Wednesday, April 27, 2011

and weve only just begun

so many roads to choose

make a wish and youre on your way

and yes weve just begun

sharing horizons that are new to us

watching the signs along the way

just the two of us


and when the evening comes

youll smile

so much of your life ahead

well find a place for you to grow

and yes weve just begun

four down. five to go.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Some Things Must Never Be Witnessed

Steph's currently in the hospital with Dr. Fitzpatrick. He left a voice message on my phone explaining that she was currently unstable. The firefighters who came a few days beforehand found her struggling with the air, dressed in a strange blue shirt she claimed she never seen before. Beside her was her sister, and I know what they are saying... Everyone seems to think that Steph killed her own sister. I spoke with her earlier, and her account reveals something entirely different. Everyone is acting like Steph is mad. Even her own father... She reminds him too much of his wife, he says. It's almost as if he expects her to go missing too. Dr. Fitzpatrick assured me she was safe with him, and he'll make sure she'll stay with him as long as she needs to. I have to say I trust his judgment. More than anyone else right now. I'm not even sure I can trust myself right now. I truly do not know what I am doing. And while I am trying, it seems like the closer I get to some new discovery the further I get from what I'm actually searching for. It's like a never ending cycle of Cat and Mouse. Only in this game nobody wins. We are at a stalemate He and I. And I've seen Him more and more out of the corner of my eye. I didn't want to tell Steph this but I think I'm seeing him too. I often try my best to ignore him, so I can return to my research, but the temptation is too overwhelming.

Apparently Mr. Nord has his own problems with the CPS. Now that Hannah is dead they are trying to take away Josh and Zach. I believe they already took Zach, because I haven't seen Mr. Nord with him. But the only person I've seen him with so far, was a bearded old man. So I could be wrong. Poor Mr. Nord. He has a lot to deal with right now. No home, no insurance, and they are trying to take away with children. He personally asked me when did everything go wrong. I wished I could answer him, but I was too busy staring at the flames. I remember thinking I saw a shadow in there. But then that shadow became four people. My memory is a bit blurred after that. In fact I don't remember anything at all. Just those four shadows, and one of them, the shadow of a girl, edging towards me, fast. I think I went inside to retrieve some papers, because all I have to retrieve from the fire are these.

The mother and child, the face, the coordinates, and a couple of blank papers, all have been pretty singed in the fire. But luckily, they aren't bad burnt. I guess I managed to get to them before the fire could do some real damage. I can't find the rest of the journal anywhere. I'm certain it's nothing but ashes now. Along with Hannah's poor body. An anonymous person is paying for her funeral and everything. Nobody knows who he is, but he claimed that he was a member of a small church on Clinton. I think it's pretty nice of him. As far as I know, Steph won't be able to attend. Not that I think she wants to go. To be honest, I don't want to either. But I must, Steph's father wishes me to be there, and I think I should for Steph's sake, if anything else. Poor Zach is clueless. He just thinks his sister is lost. But Joshua, who asked to come over to my at my house, seeming a tad bit suspicious of Steph and I. Steph may not have noticed it, but he was looking at her weird for the entirety of Saturday. It's gotten to the point where he cornered me today and demanded some answers. And I was shocked. Usually he never talks, with anyone.

"What's going on?" he asked me. I couldn't hear it at first. His voice is so soft, so quiet, like a whisper in the wind. And he knew I couldn't hear him at first, so he asked again, much louder this time. "What's going on?" It made me jump, hearing him talk to me for the first time. It didn't seem to faze him, he kept on staring at me as if accusing me of something. "What's going on?" he asked a third time. "What do you mean?" I asked back. "You know what I mean" he said knowingly. "Steph's been acting weird around the house, and you too. Something's happening." I was beginning to fear the worst, and life delivered. "She's seen him too, hasn't she?"

I was struck silent, I simply couldn't say anything. What this whole conversation implied, I had hoped it wasn't what I thought it was, but that look in his eyes told me otherwise. He knew. Oh he knew. And he wanted me to explain it to him. I refused, I had to. I couldn't just pull him into this, I couldn't let what happened to Steph happen to him. I had to protect him somehow. But he was persistent. "You're lying. You knew he was there. The entire time, you knew. Both of you did." "Please Josh, I have no idea what you're talking about." "The business man! She's seen him hasn't she? And you did too!" I could be honest about one thing, I have not yet seen him. But he seemed to think I did. I didn't know how I could explain myself to him. "He killed Hannah didn't he?" I felt a sudden sickness clutch on to my stomach, everything seemed to fall all around me, and Joshua continued to stare. "I want to know who he is." I couldn't answer him. I felt paralyzed, as if I was lost in a dream. A few inaudible sounds left my throat, but it wouldn't travel beyond my tongue. I felt like I was about to die right in front of Josh. I felt like I was about to be swallowed by the black hole in my stomach. But then something saved me.

"Joshua Nord?"

It was Mr. Hernandez, one of the two social workers from CPS in charge of the Steph's family's "case" as they call it. The one Steph constantly refers to as "Mr. Dick" and the one I recognize the easiest. And generally, he is the nice one. "Mrs. Velázquez wants to see you for a moment." I still couldn't shake that feeling that I got from Josh, who continued to stare at me even as he left. For a moment there I thought I was going to spill everything. My only hope is that he doesn't find this blog somehow. Once Josh was out of the way, Mr. Hernandez turned to me with a grave look on his face. "Rebecca, you and me will be having a talk, separate from your mother and Josh. We have some important things to discuss." "I don't wish to discuss Steph's condition right now." "This is not about Stephanie's condition, Rebecca...this is about survival."

I lead him to my room, where we could talk privately, still dazed. Luckily, I cleaned my room earlier, so he had no reason to whisk me out of my home. He seemed impressed at least. "Dancer?" he asked, looking at some of my trophy's. I nodded, "That's wonderful. You must be proud of your talent." I shrugged, it did not matter much to me. I just wanted to get this over with. "Where do you see yourself going after the end of the school year?" Again, I shrugged. "I've been considering going into Psychology sir." "Psychology?" "Yes. I want to help people." I think I said something wrong. He looked at me with a look of concern. "Yes, Stephanie is in need of a psychologist right now. But you, I'm afraid to say, just won't cut it." My face fell, I was so confused, a part of me was heartbroken. "What do you mean?" Before I knew it I had a hand on my shoulder.

"You're in danger Rebecca. Which is why I'm making you this offer. Let us help you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"As you are already know, there is a number of people going missing across the nation, a majority of them children..."

"What are y-"

"...I believe you knew one of these children." At first, I gazed oddly at the man before me, trying to absorb the meaning behind his words. But then it dawned on me, that terrible light of truth. "You-" "Yes, I know about the slender creature." he said. I had to bite my tongue, in order to stop myself from correcting him. "We have made it our business to know. Ever since the year 1977." "What happened in 1977." "I assume your parents told you about the blizzard of '77."

The Blizzard of '77. I vaguely remember my Earth Science teacher speaking about it in class when he was teaching us about weather patterns. It was declared a federal disaster, with over ten feet of snow from what I remember. My father told me about the cars trapped underneath heaps of snow that could pile as high as a two story house. The school buses were amongst those that were trapped, so my father told me about how he and his friends would spend the days after the wind died down outside making tunnels and climbing snow hills. He told me one of his friends once dared him to try and climb a streetlight. "It was crazy" he told me. "Yes, my father told me" I said.

Mr. Hernandez nodded knowingly. "Over twenty people died during the course and aftermath of that storm. Radio reports came out every day, it was the only method of relaying official updates to the general public. While they saved a majority of victims using this method, some people reported to be stranded in their cars weren't there when laborers uncovered the vehicle. I happened to know one of those people."

"And where does Slend- the creature, come in on all this?"

