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.

Plot Holes and Revelations

Still nothing on the bookstore. Not sure if I’m going back to the place soon. Is it some sort of requirement for all unassuming users of sufficient anonymity on Blogspot to have dark powers peeking around the corner? Fucking hell.

Tripped on some bushes onto a speeding SUV near the school on the other day. It was broad daylight. Nobody batted an eyelid. Thought I saw a dark shape in the bushes, but my mind was sort of occupied with something else. A realisation, to be precise. One which no doubt will exert grave implications a long way into the future, far beyond my worries of today, of loneliness, despair, and otherworldly threats looming over humanity.

I am bored.

Seriously though, I have precisely zero human being on the surface of Jesus/Allah/Yahweh/Buddha/Shiva/Dawkins’s green Earth to which I may rant and babble for hours and hours in private to. There’s E. and the other initial person and the handful of nice people who have left comments (with the exception being the bloke who was happy to see bloggers falling easily; surprise, we’re not). But in retrospect, nicknaming IRL associates after an elderly seaman portrayed by Sean Connery might not have been the best of decisions, with or without the interference of a certain shadowy old man or whatever it is. On that note, the Blind Man is supposed to be associated with books and libraries, if I’m not mistaken? Perhaps an innocuous bookstore would present an ideal base of operation for a certain number of underlings? Will try to discuss the state of matters with my family later; I find the complete lack of Fear-related social services to be quite disappointing considering all the lengths of time they’re supposed to have spent doing Feary things.

As the lack of gruesome deaths is no doubt getting on the readers’ nerves, here is the picture of a puffin to compensate.

The subject of books also brings to mind required reading for students. On one hand, millions and millions of required texts are laid across the world’s libraries and educational facilities, any of which would require scarce effort to present all manners of nastiness: Operator Symbols, Twin Triangles, disease agents, arthropod larvae, antimony dust, maybe some particularly lethal variants of the common mousetrap here and there. On the other hand, with all due consideration to the inherent threat which the very idea of the Fears presents to our perpetually vulnerable world, it appears appalling that the simplest form of information on such an essential subject has been quite completely absent from the aforementioned texts. Ladies and gentlemen, the point I initially attempted to present was most decidedly NOT that we are fucked on both hands, but seeing my complete inability from going on lengthy tangents and the truth of the conclusion, let us go with that one.

Anyway, I vaguely remember doing an analysis/study guide on an obscure poem on the subject of a nineteenth century amnesiac a few months ago. Have I ever mentioned being a distinguished English student? Ergo the entirety of the blog lacking the slightest semblance of comprehensibility. Wonder if that would alter the chances of an elderly, visually-impaired librarian going after someone.

Moving on to yet another point which I originally intended to discuss here – namely the peculiarities surrounding the recent input. I am aware of maybe two or three newspapers which may present such news items in such a manner, which is to include the formatting, and I have so far been unable to find further information on the supposed article. In addition, we may take note of the apparent difference in font sizes between the columns, as well as the “anonymous” source of the image and the general irregularities found within the presentation. But then again, we live in a strange world, stranger than so many of us would prefer to accept. A towering figure in a business suit, a feral form clawing through those deep in sleep, a mother of snakes behind the mirror, all of these we have come to accept as our very own reality. Perhaps, once in a long, dark while, a newspaper clipping is merely warning us all of the truth? Who knows.

In which a major amount of BS is to hopefully have some sense made out of it

Okaaaaaay.

So there’s an individual or group going by the initial – or possibly given name, but eh, who gives a damn anymore – of “E.”. This person is quite well-informed in regards to the Fears, not sure to what extent but certainly quite a bit. This person has also possibly monitored my activities for a while; again, not sure for how long. They, or apparently she, have/has also somehow taken over the blog and demoted me into a contributor, though this is probably more of a matter of tech-savviness and Google deciding that “Don’t be evil” is much less memorable a motto than “Mwahahahaha”.

For what, though?

As far as I know, just bloody near anyone is a potential Fear servant – well, we’ve always known that some are a bit scalier than others, but still – and he/she/it has frankly made a less than ideal impression in that department. But why would E. give the warning then? I mean, I’ve been through a bit of whatever weird shit is afflicting the bookstore, but that more or less disqualifies him/her/it from being an affiliate of the Unnamed Child. Something else, perhaps? Surely there are dozens upon hundreds upon thousands of fears for all men and women on Earth, meaning that the most obvious conclusion (other that we are boned) is that some of them may, well, resort to some sort of obvious yet unexpected deception to lure unsuspecting victims in?

…Gah. I’m a teenager in high school, why are there eldritch horrors after me @_@ I need a freaking yogurt.

