer.

Me: -sigh- Have you tried ASKING them why they're so convinced, or have you just been doing the lone wolf schtick and not bothering?

Messi: Laying low. Not playing lone wolf. There's a difference.

Me: So I'll take that as a no, then. Alright, go on. It's your story you're telling right now, after all.

Messi: That was it, really. Thoughts on Eternity...um...you wanted thoughts on my job, right?

Me: On your job, on your relationship with Poe, on whether you'll be alive a year from now, how your brother's doing... you know. The usual.

Messi: My job is about the same as it has been. Long, grueling process. Have to try a lot of different methods for a lot of different blogs. And hey, it it's keeping my brother safe, I'll keep doing it.My brother's fine. He and his friends are working on one of those vlogs. They're working on recording it now, but they don't plan on posting it until its done. He's showed me a few clips. Seems okay. Pretty obviously fake, though.

Me: Sounds like about as much of a pain in the ass as my job is, to be honest. I hate to say this... but I'm personally just waiting for someone to feel offended, betrayed, or whatever and hurt him. What would you do if that happened, love?

Messi: I...really haven't thought about that.

Me: You're serious? Out of all the people that will or do want to kill you, you haven't thought of what will happen if you lose your brother? Isn't he the only reason you got into this mess to begin with?

Messi: Look. Even if I had thought it over, what sort of answer do you expect from me? You want to know if I'll "flip" or something?

Me: What you would do? Would you kill, would you have some revenge, would you stop working for the Slender man, would you even care? What drives you day to day besides out of protection over your brother? I have my reasons, of course, but I want to know what YOURS are, and I suppose... I want to know what you haven't already told us so far.

Messi: I'm caught in the middle of a gang war here, and both sides have their eyes on me. Do you honestly think I'm going to say "oh, yeah, I'm totally going on the run" when the people I'm supposed to be loyal to are right here? Do you think I'm going to say "nope, staying put" when I've got a whole bunch of runners who want my head for selling out?

Me: -sigh- Messi, love, I care more about the reasons why more than I do about the answers themselves. I want to know what you haven't written. I want to know something personal, something that isn't just your being an asshole so I'll shut up and go away. I've dealt with too many thickheaded people to leave it at the 2-D answers. Just give me something, Messi.

Messi: What, to sell myself out to one side or another? You're trying to play grey yourself. You should understand why I can't say anything.

Me: No! Oh for fuck's sake, you're deliberately being obtuse now.

Messi: Except you can't, because you don't have people installing cameras in your aparment. It's not a matter of being vague to be obtuse, it's a matter of being vague for my own sake. Do you know how hard it is to walk this line? To constantly have people mistrusting you? Not knowing how much of what you're doing is real and how much is a lie?

Me: Oh, no, of course not. I only have some fucktwit following me, sending me pictures I'm in that I have absolutely no memory of, and I'm in a damn near constant walking nightmare. Okay? I have no idea which side I ought to be on, nor do I want to choose either!  I'll wind up dead either way, so why don't you do me a favor and work with me a little?! I DO get it. I do. I want to hear about you and what YOU have to say. If you don't have anything else to say or ask or answer, then say so and I'll be done trying to be nice to you!

Messi: Heh. Looks like we've got more in common than I thought, huh? You can understand, though, can't you? Why I'm hesitant to say anything where the whole world can see it?

Me: Of course I can. You're one of the few that made me feel like I could be a Grey hat to begin with. I don't want to see you sell yourself out. That is the opposite of what I'm looking for. I want to know about
Messi, about what drives you. It's supposed to be impossible to be in the middle, to keep your mouth shut and hope you don't die in your sleep.

I have no clue if what I'm doing is right, or even if it's real, or I'm just dreaming all of this and I'll wake up in an asylum in the morning. I understand, sweetheart... just give me SOMETHING to work with. For all I care, you can ask about me. But I worked too damn hard to give up on an interview I've been asking for for months without at least trying my best at it!

Messi: You want something? All right, I'll give you something. Listen to what I've said. You hear all that? I'm not doing nearly as well as I say I am. I have not had good sleep for months, because of all the fucking nightmares. I don't know how much of what I'm doing is real, and how much is a lie. And it's not even The Boss that's doing all this. I've seen him maybe five times. It's all the stress of working with fucking psychos. It's not knowing if I'm making the right choice.

Me: Then you are right. We truly do have more in common than we should. My question is... what are you going to do about it?

Messi: And the one person I can trust isn't even the person she used to be anymore. Stick it out, I guess. You're asking me about a hypothetical situation that I can't honestly answer at this point.

