Deliveries

Or, the Travelling Wake of Michael Johannes.


Spent the day/night/whatever you want to fucking call it driving. To Hope. Because I'd asked Elaine for help. Bad fucking timing.
I was in Kansas. Dropped a package off with Opal. Notebooks. Not going to need them, maybe someone gets some good out of my being a crazy. Spent an hour sleeping, kept driving.
I don't have enough time. Two more to go.
I'm going to be locked out of the blog tomorrow, my own precaution, no one worry.
Well, maybe worry. It's really up to you. Every person who needs to know, I've talked to.
Or arranged for word to get to them.
Taken a while to get here, hasn't it. And I don't have enough time.
So this is... goodbye I suppose. Need to focus, long enough to get through this.

Elaine: You're a crazy, crazy person. Should get the hell out while you still fucking well can.
Some of us don't need more dead friends and you don't need to be coddled. I regret nothing. I suppose if 'I' see you again? Aim for the head, please.

Opal: I really don't suppose there's anything else worth saying at this point. Don't die.

Lis: I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. For everything. Thank you. Be safe.

Spencer: Don't fuck it up. You're better than that. Thus speaks this corpse.

Lucas: Good luck getting Joel back. Kick his ass for me. He should know better.

Joel: Hey, good job there, running off and leaving Lucas alone. Something happens to him? You know that's on you, right? Don't fucking die.

Blake & Tia: Good luck, I suppose. Sorry we didn't get along better. My fault.

I suppose the worst part is knowing, that I could have done so much more. so much. But there isn't enough time there's never enough time. I've tried, but there's really no way I'm getting out of this at this point. I'm on the way out. Goodbye, then. It's been... nice, knowing you all. I'm so sorry, so very sorry it ended like this.


i don't want to go

Non sum qualis eram

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here.
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Paradise 8/8

As in the sunshine, that unsullied streams
Through fractured cloud, ere now a meadow of flowers
Mine eyes with shadow covered o'er have seen,

So troops of splendours manifold I saw
Illumined from above with burning rays,
Beholding not the source of the effulgence.

Paradise 7/8

Such limit did its words prescribe to me,
The question I relinquished, and restricted
Myself to ask it humbly who it was.

Between two shores of Italy rise cliffs,
And not far distant from thy native place,
So high, the thunders far below them sound,

And form a ridge that Catria is called,
'Neath which is consecrate a hermitage
Wont to be dedicate to worship only.

Thus unto me the third speech recommenced,
And then, continuing, it said: Therein
Unto God's service I became so steadfast,

That feeding only on the juice of olives
Lightly I passed away the heats and frosts,
Contented in my thoughts contemplative.

That cloister used to render to these heavens
Abundantly, and now is empty grown,
So that perforce it soon must be revealed.

I in that place was Peter Damiano;
And Peter the Sinner was I in the house
Of Our Lady on the Adriatic shore.

Little of mortal life remained to me,
When I was called and dragged forth to the hat
Which shifteth evermore from bad to worse.

It hurts. Dear god, my head hurts.
Two more. Didn't mean to write those
I was trying to write this post.
. . . - - - . . .
Make it stop. Please
Make it stop hurting.
Why wont it stop?
. . . - - - . . . pleasehelpme

Paradise 6/8

Who would believe, down in the errant world,
That e'er the Trojan Ripheus in this round
Could be the fifth one of the holy lights

Now knoweth he enough of what the world
Has not the power to see of grace divine,
Although his sight may not discern the bottom.

Like as a lark that in the air expatiates,
First singing and then silent with content
Of the last sweetness that doth satisfy her,

Such seemed to me the image of the imprint
Of the eternal pleasure, by whose will
Doth everything become the thing it is.

And notwithstanding to my doubt I was
As glass is to the colour that invests it,
To wait the time in silence it endured not,

Paradise 5/8

To such a quiet, such a beautiful
Life of the citizen, to such a safe
Community, and to so sweet an inn,

Did Mary give me, with loud cries invoked,
And in your ancient Baptistery at once
Christian and Cacciaguida I became.

Moronto was my brother, and Eliseo;
From Val di Pado came to me my wife,
And from that place thy surname was derived.

Ere followed afterward the Emperor Conrad,
And he begirt me of his chivalry,
So much I pleased him with my noble deeds.

I remember

Everything
I think.
I remember the fires.
. . . - - - . . .
Every fire. So many fires.
Why are they all burning?
Because I started them.
. . . - - - . . .
How many times?
I don't know. I really don't.
How many people
Burning? They won't stop burning.
. . . - - - . . .
The worst part
Is knowing that
It will happen again.
. . . - - - . . . someonestopme

Paradise 4/8

And within one I heard beginning:
When The radiance of grace, by which is kindled
True love, and which thereafter grows by loving,

Within thee multiplied is so resplendent
That it conducts thee upward by that stair,
Where without reascending none descends,

Who should deny the wine out of his vial
Unto thy thirst, in liberty were not
Except as water which descends not seaward.

Fain wouldst thou know with what plants is enflowered
This garland that encircles with delight
The Lady fair who makes thee strong for heaven.

Of the lambs was I of the holy flock
Which Dominic conducteth by a road
Where well one fattens if he strayeth not.

He who is nearest to me on the right
My brother and master was; and he Albertus
Is of Cologne, I Thomas of Aquinum.

Paradise 3/8

Ah, bring swift compensation to my wish,
Thou blessed spirit, I said, and give me proof
That what I think in thee I can reflect !

Whereat the light, that still was new to me,
Out of its depths, whence it before was singing,
As one delighted to do good, continued:

Within that region of the land depraved
Of Italy, that lies between Rialto
And fountain heads of Brenta and of Piava,

Rises a hill, and mounts not very high,
Wherefrom descended formerly a torch
That made upon that region great assault.

Out of one root were born both I and it;
Cunizza was I called, and here I shine
Because the splendour of this star o'ercame me

Paradise 2/8

After that Constantine the eagle turned
Against the course of heaven, which it had followed..
Behind the ancient who Lavinia took,

Two hundred years and more the bird of God
In the extreme of Europe held itself,
Near to the mountains whence it issued first;

And under shadow of the sacred plumes
It governed there the world from hand to hand,
And, changing thus, upon mine own alighted.

Caesar I was, and am Justinian,
Who, by the will of primal Love I feel,
Took from the laws the useless and redundant;

Paradise 1/8

And I unto the shade that seemed most wishful
To speak directed me, and I began,
As one whom too great eagerness bewilders:

O well-created spirit, who in the rays
Of life eternal dost the sweetness taste
Which being untasted ne'er is comprehended.

