Tuesday, 11 March 2014

Conversations with Wolves

They finally decided to come have a chat. The door opened and in walked a young woman in a grey suit, followed closely by Mr. Fedora with the same annoying smirk he always has. He stood back, saying nothing while the woman sat on a chair on the other side of a table that is present in the room, setting a laptop down atop it and opening it up. She gestured to the seat on our side and Nick sat down.

Woman: Hello.
Nick: Hey...from both of us.
Woman: Yes of course. Mister Shade, you need not speak through your friend here, my computer is able to generate audible speech, feel free to utilize it.
Me: Oh cooool. I sound like a robot. Beep boop!
Woman: You're probably wondering why we're keeping you here.
Me: Actually I'm more interested in why we're not dead!
Woman: We'd gain nothing from killing either of you, Mister Shade... 
Mr. Fedora: Not yet.
Woman: Yes, not yet. It may surprise you to hear this but we both want the same thing here.
Me: It doesn't surprise me to hear that at all! I don't believe it for one second, but I'm not surprised you'd say it.
Woman: The Long Game confuses us no less than you. We don't know what the Nevermore Accord had planned for you, or whether or not it is still ongoing, considering your sudden demise at the hands of the Manufactured Newborn.
Me: Claws. Evil, mechanical claws.
Woman: Yes, those. We will be keeping you here for the foreseeable future, until our research can uncover further information on the nature of the Long Game and what role you play within it.
Me: So, what? You keep us locked up for days and then waltz in just to tell us that you're keeping us locked up? I think we could have figured that out on our own thank you very much.
Woman: This process would go a lot faster if you were to aid us in this endeavor.
Me: And THEN you can kill us.
Mr. Fedora: Yes.
Woman: No. Then you become a useful asset in preventing the Sine Corda's plan from coming to fruition. I think we can both agree that in all likelihood, the Sine Corda's goal is to end everything. And neither of us want that now do we?
Me: So, what? You want us to become Timberwolves?
Nick: I am NOT cool with that.
Me: Nor am I, Nicky, nor am I.
Nick: Don't call me Nicky.
Me: Sorry.
Woman: You won't be Timberwolves. You will be...independent agents. We have resources and manpower, you have knowledge of Sine Corda operations and whatever makes you so important to them. And most importantly, we have a shared mission. Saving the universe. You can't argue with that now can you?
Me: ...
Nick: ...
Mr. Fedora: *Smirk intensifies*
Woman: I'll leave you to mull it over. Take as long as you need.

She gets up, closing the laptop and walks to door, stopping short. "We're not all as evil as you think we are. Everyone just wants to survive." She leaves, and Mr. Fedora follows her, looking back at us as he does so. He indicates to his eyes, then to us, in the 'I'm watching you' gesture-y thingy before closing the door behind him.

What choice do we have?


Wednesday, 5 March 2014


So, I may have freaked out there a bit. I mean, you can't blame me can you? This whole thing is just one big shitpot of...shit. But I guess, this is just my life now huh? It's a whole lot to deal with. But I guess most of you probably know that already, and you probably handled it better than me.

I suppose you guys need to be caught up, yeah? So, basically, from what Shady told me, those people he could sense were 'Timberwolves'. Hell of a weird name if you ask me. They're servants of another Fear-thingy called the Archangel apparently. They shot up the whole circus and captured me and Shady. Once they got rid of the Ring-Master, I sort of started coming to. I was too disoriented to freak out right away though.

I finally woke up in the middle of the circus surrounded by dead bodies and burning tents. Several men in combat gear, gas masks and armed with assault rifles were approaching from all sides. There wasn't really anything I could do. One man, pale and gaunt in a long black coat and fedora walked closer Mr. Fedora returns! and leaned down to where I was laying confused and terrified. "Found you," he remarked, before the soldiers grabbed me, bound me and dragged me through the carnage, bundling be into the back of a nondescript van The nondescript van returns! and blindfolded me.

I don't know where they took us, but now we're locked up in this strange room. I guess this IS better than the circus. I've got a bed, food and a laptop. I'm still confused why they gave me a laptop though.

Fears have a weird obsession with blogs. It's best not to question it.

Uh-huh. They still haven't come in to talk to us. I don't know why they're keeping us here and neither does Shady. What do they want?

It seems the Long Game is far from over.

Monday, 3 March 2014

Oh god.

What happened?! What the fuck is going on. Everything fucking hurts. I'm covered in scars. Some of them still bleeding. I don't remember anything for the past few months. It's all just a blur of darkness, screaming and pain. Shitshitshit what happened?! Where am I?!

Look, you've got to try to calm down okay. You're not going to get out of thi

Shut up! You're not real. This isn't fucking real! It was fine when you were just a voice in my head and these were all just spooky stories, but I can't handle this! I didn't ask for this! This is all your fault, everything was fine until you came along and now. Now I can't even tell what's fucking real and what's a nightmare I can't I can't breathe I hate this I hate you!!!!