Me: Poe?

Messi: No, the knife-crazy teen who thinks her life is an anime is the one I can trust. Of course it's Poe.

Me: If it were Nee-chan, then I truly would be worrying for your mental health. I suppose... let me know when you can answer that 'hypothetical question' of mine. Was there anything else you'd like to say at this point?

Messi: Anything else you'd like to ask at this point?

Me: The best I can ask is.. would you at least try to stop being so fucking prickly? You'd have more allies than you think if you'd stop that defense mechanism bullshit.

Messi: Probably a bad idea. Getting close to my co-workers is something I'd prefer to do, and making friends with runners is probably a bad idea. Besides, they're all hypocrites anyway. Why would I want to make friends with them?

Me: You make me want to facedesk. repeatedly. What about myself? Am I really that terrible of an idea you can't even consider it? Also, for the record, I AM a hypocrite, and at least I'll admit it. It doesn't mean I wouldn't be willing to help you if you needed it.

Messi: You...interest me. That's about as close as I'll get to any of you people, and it's still a bit too close. Schrodinger interested me, and all that solved was that the fact that I hadn't cried like a bitch while writing any reports.

Me: -laughs- I'll have to settle, then. My latest post has been edited, and the 'interview' of ours should be up as soon as I'm finished being lazy and feel like transcribing this.

Messi: Anything else you wanted to ask me?

Me: Unless you're willing to say anything more that would be off the record, that should be it.

Messi: All right. Then I've got a question for you.

Me: Sure, whatever'll make ya happy, Messi.

Messi: How are you still "grey" after the whole David incident?

Me: Because the whole David incident isn't the only painful event in my life, nor is it my only experience with people that could destroy me or my beliefs. I'm certainly not changing who I am because one fucktarded proxy with a switchblade got a hold of me, though I certainly have a few scars from it.

Messi: Hmm. Well. I probably would have made my choice after that, if it were me.

Me: It's incredibly easy for me to care for people, no matter the side they are on. We all have something we're fighting for, or protecting, whether it's ourselves, our survival, our pleasure, or the people we love. I can't bring myself to blame anyone for that. The incident did however teach me to be a little more careful, and maybe a little less naive about the nature of people.

Messi: Well, that's all I had to ask.

Me: ...alright then. I suppose that's it, Messi. Arrivederci?

Messi: Yeah, what the hell ever. We done here?

Me: -cursing- You're still such a fucking jackass, no matter what, eh? Yes. We're done here, thank fucking god.

And thus, he hung up on me. I proceeded to rant and curse, and I'm considering giving up the interviewing schtick. I'm simply not in the mood to piss off any more people on the Darker side of things. Maybe if I interviewed someone that has a little more sunshine in their life? Eh, fuck it. New post up soon.

11.14.2011

Next lesson for the class.

What really frightens you? Are we all actually afraid? We've been fighting a battle against the proxies, thinking that will change something. It hasn't changed anything in the end. The fighting, I mean. We have a distraction from our nightmares, and it seems like we've forgotten our priorities. Our dead are still in their graves, and our living have been given false hope. It seems as though we have stopped our battle to actually defeat the Slenderman. What happened to the vaccine research, the experiments, the guinea pigs, the funding? Did we give up the first time we realized it hadn't worked? Did our fallen heroes really take away that much of our driving passion, our ability to look beyond defeat and realize... we still have so much potential left untapped? I believe so. I believe for all our talk of hope, and fighting, we changed our focus to things we thought we could fight and kill on a mass-scale. This is not what the war is about, people. These are merely the battles we're using to distract ourselves from the fear at the back of our minds.


Even if we figure out an individual form of defeating Them, it would be better than the guerilla warfare we've been locked into for months now. There are victims that have been abandoned, victims that for whatever reason the Fears have lost interest in. Why? What caused this? Is the reason some of our friends and comrades have stopped posting is, instead of death, they lost the Compulsion to write? Perhaps they stopped being stalked and tormented, perhaps they managed to lose the Fears that were chasing them into the night and into the traps that lay for them? Is this probable? No, it is merely possible. How many of them have wound up in insane asylums and have dropped from our sight? Probably too many to truthfully count. Is this technically an escape from them? Would being insane be better than dead? I have another question for you all, that I wonder if it has been posed in the past. Who the hell knows, I'll simply mention it again.