Grateful 'twill be to me, if thou content me
Both with thy name and with your destiny.
Whereat she promptly and with laughing eyes:

Our charity doth never shut the doors
Against a just desire, except as one
Who wills that all her court be like herself.

I was a virgin sister in the world;
And if thy mind doth contemplate me well,
The being more fair will not conceal me from thee,

But thou shalt recognise I am Piccarda,
Who, stationed here among these other blessed,
Myself am blessed in the slowest sphere.

Earthly Paradise

But us Virgilius of himself deprived
Had left, Virgilius, sweetest of all fathers,
Virgilius, to whom I for safety gave me:

Nor whatsoever lost the ancient mother
Availed my cheeks now purified from dew,
That weeping they should not again be darkened.

Dante, because Virgilius has departed
Do not weep yet, do not weep yet awhile;
For by another sword thou need'st must weep.

E'en as an admiral, who on poop and prow
Comes to behold the people that are working
In other ships. and cheers them to well-doing,

Upon the left hand border of the car,
When at the sound I turned of my own name,
Which of necessity is here recorded,

I saw the Lady, who erewhile appeared
Veiled underneath the angelic festival,
Direct her eyes to me across the river.

Although the veil, that from her head descended,
Encircled with the foliage of Minerva,
Did not permit her to appear distinctly,

In attitude still royally majestic
Continued she, like unto one who speaks,
And keeps his warmest utterance in reserve:

Look at me well; in sooth I'm Beatrice!
How didst thou deign to come unto the Mountain?
Didst thou not know that man is happy here?

Purgatory 7/7

Our own transgression was hermaphrodite;
But because we observed not human law,
Following like unto beasts our appetite,

In our opprobrium by us is read,
When we part company, the name of her
Who bestialized herself in bestial wood.

Now knowest thou our acts, and what our crime was;
Wouldst thou perchance by name know who we are,
There is not time to tell, nor could I do it.

Thy wish to know me shall in sooth be granted;
I'm Guido Guinicelli, and now purge me,
Having repented ere the hour extreme.

Another fire.
Everyone's dead.

I didn't start this one. Believe me, please.

But they're all dead now.

I just watched my house burn again.

Purgatory 6/7

I still was wondering what so famished them,
For the occasion not yet manifest
Of their emaciation and sad squalor;

And lo! from out the hollow of his head
His eyes a shade turned on me, and looked keenly;
Then cried aloud: What grace to me is this?

Never should I have known him by his look;
But in his voice was evident to me
That which his aspect had suppressed within it.

This spark within me wholly re-enkindled
My recognition of his altered face,
And I recalled the features of Forese.

Ah, do not look at this dry leprosy,
Entreated he, which doth my skin discolour,
Nor at default of flesh that I may have;

But tell me truth of thee, and who are those
Two souls, that yonder make for thee an escort;
Do not delay in speaking unto me.

That face of thine, which dead I once bewept,
Gives me for weeping now no lesser grief,
I answered him, beholding it so changed!

But tell me, for God's sake, what thus denudes you?
Make me not speak while I am marvelling,
For ill speaks he who's full of other longings.

And he to me: From the eternal council
Falls power into the water and the tree
Behind us left, whereby I grow so thin.

All of this people who lamenting sing,
For following beyond measure appetite
In hunger and thirst are here re-sanctified.

Desire to eat and drink enkindles in us
The scent that issues from the apple-tree,
And from the spray that sprinkles o'er the verdure;

Purgatory 5/7

Hugh Capet was I called upon the earth;
From me were born the Louises and Philips,
By whom in later days has France been governed.

I was the son of a Parisian butcher,
What time the ancient kings had perished all,
Excepting one, contrite in cloth of gray.

I found me grasping in my hands the rein
Of the realm's government, and so great power
Of new acquest, and so with friends abounding,

That to the widowed diadem promoted
The head of mine own offspring was, from whom
The consecrated bones of these began.

So long as the great dowry of Provence
Out of my blood took not the sense of shame,
'Twas little worth, but still it did no harm.

Then it began with falsehood and with force
Its rapine; and thereafter, for amends,
Took Ponthieu, Normandy, and Gascony.

Charles came to Italy, and for amends
A victim made of Conradin, and then
Thrust Thomas back to heaven, for amends.

A time I see, not very distant now,
Which draweth forth another Charles from France,
The better to make known both him and his.

Unarmed he goes, and only with the lance
That Judas jousted with; and that he thrusts
So that he makes the paunch of Florence burst.

He thence not land, but sin and infamy,
Shall gain, so much more grievous to himself
As the more light such damage he accounts.

The other, now gone forth, ta'en in his ship,
See I his daughter sell, and chaffer for her
As corsairs do with other female slaves.

What more, O Avarice, canst thou do to us,
Since thou my blood so to thyself hast drawn,
It careth not for its own proper flesh?

Purgatory 4/7

But taken from me was this drowsiness
Suddenly by a people, that behind
Our backs already had come round to us.

And as, of old, Ismenus and Asopus
Beside them saw at night the rush and throng,
If but the Thebans were in need of Bacchus,

So they along that circle curve their step,
From what I saw of those approaching us,
Who by good-will and righteous love are ridden.

Full soon they were upon us, because running
Moved onward all that mighty multitude,
And two in the advance cried out, lamenting,

Mary in haste unto the mountain ran,
And Caesar, that he might subdue Ilerda,
Thrust at Marseilles, and then ran into Spain.

Quick ! quick ! so that the time may not be lost
By little love! forthwith the others cried,
For ardour in well-doing freshens grace!

O folk, in whom an eager fervour now
Supplies perhaps delay and negligence,
Put by you in well-doing, through lukewarmness,

This one who lives, and truly I lie not,
Would fain go up, if but the sun relight us;
So tell us where the passage nearest is.

These were the words of him who was my Guide;
And some one of those spirits said: Come on
Behind us, and the opening shalt thou find;

So full of longing are we to move onward,
That stay we cannot; therefore pardon us,
If thou for churlishness our justice take.

I was San Zeno's Abbot at Verona,
Under the empire of good Barbarossa,
Of whom still sorrowing Milan holds discourse

Purgatory 3/7

Darkness of hell and of a night deprived
Of every planet under a poor sky,
As much as may be tenebrous with cloud,

Ne'er made unto my sight so thick a veil,
As did that smoke which there enveloped us,
Nor to the feeling of so rough a texture;

For not an eye it suffered to stay open;
Whereat mine escort, faithful and sagacious,
Drew near to me and offered me his shoulder.

