Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Day 14

Begin recording.

It’s been one week since the confrontation detailed in my last entry. I have yet to leave the house where Sage and his followers had been hiding. This is mostly because my injuries from the car accident haven’t been healed enough to allow travel. I HAVE been exploring this house, though, and have found several things of interest.

First, this house has electrical power. There’s a diesel generator down in the basement. It doesn’t seem to fit the rest of this world, though. It’s too shiny and new, as if it were brought here from somewhere else. The electricity means that all of the house’s appliances work as well. Last night I finally got up the nerve to try my hand at cooking with some of the food in the refrigerator. Spaghetti with marinara sauce has never tasted so good as it did then, slurping noodles off a cracked plate, sitting at a rough-hewn wooden table in this house’s kitchen.

I found one other useful item in my poking around. A working radio, the first one I’ve seen. It’s an old 80s boombox, the kind you’d expect to see some kid carrying on his shoulder. I turned it on and tried the stations. There were a couple of spots where I thought I could hear voices through the static, but I was unable to tune the stereo accurately enough to make out what was being said.

Finally, this house has a working water heater. I’ve become so rank since waking up in that other room that I thought I was starting to ROT. I must’ve spent 3 hours in the shower since finding out about the boiler. It feels better than I would’ve expected to be clean again. I’m currently sitting on a sofa in the main room, floor lamps casting a muted, comforting yellow glow across the pages of the book in my lap. I’m finally reading this book of stories from my pack. They’re interesting, really, and I see why Martin was giving them as a warning to Dresden. The moral of each seems to be that people will live or die based on their own decisions and morals, and that if you stray too far to the amoral side of things the universe will come after you with a vengeance.

I keep wondering something. Why does it seem like I’m the only sane person here? Every other person I’ve met is irrational, unpredictable, more animal than human. Why am I different? For that matter, why am I here at all? I keep coming back to the girl at the docks. She said I was a “mirror” of someone. That that someone had brought me here for some reason. She called him the “dark man” or something like that, if I remember correctly. Could she have meant the monster I saw? The thing hasn’t shown any signs of sapience. I don’t see how I could be a mirror of it. No, it must be something else…something or someone I haven’t met yet.

There’s a map here that I found in what must’ve been Sage’s room. If it’s correct, the simplest route into the city is to go back, turn my car right-side up, see if it’s still running, then just continue the way I was going. The road the house sits on seems to loop around and head straight into the city center. I feel….apprehensive about going there, though. Something in my gut tells me there’s something else I need to do first. I suppose I’ll know what when the time comes.

I’ll worry about it tomorrow. For now, I need to do some more practice with exploiting the physical laws of this area before I go to sleep. Over the last few days I’ve been able to produce some very basic things (simple clothing, a comb, two carrots) out of thin air with nothing but willpower, as well as some basic telekinesis and teleportation, but doing any one of these things even once leaves me too exhausted to stand. I assume that like any OTHER skill, it requires regular and thorough practice to master. I’m feeling healthy enough now to resume travel, so I also need to prepare for that.

This is X, signing off.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Day 7

After yesterday’s events, I have decided to stay on the move as much as possible. It most likely will not affect anything, but for some reason it makes me feel secure. I am currently stopped at what appears to be the remains of an observatory, sitting high above the dead grey ocean. Dead. That is the only adjective that properly describes the water below me. For that matter, “dead” would be an appropriate way to define everything I have seen so far, save only the young woman who attacked me back at the shipyard. Things here feel old, decayed, as if suffering from centuries of neglect. It is a world without humanity. I wonder what that says about me, that I can exist so comfortably here…

I’m sitting on the hood of the Jeep’s engine compartment right now. The air is cool and somewhat moist, though it carries a small bitter smell, as of rotting marine life and salt. The smell seems familiar, almost reassuring. Digging through my backpack, I’ve come across the book that was among my initial possessions. Its cover is black, well-worn, with the title and author inlaid upon it in what appears to be a pale tan leather. Its yellowed pages are slightly musty, but in a way that reminds me of quiet places and soft light. Another reassuring smell in this foreign place. Strange that I’d find so many. I open the book. On its title page is an inscription. It is written in a small, strangely flowing script. The writer was probably left-handed, as all the letters slope that way.


Those who fight monsters are often in danger of becoming monsters themselves. Please try to remember that. I worry about you sometimes.


