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.

Murder in the bookstore

Haven’t updated nearly enough recently, will hopefully compensate as events progress.

But to save the necessary time: walked by the bookstore the evening before the last post and saw a body lying on the floor through the front window. It was quite late, so there was no one around – have I mentioned that it wasn’t a popular one? Decided that getting caught in the shadows would be inconvenient, so I backed out immediately and reached for my phone.

Memory problems and regular battery charging do not go along.

Took a peek to reassure myself. The streetlights weren’t ideal set-ups, but I think that it looked a bit like the nice cashier lady… aaaaand there was also a large ominous dark shape in the shadows nearby. Saw movement and ran home right the hell after that.

No mention of it on the next day. Walked past the bookstore after school and saw no signs of grisly murder. The bookstore itself was closed, though.

School and home are quite alright, thank you very much.

Friday, 2 March 2012

Tea with Mother Elder and Father Willow

Just maybe a couple of hours ago, and with an abundance of chewy sugary stuff. Both of our houses mostly lack good internet for time being, but discussing the blogs proved to be quite a bit of fun. Why would old people follow anything on the internet? Well, why wouldn't they now?

Also discussed the time I got upset by some sods who pelted me with rocks near the school and spent an hour writing "convocation" with the second syllable repeated ad nauseam until I started giggling.

... It is a funny word. >_> Also my dad had his past stolen by an eldritch being and I have more or less ceased to exist.

On that note, "the Convocation" - just about everything, in fact - seems to be somewhat silly in the face of what we all have seen in recent times. I mean, it looks like a flock of bird, yes, but I for one doubt that categorisation would be the wisest. More precisely, it is a thing from fuck knows where existing in a way the human mind is most likely not meant to understand yet that happens to be perceived as similar to birds for most parts - for all we know it probably lives in a giant polka dot spork a thousand leagues tall, but that still would just be a mere corner within what would be a vast, complex definition, most likely conflicting with the vast majority of things that mankind as a whole accepts.

Think of it this way: the earthquake in Japan last year killed thousands, brought down millions of dollars of property and triggered an environmental disaster, and yet do we have in our mind a rogue tremor interested in the discomfort of the human society? Noooo. More likely it was simply rocks moving not a few metres at the bottom of the world, scarcely caring for what the world up there would think. Why would anything quite as supposedly capable as them care more for us in particular, then? For all we know, the tall faceless man in business suit might simply desire a mere $20 and wants little to do with the curious Anglophones with video cameras. This brings us to why everyone thinks that they too are obsessed with each other; why would they be the only ones out there? Why would they even be the most important ones?

This, of course, is not the most comforting of thoughts. O_o but I am rambling yet again.

Having people to discuss these matters in meatspace has proven itself quite nice, not to mention massively enlightening. ^_^ Haven't quite gotten around to telling the family yet, but they've known of Mother Elder and Father Willow (though not by those names) for quite a while now, which I suppose renders visits quite alright. And lastly on the point of writing - this is the first time I actually type the post down within the provided space instead of days of extended, hurried drafting in words and oh providence it feels good it feels good it feels good~

Well, maybe more comprehensible and more of an actual blog post than an ideological tract, but I'll probably resort to the previous technique for things that demand longer passages. Might be counterproductive of course, but ideas do get into my writing quite rapidly and I trust the reader with most of the interpretation.

Have to go again now. Cheers!