E'en as a blind man goes behind his guide,
Lest he should wander, or should strike against
Aught that may harm or peradventure kill him,

So went I through the bitter and foul air,
Listening unto my Leader, who said only,
Look that from me thou be not separated.

Voices I heard, and every one appeared
To supplicate for peace and misericord
The Lamb of God who takes away our sins.

Still Agnus Dei their exordium was;
One word there was in all, and metre one,
So that all harmony appeared among them.

Master,I said, are spirits those I hear?
And he to me: Thou apprehendest truly,
And they the knot of anger go unloosing.

Now who art thou, that cleavest through our smoke
And art discoursing of us even as though
Thou didst by calends still divide the time?

After this manner by a voice was spoken;
Whereon my Master said: Do thou reply,
And I: O creature that dost cleanse thyself

To return beautiful to Him who made thee,
Thou shalt hear marvels if thou follow me.
Thee will I follow far as is allowed me,

He answered; and if smoke prevent our seeing,
Hearing shall keep us joined instead thereof.
Thereon began I: With that swathing band

Which death unwindeth am I going upward,
And hither came I through the infernal anguish.
And if God in his grace has me infolded,

So that he wills that I behold his court
By method wholly out of modern usage,
Conceal not from me who ere death thou wast,

But tell it me, and tell me if I go
Right for the pass, and be thy words our escort.
Lombard was I, and I was Marco called;

One more Time

Nice to see I can still make puns.

Hard to keep track of time lately. It's like trying to keep a handful of sand in your hand. No matter how you try, some of it will always slip away from you. You lose track of it.

So I got a watch.

Purgatory 2/7

Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me,
And one sustained the other with his shoulder,
And all of them were by the bank sustained.

Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood,
Stand at the doors of churches asking alms,
And one upon another leans his head

So that in others pity soon may rise,
Not only at the accent of their words,
But at their aspect, which no less implores.

And as unto the blind the sun comes not
So to the shades, of whom just now I spake,
Heaven's light will not be bounteous of itself;

For all their lids an iron wire transpierces,
And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild
Is done, because it will not quiet stay.

To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage,
Seeing the others without being seen;
Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.

Well knew he what the mute one wished to say,
-And therefore waited not for my demand,
But said: Speak, and be brief, and to the point.

I had Virgilius upon that side
Of the embankment from which one may fall,
Since by no border 'tis engarlanded;

Upon the other side of me I had
The shades devout, who through the horrible seam
Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

To them I turned me, and, O people, certain,
Began I, of beholding the high light,
Which your desire has solely in its care,

So may grace speedily dissolve the scum
Upon your consciences, that limpidly
Through them descend the river of the mind,

Tell me, for dear 'twill be to me and gracious,
If any soul among you here is Latian,
And 'twill perchance be good for him I learn it.

O brother mine, each one is citizen
Of one true city; but thy meaning is,
Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim.

By way of answer this I seemed to hear
A little farther on than where I stood,
Whereat I made myself still nearer heard.

Among the rest I saw a shade that waited
In aspect, and should any one ask how,
Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man.

Spirit,I said,who stoopest to ascend,
If thou art he who did reply to me,
Make thyself known to me by place or name.

Sienese was I, it replied, and with
The others here recleanse my guilty life,
Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.

Sapient I was not, although I Sapia
Was called, and I was at another's harm
More happy far than at my own good fortune.

And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee,
Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.
The arc already of my years descending,

My fellow-citizens near unto Colle
Were joined in battle with their adversaries,
And I was praying God for what he willed.

Routed were they, and turned into the bitter
Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding,
A joy received unequalled by all others;

So that I lifted upward my bold face
Crying to God, ' Henceforth I fear thee not,'
As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.

Peace I desired with God at the extreme
Of my existence, and as yet would not
My debt have been by penitence discharged,

Domino effect

I've seen the posts. I've gone through my emails. None of it is pleasant. No, that's an understatement. It reads exactly like me, but through a glass, darkly. It's scary.
But that's getting away from the point. Need to focus here. I suppose, at this point, sorry just doesn't do anything anymore.

There's no point in lying. Not exactly fighting the good fight here. More like digging my heels in against a landslide and trying not to fall over. It feels like a string of dominoes. You push one over, and watch the rest topple in sequence. And the next domino? Guess who.

And you know the part that really hurts? The feeling that you could have stopped things. That somewhere, back along that very long list of places you went wrong, making a left turn instead of a right turn, choosing whether or not to pick up a family in the woods in Montana, choosing to run when you could have fought. That making that one decision differently, would somehow put all the rest of the dominoes back up where they should be.

Now's as good a time as ever. Put this one off a little too long too. The white text, I'll have to trust you people when you say it's there. I honestly can't find it myself. And as for looking at it?

Elaine tried to show me on her phone once, highlighted the whole thing. The only thing I remember seeing is that blue "text is highlighted" colour, and then searing pain between my temples. Like the worst headache you've ever had. Like someone decided it'd be a good idea to run a few hundred volts back up from my eyes.

And then, just to be safe, I tried again. No change.

And then Spencer had it in his head to email me a shot of it. That went about as well as expected. I mean, not a bad idea, all in all, but it flipping hurts.

So, I'm sorry that promise is broken now, Elaine.
Even though sorry doesn't quite do anything now.
I'm sorry for what I've done. I needed to say that.
Though it's not like I can mend those bridges now.
They've already burned. Even the ashes are cold.
And I'm sorry I wish this could all end differently.
But wishes are for children, and the show goes on.

Smile

Michael's a horrible liar, I should probably tell you.

Where to start:
Oh yes! All those "Don't stop fighting" comments, how well do you know Michael Johannes? Every time you say that, you prove that the answer is, 'not very well'. Michael isn't a fighter. He'll hide before he runs, and he'll run before he'll fight. You know all about that, don't you Lucas? If you back an animal into a corner, you have to be ready for it to try to bite you.

And of course, there's always the chance that you're actually going to be a threat (I'm looking at you Shaun) in which case I'm going to have to remind you, this isn't a time-share arrangement dearies. And getting hit in the gut is quite painful (again, Shaun).