Damn it, Nick! I told you! You were already targeted by the Grotesque before I showed up. But you're right, if I hadn't shown up you wouldn't be unable to tell the difference between what's real and what's a nightmare, because you wouldn't have to! Everything would be a dang-blasted nightmare! You'd be in a freaking coma, tortured in an endless dreamworld forever or until you starved to death, and if I've learned one thing it's that death is hardly a barrier to the Fears, meaning you'd still be in hell! Forever! 

This may not seem much different but it's a marginal improvement.

A marginal improvement? A MARGINAL IMPROVEMENT?!!! Why should I believe anything you say?! Why are we even having this conversation over a blog post, we can talk to each other! I can't think clearly and guess what IT'S BECAUSE OF FUCKING YOU!!! I'm just some guy, I'll never see my friends again, I'm doomed to some crazy shitty life of running from monsters and IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT YOU BLOODY SHIGXZM4W

Sorry about that. As it turns out I can cause devices to deliver slight electric shocks hehe. Nick just needs a minute to cool off is all. He'll be fine in a bit. He's a cool guy.

You're probably a bit confused. I don't really have time to explain everything right now. But in case you're concerned I'll give you the quick version.


-Nick and Shady

Thursday, 27 February 2014

Old Friends?

Okay, so I ran out of ideas pretty quick. I tried getting Nicholas close to some electrical source, figuring a good shock would get him conscious again. Alas no matter how much I willed I couldn't get him to do any more than sway slightly in its direction. I guess I don't have any domination powers. Unfortunate, that would have come in handy in more situations than just this one. Then again, there are extenuating circumstances at work here, so it may warrant further experimentation.

But back to the matter at hand. It's not like I'm going to be giving up anytime soon. I've got nothing better to do than continuing to rebel against the Grotesque's control, but I'm feeling more and more helpless with every passing day. There seems to be nothing I can do to effect the physical world, as long as I'm trapped in here in this dreamless expanse I can't effect the dream world and as far as the digital world goes, sure I can interact with a computer, but unless someone here knows where they can find this here circus and can fight their way through an army of sleep walking maniacs who am I going to contact?

Then again, maybe this is all academic. I don't know if it's going to be of any use (it could just make things worse) but I can feel someone different out there. There are visitors to the circus, I can sense them. I don't know how, but they feel familiar. I can't quite put my finger on it though. If there is one thing I've learned since this all started it's that when something new shows up you can bet it's going to cause some shift in circumstances. I can only hope it'll be for the better.

And for once, in this helpless state, that might actually be possible. 


Wednesday, 12 February 2014

Midnight Circus

It was a strange sensation, losing consciousness. Of course I'd done if before, but not since becoming this new Thoughtborn thing. But when the Ringmaster put his hand over Nick's face, my mind went numb and  I faded away. It felt like being consumed by the Quiet. Brought back bad memories.

We woke up in a cell. Or at least I did. Nick was still asleep, but I couldn't wake him up. I couldn't even do anything to help because he wasn't even dreaming. Given the situation, this seemed confusing. It's not the Grotesque's MO to not give nightmares. But it was intelligent. If he's not dreaming I can't get to him, I can't wake him and I can't help him. The worst thing about it though, or at the very least the bit that makes a really bad situation even worse, is that I can't leave his head. Normally I could flow out at will, into someone else's head and their dreams. Talk someone into helping, something! But whatever the Ringmaster had done to us, it meant I was just as trapped as Nick. This was also the time I noticed that I couldn't see if my host's eyes weren't open. Meaning I was blind on top of helpless.

Everyday the cell opens, footsteps are heard and Nick is hoisted to his feet, where he stands, wobbling slightly from side to side. Then he moves forward, in hobbled, sluggish steps he and the others who entered the cell go out into the open. Circus music plays, laughter and screams fill the air. Nick performs several tasks, he juggles, breathes fire, throws knives, contorts himself, and sometimes just bloody self-harms. All while asleep, asleep in his dreamless inescapable sleep. Every once and a while the Ringmaster's laughter can be heard, booming out above all the other noise of the circus. It's all just a game to him. 

I don't know what exactly the Ringmaster is. I'd seen him in several other dreams on my mental travels across the globe. He's not always a ringmaster, he appears as whatever's suited to the nightmare that's occurring. But the one thing that's always consistent is his eyes. Like fish, swimming about his face. I figured he was some sort of incarnation of the Grotesque, a partner to the bestial monster who feeds off their victims' life-forces. But then he appeared in real life. I don't think the Grotesque can do that. At least I didn't. It's hard to know anything with any certainty when things like the Fears are involved.

For weeks it's been going on. For weeks Nick gets up, performs his tricks, eats, drinks, stays alive and then returns to his cell and falls once more into the deep catatonic state. But it's only today I managed to access a computer. I don't know why it was put there, but it gives me some opportunity. Something I can finally do. They can trap me in his head but I can still control electronics. I'll find some way to free him from the Ringmaster's grasp. Don't know how yet. But I have to.


