Saturday, 7 April 2012

Life grown small


It’s four months since I started the blog, maybe more since my life turned interesting, and what have I put up here? Nameless, faceless people, a nameless locale, and a probably much less than presentable narrator with no clue on where he’s going.

So: another introduction.

Hello all. I started this blog on December 2011 with the name From St Martin’s Land (not sure why now). I post here under the screen name Journeyman Shoemaker, which shares initials with my real name. I am a male high school (equivalent) student and currently live with my mother and my older sister, who happens to be a year above me. I enjoy the occasional speculative fiction, upbeat music, excitement and yoghurt. I used to have friends, good friends even. I took long walks on evenings and blurry pictures on family outings, I tried to talk classmates into liking my favourite bands, I collected cheap hats and not that long before this all began I worked on a study guide assignment for my English class.

Just a few weeks before it started, there would honestly be little reason for me to start a blog, but, well… I sort of like to write about myself a lot. Long story short, my dad disappeared, and signs would indicate that these things some call the Fears are involved. Since then the family’s tried to move on (bar some hindrances), and to be honest I’d intended to write about more mundane things here back when I began. Heh.
Circumstances took more interesting turns and strange things started coming in, this time usually related to a nearby bookstore, now to be referred to as Sarie Marais for the sake of convenience. Which brings us to Mother Elder and Father Willow, an old couple living nearby but as of late exceedingly hard to reach. This couple, who have also gained access to the blog (for what I can only hope are savoury purposes), are as far as I know quite knowledgeable on the subject of the Fears, though I don’t know how much. They’ve been quite enigmatic figures themselves, meaning that for the time being I hope that my trust lies where it ought to.

So far they’ve been the foremost source of clues and information, most of which looks a tad suspicious. But I don’t exactly have anyone else on my side, so… yeah.

Hope that cleared a few things up. Have music.


As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for the fate-tempting aspect, I would’ve been quite tempted to remark on the recent lack of activity. As for the “I hate the world and I’m writing this because fuck you” display unfortunately kept up by so many lonely… what to call them… people stalked by Fears (henceforth to be referred to as PSBFs for brevity), I like to consider myself grown past that. Readers of course would like to differ, but eh.

But on to the point. With internet access being the vengeful deity that it is for the past couple of weeks, I found some time to read through the journal/block note thing. And fail my assignments too, but hey, nonsense Fear material.


she comes here she comes sHe comes

...more nonsensical than I’d hoped, but okay.



Curious and curiouser. I’d honestly appreciate more clues, but I guess I’ll just have to be patient and smile if it does help eventually.

First two pages are reasonably legible and written in blue felt-tip pen. The next one, just a little bit less due to being unreasonably small. Sharp pencil this time.


‘Tis the last week before Christmas of 1988, and here I sit in [blacked out], fearing for my life. Fine bit of struggle this has been. There surely were more sensible ways to warn the staff, but [blacked out] had to be a hero, yes he had to! Now the girl’s gone and people who looked after orphans are now going after me with machetes. Was it a girl? Pretty sure it was a baby boy or girl or beluga whale or whatever last month. Come to think of it, being the more informed part, taking evidence would’ve been wiser too. And not getting drunk for days while running from people with machetes. All things considered it could’ve been avoided, but Lili Marlene. And then lili mareln lili Marlens, because Lili marnlen. Fuck it, I’m slipping

I didn’t read well enough before I said that the rest was readable, because they’re not. Torn-up and stained pages are quite abundant too. Everything in the house either died or leaked like the Titanic throughout the fortnight and I had this bloody headache (now mostly gone fortunately), so the investigation had to wait. All we may know for now is that someone knew then. Or recently – haven’t really thought much about it, but I’m entrusting my safety to an old couple I don’t know all that much after all. But then again, if it does turn out to be genuine, then I suppose I’ll have to wait for a meeting. Not that we ought to be optimists here.

Saturday, 24 March 2012

The notebook

EDIT: Just noticed the title. I dearly apologise.

I thank Mother Elder for being so kind as to update the blog during the recent internet deadness! And, um, sorry if my contribution to the whole Fear thing hasn’t been the greatest – but again, I’d hate to rush in against the will of people who actually know what they’re doing.

For the sake of completeness, I also ought to add a few more things: first, to prevent confusion with other bookstores we have agreed to codename this particular place. I’m… well, not good with names, as you might have guessed from early posts, so I let them pick. The bookstore is now Sarie Marais. That’s not as short as I’d expected and I have no idea what the hell it means, but okay. >_> (do I sound different?)

And secondly, they gave me an old block notebook. Bought from someone who bought it from the bookstore a long time ago, they said. Plain blue worn-out cover, some torn-out pages and lots of messy but readable enough writing inside. Neat. Inside the front cover there also lays in (what I assume to be) thin crimson ink the scrawling:

2 seT MEN fri

Still looking on the insides now. We’re onto something at last… I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified, but let’s do hope that a question or two will be answered quite soon.