Lis! Thank you again dear, for this lovely opportunity. And for introducing Michael to Spencer, in a round-about sort of way. He's so much fun to talk to. You know he didn't mean to harm you, (though good job of it) no dear, for whatever misguided reason the idiot was trying to save you the trouble.

Opal! You know too well he isn't fine.

Spencer! Ha. That's all.

Elaine! The drinking really suits you, keep it up dear :)

But I digress, Michael wants to end both of us, but doesn't have the spine to do it himself. Trust me, I'm in his head. Very elaborate plans, most of them would probably work (though driving the van into the Atlantic Ocean seems a tad melodramatic). I'm sure some of you wouldn't mind talking him out of it. The comments are yours~
And Tia, feel free to berate him as much as you like :)

Purgatory 1/7

Him, who still lives and does not name himself,
Would I regard, to see if I may know him
And make him piteous unto this burden.

A Latian was I, and born of a great Tuscan;
Guglielmo Aldobrandeschi was my father;
I know not if his name were ever with you.

The ancient blood and deeds of gallantry
Of my progenitors so arrogant made me
That, thinking not upon the common mother,

All men I held in scorn to such extent
I died therefor, as know the Sienese,
And every child in Campagnatico.

I am Omberto; and not to me alone
Has pride done harm, but all my kith and kin
Has with it dragged into adversity.

And here must I this burden bear for it
Till God be satisfied, since I did not
Among the living, here among the dead.

The music can be found here, do mind the changes to the lyrics (Michael's on the right, my own on the left) if you decide you'd like to sing along

It's not easy having yourself a good time~
Greasing up those bets and betters
Watching out they done four letter
Fuck and kiss you both at the same time (<3 Lis)

Smells like something I've forgotten
Curled up, died and now it's rotten

I'm not a gangster tonight

Don't want to be a bad guy

I'm just a joker baby,
And now you've gotten in my way!

*Chorus!*

I can't decide
whether we should live or die

Oh your haven't got the courage
Just go hang your head and cry

No wonder why
my heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified

Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride!

It's a bitch convincing people to trust me
If I stop now call me a quitter

If lies were cats you'd be a litter
Pleasing everyone isn't like you

Dancing jigs until I'm crippled
Slug ten drinks I won't get pickled

I've got to hand it to you
You've played by all the same rules

It takes the truth to fool, see
And now you've made me angry

*Chorus!*

I can't decide
Whether we should live or die

Oh you haven't got the courage
Just go hang your head an cry

No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
it's cold and hard and petrified

Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride!

Oh I could throw you in the lake
Or feed you poisoned birthday cake

I won't deny I won't miss you when you're gone

Oh I could bury you alive
But you might crawl out with a knife
And kill me when I'm sleeping

That's why!

*Chorus!*

I can't decide
whether we should live or die

Oh you haven't got the courage

Just go hang your head and cry

No wonder why
my heart feels dead inside
it's cold and hard and petrified

Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride!

Ante-Purgatory 2/2

His sluggish attitude and his curt words
A little unto laughter moved my lips;
Then I began: Belacqua, I grieve not

For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated
In this place art thou ? Waitest thou an escort?
Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?

And he: O brother, what's the use of climbing?
Since to my torment would not let me go
The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate.

First heaven must needs so long revolve me round
Outside thereof, as in my life it did,
Since the good sighs I to the end postponed,

Ante-Purgatory 1/2

And one of them began: Whoe'er thou art,
Thus going turn thine eyes, consider well
If e'er thou saw me in the other world.

I turned me tow'rds him, and looked at him closely;
Blond was he, beautiful, and of noble aspect,
But one of his eyebrows had a blow divided.

When with humility I had disclaimed
E'er having seen him, Now behold! he said,
And showed me high upon his breast a wound.

Then said he with a smile: I am Manfredi,
The grandson of the Empress Costanza;
Therefore, when thou returnest, I beseech thee

Go to my daughter beautiful, the mother
Of Sicily's honour and of Aragon's,
And the truth tell her, if aught else be told.

After I had my body lacerated
By these two mortal stabs, I gave myself
Weeping to Him, who willingly doth pardon.

Horrible my iniquities had been;
But Infinite Goodness hath such ample arms,
That it receives whatever turns to it.

Had but Cosenza's pastor, who in chase
Of me was sent by Clement at that time,
In God read understandingly this page,

The bones of my dead body still would be
At the bridge-head, near unto Benevento,
Under the safeguard of the heavy cairn.

Now the rain bathes and moveth them the wind,
Beyond the realm, almost beside the Verde,
Where he transported them with tapers quenched.

To run o'er better waters hoists its sail
The little vessel of my genius now,
That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel;

And of that second kingdom will I sing
Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself,
And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy.

Treachery 4/4

At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching
A sinner, in the manner of a brake,
So that he three of them tormented thus.

To him in front the biting was as naught
Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine
Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.

That soul up there which has the greatest pain,
The Master said, is Judas Iscariot;
With head inside, he plies his legs without.

Of the two others, who head downward are,
The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;
See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.

And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.
But night is reascending, and 'tis time
That we depart, for we have seen the whole.

//Treachery// 3/4

Then he replied: I am Friar Alberigo;
He am I of the fruit of the bad garden,
Who here a date am getting for my fig.

O, said I to him, now art thou, too, dead?
And he to me: How may my body fare
Up in the world, no knowledge I possess.

Such an advantage has this Ptolomaea,
That oftentimes the soul descendeth here
Sooner than Atropos in motion sets it.

And, that thou mayest more willingly remove
From off my countenance these glassy tears,
Know that as soon as any soul betrays

As I have done, his body by a demon
Is taken from him, who thereafter rules it,
Until his time has wholly been revolved.

Ptolomaea is named for Ptolemy, who invited guests to a banquet and then killed them all. Here are resting on their backs, those who betrayed their guests, frozen in the ice for their treachery.

Treachery 2/4

His mouth uplifted from his grim repast,

That sinner, wiping it upon the hair

Of the same head that he behind had wasted



Then he began: Thou wilt that I renew

The desperate grief which wrings my heart already

To think of only, ere I speak of it;



But if my words be seed that may bear fruit

Of infamy to the traitor who I gnaw,

Speaking and weeping shalt thou see together.



I know not who thou art, nor by what mode

Thou hast come down here, but a Florentine

Thou seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.



Thou hast to know I was Count Ugolino,

And this one was Ruggieri the Archbishop;

Now I will tell thee why I am such a neighbour.