"I saw him in a dream before I heard about my friend's disappearance during the storm. I suppose you can say that's when I became interested in its existence."

"So, you think it took him."

"Not at first, no. But when you've seen as much as I have, you start having doubts. And I've seen some strange things over the course of the last thirty years." I didn't wish to invade his personal history any longer than I have. It felt weird, hearing a social worker explain these things to you. Usually a social worker would be worried about your own sanity if you shared something as fantastical as this. I don't even think I could trust him, I mean... I wanted to trust him, but there was no way I could trust a complete stranger. Yes, he was a potential ally, that much I know now. I want him to be an ally. "Which begs the question of whether it was active during the October storm of 2006." I was awoken from my daydream, perhaps I looked confused. All I could remember was not having power for eight days, and school's being closed for two weeks...trees falling.... I tried to not pay much attention to what was going outside. I didn't like the snow as a kid. It reminded me of iced waters. "I wouldn't worry about it, most probable explanation I have is that the snow and massive amounts of people stacked up on top of each other probably helped in its hunt." He sounded really uncertain, "Enough of the past. Fact of the matter need help, and I hope you start evaluating your situation and abilities if you want to survive." "What abilities? What can I do? I can't help anyone. The runners are better off by themselves. I feel like I'm only making things worse trying to do something, just one thing helpful. I-I'm like a messenger pigeon with this very important letter. And I can't get through the window glass until somebody comes and opens the window. But when they do I fly inside and make a mess, I can't do anything. I have no abilities." "And you believe that these 'runners' as you call them are better off than you? Don't you think they realize that they are just as powerless?" "I don't know! I don't know! I just want to do something!" "Look at me!"

I felt a strong, thick hand grab my chin and force my face so that it was eye level with the eyes of righteous anger. They frightened me, and for a moment I was about to scream, but then those eyes softened. "Listen to me. Do not try to help. Don't even pay attention to them unless you know you have something to contribute. Trust me on this it's not worth getting all worked up over strangers who probably have problems of their own. If you want to be friends with them, it's on you whether or not you're going to be safe. We'll be regulating your posts so we can judge them for ourselves, just in case. I'd advice you to choose who you reveal information to wisely. The world is not a safe world, neither is it a forgiving one. Look around you at all times, there is danger. It's not just protection from the average predator we're focusing on anymore."

"We are the Victim Support Association. Our job is to protect the interests of those who have no defense, or are in desperately need of help but have no one else to turn to. When you're ready I want you to give us a call" His words implied that me and Steph were alone in this, and I believed him. But still...

I can't even trust myself. How am I supposed to trust him? I mean he seems to be of well nature, he gave me a private number and smiled warmly before he left. But can't warm smiles be faked? I don't know...I'm a bit overwhelmed by this. As it turns out Josh wasn't staying with me as I hoped, but she was going to life with his grandmother on his mother's side. I don't know how Mr. Nord thinks about that, but it's my assumption that he is rather upset.

Well, I suppose that's it...nothing more to say...

Keep holding on loves.

Love you all.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

The Journal

Hello everyone. It's Rebecca....Sorry about being inactive for a while...

I've been busy. Lately. And, I've been a bit scared. Steph's been mad at me, I think she still is. Especially now that I told her I went back to the apartment. It's a stupid move, I know. But nothing happen. No Slenderman. No strange noises in the night. Not even a Proxy. Nothing. But I was frightened. I cannot simply lie about that, not after Trickortreat.....

Oh gosh.

It was so long ago. I...I was so dumb. I couldn't...

I'm going to try to make it up to everyone somehow. I'm going to try and become extra helpful. I'm going to be brave, to be optimistic. To not complain. I'm going to try...

I just don't know how well I can do it. I'm doing the best I can. I at least managed to find something at the apartment that Steph missed. That's a start right? I think it's important, it looks important enough. It's a journal. One of those journals I keep hearing about. Journals that those who become Hallowed write. I never thought I would find any of these things.

Here's some of the pages, and what me and Steph think they mean. We've spent all night looking through them at Steph's house.

A large list of numbers, all written as if it were a list. Both me and Steph think the same, that these numbers were forced to be written down. Eventually, it seems that Mrs. Nord got tired of writing, and started scribbling carelessly as the bottom numbers are so hard to read. Steph wouldn't even bother. A lot of numbers repeated themselves so I tried running through some programs to see if there's a pattern. But Steph, being the Earth Science geek she used to be, pointed out that they were coordinates. Specifically coordinates set in New York. Now that I think about it, coordinates with these numbers was on the Earth Science exam just last year. We looked some of them up on Google Maps, and we did get some results. All of them in different cities too. But we have no idea what they could mean, or where they lead. Steph doesn't really want to go and find out either. I can't say I can blame her...

Still, this could be a lead. So we're going to try to figure something out.

Steph recognized this right away. Or at least, the first few words. It's from the musical Annie, and the song "It's a Hard Knock Life".

But why though?

Merely numbers. Steph insists that it's a code. I'm attempting to figure it out right now. I have a couple of plausible words so far, but I'm going to wait until I go through it all to see if I get enough to post or not. Some of the handwriting is messy, and hard to read. But the smile in the corner is...a bit disturbing. To say the least. It looks so much like a sad smile....I think this is the point where Mrs. Nord returns to drawing...

Steph and I both agree that this could be her mother and Hannah. With Steph's mother's face crossed out. I wonder why she would cross her face out like that though...

I assume this is a reference to Slenderman right here, represented by a tree. Steph pointed out the people in there before I could spot them. So it may be some sort of commentary on those who flock to him? Steph says I look into things too much. "The point of the matter is my mom is insane". It's particularly obvious that she is...I just wish to know what she's thinking through all of this. And this may be our only chance to figure it out.

This was on the front. I'm not sure what it is. But it looks awfully similar to psychedelic artwork. Particularly the kind they use in therapy. My thoughts are either Steph's mother's was hallucinating, or they gave her drugs and made her draw this, or this drawing isn't hers. Steph seems to think they put her mother on some sort of drugs. I'm not sure what to think.

Well that's it. I think there are some pages that are missing, since it seems like there were pages that were ripped out. But whatever they are, they are gone now. I really want to look into these more today, but Steph wants me to watch Doctor Who with her...and have some girl talk. Which seems silly coming from her. Usually I'm the one who suggests such things. It's funny how the table keeps turning. Steph has changed so much within the past month or two. I remember when she was still so shy and not confident... What happened? Or maybe...was she really shy at all?

I should really be asking these sort of questions. But sometimes I can't help but wonder. I just can't help myself. I always wanted to be what Steph calls a "shrink". I have plans on going to Buffalo State and everything. No idea where Steph plans to go, or if she's going anywhere. She just talked to me about the Marines, and how it would be good for her in terms of survival. I read some of the comments. I suppose I have to agree with Steph, but I agree with Locked On as well. What if it does make him easier to catch Steph? What would happen then?

Either way, I wish Steph luck on whatever she does. We're still going to be friends no matter least...that's what I like to think.

I hope we continue to be friends.

Mr. Nord's calling me. The Nord family is currently coloring eggs right now, and little Hannah wants me to do one.

I'll see you all, I suppose.

Tomorrow is Steph's birthday. I brought a book she may like. Or not.

I'm going to try to make tomorrow wonderful for her.

I just want her to be happy.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

My Testament to the city of Buffalo....and other stuff.

Ya know what guys?

Buffalo ain't such a bad place.

Sure, we may be in a slump, taxes are high, people are dumb, and you spend every day wondering when things will get better.

But it's not THAT bad. At least living here would be better than running across the country for the rest of your life, from some faceless businessman who specializes in the business of insanity. If ya know what I mean. I suppose a nice visit to the games last night made me realize that I will be missing so much once I'm out of here and into the world. I'm leaving so much behind, and tell ya what, you think I'm gonna be happy about this? Do I look happy to you?