I have no idea who Martin or Dresden are, but the note itself speaks volumes. A quick examination of the book reveals it to be a collection of short stories, each dealing with death and destruction, usually by some sort of cosmic horror but sometimes by simple human greed and hate. Whoever Martin was, he was obviously trying to warn Dresden against becoming like the people in this story. She…why do I think Dresden was female? There’s no reason to. It just…fits. She must have been important to him. I read one of the stories, a slightly surreal tale about a man being haunted by his own past and eventually murdered by the ghosts of all those he’s killed in his life, then put the book back in my bag. I’m starting to miss sunlight. I can’t remember ever seeing it, but something in me cries out for blue skies and bright light instead of this incessant dim gloom.

I’m climbing back into the Jeep’s front seat. As I fire up the engine and pull out, I realize that there’s something I’m missing more than sunlight. I miss human contact. I just want to talk to someone. Again, it’s something I have no memory of and yet desire. I just…I seem to need it. I’ve taken to listening to my own audio recordings, just to have something to listen to so that I can imagine there’s a companion sharing my journey. I have also discovered several audio files on my computer. I’ve only listened to one, labeled “hatespeech.oga”. It appeared to be several minutes of static and labored breathing, followed by heavily distorted radio chatter in some sort of Middle Eastern language and a woman screaming. I had dreams about it last night, the first dreams I’ve had since arriving here. I shouldn’t say dreams. I should say nightmares. Horrible, surreal images full of blackness and eruptions of hideously cheerful scarlet blood. Everything was monochrome but the blood, and there was so much…

I need to stop thinking about this. I need to be alert, and fear dulls the senses. It distracts. It

(sound of squealing tires as I slam on the Jeep’s brakes, fishtailing wildly on the dirt road I’m following.)

I’m climbing out of the Jeep now, gun at the ready. The projectiles changed again this morning, now being warm to the touch and smelling strongly of iron and roses. I have no idea what they might do. The reason I stopped is that I thought I saw something moving back in the trees surrounding me. If it’s a human being, I have to try and contact them. I’m moving through the trees. They appear to be mostly birches, though there are quite a few oaks and what appear to be Japanese maples scattered throughout. It seems somewhat darker under the canopy, most likely due to the leaves blocking out what little sunlight there is. I pull out a flashlight that I found in the bag this morning, holding it with my right hand and resting my gun hand on top of my right wrist. No sense in walking blindly into whatever might be waiting for me.

(small skittering noise, as of some sort of rodent moving very fast through the leaf cover. I freeze)

Me: Is anyone there? (said cautiously, awaiting a reply. None comes, and I continue)

I continue. The noises continue at odd intervals, always staying approximately 55 yards ahead of me and slightly to my right. I’m obviously being led. The question is one of intent. Am I being led to safety, or to a trap? Either way, I want to be prepared. For the noises I’m hearing, it must be a group of people leading me. Because of this I’m using tree trunks as cover, moving from one to another with the practiced ease of training that I must have received at some point. I’ve been in this forest for at least half an hour so far, but I have yet to see any change in my surroundings.

The trees are changing. As I move deeper into the woods the trees appear to become older, with oaks and hawthorn trees predominant. It also seems slightly darker, probably due to the increased cover from the oak trees. I think

(sounds of spluttering and flailing, as well as some spitting)

I’ve just walked into a…a rope of sorts. It’s black and slightly oily, strung between two trees at approximately head height. A quick sweep with my flashlight reveals that more of these ropes are all over the area. They’re entwined in tree branches at all levels, crisscrossing and wrapping together in a fantastically complicated pattern. I stop, trying to take it all in. Then I realized I couldn’t hear the sounds that had led me here. In fact, this entire area seems…desolate. Even more silent than the rest of the world.

I can see something. It’s moving slowly, on the other side of the ropes. It’s…I don’t know how to describe it. I’ll try to go one piece at a time. If I didn’t feel so detached right now, I would have collapsed in terror. This…thing stands approximately nine feet tall. Its torso is that of a human, though abnormally long and skinny. Its arms are equally spindly, the elbow joints unnaturally sharp. Its hands end in visible talons. Its torso and arms are black, superficially resembling clothing, perhaps a suit. I can see where it joins the thing’s “skin”, however, showing that in this case appearances are deceiving. Its skin appears to be slick, pitch-black except for its face. Its face is ivory, hairless. It retains the shape of a human skull, but lacking in any facial features aside from a gaping mouth. This mouth has no lips. It’s a horizontal gash across the thing’s face, the edges retracted slightly. I can see the glimmer of teeth inside. It appears to be drooling a reddish-brown substance. Its final defining feature is its legs. Its body splits at the waist, segmenting into eight spindly but very rigid arachnoid appendages. These must have been creating the noises I’d been hearing. This THING knows I’m here. Why isn’t it attacking me? Why is it just-

(sound of an earsplitting, bestial howl/roar/snarl)

Me: (terrified scream) IT SPOTTED ME!