That, by effect of his malicious thoughts

Trusting in him I was made prisoner

And after put to death, I need not say;



But ne'ertheless what canst not have heard,

That is to say, how cruel was my death,

Hear shalt thou, and shalt know if he has wronged me.

The second round of the last circle of hell is reserved for the traitors against their country, named Antenora, after the Trojan who betrayed his people to the cunning of the Horse.

Nightmares

I had nightmares as a kid. The usual stuff, horrible clowns, ghosts, whatever scary movie I'd seen recently. You get used to nightmares. And then your head finds something else to use.
That's how it works.
I used to have dreams about a forest. Then nightmares. And then, I got used to those.
Well hello there nightmares, I see you've managed to come up with something new.
And I'm really starting to be sick to death of waking up screaming every few hours.
I'm worried that I'll get used to these nightmares. I'm terrified of the idea of getting used to them.

So I'm leaving Hope. It's hard to explain. I don't really get it myself. But it feels like there's a storm brewing. Just a massive, great-grandmother of a storm ready to blow the walls down. And I really don't want to be around for when it hits.

North-bound one more time. Let's see if it sticks. Elaine's been kind enough to put me on a plane so I can get my van back, and then it's all wide open from there.

Everything. Again.

So. The past few days have been. Odd. That's an understatement. I think crazy would be the best way to describe them. Too much to process all at once.
Where to start? Sure. Lockup.
Don't get me wrong. It's nice enough, but a well decorated cell is still a cell.
I don't do well with confinement. Let that be said now.
By the time I got out, I think I could have punched someone. And my legs were tired from the pacing.

And then Shaun shows up with a goddamn guitar, (not that it was in tune) and we had a sing-along.
That was weird. That whole... fucking normal thing sneaking up again. It's disturbing.

The day after? Spent apologizing, making people sandwiches and "fixing" things. That went really well.

In that at one point I told Lucas to shoot me with an unloaded gun. Which I'd handed him. While he wasn't in a particularly stable state of mind. No one can accuse me of being stable. But it seems to have worked out okay.

I think I've sorted that much out?

Opal, and another girl showed up the other night. Had to convince Elaine to take the right precautions.
We drove out to a meet-up point that Elaine gave them. Brought them back in the van so they couldn't see how we went. Probably take them out the same way. They're locked up on the second floor.

Dropped off some food, saw to Opal's arm and head. Arm probably won't work properly.

And now we get to the good part. Blackout. Again. I slipped. And apparently no one noticed.

Apparently I tormented Opal to the point that she tried, and succeeded I might add, to club me with a lamp. It hurt.
Also drugged Lis and then made off in the middle of the night and wound up waking up on the side of the interstate in Kansas. Now, everything gets a little fuzzy from this point on, so forgive me if I'm unclear.
The frightening part in what comes next is that all the actions that followed made a *great* deal of sense at the time. They obviously don't any more.
I came to in my van, on the side of the interstate, absolutely starving. Ate something, go to check things to see just what the hell happened?
No sympathy and apparently I'm the devil.
It is very difficult to explain exactly how this feels. So, what I'd like you to do, is get a pencil, and place it against the webbing between your middle and ring fingers, and hold it there. Now, squeeze those two fingers together.
Suffice it to say, the inability of anyone to believe me coupled with the fact that I was and am still FUCKING TERRIFIED of myself is not a good cocktail, especially on the tail end of a blackout.

Actually, there's a bit of a lie there. Spencer believed me.
It is a sad fucking day when the only other person who you can turn to is Spencer Fitzgerald, dear readers. I sort of... lost it. With the world.

So now we get to the fun part. That's the part where I apparently managed to break into a Loop. See, Richard (Variously Raven, Corwin, R.C.S) is a miserable bastard. I would like nothing better than to wring his feathery neck. THIS WHOLE MESS that I'm in right now, I'm putting on his head. So yeah, it made sense that I was going to hunt his ass down and put a bullet in him. But not really. I don't think I'm that violent.

Spencer, I have no idea what the hell you were doing there. Who invited you? And why the hell did we wind up in New Mexico?

I'm getting ahead of myself though. Spencer also happened to be there, for reasons only known to him, Slender and God I would imagine. I shot him. (For those of you keeping score at home, the number of people I have shot is now: 1). I honestly didn't mean to. He was sort of standing in the way of the gun and I asked him to move but he wouldn't and...

Okay so not getting into the gritty details of that, I lose track of just what happens next, only Spencer's been shot and we're in outside of Albuquerque (yes, New Mexico) ON THE WRONG SIDE OF A SHOOTING RANGE. In case anyone was wondering, tar and mustard gas is a fair approximation of a smell I'd much rather refer to as "death".

So the situation as it stands at this point? Not good. My van is in Kansas, two states away. With most of my things. A little fuzzy on how I wound up at a library, but managed to get in touch with Elaine. Now, if anyone would like to doubt Ms. Logan's character I would like to correct them at this point.

Because you see, in the span of three days or so, I could have very well killed someone in her house. Twice. It's very likely that I could have lit the place on fire. And she bought me a plane ticket and picked me up from the airport. And she hasn't locked me up again.

If anyone would like to question Ms. Logan's sanity, feel free to take it up with her, I won't bother to argue with either of you.

TL;DR? Stuff happened. All at once, and when it was over I'd managed to lose my hat. I don't lose my hat.

Enough.

That's it. Roll credits.
Last one out don't forget
to turn off the lights please
Seems I'm a dangerous person
And the ticking just doesn't stop.
It doesn't go away. It never stops.
Obviously, the right thing to do is to heap
your resentment on me. All of the anger
and hatred. Well you know what? You
let it happen.All of you did. Didn't you~
No answers from you?I suppose that
means that I'm right then doesn't it?

IF YOU'RE ALL
SO DAMNED WISE
THEN HOW THE HELL
DID YOU LET HIM GET
AWAY WITH IT HMM?
ANSWER ME THAT!
WHAT'S THIS NOW
YOU CAN'T?
GOOD.

Oh.
Hey.
Anger.
Forgot you.
Hello again.
Glad that
you're
back

Really
I've had enough of this
I want nothing more right now
than to see every last one of you
HATEFUL BASTARDS
BURN

But first?
I've got to figure out
how to kill an invisible man
and time's a-wasting.
See you~

Treachery 1/4

If I had rhymes but rough and stridulous,
As were appropriate to the dismal hole
Down upon which thrust all the other rocks,


I would press out the juice of my conception
More fully; but because I have them not,
Not without fear I bring myself to speak;


Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me
And underfoot a lake, that from frost
The semblance had of glass, and not of water.