Okay, whatever.

Anyways as I said before I went to the game last night in my hometown. You may be asking, "But Steph, why may I ask are you going to a Sabres game after yelling at the whole lot of us for taking part in some fuckward's game in order to save our friend we so dearly care about?" The reasoning is simple boys and girls, my father asked me if I wanted to go, and my birthday was coming up in a few days. So I thought, why not? I think I'm obligated to enjoy my life once in awhile don't you? I mean shouldn't we be all taking any chance we get to find some sort of bright spark in this whole fucked up darkness we're living in. Isn't that what sanity means? I'm sorry folks, but I refuse to let this thing win. I refuse. And if having one and living my days as a sunshiny person means beating the crap out of Slender Man. So be it.

I suppose you can also call this my testament and will to Buffalo. Buffalo, wanna know what I reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaally like about Buffalo? Underneath all that dirt and grim there's a bunch of flippin' history just waiting to be discovered. In the summer I see old people touring around all the time. Probably because most of them lived here during its hay day, or maybe because most of them just plain appreciate history enough to think Oh what the hay, I'm sure we can set aside a few coins for this city. Heh. Coins. Now, I'm not saying Buffalo ain't got its bad bits here and there. I fucking lived here ya know. I still do...kind of. Oh complications...oh running... But on the way to the game I passed by this big abandoned building with a copper neoclassical looking entrance. My dad pointed it out to me, while I was thinking that place HAS to be haunted. My dad told me it was probably a school at one point. Which makes sense when you think about it. It did look pretty scholastic. I just wish I took a picture of it so I could show you guys. But snooze you loose right? (Just so you guys know, we had to take the bus)

Downtown there was some sort of crime scene. NO IDEA what that was about, but they told us we had to take the train if we wanted to go to the stadium, there was even some guy on a megaphone blasting orders into our bloody ears, and some bastard told us we were wasting our money. Ya know, I know we're in an economic slump and all, but do you really have to be shitheaded enough to say that crap in public? Honestly. Motherfuckers. But yeah, the subways were PACKED by the way. To and fro. You know I don't usually go to games when I've never seen a packed subway before. But like I said before, think of this as a testament to my city. Which I will no longer be in very soon. I saw a battleship at the harbor, probably the same one I've seen before. The stadium's like right next to the Buffalo harbor. To think the harbor used to be such a busy place eh?

Oh yeah, the battleship. I have a picture of it too.

And here it is later at night.

Pretty awesome right? I think they allow people to go inside, some sort of museum thing, but it's not like I'm gonna go inside it anytime soon. Would be pretty cool to be on the flipping deck of a battleship though. Seriously, for sho.

...What, don't tell me none of you considered how badass it would be to be on a fucking battleship for God's sake. If anything, that's on my list of things to do before Faceless Businessman Dude kills me in my sleep (I'll go there tonight).

...I'm not actually going to go there tonight, it's

Moving on!



So you think you're gonna visit Buffalo (shuddap, you know some of you want to see that badass battleship I showed you)...






Fuck Miami btw. Sorry, but just sayin'.

(Don't kill me now.
 I mean, come on.)

At least I can now call myself a real Buffalonian before I start running for real. Now I can randomly walk up to people in other cities and if they ask me where I'm from, I'll be like "I'm from fucking Buffalo!" And they'll be like "Buffalo?! Isn't that the city that's a dump, all the way up in Western New York? Hell no wonder you left. There's nothing good there!" And then I'll pull them down to my eyelevel (or up to my eyelevel, it depends), and I'll go, "Well if you DO come to Buffalo. (Which you will, trust me. You can't deny the awesomeness of Battleship.) I DEMAND. THAT YOU TRY. BEEF ON WECK. Just don't try the horseradish unless you can take the bitterness, 'kay?"

And then they'll look at me like I'm crazy.


And then I'll disappear before they call the police.

Yeah, that's totally my plan. Buffalo City represent. *poses*

But enough polishing the crapsack that is my hometown. Game was cool. We won. Yay.

But that's not important.

I'll tell you what IS important.

Here's the story of what happened AFTER the game:

We won (how many times have I said this now? 3?), everybody was flippin' excited. HUGE crowds. I read somewhere that apparently Slender Man doesn't like big crowds (is this true?), so I guess even though I got separated from my father a couple of times (it's my own fault really, I get easily distracted sometimes :x), I felt I mean, I saw a bunch of guys in suits (mostly media folk, my dad gave me an entire history lesson on this Ted guy. Apparently the box where announcers talk from is a memorial to him, and apparently he was the first announcer EVER for the Buffalo Sabres. Lucky bastards I say! Luck bastards!) Guy in suit=Slender Man. I'm sure you guys have this mindset as well. It doesn't help that there's an area downtown that's practically the fishing tank for business man, there are so many of them swimming around, it's not even funny. Especially around lunch time. Oh God, it's crazy. Funnily enough it's also the place where M&T Bank is based (Fun Fact: Did you know Buffalo is the HQ for the M&T bank?), so I guess that explains some things.

...Damn bankers.

But other than the folks in suits, the chaperons and shit, I felt peace. There was a weird kind of happiness I felt there, maybe it was all the happy people around worries, no death, no fucking Eldritch Abominations climbing through your windows. I felt like...I was that kind of person. I felt like I too, had absolutely nothing to worry about, that everything would be absolutely fine. No more deaths. No more running. Everything was okay, within those few seconds of serenity.

And then, I heard somebody yell my last name.

"Nord! Hey Nord!"

It was some Italian looking guy, with a buzzcut hairdue. He seemed to know my dad because he was all like "You motherfucker!" Towards him. You know that one TVtrope? Vitriolic Best Buds or something? Apparently there are a whole lot of those in the military. I suppose that's where I get my attitude from :D

Haha. Yeah, no.

Anyways, my dad introduced this guy as Salvatore Buscaglia (yeah, totally Italian), and he seemed to be a pretty nice guy. They exchanged some best buddy buddy words like "How've you been ya bastard". That kind of stuff. I just sat there wondering what the heck was going on and who the hell was this guy. According to my father they were best buddies in the Marines. They did everything together. Including driving around on top of a flipping TANK in NORWAY, waving a fucking Marine flag around like a banner. For freakin' FIFTY MINUTES (or miles, I forget which). Needless to say, I was in awe for a couple of hours afterwords. He even gave me his blessing. Afterwords my dad was talking about how it must've been some sign of God that I met Buscaglia at a flipping Sabres game after they flipping won with our goalie actually doing something good for himself for a change. (Took him long enough.)

"Seriously, you have GOT to go to bootcamp now that you've met fucking Buscaglia! There is no way you're getting yourself out of this one!"

Let me explain. Ever since my mom first went off the deep end me and my dad have been talking about me potentially going into the Marines after highschool. I kind of forgot about it after this whole Slender Man business started, and I'm not too sure whether it'll work out or not, what with the whole runner thing and finding my mom.

But I've been thinking, going in the military would probably give me some sort of advantage over normal civilians. Like, the whole traveling all over the world thing. As far as I'm concerned there is no chance Slender Man can get to me if I keep moving from place to place. Even if I am somehow forced to camp in a forest, at least I'll learn how to fucking take care of myself right? Ya know, survive? Isn't that what you Runners are about anyways? Survival? I might just do it, I'm really thinking about it. I just gotta figure out where my fucking mother is first. My dad said not to worry about it. Apparently the city of Buffalo ACTUALLY has a search party out looking for her. Wow, so my city is actually good for something! Told ya Buffalo ain't such a bad place after all. Bet you lot didn't believe me did ya? Well, to tell the truth I didn't believe me either.