(twenty minutes of noise follows, mostly me panting and crashing through the forest. The monster’s skittering legs can be heard behind at several points, as can three more roars, each as terrifying as the first. I managed to reach the road a few steps ahead of the monster, diving into the Jeep (which I’d left running) and gunning the engine. There’s a thump as the monster lands on the hood, crouched, facing in at me, its mouth open. The reddish liquid is flowing freely now, splattering on the windshield and making it difficult for me to see)

Me: SHIT!!!

(I begin shooting at it through the windshield. The glass splinters and cracks, shards flying into my face as the Jeep accelerates. As each bullet hits the monster it visibly jerks. After a moment it starts having what appear to be seizures, flailing wildly while remaining latched onto the hood. Thanks to all the visual obstructions, including blood flowing into my eyes from several facial lacerations, I can no longer see the road. We hit a large rock and the Jeep flips, rolling wildly. I lose consciousness at this point.)

(Some time after, I half-wake long enough to see the monster dragging itself off into the woods, bleeding a tarry black liquid, two of its legs limp and dragging. I can dimly hear its labored, pained wheezing before I black out again. When I finally return to consciousness, I’m in another bedroom. This one has faded blue walls, paint peeling from neglect. The bed I’m on is large, but completely sprung. My facial injuries appear to have been crudely bandaged using strips of cloth. I sit up, seeing that the contents of my backpack have been carefully removed and examined, then laid out on a table near the bed. A man was sitting in a worn-out armchair in the corner, watching me.)

Man: (voice oddly calm as he stared at me with deep-set eyes. His emaciated frame seemed more fitting for a stick figure than a human being, his pallid skin and intense gaze making him seem somehow vampiric) You’re finally awake. Good.

Me: (still slightly groggy) Who are you?

Man: You can call me the Sage. (his tone never varied from its calm, a slight smile playing across his thin lips)

Me: (cautious, head beginning to clear) Alright. Where am I?

Sage: In my house. My family and I live here.

Me: (shocked) You have a FAMILY?

(I was still reeling from the monster’s attack and the shock of meeting a sane human, so my social abilities were probably not at their best. The Sage smirked. It was…unpleasant to see)

Sage: Well, not a family per se. Just a group of people who live together.

Me: (standing, finding myself naked. It was embarrassing to say the least. I wrap myself in a blanket) Look, where are my clothes? I need to get on the move again before that THING tracks me down.

Sage: (eyes lighting up in a disturbingly feverish manner) Thing? You mean the Slender Man? You saw him?

(he stood, advancing toward me, eyes gleaming as his smile seemed to widen)

Sage: How about you stay a little while? You’re safe here, I promise.

Me: (clearly not believing him) Just tell me where my clothes are. (I started packing things back into my bed, trying not to mind that I couldn’t hold the blanket up at the same time. I turned around when I was done, unsurprised to see this Sage man staring avidly at my body. Tone cold) Which way’s the exit?

Sage: (sighing, though his smile didn’t drop) Just follow me.

(He led me through several halls. This appeared to be a moderately large mansion. As we travelled, we picked up almost a dozen followers, half women and half men. Sage led me outdoors. It was raining, to my surprise. I could hear thunder in the distance, and see the occasional bluish-white lightning flash. Sage and his…family stood around, as if waiting for something. I tried to ignore the several men and women staring at me, focusing instead on keeping track of my surroundings.)

Sage: (whispering, probably not meant for me to hear) It’s now…the time is now…

(As one, the “family” began chanting, a single line)

Family: The core has fractured. We belong to you. Make us like you.

