My inventory has changed again. The gun now holds a full clip of 9mm hollowpoint rounds. They look…strange. Possibly modified payloads of some sort. Of special note is the fact that they do not appear to be copper or any other metal. The rounds appear to be made of stone, highly polished and slightly warm. I know this is unusual, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me. In addition, I now have three notebooks and five pens, each in a different color. It seems that I’m supposed to use these items for something. What that is is beyond me, but that…symbol from the charnel house is still in my mind.
Huh. Charnel house…unusual phrase. I don’t know how I know it.
Aside from the noted changes, the rest of my inventory is the same. I am now continuing into the city I saw yesterday. It appears to be closer to the house than anticipated, as I’m almost there after approximately ten minutes of walking. I appear to be walking along a high coastline. The ocean below is grey and seems slightly oily, its waves slow and shallow. The cliff is sheer, dropping approximately four hundred feet to sharp rocks against which the surf beats. The nearest city feature to me is what appears to be a concrete dockyard, with drydock facilities, cargo cranes, and dozens of berths large enough for supertankers. All of this is in an advanced state of decay. Concrete is crumbling, exposed rebar is rusted and flaking. There is graffiti everywhere, much of it the ordinary urban variety. In several places, though, the graffiti appears to be storytelling in nature, a form of concrete tapestry. I am now proceeding into the dockyards. I am attempting to stay near the coastline, as it is the only landmark I have right now.
There is a single ship in its berth here. It is a medium-capacity cargo hauler of the type used to transport semi truck containers. It is in a state of decay matching that of the facility, but it is somehow still afloat despite several visible rust patches which have eaten through the hull. I am not going to explore it at this time, but I am marking it down for further inspection.
(muffled sounds, as of a scuffle. Following section transcribed in dialogue style for clarity)
Me: (alarmed, openly hostile tone. I am pinning the attacker to the ground. Her face is pressed to the concrete, as I am resting my knees on her back with the gun against her skull) WHO ARE YOU?
Her: (babbling, incoherent. She spoke in a terrified, manic tone that held through our entire discussion. She is filthy, pale, and emaciated, seeming more skeleton than human. She has red hair and blue eyes, most likely of Irish descent. I estimate her age at somewhere between 17 and 22.) Nobody nobody nowhere nobody please please I see him I see the man in black the man with death in his caress the man the man-
Me: (confused, still hostile) Shut up! Tell me where I am. Tell me what’s going on!
Her: He brought you he made you he is you you are him you are a mirror he wants you you want him I want you I want to hurt you I want to END THIS SET ME FREE LET ME GO LET ME LEAVE SET ME FREE!!!!!
At this point the woman displayed improbable strength, somehow forcing herself up with enough force to hurl me approximately fifteen feet away. She came after me, growling, running on all fours like an animal. I shot her four times, discovering in the process that the bullets in my gun are in some manner incendiary. Each one exploded into purple flame upon impact, spraying high-velocity stone shards and killing the woman instantly. I dumped her body into the ocean, in case any companions of hers came looking for her. You cannot follow a trail when the first link is missing.
I have found shelter for the night in the crumbling remains of what may have been a small restaurant overlooking the dockyards. I have not observed any change in the lighting of this place yet. There is a slight breeze, but the air still seems stale and flat. For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about what the woman said. Who is the “man in black”? And what does he want from me? How am I a mirror of him? Most people would dismiss the woman’s words as mad ramblings, but I am not one to dismiss any possible lead on why I am here. In any case, I’m starting to feel tired again. Before I go to sleep I’m going to open one of those notebooks and see what happens.