Coming to Take You Away

We were holed up in the apartment. Nick never mentioned where he lived, so if we were lucky none of the Fears would be able to track me down. After all this time I'm still no closer to figuring out their interest in me. What makes me so important. I've read stuff about receivers and amplifiers drawing Fears in, or maybe I'm just unlucky. But that's beside the point.

A few days passed, uneventful, Nick was coping better with the lack of sleep. A problem which was lessening as I got better at fighting off the Grotesque. Until one day it stopped all together. We hoped it had just given up, decided we were more trouble than we're worth and gone off to focus its attention on some other poor soul. That finally we'd get some peace and quiet. 

Since when was that likely?

It was I don't know how many days ago. Weeks ago at this stage. The apartment was silent as we read through text books we'd found at a nearby bookstore. We wouldn't dare enter a library. Nick still didn't trust me, but he was smart enough to trust himself, so we researched the Fears. I knew no matter how well we kept our location secret it was only a matter of time before we'd be forced to run. Or he would, I'd just tag along, being inside his head and all. 

So we read in silence, utter silence. No noise was heard from the other rooms, nothing from the streets. The atmosphere was foreboding to say the least. Then we heard it. A soft noise. Music, humming up from somewhere in the building. It grew louder and it became clear that whatever the source was it was heading this way. As it drew closer the music became clearer and I realized what it was. 

Magical Mystery Tour, by The Beatles. 

Listening to an unknown source of music tell us it was coming to take us away. Well we were scared. Maybe it was nothing, but at this point I think we can agree that any paranoia I suffer is justified. And as the music got louder and louder as it came down the corridor, we decided it was time we barricaded the door. Nick pushed several pieces of furniture in front of the door, while I offered encouragement (Not much I CAN do).

And lo and behold the music stopped just at it reached our door. Nick held his breath and we waited silently for whatever was to come. Things only got worst as the door suddenly unlocked with a click, and began to slowly open, pushing away any barricades that were set up effortlessly. And there, standing in the door frame, was the Ringmaster. The Man With Fish For Eyes.

Nick backed up quickly, trying to find somewhere to run to, but we were trapped. As the Ringmaster stepped in, his false smile and restless eyeballs permanently decorating his face, several other men and women poured in around him. They seemed normal, but their movements were sluggish and their eyes closed. They were sleep walking.

"Step right up, hurry now! This way to the main attraction!" the Ringmaster said, in his booming voice, before seizing Nick by the throat and lifting him into the air with incredible strength. "You don't want to be late!" He tossed him out the door, and he collided with the corridor wall, hitting the ground. The Sleep Walkers crowded around him wordlessly, grabbing his arms and legs and lifting him up. He kicked and screamed as they carried him down the hallway, but they were too strong and his calls went unanswered. The music started up again as we were hauled away, following the Ringmaster like a demented parade.

"Roll up, roll up for the magical mystery tour!"


Tuesday, 5 November 2013


I don't know what to say. I've been reading up on these "Fear" things, and they seem like an interesting concept, but them being real? I'm a grown man, I don't believe in monsters under the bed and I know the only things that go bump in the night are old pipes.


Then there's Shady. I can hear his voice in my head which is really really really disconcerting.

Sorry, but it's easier than having to send messages into the computer. There may come a time when you won't have access to the computer, so it's better for both of us if you get used it now.

That's true. And now I'm replying to you. I'm not even sure you're real! If it was just a voice I'd presume I was insane, or I got a serious concussion, or some sort of split-personality disorder, or something other than that it's he's an actual person who had their consciousness transferred into me after they he were was killed by a robotic thing.

Stop correcting me! And quit changing how you write stuff!


As I was saying, I'd presume something was very wrong with me if it was just the voice. But it's writing things in my posts, and I'm watching them appear. It's making posts on my blog, and people are making posts in response to them. People who have their own blogs mentioning these Fears. There's no way a hallucination can be that extensive, or that intricate. If I was hallucinating the posts, I'd also be hallucinating the comments, and the links to their blogs, and hence I'd be hallucinating the entirety of their blogs! And all subsequent link to all other blogs and those blogs!

There's always a chance I have a split personality that's writing these things, and just not noticing the time lapses. And that the commentors are people who are presuming I'm part of their blogger-dom of fictitious stories about similarly fictitious beings. But that would require prior knowledge of the Fears. I don't remember reading about them beforehand. Perhaps I've forgotten it and filed it away into my subconscious to later be the centre of my delusions. But to formulate Shady I'd have had read The Long Game. I should have been able to remember that. At least some sense of recognition.

There are just too many possibilities. The mind is too complicated. The universe is too complicated. Anything could be true at this point!

 Oh, stop being so paranoid!

And I told you to stop changing how you write stuff!

--Shut up.--