Friday, 23 March 2012

And here I am, once again an uninteresting old person

First of all, I really must apologise for having so rudely put things together to my own liking, but I and old Father Willow, bless his tweed hat, believe that poor Journeyman would have some problem conveying recent events in the light of present conditions, namely the internet problems that so love to spring back and forth between us. In light of this, we decided to save our young man the trouble of easily bored readers wandering off while the problems are being sorted out. ^_^

So, to recap:
  • ·      Kiddo saw a body inside the bookstore and a suspicious-looking dark shape in the shadows nearby.
  • No one else was around to see it, and no one has commented on it to my knowledge.
  • The bookstore has been closed since.
  • Communicating has been a bugger, but it is in our favour that little Journeyman has refrained from going after possible eldritch happenings by himself – I can’t bear to imagine where would we be with him gone, he’s been just the loveliest young lad. ;~;

The sun was going down fast when we met a few hours ago, yet in our fortune the time available was, in fact, more than enough to set things straight! Our friend dearest, in all his loveliness, asks questions as one would throw discus. At a discus.

Which is, of course, should by no mean be taken as overly inflated opinion of our own usefulness, lest we be seen as marginalising Journeyman’s imminent role in the escapades that no doubt are shaping up, but nonetheless we are quite honoured to have taken part, however small it might have been.

And to get things going, a rough transcript:

“Where have you been? What was it?” “Oh, nothing fancy, just staying home and hoping you won’t run off so quickly after the next chai latte.“ “That, and inquiring a tiny bit on the bookstore.”
 “Really? What have you found then? And, um, how are you?” “Fine as always, sweetie.” “And as you might’ve noticed, we indeed have done quite a good amount of research on the dreadful place, which you indeed might have noticed from the earlier clipping.”

Writing down my own rather peculiar speech from memory is awfully strange. As is expositing through a transcript, but shush, not everyone is a good writer. >_>

“The rather inconvenient fact is that the either the Child or the Blind Man has at long last established their grip round the bookstore we are presently discussing” 

“Well, yes, I sort of noticed, but how does it relate exactly?” 

“Ah, dearie, that’s precisely where things ought to get interesting. Public knowledge on the bookstore’s origins has been quite scarce indeed, and yet we try to persevere nonetheless. You see that the Child brings forth obsession, that she fancies a home or two or a hundred thousand and now it’s all towering mounds of dusty books all over her land. You know how little kids can be. Especially after it’s gone on for twenty years.”

 “Okaaay… and the Blind Man? I hope that no one here has ongoing deals with him?”

 “If our good man had indeed played much of a role in the past, then I’m quite afraid that all those knowledgeable have most likely… forgotten.” “But you know how mean forgetfulness can be, sweetie. Don’t worry, we all know.”

 “Ah, okay, thank you, thank you. And the sun’s going down, so I guess I must get home?”

 “That you do, sonny boy.” “And don’t worry about misquoting, we’re quite fine by everything.”

 “Okay… and I’m really, really sorry for not having written well in the past, oh my god I hope I didn’t make you guys look bad, I really do.”

 “Don’t worry about misquoting, we’re quite fine by everything.”

 “Ah, yes! And thank you!” (scurries off to be good company to others) 

On that note, has anyone out there noticed the Child’s escapades before the last few months? I really haven’t, but then again old people are not generally taken as the most observant members of the society, so eh.

Hope I didn’t disappoint. Nighty night everyone~

Monday, 19 March 2012

The unexpected uneventfulness of a murderous fortnight

That was pretty much it, really. There might have been other important things, but I sort of suck at remembering them at the moment.

I found another email in the inbox this morning. Mother Elder said that their internet hated Blogspot for time being, but it would be nice if we were to meet up at the park for the usual matters in the near future. Not many other choices for now, I guess, so I’m saying yes.

Um, just curious, but I wonder what would the kind readers think of me as a communicating individual? I’ve been told to not mumble or stare into the distance too often in the past – my predicament might not have been entirely eldritch, after all. ~_~
As for the park… what can I say? It’s a tiny bit small, under-maintained but sort of looks green if you squint hard enough. Details better come out later, maybe.

Things and some other things

First of all, have a look around.

Interesting? Maybe, yes.

More than a murder? Actually, maybe, but that’s besides the point.

Augh. Forgive the endless wangsting, but it’s been months since everyone outside the family seemed to stop listening to me. Fuck knows that I didn’t need to have the people who are supposed to be in this ignoring the news of murder for fabric-y pursuits.

Haven’t been able to meet up with Mother Elder and Father Willow, but did manage to contact the former through email as usual. God, do I love it when people give prompt replies – no less when they’re otherwise not supposed to have touched computers at all. Not sure if I’m in the mood to print-screen the whole thing and spend an hour wishing the home internet was less of a soulless monster (I have been informed that the guy who runs the ISP is a maths professor), but she did ask me to keep my calm and stay off the place for a while. Not sure how that would help, but I wasn’t exactly the most experienced in this sort of thing, so I obeyed.

Just a couple of days ago I got another email. Things are fine, it said.

But don’t barge in yet, for the safe side of things is no doubt the preferable side of things, as it is usually safer. Okay? :)

Don’t know if mentioning them this much is exactly wise, but… well, you know. Having people who do actually have some idea on the thing I’m dealing with is usually bit easier. I’ve actually thought that setting up a semi-public help network of some sort, or anything that would let the shared knowledge not go to waste would help, but eh. Not much point in believing in the bloggers now.

Mother Elder, Father Willow, if it’s not too much to ask, please don’t go away now. Please.