Livid, as far down as where shame appears,
Were the disconsolate sades within the ice,
Setting their teeth unto the note of storks.


Each one his countenance held downward bent:
From mouth the cold, from eyes the doeful heart
Among them witness of itself procures.


When round about me somewhat I had looked,
I downward turned me, and saw two so close,
The hair upon their heads together mingled.


Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me,
I said, who are you; and they bent their necks,
And when to me their faces they had lifted,


Their eyes, whih first were only moist within
Gushed o'er the eyelids, and the frost congealed
The tears between, and locked them up again.


They from one body came, and all Cania
Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade
More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;


Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow
At one and the same blow by Arthur's hand;

The first round of the Ninth Circle of Hell, is named Cania, and like the rest of this round, in it are placed the treacherous. The crime of the first round, for which it takes its name, is treachery against family. Don't say you don't deserve it

What you leave behind

Hope is a wonderful thing. It's warm, bright and safe. And it's a shame to have to leave it behind.
I'm going north again. And I'm sorry for slipping out in the middle of the night. But it was easier that way.
Safer. Couldn't have Elaine locking me in again. And I can't trust any of you. I'm sorry to say it. I can't.
You have no idea how long it took to get everything to the van. Of course, the flaw in any security system, no matter how advanced, is always a human one. We're flawed, fragile things.
if last night is any indication events have caught up with me
But I've gotten off topic.

So yeah. That's me gone. I suppose I owe some goodbyes at this point. I've already made my apologies, as far as it's worth. I'm fine. For a given value of fine. Don't worry about me.

Elaine: Thanks for giving me a place to stay for a while. I know you might have had some misgivings. It's been... good to be Michael again. Hope your shoulder gets better. I don't need to tell you take care of Hope. But I'm telling you anyways. It's a precious thing and for better or worse, you're its caretaker. I'm so. sorry. Have fun~

Lis: Thank you. I don't think I can say more than that. You're wonderful. Sorry for leaving so abruptly. You did ask us to say goodbye. And it was easier to knock you out.

Joel: Take care. Sorry about the ribs again. And sorry about Lucas. You're both very fun to push, I must admit, take care Wolfie

Lucas: Apologies for the other night. I was out of line. You've still got Joel though. Make the best of it.

Tia: Sorry about stealing Lis, she's all yours now. Take care of her. Don't worry. Lis is fine. She'll be awake in a few hours.

Blake: Sorry, I won't get to do that rematch. See if Venny will take up my sword?

Shaun: Nice to see someone more awkward than me. Take care of Elaine. Keep the guitar in tune. And, sorry about... well you know. That punch to the stomach hurt. I'll need to get you for that.

Opal: Sorry we couldn't talk longer. Don't go crazy again. Or I'll be back. Those windows? I think you could put a bullet through one.

I don't think I've forgotten anyone... of course I have thats what happens

Ten of Ten

When we were now right over the last cloister
Of Malebolge, so that its lay-brothers
Could manifest themselves unto our sight,

Diverse lamentings pierced me through and through,
Which with compassion had their arrows barbed,
Whereat mine ears I covered with my hands.

What pain would be, if from the hospitals
Of Valdichiana, 'twixt July and September,
And of Maremma and Sardinia,

All the diseases in one moat were gathered,
Such was it here, and such a stench came from it
As from putrescent limbs is wont to issue.

We had descended on the furthest bank
From the long crag, upon the left hand still,
And then more vivid was my power of sight

One the false woman is who accused Josheph
The other the false Sinon, Greek of Troy;
From acute fever they send forth such reek.

The tenth, and final, Bolgia is for the falsifiers. As in life a disease on society they were, their punishment, here at the bottom of this pit, is to be steeped in illness and disease themselves.

Nine of Ten

A cask by loosing centre-piece or cant
Was ever shattered so, as I saw one
Rent from the chin to where one breaketh wind

Between his legs were hanging down his entrails
His heart was visible, and the dismal sack
That maketh excrement of what is eaten.

While I was all absorbed in seeing him,
He looked at me, and opened with his hands
His bosom, saying: See now how I rend me;

How mutilated, see, is Mahomet;
In front of me doth Ali weeping go,
Cleft in the face from forelock unto chin;

And all the others whom thou here beholdest,
Disseminators of scandal and schism
While living were, and therefore are cleft thus.

A devil is behind here, who doth cleave us
Thus cruelly, unto the falchion's edge
Putting again each one of all this ream,

When we have gone around the doleful road;
By reason that our wounds are closed again
Ere any one in front of him repass.

But who art thou, that musest on the crag,
Perchance to postpone going to the pain
That is adjudged upon thine accusations.

Something witty

Okay. I'll admit it. I'm going crazy
Dante makes me sick. And the rest of this
The Divine Comedy? Is just a cover
So much garbage. So I can keep denying the truth
Aren't I clever?

Eight of Ten

With flames as manifold resplendent all
Was the eighth Bolgia, as I grew aware
As soon as I was where the depth appeared

And such as he who with the bears avenged him
Beheld Elijah's chariot at departing
What time the steeds to heaven erect uprose

For with his eye he could not follow it
So as to see aught else than flame alone,
Even as a little cloud ascending upward,

Thus each along the gorge of the intrenchment
Was moving; for not one reveals the theft,
And every flame a sinner steals away.

I stood upon the bridge uprisen to see,
So that, if I had seized not on a rock,
Down had I fallen without being pushed.

And the Leader, who beheld me so attent
Exclaimed: With the fires the spirits are;
Each swathes himself with that wherewith he burns.

'My Master, I replied, by hearing thee
I am more sure; but I surmised already
It might be so, and already wished to ask thee

Who is within that fire, which comes so cleft
At the top, it seems uprising from the pyre
Where was Eteocles with his brother placed.

He answered me: Within there are tormented
Ulysses and Diomed, and thus together
They unto vengeance run as unto wrath

And there within their flame do they lament
The ambush of the horse, which made the door
When issued forth the Romans' gentle seed;

Therein is wept the craft, for which being dead
Deidamia still deplores Achilles,
And pain for the Palladium there is borne.

There in the Eighth Bolgia are condemned to fire, those who gave fraudulent and evil counsel. They are not liars, merely those who used positions of respect to counsel others to ill deeds.