Suddenly the topic of my grandfather (the one that my mom and dad stayed with when I was a baby, remember? The whole apartment thing that was such a whole lot of fail?) came up. Apparently he was a Marine too. How about that? Being a Marine runs in my family! According to my father he fault in the Vietnam War (that poor soul). And before you guys bring up Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or whatever that kind of bullcrap people stereotype about military folk these days let me clue you in on a little secret:


And whoever believes that is a fucking moron, who should probably try going to war themselves and see if they like people accuse you of being insane. No, insane is claiming that you grandfather was back from the grave and fucking possessing you. Being insane is looking in the mirror, and acting like there's someone or something there that isn't yourself. Like me, I'm insane. But I never went to war now did I? My dad is saner than me and he's a fucking marine. He watched people get fucking shot right before his eyes and is he in a mental institute right now? FUCK NO. My mom is. Or she's supposed to. That is until she was fucking stolen away from me. And we're going to fucking get her back. You can bet on it. This here is a message to all those Proxies out there. I WILL GET MY MOTHER BACK. NO EXCEPTIONS.

If it means going through fucking bootcamp in order to do so then so be it. I'm not going to let that fucking thing win. I refuse to.

In the mean time, turns out that entire trip to my grandfather's apartment was a big waste of my time. According to my dad he lives all the way in fucking Arizona right now. Fuck that. I'm not traveling all the way to Arizona all by myself. Luckily my dad's gonna try to contact him through the phone, I wish him luck on that. There are so many things I wish to ask him, it's not even funny.

Speaking of the apartment apparently Rebecca found something important. She's going to come over tomorrow to show me what's the whole dealeo with that one. We may even have a sleepover since my birthday on Sunday.








In the meantime. I'm feelin' Hella Good.

Also: Fuck Vevo. I can post awesome music videos on my blog if I want.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Congradulations: You All Lost the Game

Forgive me for saying this

Fuck it. I don't give a fuck about whether you Runners or Fighters, or whatever the fuck you guys call yourselves, get pissed or not. You are all fucking idiots, and I think this whole "game" you guys have been playing only proves my point. Fuck Nocturne. Fuck his games. What, you think saving a life is worth all this? Guess what guys, people are going to die anyways. People here seem to think it's okay to spill their deepest darkest secrets to some fucktard who think he's the shit. And then you guys get all worked up whether or not you miss a part of a fucking game? "Oh, I missed last night's game. I feel so dumb. I'm smarter than this. Hey mister Nocturne, I'm gonna share all my secrets with you okay? Oh mister Nocturne, yes I would want to here that worthless piece of information you are giving me. Even though I know it will be shit. Oh mister Nocturne. Of course I promise not to give any of this away to Reach. Just please keep Reach alive for another day. Oh please."

Hey Ke$ha mind showing these nice people how they really sound?

Honestly you lot piss me the hell off. Now, I already know how most of you will respond (or should I say, what most of you will be thinking in the back of your thick heads):

"This girl is a bitch. She has no idea what she's talking about. Most of us are in fact aware of the sort of trouble we and our friends and family are in and we're working our asses off to make things better. She's just jealous that she missed the entire thing and was left out of the crowd. Oh boo hoo, go suck a codpiece whore."

Oh yeah?

Then stop wasting your bloody time with this shit, and go out there and do it.

Really you guys, I'm just about ready to denounce all the faith I had in the runner community if you guys are going to do this shit whenever you have the free time. Yeah, I know it was for Reach's own good, but haven't you people realized what you just did? Obviously this guy has plans of his own. Obviously he's going to be using some of the information he learned against you guys. Obviously there's some ulterior motive to this, and I don't give a fuck if you say otherwise. This is ridiculous. Playing follow the leader like a bunch of blind sheep looking for a shepherd. Anyone want to take three guesses as to who that shepherd will end up being if you people won't step up and stop acting like pusses about this? This is just giving the enemy the upper hand in exchange for something we already had. It doesn't fucking work. Not to mention it seems to me that this fucker managed to successfully pit you all up against each other. Hell, I'm surprised none of you realized how some of you went crazy falling over each other trying to solve some stupid riddles. They are just fucking riddles guys. Somebody would've figured it out, just be fucking patient with yourselves and if you fail, pick yourselves up again. Kick some ass, don't kiss some.

And Rebecca, you of all people should know better. You don't even fucking know this guy, and then you go ahead and post that shit on his blog? What the fuck is wrong with you girl? Are you dense? Fuck, it doesn't even matter to me, what you did all those years ago. I couldn't fucking care less. What's past is done. But do you of all people realize the meaning of this?



And another thing (get ready for some classic Caps Lock Raeg):





If it were me, I would've said "fuck the game, you're going to give my friend back or we're going to have a problem". Yeah, sure, "We have to make sacrifices" I flipping get it. I mean I practically gave up some of my education for fuck's sake trying to find my mother. Look at how great that turned out eh? But doesn't anybody think this is a bit too much?

Don't you think I would rather have you tell me yourself Rebecca?

You could have just avoided sharing all that information with the enemy. You could have avoided becoming caught up in the game yourself. All you fucking had to do was come up with me, and tell me! That's it! Just walk up to me and say, "Hey Steph I've got something that's been on my mind for awhile and I need to share it with you." Fuck, I would have listen. But you DID NOT need to get involved in this piece of shit.

Ryuu might be the only person I managed to get some respect for during this entire game thing. At least someone managed to realize how stupid the entire thing was. Congrats. You earned yourself a new follower. As for everyone else. I'm not so sure... At the moment I'm a tad bit peeved. Just a little bit.

I'm going to go out for a walk, just to clear my head. See ya soon internet, I guess.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Nightmare on Walter Street

Alright, first of all. Enough with the cryptic shit. It's old. It confuses me. I haven't even read the Bible since forever. Just stop.

Yes, I did actually learned something from Art History.

Yes, I know about the damn triangles.

What the hell is with this hangman bullshit?

Seriously though, why can't people just talk straight anymore? God damn it people, some of us aren't exactly geniuses.

Anyways, now that's out of the way, I changed my password. So hopefully that's the end of that.

But yeah, guys I'm back. In Buffalo. It was raining earlier but at least it ain't snowing anymore. Took God long enough. I suppose I'm glad I'm back here. Maine was great and all, but it was way too cold for my tastes, and the people were generally odd, to say the least. I've heard word of what I assume to be Stalker Dude before I left. Apparently they found a body in the river, some guy jumped from a bridge perhaps. I'm willing to bet it was Stalker Dude, but I left the town and state before they started doing DNA testing. I almost feel sorry for the guy. His speech skills weren't all that great, yes. He was creepy, most definitely. But when you really think about it, you realize that these guys probably were once normal people, with family of their own, some of them maybe even had wives and kids. You can't help but feel sympathy for some of the crazed ones. Rest in peace Stalker Dude.

As for all the folks who willingly work for Cabadath's evil twin, you all can rest in bloody pieces.

So...on to the important stuff.

I did manage to visit Walter Street, it's just past Babcock, off Seneca. My mom pointed it out once, I think, when we were driving home. She told me we used to stay there. Unfortunately it was boarded up when I got there. And it seemed like it was like that for about a year, or more. Not that I'm an expert on such things. They even spray painted an arrow on it. That's nice of them. You know what I like about arrows? They are always extremely helpful. Whether you want to use one as a weapon or you're just plain lost you can always count on arrows to dig you out of a tight spot. But arrows spray painted on abandoned houses? I don't know, I was kind of wary at first.