And because trying to uncover the truth behind said entities needs not be inherently depressing...

PS: I seem to have stumbled upon a number of servant-run blogs over the past week. Apart from deducing that rampant attention whoring is an essential factor in considering oneself worthy of scaring people for a huge tentacled man with no face, setting up a list would probably help with getting the sods IP tracked or something. Hey, not the worst thing I’ve thought of.

Vituperations

Just got my laptop connected to a nearby wifi signal this morning, and look at what I found.

I seem to be living within walking distance of yet another eldritch site.

WHEE

HOW FUN

  

I seem to have been mistaken for a German speaker

…Must be the accent.

This week’s been quite normal, as far as I can remember. Our prepaid’s running out soon, though, so I’ll try to get across as much as possible in case… well, you know.

The teachers are still putting me in the same work group as the people I mentioned earlier, which I guess is merciful enough. At least compared to, say, having me among the jocks the size of short-faced bears who I’ve more or less never talked to who would probably forget my tangibility at times.I can live with being inconspicuous for now –lots of worse fates waiting out there, if the online accounts are any indication. Have you ever heard of how WWII bomber crew were apparently fatalistic enough to keep their calm while being dragged off burning planes by the howling wind several kilometers up there? I guess that quite a lot of us who aren’t running around following vague symbols are a bit like that for time being. Flak bombardments do little worse than blowing your head off, though; unlike, say, all the “eldritch shit and nonsense” presently lurking in the dark.

Haven’t gone out much, as I said, meaning that most of the interesting stuff has already been mentioned. Something was a bit wrong, though.

I made the bookstore trip that earned me the Agatha Christie collection in the evening, just after school. Public transportation has historically been a bit on the stray-critter-entrails-over-the-back-seats side in my part of the city, so there hasn’t been many means of getting around save for the feet. I came in around five and looked around for a bit. What I thought was a bit, at least. Everyone inside were acting quite normally, considering recent experiences, and when I walked out… well, I can’t say I remember the precise part, but I remember the sky growing darker and the street being awfully quiet: maybe a car passing by every couple of minutes at best, a handful of pedestrians in the distance, and all the windows were either dark or had their blinds/curtains drawn. The sun had a little glimmer of light left in the horizon. I took a look at my phone.Roughly a quarter to eight. Then the battery expired and it died out.

There’s no clear way to describe what happened next, since my attempts at reminiscing still tend to end up being quite fuzzy. But I’ll try.

I remember walking for maybe ten minutes through what I thought was the way home. Everything stayed vague for the whole length of the time. The streets were all exactly as quiet as the previous one, the streetlights gave out unusually paler lows and all things outside their reach were blurry dark, nearing pitch black. After a while I started to feel light-headed, and my legs were taken over by a throbbing ache (I was still carrying the backpack IIRC, though it was bit hard to tell at times). Then I saw a grass field, running around 200 meters along the street. It bordered a few small houses, wide, unlit and more than anything, unkempt. Next to it was an old defunct city garden which maintenance workers maybe visit once a month, its trees growing into strange shapes against the night sky, slightly lit by a few bulbs here and there. It’s supposed to run for quite some distance before it borders an intersection, compelling me to do take the wisest decision and take a path through the grass field.

It was probably half an hour. Or was it an hour? I have no idea. As I walked through the space, the lights grew further and further away on all sides. The sky was too acting strange: it would seem to be pitch black one minute and a pale maroonish hue full of stars on the next. The city stayed blurry and dark all the way through, the lights little more than sickly spots of brightness lining the horizon. Do I still have to say something about feeling like being watched? Yes? ‘Kay. I also felt like I was being watched.

I was on our street roughly five minutes after I got out of the field. It was mostly normal –everything still seemed quite blurry and contrasted, but there were cars speeding by, people walking around. My backpack felt a little bit heavier, though. I tried to ring the bell on the front door, remembered that some critter had gnawed away the wire, and gave a knock. There was the sound of slow unlocking and Sis appeared on the door. Mum was still out in the town. I looked at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes past eleven. Then I came in and told her everything. She told me to get a rest.

I woke up at six the following morning. Thought to prepare for school, so I unzipped the backpack. Seven novels neatly stacked inside an unmarked paper bag. Didn’t know it could hold that much. Didn’t remember putting anything inside it after I walked away from school either, but meh. Mum asked me if I was okay before running off for work. She was home on the evening and had found some old yarn inside a just-unpacked dufflebag. Then she taught us crocheting.

It was nice. ^_^

Yogurt Man also came. His yogurt is what the world wants, what the world needs.

Cheers.