Seven of Ten

We from the bridge descended at its head,
Where it connects itself with the eighth bank,
And then was manifest to me the Bolgia;

And I beheld therein a terrible throng
Of serpents, and of such a monstrous kind,
That the remembrance still congeals my blood

Let Libya boast no longer with her sand;
For if Chelydri, Jaculi and Pharae
She breeds, with Cenchri and with Ammhisbaena.

Neither so many plagues nor so malignant
E'er showed she with all Ethiopia
Nor with whatever on the Red Sea is!

Among this cruel and most dismal throng
People were running naked and affrighted
Without the hope of hole or heliotrope

They had their hands with serpents bound behind them;
These riveted upon their reins the the tail
And hear, and were in front of them entwined.

And lo! at one who was upon our side
There darted forth a serpent, which transfixed him
There where the neck is knotted to the shoulders.

Nor O so quickly e'er, nor I was written,
As he took fire, and burned; and ashes wholly
Behoved it that in falling he became.

And when he on the ground was thus destroyed,
The ashes drew together, and of themselves
Into himself they instantly returned.

The Guide thereafter asked him who he was;
When he replied: I rained from Tuscany
A short time since into this cruel gorge.

A bestial life, and not a human, pleased me,
Even as the mule I was; I'm Vanni Fuci
Beast, and Pistoia was my worthy den.

An I unto the Guide: Tell him to stir not,
And ask what crime has thrust him here below,
For once a man of blood and wrath I saw him.

And the sinner, who had heard, dissembled not,
But unto me directed mind and face,
And with a melancholy shame was painted.

Then said: It pains more that thou hast caught me
Amid this misery where thou seest me,
Than when I from the other life was taken.

Who thou demandest I cannot deny;
So low am I put down because I robbed
The sacristy of the fair ornaments,

And falsely once 'twas laid upon another;
But that thou mayst not such a sight enjoy,
If thou shalt e'er be out of the dark places,

Out of the box

So. Elaine didn't lie to me about letting me out.
I think I'm grateful. Being in a room like that. It is not pleasant. No matter what anyone tells you.

The first thing I did, I burned some things. The notebook. And a few other papers with slenderscribble on them. How didn't I notice that?

Anyways. I'm out of quarantine for now.

Retrospective

I've always thought the trope in story telling of recounting a narrative through retrospective was an interesting one. It could be done well, or horribly poorly.

There's a feeling in the back of my head. When it starts to push back. Music helps. No. Wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.
There's a shooting range here. I'd have burned my bow with the house... but it had meaning. I'm no marksman, but I can still hit a target. And the action of shooting, nock the arrow, take aim, pull back. Release. It's calming. It focuses the mind. I think I surprised Elaine a little. It's been hard to get to sleep. Keep waking up.

I dabbled in hobbies as a kid, a few things stuck here and there. Archery, from back in school, and if you'll believe it, I learned to fight with a staff. They thought it would teach me discipline. Well, I suppose it did. But mostly, I liked the idea that you could break someones ribs with it.

Elaine carries far too many knives. We sparred a little (she's better than me) until I got her shoulder which apparently hurt quite a bit. And that's when I noticed. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It was back. The fucking ticking alwaysthe fucking ticking. Tick tock. NO. None of that.

I could feel it starting to push in the back of my head. Elaine pointed it out. I tap out the beat when I can hear it. Old habit, keeping time. The music usually helps. But it didn't. There was something wrong and. I needed to leave. I remember going to get my rope back from Joel. And it was really starting to show at that point. So I ran. Always the running. If I've still got legs I'm running. I figured I could lose Joel on the third floor, duck in next to the door, let him go through and slip out behind him.

Nope. Elaine and Shaun were there. Turn the hell around and actually start running. And then Elaine locked down the house. I'd had the van loaded but the gate wouldn't open and... the ticking. God damn it. The ticking. I lose track of what happened there.

Next thing I know, I'm tied up, getting lugged around by Tia, Shaun's limping, my stomach feels like it's been bashed in by something with roughly the size, shape, speed and mass of a cannon ball, something's up with Joel and... I lost it. And now they've locked me up. I'm quarantined. Like I'm carrying a contagion.

Why'd you have to leave the damn notebook with me Elaine? Why that and not even a match? I want to burn this thing. Set the pages on fire and watch them burn.

sorry. I slipped.

Six of Ten

Whence I unto my Leader: See thou find
Some one who may by deed or name be known
And thus in going move thine eye about.

And one, who understood the Tuscan speech
Cried to us from behind: Stay ye your feet
Ye, who run athwart the dusky air

Perhaps thou'lt have from me what thou demandest.
Whereat the Leader turned him and said: Wait,
And then according to his pace proceed.

I stopped, and two beheld I show great haste
Of spirit, in their faces, to be with me;
But the burden and the narrow way delayed them.

When they came up, long with an eye askance
They scanned me without uttering a word.
Then to each other turned and said together:

He by the action of his throat seems living;
And if they dead are, by what privilege
Go they uncovered by the heavy stole?

Then said to me: Tuscan, who to the college
of miserable hypocrites art come,
Do not disdain to tell us who thou art.

And I to them: Born was I, and grew up
In the great town on the fair river of Arno,
And with the body am I've always had.

But who are ye, in whom there trickles down
Along your cheeks such grief as I behold?
And what pain is upon you, that so sparkles?

And one replied to me: These orange cloaks
Are made of lead so heavy, that the weights
Cause in this way their balances to creak.

In the sixth, the hypocrites walk under the burden of gilded lead cloaks, the nature of their burden disguised as their fraud was in life, the weight prevents their progression further.

Five of Ten

And I: My Master, see to it, if thou canst,
That thou mayst know who is the luckless wight
Thus come into his adversaries' hands.

Near to the side of him my Leader drew,
Asked of him whence he was; and he replied:
I in the kingdom of Navarre was born;

My mother placed me servant to a lord,
For she had borne me to a ribald knave,
Destroyer of himself and of his things.

Then I domestic was of good King Thibault;
I set me there to practise barratry
For which I pay the reckoning in this heat.

In the fifth, the corrupt politicians are steeped in boiling pitch for their foul and sticky dealings, and are clawed at and whipped by the vicious guardians of that place.

Four of Ten

Of a new pain behoves me to make verses
And give material to the twentieth canto
Of the first song, which is of the submerged.

I was already thoroughly disposed
To peer down into the uncovered depth,
Which bathed itself with the tears of agony;

And people saw I through the circular valley,
Silent and weeping, coming at the pace
Which in this world the Litanies assume.