Following the arrows around the back, I found that one of the windows on the top floor seemed to have been broken into. I fucking got blisters trying to get up there. Plus there were a whole bunch of trees in the back...I'm talking about an under appreciated building. The sort of building that you wouldn't want your kids playing around. Obviously nobody was living in the place, but it irked me still. The entire interior reminded me of the house me, Frank and his friend broke into during our Sophomore year. Yeah, we were dumb as hell. When I got up close, I could see there was that stupid Hebrew symbol spray painted over it. Whatever the hell it was. But it seemed that this was meant for me, so I winged it and went inside. If I met anyone inside, I was going to freakin' jump out of the window. And maybe break a few bones in the process.....never mind. What was I thinking? I think last time I went into an abandoned house, someone or something was already in there. Frank's friend claimed in a spirit, but I sure as hell didn't see a thing, so I couldn't tell for sure. All I knew was that I had a chill go down my spine. Surprisingly enough, much like that abandoned house, I found some leftover things in this house as well. I couldn't tell whether or not they were from my past for sure. Most of the stuff was nameless junk. Although one room did have the likeness of an old nursery. Even the wallpaper was cutesy. I barely even touched it and it started peeling off. Still, for the most part. It was empty. As I searched around the house I discovered, much to my dismay, that I was stuck on the second floor. Something was blocking me from the other side of the doorway. Every few minutes I would return to it to try anything I could to pry it open, but it just wouldn't budge. Ultimately the dark took over and my resolution grew dim. I had no choice but to sleep. There was no internet around that area, and my DS's battery ran out so that was pretty much my only option until morning came. It's not like anyone would've fucking jumped on me in an abandoned house. I'm pretty sure nobody even knows I'm here except some weird old guy who was eying me. God damn old people.


I hate that meme, but it does have a point. Noises are fucking night. Not in the daytime mind you, I couldn't care less if the trees were rustling and I thought I saw a rat scamper away from me in the daytime. But holy shit. It wasn't just the trees either. He was fucking outside the entire time. Whenever I had to go to the bathroom that night, I stood up, walked around searching for some random corner to take a piss on.

There was no bloody toilet as far as I could tell. Or maybe I was just too lazy to find one.


Like I said before; FUCKING NOISES IN THE NIGHT. I managed to look outside the window, at the batch of trees down below. One of the trees looked like it moved, which was weird because it wasn't windy at the time. And when I saw that it HAD A HEAD.

I promised myself I would never sleep in that house again, but I did anyways.

WELL, it did have a rather comfy floor.

I have this vague memory of throwing up on it too, no idea what happened there. I think I may be a bit more afraid of heights than what I give myself credit for. Fact of the matter is, I slept as far away from the window as possible that entire night. A few minutes after my last waste removal for the night, I heard more sounds coming from the window. While at first I planned on disregarding them, and getting my butt to sleep, but there was something oddly rhythmic about the "noise". It sounded almost like drums just like that...dream. OH GOD THAT DREAM.

What happened after that, I cannot tell anyone even if I tried. I doubt even God would know. But I do remember this weird dream.

I was standing at the edge of the doorway I was sleeping by. Everything around me looked different, the wallpaper was still peeling, but it was now strangely intact. Actual furniture was lined up against the walls, including two awfully familiar black couches, an ironing board, a changing table, a small television with an ancient antennae that looked like it came out of the eighties, and a large evergreen tree. Obviously it was Christmas time, and in the complete darkness that tree looked like the brightest light of them all. Yet, it was quite eerie. Just a little bit. I won't lie, something about that tree irked me. One of the rooms, which I assumed were my parents, was also lit. God knows what they were doing in there, but I did here voices coming from the door. But it's not like I could hear what they were saying, and it's not like I got to have a looksee either. Standing in plain sight, was a white crib, which at first glance looked as if it were unoccupied. Upon closer inspection, there was a two year old little girl in there, sleeping soundly. Yes, that little girl was me. I never noticed how red my hair used to be, or how straight it looked. I used to hate my straight hair, but now. Now I sort of lucid. Funnily enough I managed to be half-lucid during the entire dream. Except I heard that damn drumming noise. Even in my dreams I can't escape from it. Only, it was louder, scary louder....

He was there too...

He was at the window...

And he came in.

Walked towards my direction.

I kept screaming at my body.

I was stuck in a trance, no longer lucid, no longer in control.

I became my two-year-old self.

HE was looming over me.

Sarah was laughing, that bitch.

How dare Sarah laugh.

He fucking took me as she laugh.

I couldn't even cry.

And next thing I know I'm attending my own funeral. Make of this what you will, but I...

Never mind. It's just a dream, that was three days ago. HE WAS NEVER THERE WHEN YOU WERE TWO. Get a hold of yourself Steph. He wasn't there when you were four, he never took your brother, and...

It's alright...

It's okay...

He's not there...

You're safe...Am I?

...Thank God. I don't think he was watching me this time. I hope things stay that way. It was bad enough that I saw him during that weird loop on the way to Maine. And now he's haunting my dreams?! Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. I've always been frightened by things who resemble a human with something so disturbingly off about them that you don't think you can mention it in public. Either these guys or trolling me. Or this guy has a serious interest in me. I just don't understand...any of this crap. Apparently people say he comes back after people who escape him when they were a child, but he targeted my mother first. I think this is the first time he's ever shown complete interest in me. Unless he moved me that one time. I'm...

I'm trying to find out all I can. There's just too much information at once.

Like these for example:

I found these pictures downstairs in the abandoned house, an entire of trying to bust it open, and the next day it opens without a problem. Downstairs was some old furniture, and a buttload of empty space. And in the middle of it all was what seemed to be a freshly dug hole, with more arrows pointing to it, and something in Hebrew. Didn't even bother with that shit. Inside the hole, along with these pictures was some old records dating from 1994 and 1995, a birth certificate that was missing since forever, and some cryptic note, "show the father and he will tell". So I guess this means I have to talk to dear old dad right? What some kind of family closure? What the hell is the use? I'm obviously not going to find my mother like this.

I'm really tempted to just quit if it's going to keep going on like this. At least give me proof she's not dead you fuckers. I don't really feel like continuing your games if all people are going to do is die. Give me some fucking proof.

I was fucking coming home anyways, so I should be dropping by for a visit, and staying until I take my fucking AP exams, and bomb them like they bombed the Germans.

Freaking wish me luck. It's not like I wasted an entire month chasing my own tail.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Dream Journal #7

The child looked at the two strangers. Neither did it smile, or cry. The strangers intrigued her. Were they her 'mama'? One of them smiled at her. Was she 'mama'? Where was mama? Mama? MAMA?

"Oh great, now you're scaring her Charon!"

"Oh, don't worry, shes still not used to us yet. Who's the cute little baby~ You are~ Yes you are!"


"Give me her Charon!"

"Oh why?!"

"Give. Her. To. Me."

Before she knew it the child was whisked away into the arms of another.


The stranger did not seem to understand the child. But instead looked at her in disgust. "What are we supposed to do with this thing, now that we've got it?"

"I vouche we raise her as our own until the Master comes for her. How about we call her...Sarah! Do you like that name dear?" she asked the baby.




"Aww, she likes it~ Look!" she pointed at the baby's struggling expression. Timothy pursed his lips. "Indeed. Wonder what my idiot brother would've named her. Probably something stupid like Penelope. Did I tell you about that girl he dated? Penelope? Got her pregnant he did, the retarded fool. And now he's gone and impregnated a poor mad woman. Poor soul."

"Yes, she is a poor dear, isn't she. I wonder how she's doing with him. I heard his bite is louder than his bark."

"I call bullshit on that one." said Timothy, rolling his eyes.

Charon went into the kitchen to make some oatmeal to feed the baby, while Timothy engaged himself in a staring contest of the sorts.


"Once this entire ordeal is over with, you'll be soon meeting your REAL Father." 


Thursday, April 7, 2011

Mr. and Mrs. Nord Part 2

Lately I've been helping Mr. Nord with his Spring Cleaning because the CPS is supposed to be coming back to check on the children. I've noticed that he would get nervous whenever there was a mention of them. I can understand why. The woman in particular looks terrifying. Every day you can feel the fear that the children would be taken away. Whenever Mr. Nords go to work, and I'm left with the children until he comes home, there is an odd eerie feeling in the house. A quiet, feeling, like the calm before the storm.