(they repeated this over and over. I realized at that point that I must have been out for several days for my wounds to have healed as much as they had. I shivered in fear as I realized what they must be chanting for. Sure enough, the monster emerged from the woods across the road. It roared, the sound considerably lower and more threatening this time. It advanced slowly. To my shock, Sage went out to meet it, smiling beatifically)

Sage: Finally…take me with you, please…please…

(He opened his arms wide. The monster tilted its head to the left, seeming almost puzzled before screeching and driving its two front legs through his chest. The legs then forced their way out to the sides, neatly separating his upper torso from his lower. I fumbled in my backpack for the gun as the other cultists ran forward, all grinning and crying to be “taken with him”. The thing rapidly finished with them and turned toward me, drooling, blood dripping from every one of its appendages. I scrambled backwards, finally finding the pistol’s grip and pulling it out. I pulled the trigger. The thing shrieked as it was knocked backwards by some sort of concussive wave, slamming into a tree. Even from hundreds of feet away I could hear something inside its torso crunch. It shrieked again, skittering back into the woods.")

Since those events I’ve been holed up in this now-empty house, raiding it for supplies. I finally found my clothes, and I’ve now locked myself in a small bedroom on the fourth floor. I’m going to head into the city tomorrow. I need to know more about this world, and especially that THING.

Good night.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Day 6



really matters anyone

can see

nothing really

matters nothing

really matters to me…

my name is (x) not X the sign not the symbol mirror not mask mask is mirror mirrored by everything everyone the darkness closes in he closes in he is me I am him everything matters because nothing does the world is a miracle miracles are abominations as are we nothing-

(I erupt into incoherent screams and howls at this point, a state which continues for over an hour before I finally fall silent once more. The recording ends five minutes later, the last sounds being a quiet gurgling noise and a small click)


The above is a transcript. I forgot to turn my voice recorder off when I fell asleep last night, and this was on it when I awoke. I decided to leave the restaurant as soon as possible, after extracting the security computer’s hard drive and adding it to my backpack. As a note, my gun’s ammunition has changed once again. The bullets are now solid and black, feeling cold and slick to the touch. The gun’s firing mechanism has also changed subtly, seeming to be a kinetic or electric launcher rather than a traditional explosion-igniting hammer. I left the building, continuing to hike north along the cliffs. I was hesitant to head into the city proper, for reasons I couldn’t identify. After several dull hours, I came across a small auto garage. It had several vehicles in the lot, ranging from a late 1990s model Harley-Davidson to a World War II vintage Jeep that appeared to be in perfect working condition.

I entered the office, noting the keys hanging in a neat row behind a desk. As with the other buildings I’d seen, this one appeared to be in a state of advanced disrepair. It was clean and orderly aside from the decay. I poked around, but found nothing of interest aside from the keys and a pistol-grip shotgun under the business office desk. The bottom right drawer contained over 250 rounds of ammunition. I placed the shotgun, ammo, and the rest of my supplies in the Jeep, then stretched out in the backseat with my gun and my computer. The battery on this device has yet to drop from full power at all. Combined with my own lack of need to eat or drink, and I almost think entropy doesn’t work the way my instincts tell me it should. Things only decay under certain circumstances… for some reason, this leads me to think of a certain quantum physics principle. It’s said that, due to the nature of reality, a thing only exists if it is observed, and only WHILE it is observed. Observation can include interacting with any other particle, but still…if a thing only exists when observed, then observations create reality. If I observe something to be true, and believe it, then it will be true.

Would it be possible to materially influence the world this way?

It’s something to think about, certainly. Perhaps I should attempt it tomorrow. I can see no reason why this wouldn’t work, so I at least believe in the basic principle to be tested. That should help. I should probably draw up some parameters for-

(small whispering noise from outside the Jeep. It’s very sibilant, but quiet)

Me: Hello?

Other: (more hissing. They seem to be words, but too faint to be heard on the recording or by my ears at the time)

Me: (sits up, quickly closing the computer at the above cutoff point and picking up the gun. I slide out the other side of the Jeep, looking under the chassis. No sign of anyone. I speak quietly) Hello? Is someone out there?

Other: (more hissing, slightly louder now, but seeming to have not moved.)

Me: (after the incident with the girl at the docks, I was taking no chances. I slipped around the back of the Jeep, gun ready. There was no one there. I turned slowly, dropping the gun with a sigh. I heard the hissing again, but this time I could make out words)

Other: not…alone…here together…not alone…

I…realized something at this point. The hissing was coming from my shadow, which was moving without corresponding motion from me. Something in me knew that this was WRONG. It terrified me to the point that I didn’t even consider fighting. I dove back into the Jeep, curling up in the backseat and shaking. It’s only now that I’ve been able to calm myself enough to finish this entry. I’ll be leaving this place tomorrow, though I have marked it on the map I’m constructing. I’m going to try to sleep now, though I don’t know if I’ll be able to, despite my fatigue. Goodnight.