As lower down my sight descended on them,
Wondrously each one seem to be distorted
From chin to the beginning of the chest

For tow'rds the reins the countenance was turned,
And backward it beehoved them to advance,
As to look forward had been taken from them.

Perchance indeed by violence of palsy
Some one has been thus wholly turned awry;
But I ne'er saw it, nor believe it can be.

In the fourth Bolge, the fortune tellers, diviners and false prophets are punished, forced to walk their heads turned backwards unable to see what lies before them in death, as they strove to see the future in life.

Three of Ten

O Simon Magus, O forlorn disciples,
Ye who the things of God, which ought to be
The brides of holiness, rapaciously

For silver and for gold do protitute,
Now it behoves you for the trumpet sound,
Because in this third Bolgia ye abide.

Two of Ten

Thence we heard people, who are making moan
In the next Bolgia, snorting with their muzzles,
And with their palms beating upon themselves,

The margins were incrusted with a mould
By exhalation from below, that sticks there,
And with the eyes and nostrils wages war.

The bottom is so deep, no place suffices
To give us sight of it without ascending
The arch's back, where most the crag impends.

Thither we came, and thence down in the moat
I saw a people smothered in a filth
That out of human privies seemed to flow

And whilst below there with mine eye I search,
I saw one with his head so foul with ordure,
It was not clear if he were clerk or layman.

He screamed to me: Wherefore art thou so eager
To look at me more than the other foul ones?
And I to him: Because, if I remember,

I have already seen thee with dry hair,
And thou'rt Alessio Interminei of Lucca;
Therefore I eye thee more than all the others.

The second pocket of Malbolge is for the flatterers. Here they are steeped in waste, in recognition of the value of their words.

History

So, yeah.
I'll admit writing an obituary for yourself isn't the sanest thing to do. See? There I've said it. Yes, I'm looking at you Ben you miserable, cynical bastard. It'll get explained.
I've had this floating around for a while, in one shape or another. I suppose you're absolved of the contents of that flash drive Spence. Throw it in a river for all I care.

As with any good story, we begin from the beginning.

It'll be seen eventually. Michael Johannes (pronounced Jones for some unfathomable reason), born Monday, 15th December, 1991. It was snowing that day. Afflicted as of July 12th, 2011, Stalked as of August 7th, 2011. Also known as Nemo.

We'll skip the early years. There's nothing terribly important there.

Amateur actor and cameraman, journalism student, habitual liar. And yes, I know some of you will seize on that last point. I'm getting better about it.

In the beginning, there were a dozen of us. There were only two others can I can really remember, as far as the story is concerned, the others aren't important. Richard, Rick, he was in screenwriting, and Jessica, who was in theatre. Most of them were theatre students actually, but it was Rick that got everyone into it. We were going to make a short film, and Rick was the director. Screenwriting was on the same floor as journalism, theatre was in the same building on the floor below. I just sort of fell into it, see, no one was that good with a camera. A dozen people and none of them could run a camera properly. You know, journalism tends to work with still cameras and I still knew more than them? But I'm rambling.

'If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as improbable fiction.'

(That's Twelfth Night by the way) We set out to make a film about the Slender bastard. Most of the theatre bunch were just doing it for practice, but Rick was really into it. Wanted to be the next John Carpenter or something. We would talk over bits of the script, compare it to what was already out. Most people get hooked with Marble Hornets, but it was the Hybrids that did it for me, first series I saw. Terrified me by the time he showed up on screen the first time. Had to sleep with a light on the night after that. Been a few nights like that since. More than a few.

I don't smoke, don't really drink (I make exceptions for sweet things and Bailey's). No drugs. My vices were more, cerebral you might say. I enjoyed being scared; well not exactly. I enjoyed the feeling afterwards. The cocktail of chemicals that your body produces when you're afraid and the inevitable rush of calmness or happiness when you realize you're safe was... is quite intoxicating. This did it for me better than anything up until that point. Before that I'd been more into zombies, but the depth of the terror here made it even better. And then Rick called the whole thing off.

Like I said, an improbable fiction; we didn't hear from him after that. Someone said something about him moving, but things started to break down and go dark after that. Like a bunch of little lightbulbs slowly going out. People just didn't talk any more.

Jessica, she was our make up and props person. She'd been working on the costume for 'it' when Rick called things off. Picked up a few tricks off of her. I'd helped her do up some of the cryptic stuff, notebooks and all that. We worked together to make sure things looked alright when they were on camera.

I think I have to derail the narrative for a second and talk about Jessica now. I don't know how much of it shows through, but it's safe to say that Jessica was important. In retrospect, this will all sound a little creepy. Socially well-adjusted doesn't seem to be a trait that stalked seem to be known for.

Love isn't the right word. Fond, perhaps. Inordinately fond is probably the best description. It probably wouldn't have taken much for that to turn into obsession. Which probably brings my stability into question again. I'm really probably not the best character witness for myself.

She was really serious about it, a lot like Rick. Looked at Marble Hornets a lot. She took the costume back with her, and some of the props. Jessica stopped talking last. She was... out of it. I thought she was joking to be honest. And then I got into the blogs. I can't remember how I got into that business with Claire and Royce and Lyric and the rest.. I haven't tried to find out what happened to anyone. Well, except I know what happened to Jessica. Jessica's dead.

I think you know the rest of the story

Jessica was special to me. And I killed her. She was a proxy. She came into my home and tried to kill me. So I killed her. And I don't think the bit that came after this was helping the case for my stability. Suffice it say, it wasn't pleasant.

Since everyone I've asked doesn't seem to know? Nemo means "nobody" in latin. I thought it was a clever way of saying "nothing to see here". I don't think it's accurate any more. And I'm trying to avoid out and out lies.

So that's the story.

Ben

Have I done something to offend you?
Or are you really just not a happy camper?
How is it that metaphor continues to escape you?
I don't care who or what you think I am.
But keep the paranoia to yourself
you miserable, cynical bastard.
Maybe you'll live longer.
Any questions?

Improvement

So, it only took me... an hour or so to go back on that.

But this was too good to leave alone.

So don't worry. I haven't flipped out, or been replaced. Just... a change in states.

~Michael.

Well this is disturbing.

How normal everything is.

Just... absolutely disturbingly... normal.

And you know what?

If I have anything to stay to about, that's exactly how the fuck it's going to stay for a while.

So you won't be hearing from me unless there's something wrong.

And there won't be. Count on it.