I've told him that you were coming back Steph. You don't know how glad he looked when he heard that. You would think it was the date of child's birth. He once said he feared losing you the most. Today, I asked him if he ever lost anyone close to him before, purely out of curiosity. Since we were worried about the news considering the CPS. But also, because of what Steph said about her aunt and uncle. To be honest the more Steph talks about them, the more untrustworthy they seem to be. Cheerful smiles, unnatural behavior. So I was wondering whether or not there was a connection.

As it turns out, there was.

It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, or talk about for that manner. It was obvious this was the part of Mr. and Mrs. Nord's love story that he did not want to share with anyone. Not even his own daughter. Or me for that matter.

We had just put the children to bed when I mentioned it to bed. He was at the computer on Netflix, taking a much needed break. But it didn't seem like he started watching any movies yet, so I talked to him.

Me: "Mr. Nord?"

He looked up from his list of things to watch, I saw some Doctor Who episodes in there.

Mr. Nord: "Yes? What is it Rebecca? Something troubling you?"

I gave a visible gulp. I was kind of nervous about this.

Me: "Well, actually, I'm a bit curious."

Curiously, he rose an eyebrow, staring at me intently. A nervous chill ran down my spine. I had thought I was truly intruding his personal space.

Mr. Nord: "About what?"

I had a moment's hesitation. But he just kept on pressing me on, even though it could've been hopeless.

Me: "Did you lose anybody close to you before?"

There was another pause, as Mr. Nord busied himself in the act of leaning back in his chair, huffing a puff of air at nothing, seemingly in thought. He then pulled up a chair for me, and requested that I sat down. I was strangely excited. I thought that this was it, I was about to discover some incredible secret. But at the same time that same nervousness lingered in my body. That worry for what might've came next. Now as I think back, it wasn't that heart wrenching, but it was shocking all the same.

Mr. Nord: "I'd have to daughter."

At the very utterance of that last word he gave me a look so serious, I felt the need to never joke around him again. I was almost afraid to even smile. This was some serious matters. And I knew where this was going. I didn't want to tell him what you told me Steph. I really wanted to hear it from his own mouth, to get another side of the story somehow.

Me: "What happened?"

Mr. Nord: "I shouldn't tell you, you really do not need to know these things."

Me: "Please, sir, Steph's always asking about it whenever she calls me. She really wants to know her history, your history, Mrs. Nord's history. She wants some answers on why she can't find any pictures on her. She won't stop until she knows. And what better person to ask than you sir? Please, Mr. Nord! I won't share this information with anyone else! I won't even ask for anymore stories if you like! But please, just for one last time?"

A sigh escaped from his lips.

Mr. Nord: "No, don't worry about it. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Your her most trusted friend, and as that trusted friend I suppose I should really trust you. That's what she would have wanted..."

Just don't share this information with anyone. Please, that's all I ask. I cannot risk another family feud.

Me: "Family feud, sir?"

Mr. Nord: "Nobody in our family gets along, on either side. Even within our own families. Our little group are the only people in this whole mess of genes that can actually stick out for each other. Everywhere else is just a big bucket full of lies and deception. You take one step into any of my wife's sister's houses, and what all you'll find is trouble. Her brothers-in-law aren't exactly a sight for sore eyes either. Big, nasty men who waste their life on beer and junk. None of them know a thing about life, and neither do their wives. Devilish women, they are, but you know what, Pamilia's not that bad. Sure, she may have her problems, fucked up as they are, but she's not horrible, when you compare her to....Shelly."

He said her name with such hatred such disgust, you'd think he actually wanted her dead. She might as well have been.

Mr. Nord: "She, along with her God forsaken mother, had done nothing but torture my wife, my partner, from the very beginning! You really want to know what happened?"

It took me a moment to realize that was directed towards me.

Me: "Y-yes."

Mr. Nord: "It was her mother's idea. Mary Jane Golden, supposedly a Catholic, but I call bullshit on that. See, you can tell when somebody has that devotion towards God. You can just tell. See, they have this sort of glow around them, something different, that sets them apart from other people. You can't necessarily see it, but you just know it's there. All I need to do is take one look at you in the eyes, and I'll be able to tell. But that's not just that, oh no, that's just your gut feeling right there. You can tell whether or not a person is what they say the are from the way the act. From the way the carry themselves. Anyone who has the audacity to screw over an innocent women like that, is not woman of God. And if they say otherwise, they are not only lying to you, but themselves."

It didn't take much to realize that Mr. Nord was a man who followed the good book. And he was real stern about it. Perhaps it was just that army training, but he was really passionate about the topic of God. I feared that I was going to be forced to listen to one of those religious lectures, even though I wasn't very religious myself, so I tried to change the subject.

Me: "What did she do?"

Mr. Nord: "Hmm, she lied, that's what she did. She lied to everyone, about my wife, about me. I am not the sort of man who let's people go on and talk shit behind my back, you've got to understand this. And this....this....woman told everyone that we were bad parents! We? Bad parents? A joke! It must've been a joke! I know I've made mistakes in my life, and boy did I make plenty of them. Most of them I couldn't even talk about in public without getting embarrassed. I'm not going to deny that! And yeah, so my wife may not have been the most sane person around, but living with a family like that, would you be?"

I had to admit, I couldn't argue with that logic.

"But come on! Turning the entire city of Buffalo against us? Every official, at our door, trying to take our newborn baby away from us? Before she was even a day old? One day!"

He held up a single finger as if to emphasize this.

"One day, she had her in her arms. For one day, I could see that beautiful face of my angel! And I had that stolen away from me! I didn't even get to see her after that! They hid her away, because supposedly we were too 'dangerous' for her. Next thing I know, around a week later, she gets whisked away to some small town in Maine, hours away from here? To some asshole I never really got along with as a kid?"

I jumped to the first conclusion that came to my mind. It did not matter whether he found it strange. I needed to know.

Me: "What was his name?"

Mr. Nord: "Timothy. My idiotic brother."

So it all fits. The entire thing was orchestrated to separate Mrs. Nord from her children. But the question is; Why? Mr. Nord continued to tell me about how Mrs. Nord spent countless ours at what was meant to be your crib, Steph. He told me how your mother would always pray, that God would somehow bring you back home. She visited church, shopped for countless baby clothes. It was almost to a point of obsession. It wasn't until he looked into finding a lawyer that things began to look up for the young couple. It was a Jewish lawyer, "The best kind", he insisted. He didn't even charge them, it was all just some random act of kindness that this man helped them regain custody of you.

Just think, if that lawyer didn't win his case (against the city of Buffalo), you'd still be with Uncle Tim.

From what I've read, that seems like it would be a scary thought.

Afterward, they celebrated by buying a rag doll. Mr. Nord desribed every detail, it had blue yarn for hair, and was dressed in a colonial outfit with floral designs. From the sound of it, they bought a rag doll. Then, they moved to Mrs. Nord's father's apartment, who separated himself from her mother. And you'll never guess where he lives.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Today...was a very....VERY hectic day. I still got a large bruises in two different places from this afternoon, as well as other bruises in all kinds of places. And I think my head was bleeding earlier. Well, I got a band aid over it so it should be good, but God do I have a headache. Who knew Proxies had such strong arms. But it's alright, I'm okay.

...I suppose I should explain.