What if there is something wrong with us? Maybe, just maybe, something in our genetic coding makes us vulnerable to them. I've heard theories that there is something that makes the rest of the populace immune, which may very well be true. But I believe something in our minds, our lives, or our somethings draws them to us. Something makes us desirable to them, makes them want us for their own. To covet is a common emotion, no? What if we are a threat to them somehow? Could something about us, inside us, WHATEVER it may be actually scare THEM? Think about it. What possible reason would they have to choose us over the others, to want to kill and torture and maim us? Why would they even need, or want for that matter, to have proxies do the job for them when they could so easily kills us? I believe they are distractions. Distractions, distractions, distractions, what are we being distracted from? Something right in front of our face. Something that would completely change the war if we knew it.


Problem is, we don't. We are as blind to it as we are to our continuing evolvement and true potential. We step over whatever this 'truth' is like it's a mere decoration, or doesn't even exist. We're as foolish as the humans stuck in the Matrix, if you want a movie reference to help understand. Do we even WANT to know what's lying on the other side? To know what these Fears know, to know what the ultimate battle is really about... well, whatever it is, it's heavy knowledge. Obviously it's something they don't trust us with. Now, I have a question for you all: Who's willing to stop and look up at the sky again? Who's willing to live, and stop being distracted by the proxies and running from what we've been fooled into thinking is the real threat?


Now that I have a few of you hoping to look to the sky, I have a specific request. A demand, if you will. A proxy we all know and well, tolerate, recently came into contact with a greater truth. He looked past the current events and his boss, and dared to ask questions when he really should have shut the fuck up. He learned of just one of the possible 'truths' that are still out there for us to realize. Who am I talking about? It should be obvious by now. Messi, The Messenger, the one that nearly had to be forcibly dragged into a minor conspiracy involving the area he's stationed in. My demand is: I want a fucking interview with this proxy. I want it now, I want it soon, and goddamn it he isn't dodging the fucking thing anymore.


I've been asking for the damn thing casually for months, thinking it would be a laugh to interview the interviewer. To get the hacker to tell his side. Well, now, to me it's finally a freaking important big ass deal. There has to be shit he hasn't written down, more reasons to why he's 'hiding', and why Screwtape wants to shut him the hell up. Why do I care? Well, for one, I don't discriminate as heavily between proxies and runners as I once did. And now, well... as much information as I can possibly get right now, I want it. I want to know more about Eternity, I want to know where the fuck Poe has been, and I want to know so much more. Why am I mentioning all of this to my followers? Because the fucker's in hiding, and he's hesitantly agreed to give me one. Up until just lately, he's been dodging me every way he knows how. I don't give a damn about a finger splint, I don't care about the reasons. 'Persuade' the man not to change his mind. I've lost patience with asking this time around.


As for the nightmares... I was foolish to mention anything so blatantly detailed as I did before. I'm also afraid someone else has access to my account at this point. There are notes, pictures, entries, and much more lying around that I did not write. I've also been locked out of deleting anything at this point, which I didn't even realize was fucking possible. I'm on edge, I'm nervous, and either someone has been in my home, or something is severely freaking wrong. -sigh- I'll see you on the other side, my loves. Hopefully soon.

Edit: Also, for the record, Messi DOES have a beautiful voice. I think I may have scared him with the perving, but I believe all is well. The 'interview' should be up as soon as I stop being lazy and transcribe the recording I have of it. As for my personal beliefs in this one... I'll have to keep quiet. I'm afraid I'll give something away if I speak too much. At the end of the day, though.. I think there's one less person who wants to kill me in my sleep. I think. What about the rest of you? Would anyone else be willing to be interviewed?

11.12.2011

The Faithful

Not long after I started writing about the Chosen, I woke to a migraine I had never thought possible. I dragged myself out of bed, stumbling my happy ass to the bathroom to make the difficult decision from contacts and glasses. I splashed some water on face, brush my teeth, yadda yadda, and finally looked up in to the mirror to brush my hair. Instead of my glaring face staring back at me, I saw a pale,withdrawn figure with teeth like a shark's smiling at me and waving slowly. I screamed and scrambled backwards, tripping over the rug and falling backwards into the tub behind me.

My tailbone ached like a motherfucker, and I drug myself back to my feet, looking around for the shark boy. No one is there. Everything is perfectly still. In fact, the entire bathroom shows no signs of my embarrassing little incident. I see nothing, and reassure myself to the fact that I've been sleeping too little and working too much. I go on.

I used to write every few days, rarely going four days between each post. After that, I couldn't go two without feeling the compulsion to write more. And more. And more yet. I begin to worry that perhaps I need to take a break, and once more deny any ill feelings I might have had. I begin to have nightmares that feature our friends the Boogeymen, and lose more and more sleep as the days go by. I doodle strange and menacing messages in the empty space of slips of paper that were scattered throughout my home. I start writing, by accident, that I need to run. run. run. run run like you never have before. Remember, please god remember.