I went outside in my Uncle Tim's backyard, since there was no way I was walking the streets with a gun like an idiot. There's a small field behind Uncle Tim's house with trees here and there, so the most a kid would be able to shoot is a couple of squirrels, but it's not like I planned on doing that anyways. There are some kids who live around here who bet they can shoot down birds. Yeah, kids take bb guns and practice shooting, I once had these two cousins who invited me over to watch them shoot some random crap around their backyard. They wanted to teach me how to shoot but my mother wouldn't let them. I bet she probably regrets that now. Now that I think about it, those kids may have been annoying, but they were awesome for introducing me to Space Balls. Best. Spoof. Ever.

Stalker Dude was probably nervous when I came outside with a gun, because it was hard to spot him. I had to wander around randomly a bit, making sure not to look too suspicious. (I guess as long as I'm not shooting anyone, or holding an-wait). However, no kid was out at the time, so I suppose I wasn't in too much danger. Finally, I saw some movement behind a small group of trees out in the open, and the moment I drew nearer, the fucker turn and stormed away like there was a hurricane. I almost forgot I had my uncle's gun in my hand, and he was a good fifteen yards when I realized just what I was holding. I was a stupid, dumb fuck. I was so....STUPID. UGH. Alright, prepare to laugh...

I shot the gun while still running.

Fucking idiot...who the hell does that?


The recoil was enough to make me trip. Luckily, I managed to hit him in the ankle, and I saw him trip before I went down, gaining myself some of those bruises I talked about. I feel sore just typing this. Let me say this, thank God for safety catches (that's what they're called right?)

I am really lucky I got his ankle, the guy tried getting back up and running again, but all he did was stumble and fall back down again. Looking back, I probably should of laughed, but I was too busy being in pain. Soon, I got up on my feet, Stalker Dude's still struggling on the ground. When I was a few yards away I noticed his entire body was shaking. It looked like he was having a panic attack or something. I jumped on his stomach and attempted to stop him hammering me. Remarkably enough, this skinny ass dude actually had quite the arm. I had to pull out my dad's pocketknife and give him a nice scar on his arm in order to calm him down ...Well, it didn't exactly calm him down like I would've liked but you get the idea. Actually...that scare was an accident....

As you can probably tell, this was my first earnest fight, but I'm proud to say I have wrestled with guys before ...When I was eight.

"Where's my mother?!" I asked him in a high pitched voice. The fucker probably would've laughed if he wasn't in pain too.

"Can...not tell..."

I remember holding the knife against his throat. It took all my will power to not kill the guy.


Stalker Dude relaxed, I couldn't see his expressions since he was wearing a ski mask, but I sure hope he wasn't smiling. His eyes were a mix between green and brown, much like my mothers. Somehow, that made me even angrier. "Where is she?" I repeated.

"Told me about grandparent's house. Know nothing else."

This guy was a fucking Hallowed.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out for myself, thanks. What about an address...?" Nothing, the guy didn't say a thing. "Anything?" He just stared back at me with those empty eyes of his. "Do you know anything at all?"


"Walter Street? Walter Street where?" The guy was struggling, I could tell. Maybe I hurt him a bit bad or something else, but I didn't care at the time. I was desperate.

"Have to...go home..." He was starting to spout complete nonsense, and then seemed to be drifting off into sleep. And no way I was having that, so I started shaking him until he was fully alert, and repositioned the knife at his throat. "What about this Trickortreat person? What do you know about her?"

"Not important" he said simply, as if it was common knowledge.

"Not important, what do you mean, not important? What about Red Cross?"

He did his best to shrug, his eyes now darting here and there, probably bored out of his mind by then. That, or just deep in thought. "Kind of important, but not really."

"Great", I muttered to myself. "So why? Why steal away my mother? Who would steal away my mother." I pretty much concluded that all this had to trace back to the Slender Man. But it seemed to, coincidential somehow. "HE wants Stephanie's mother. HE wants Stephanie. HE wants Stephanies family." He started spasming, and jerking and shit underneath me. I tried to snap him out of it, but the fucker pushed me to the ground, after fucking headbutting me in the forehead. I am pretty sure that was the only time he used pronouns. The last thing he repeated before I made the move on him (get your minds out of the gutter), was "HE wants Stephanie dead."

That head of was pretty hard, which is ironic, given the term for his sort. It managed to knock me out, and I don't know how long. But whatever the duration, someone must've picked me up and moved me because I woke up in the middle of a fucking graveyard. Nobody in sight. I was pissed.

And then I shit myself.

Figuratively of course.

I swear, I THOUGHT HE WAS FUCKING BEHIND ME (note the "thought"), but it turned out it was only some sort of caretaker. He thought he saw some kids playing around I guess.

Long story short, he brought me to my aunt and uncle's who were surprisingly not cross with me at all. In fact, they were all sobbing. My uncle didn't even care I lost his gun out there. I would at least have taken that. But whatever. I got a shower to wash off all the dirt that was all over my skin. And then they treated me to a nice dinner.

And you know, if a guy who doesn't flip out over losing his best hunting gun doesn't weird you out, I don't know what is. Because I'm pretty weirded out now.

Still...what that weird dude said. He said something about Walter Street, and home....

Rebecca, I might be coming back to Buffalo.
Watch out Stalker Dude.

I got my uncle's gun.

Yeah, someone recommended I brought a shot gun with me. I don't really think it's necessary, but I guess I'll bring it just in case. Can't hurt right? Although just holding this thing makes me feel like I'm some sort of crazy person in a creepy ass hotel, only it's a gun and not an axe. But compared to the hunting gun, an axe is way to heavy. For me, at least (I have no upper body strength, see?)

The plan is shot down the guys legs, and then hopefully hold him at knifepoint. I'm a decent runner no thanks to my dad having me run all the time like I was at bootcamp. Military parents. They will never stop bothering you about stuff like that. I'm just worried about whether or not I can pull this off, though. Really, in all seriousness the only gun I've ever fired is a super soaker and those gun things at Lazertron. For the record, I sucked at Lazertron. Bad targeting skills = bad. Hell, I might not even use this thing at all. But on the other hand....

Hey, does being an artist give you good hand-eye coordination?

Heh. Yeah. Right.

Wish me luck guys.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Seems Like I Got A Lead...I Guess

Really, it's not much of a lead, but it's something.

Me and Rebecca talked over the phone a couple hours ago for a while, and came up with some "clues", I guess you can call them in Red Cross's post.

Take a gander. Ya know the message that was left for Rebecca after Jeremy's death. Well, looks as if Jeremy's not as useless of a guy as I thought he was. (By the way Rebecca, it's only a joke, don't take it seriously)

Little lamb did not even notice that he left. When her mother became agitated, it confused her. Brother was only playing hide and seek. She knew she would find him soon. And she could not tell mother how it came to pass. How men in blue came knocking on her door. How mother's face turns red.


As mother will soon be once more.

Poor Joshua now fears the dogs.

 The message said to "Follow the trail of blood". Now, this can be taken two ways...One; I could take the message literally and try to piece together the recent deaths. This would work wonders if I was a detective investigating a murder case, but I'm pretty sure I don't need no second guesses on who the murderer is now do I?

Anyhow, second; It can be referring to the color red that is found in Cross's posts. (Can I just call you Cross, typing Red Cross as separate words all the time can be tiresome, and I'm pretty tired right now as it is) know, blood is red and all.

So, "Dogs". Seems insignificant right? Maybe, but just hold on for a bit, things will start to make sense. Or at least, it made sense to me. Hehe.

It was meant to be a normal sleepover. But they were curious. They heard dark tales of the secrets that lie within their temples, and the temples of the opposite being. From their friends, from TV, their family and friends...

....The internet?

Naughty, naughty, little lamb.

It was only meant to be a sleepover. Nothing more. Nothing less. Did it make her feel better knowing that she cast blame on her friend. Did she enjoy watching her get punished?

Naughty, naughty, little lamb.

I now cast you to the second circle.

Is it not sad, Black Sheep, that you have such a naughty friend?

You know...I'm not entirely happy reposting this crap. Just throwing that out there.

But if you notice, the word "family" is in red, along with other letters. Yeah, I having got a clue on the latter, but "family" and "dogs" mixed together? Obviously somebody in my family owns a dog. And I do know a couple.
Children should not forge a parent's signature. She knew this was true, but she was so afraid. She never failed before. Not ever, in her God forsaken life. Failure was her greatest fear. But either way she was going to fail.

Failure through disobedience?

Or failure through procrastination?

Both are such horrible failures, that she couldn't choose. So she forged her mother's signature, and poor mummy never knew of the black zot in her little lamb's wool.

Does little lamb truly deserve survival?

Little Lamb, you shall be sentenced to the fifth and eighth circles.

More letters in red, and a single words. Not even gonna bother with the letters at the moment, so let's focused on the grouped words shall we?


Do my parents have a dog? Noooooooo....I don't think so. In case you guys DIDN'T KNOW ALREADY, my little brother, Josh (just so you know, he is my brother), is TERRIFIED of dogs.

Glad I cleared that up.

As for the "Failure" in gray. Well, obviously that's a stab at my pride. OH LOOK I'M BLEEDING. God damn it all. Who the hell gets a right to announcing people's fears like that. Not that I'm some ass kissing, sucker-up who's only looking for acceptance by her peers. Most certainly not.





Since my parents don't and never will own a dog (we're a freakin' cat family for Christ's sake), I can only assume it's owned by my grandparents. And it's not just any dog, it's a dog that scares the living shit out of my brother. If Cross is as generous as he pulls himself off to be, it seems to me like I can find some answers over there, because my aunt and uncle honestly haven't got a fucking clue as to what in the nine circles of hell is going on.

But before I return to the great wide road, I'm going to hunt this guy who keeps stalking me down and get some answers out of him.

Either way, expect me to drop by for a visit Rebecca, but just know I can't stay long. Tell Hannah and Zach I said hi.

Jeremy's Dead

Steph, you may not care about this, but it doesn't matter. Jeremy deserves at least some form of remembrance, if only because he actually cared enough to ask about you every day. And no, he wasn't joking about it either. He cared about you, he truly cared. Remember when he tried playing matchmaker with you? First he matched you up with Frank, and then Leon. Remember, Steph? You know, I think he actually wanted you to be happy. He actually wanted you to have a boyfriend, and go on dates, just like every other normal teenager. In fact...I think he wanted to date you too.

Red Cross...

He may not be the best person to invite to your house for a get-together, in fact he may as well be sick, twisted, evil even... But his "joke" may have a point to them. I know your going to be mad but...

What I'm saying is...

Maybe you should have trusted him. Or give him a chance at least. Haven't you noticed that this Trickortreat person might be making a point as to sacrifice the friends that care about us? Leon? Leon cared...he's out there now, running for his life, and Steph I think he might be worried about you. Maybe even more so than his girlfriend. Frank? Frank tried to save us, the both of us.

And now Jeremy...

I, I should perhaps just tell you what they told me. It''s pretty bad Steph. Like, it's really, REALLY bad. And you'll never guess at what day it occurred on. He killed him on April Fools, April Fools. All he really was, was the class clown right? Remember the time when he and Alejandro pretended they were Phil Collins during lunch? They came to our table and sang to us a duet of "You'll Be In Our Heart". It was annoying at the time, I cannot deny that, but there was something strangely sweet about it. And you know what else. I haven't thought about it until now, but what if Leon felt the same way?...

I'm just rambling on about nothing am I?

Sorry...I just can't believe he's gone...the lunch table you and I used to sit at felt quiet without an annoying rat tailed guy inches away from your neck, looking over your head.

As I said, it was terrible, you won't believe the rumors going around about him. They say his jaw was ripped completely out of his skull and wedged into his left arm. There was also several scars inside his lungs, and some internal bleeding. Others say that his lungs were what was ripped out of his body, and his jaw was turned upside down. Honestly, I don't know what to believe. But the principal called me down during dance class and gave a note. It had the following words on it:

"Follow the trail of blood."

Underneath that was a url for youtube and the same symbol I saw at the park.

It looks like a Hebrew letter now that I thank about it. If I can find what it is, maybe it'll give me some sort of hidden meaning. The principal managed to catch me off guard when I received it by asking why he would specifically address to me a letter like that. It's as if he thinks I am responsible for his death. Thankfully no one else knows about his letter, save the police. Now I'm sitting here dreading the sound of a door knock. Just a few minutes ago Trickortreat sent me another Email, with this picture attached to it. Although I'm not to sure what to make of this, it looks like Jeremy's art style. And you're in it Steph.

I'm looking over Red Cross's clues now, but I can't help thinking about the nature of Jeremy's death. People here act like it's just something to gossip over instead of mourning like they should. Maybe they just think it's a prank, but I refuse to believe that.

I'm so worried. I don't know what to do. Should I continue to warn them even though they may think me insane?

What should I do?

Jeremy.....I'm so sorry, we should've trusted you more...

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Well, turns out they haven't got a clue.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

New Revelations and worries

Today at my aunt and uncle's church I noticed something odd was afoot (eh, "a foot", funny). These sort of things, I tend to notice as things drag along, but it was so obvious it was hard to ignore. Like this one church I went to back in the year 2007, Cazenovia Church. It was a Baptist church located by the creek at Cazenovia. People there were kind, lively. But over the years sitting in the pews felt...strange. This one group of guys that sat behind me kept yelling nonsense during the service. Incomprehensible stuff which....sort of scared me for some reason. It was as if they were possessed. Truly. And then I watch holiday events near the front. Christmas skits, Easter skits, songs, incitations. It was becoming more and more of a cult each day. Everyone smiled at you, nobody looked upset. It unnerved me to the point where I didn't want to go anymore...

My mother was like that. The first time around. It was all smiles, all energy, all joy. At first you feel happy, excited by this new development, but then...

No one can truly know what a zealous happiness is like until they experience. And I'm not talking about the good kind of zealous either. Anyone find it interesting that a zealot is often referred to not only Judaism but cults as well? See what I'm getting at here?

I'm sorry but all cults have to be filled with fucking insane people. That's my general thesis, and I'm sticking to it. These Proxy guys, especially Red Cross, I don't know what the fuck is his problem. All of them seem like cultists to me. I don't know, maybe I just feel better calling them that. Anyways, my aunt and uncle's church fall short nothing of a cult. That's right, C-U-L-T. Fuck, why didn't I notice it the first time. It's like all sunshine and happiness over there no matter what is being preached. Like nobody cares at all about their own fate. They all seem to worship the preacher more than God. Is that even right? Eh? ...Whatever.

But that's not what I want to talk about.

I bet you guys are wondering just what kind of crap my aunt and uncle have been hiding from me huh?


Turns out they tried stealing me from my parents when I was only a new born. Remember how I was saying how strange it was that there was hardly any pictures of me as a baby? Yeah, that's why. Motherfuckers. And then they're going to keep on smiling like nothing's wrong. Bullshit. You pretty much told me that you tried to steal me away fuckers. Why the hell do you even bother sugar coating it. I'm really itching to leave, like right now, but these fuckers seem to have their dirty little fingers all over me. Shit.

...Sorry, pretty pissed off.

And then, there's the fact that nobody told me about this crap? I mean, sure, it probably would've upset me like I'm upset right now, but does anyone else think that would've been the best thing to do? Like, for real? ...Fuck. You'd think I'm eight or something. But whatever, I guess I can't really blame them. I mean, would you want to tell your children about their fucked up babyhood? Heh, I wouldn't.

Still, it doesn't give me any leads on where my mother is. I should probably force it out of them before I storm out angrily. Wish me luck guys. I'm going to try to pull this off without getting jailed for punching those stupid smiles off of their faces.

God, this is gonna be tough...