I freak out, and begin to reveal my worries, one at a time, to other people that had encountered the scary things that go bump in the night. Their answers were surprisingly few, and vague. Without an actual Fear meeting to encourage these things, my confusion and conflicting emotions were chalked up as over-exposure to the people I was writing about. A vacation was suggested, to which I readily agreed. Certain events at the time made me believe this was the best possible idea, and I took it. Or tried to, rather.

Bad things happened. I became more miserable and withdrawn, manic and depressive alike in the same days. The day I returned from my miserable 'vacation', I found in my mailbox a solitary envelope, postmarked and dated with no return address, addressed to my pen name. I had a minor meltdown, and finally willed myself to open the envelope that scared me so badly. Inside was a polaroid. The picture was of myself embracing a young girl in some odd costume, and the words on the letter were few and oddly familiar. They simply stated "Do you remember yet?" I flip the polaroid over after reading this, and see another phrase written in tiny, cramped writing. "07/14/2011." 

I assume the date on the back was the date it was taken, though this makes little to no sense to me. My birthday was a simple, boring day that I sat at home and celebrated by myself. This was something like a month before I had even encountered any writings of the Slenderman or the Fears, and I began to worry for my sanity. In the picture, we were standing in front of the home I live in now.

What's the point in my telling you this? Well, I'll get to that. Just remember... I told more than a few lies, and was afraid of more Boogeymen than I ever told you. Lonely hearts will poison the best of minds.

11.09.2011

All in All

I've made a few friends
a few enemies
and quite a few mistakes.
I rave about the foolish, and commit the sins I condemn. I see it. I know it. I am a hypocrite.


Officially, always, forever will be. Don't you see it, though? We're all made this way. We're imperfect, horrible, cruel, and are terribly selfish. Even our altruistic moments are caused by our own 'good' emotions, the ones that misfire in our brain and tell us what we're doing is right. All we've been is trained, to be and do and look and think a certain way. It's to be expected. We're only human, yes?


I know all this. I see it every time I look in the mirror. But I ask you all a question, one I wonder if you can answer truthfully, even with yourself. Can you see your own sins? Can you see the pain and the destruction in your own life, and see where the lines blur between right and wrong and what's our fault and isn't?


I'm normally a champion of love, hope and rainbows, even despite my past. But now, I break from the mold, not to cry or emote or really even scold anyone. Not this time. I want to see if what you all see is the truth. I test people on a fairly regular basis, even in ways they don't realize. I ask the questions no one wants to answer, the ones that we aren't comfortable with thinking about. You think you aren't answering, but even with the words you speak and the emotions behind them, you tell on yourself every time you set a pen to paper. Your hearts, your minds, your lies and your beliefs are so obvious once you start writing.


It's a good thing. But why is it we can dance around the truth so easily, but when it comes to biting the bullet and looking at the truth, we fail? Hell, I opened a giant door for the good and the hateful alike to shoot holes in me, and once again a meager few were the ones to answer the call. I'm disappointed, truly. Do you know why? If you can't even tell a person what will wind up killing them, how are you going to prevent your own? For that matter, I don't even care about the deaths anymore. Sometimes our lives can be more painful than the deaths, and it can be such a respite for the weary and battle-hardened. Examine yourselves, what do you see?


After all this, I'm tired of scolding you. I feel like a preacher on a soapbox, trying to keep the believers from the flames. It's just not my job anymore to hold your hand and tell you the mistakes you're making. You obviously see and know where you're going with your lives. If anyone particularly wants the advice I can give, I'll give it. Why parent perfectly grown adults when they neither need nor want the attention? I'm changing the job description. I'm tired of my hands being bitten. I'll always find a way to write, to get across what I believe will happen. Sometimes I'm wrong. Sometimes, I'm horribly right. I've been making more waves than I believe I really ought to anymore. So believe me if you will, reject it if you want. I'm so tired of preaching.


On related news, I've wound up on another list. My big mouth and pride have caused my name to be retroactively added to Ferus' kill list. If anyone's interested in why, I'll tell them, or they can stop being lazy and go look for themselves. The missing bit, I still have if anyone wants to see. Is it an accomplishment to make it on a kill list? Maybe in the Slender World it is, but to me.. it's disappointing, and it's sad. I make remarkably few proxy enemies for all those I converse with, and I have lofty ideals for a girl that can't keep her mouth shut. -sigh- I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Til next time, over and out.