(no subject)
Fortify and defend. We should have enough to hold us out for at least a little while.
By the way, I wouldn’t go anywhere near my room for the next few days. Let’s just say there’s some remodeling being done in there, and leave it at that.
Damn vandal.
[ PRIVATE ]
A hazy wind-chill blew into the night, tapping tree branches against the nave’s windowpane like a gentle greeting to wake up. So, head throbbing from sleeping on the hardwood pew, I woke up.
Times like these I’m surprised I can even close my eyes, sensing the things I will sense and seeing the things I will see, but most of all a witness.
I am a witness to the delay, to the inevitable of what’s to come.
No one is up this time of night, so I am alone again, stalking the silent corridors of the cathedral, with the chilly wind lingering here. Something tells me... no, it implores me... to follow it.
When I first ended up in this city, I had suspected that my psychic magnetism had gone completely. I used to be able to find people just by thinking about them... for the most part. Whether or not if it led me to my objective or imminent demise, that was a gamble I always left to the supernatural aspect of my native instincts. It’s depressing to think that my gift rarely ever provides me with enough detailed information to go on to prevent an entire catastrophe altogether.
But for now, I was allowed to be guided by that similar pull. To take me by the hand and draw me down the dusty corridors.
It led me to Lilia’s room.
A few nights ago, I found myself haunted by the ghostly black apparitions of bodachs. In British mythology, they are mythical creatures that steal away children, kind of like the boogeyman. Earlier I recounted my tale of the British boy with the same gifts as me... That’s what he called them just before he died.
I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t plan on dying messily, or so early. Some would call it hopeless optimism, considering the way I have lived my life hasn’t exactly been the most prudent. Sometimes I wonder why I delude myself into the hope that I will die blissfully of old age, preferably in sleep. That being said, however, I don’t have any desire to meet my end being crushed to death. I may not be the most sensible person there is; I am certainly not suicidal. I wouldn’t risk brushing aside the lives of an entire household to the presence of bodachs, either.
When I go into these modes, it’s near impossible for me to sleep anyway. The past few days were spent fortifying the cathedral to the best of my abilities. Paranoia seems to be of normal behavior here, as no one really questioned my sudden inclination of scavenging impulse weaponry.
We had enough, or so I thought, to be considered secure. Though the sight in Lilia’s room seemed to mock me with the reality of how futile my endeavors truly were.
She slept so soundly, unknowing of her silent, shadowy spectators crowding around her bed, twisting their invisible fingers through her hair while she dreamed.
How naïve of me, to think that, for once, I would be safe here. Recently I have started to believe that there is no such thing as safety. Not in this life, anyway.
Whatever was happening, it was coming to us fast. Perhaps it was already here. I had stopped trying to defeat the inevitable when nineteen lives were lost at the Green Moon Mall, back at my hometown-I had ultimately lost the only girl I ever loved as well. That kind of lesson you never just forget.
Having everyone move out was out of the question, for that, too, could lead us directly to the same path of ruin I am trying so hard to herd us away from.
Fortify and defend. That was all I could ever hope to do.
By the way, I wouldn’t go anywhere near my room for the next few days. Let’s just say there’s some remodeling being done in there, and leave it at that.
Damn vandal.
[ PRIVATE ]
A hazy wind-chill blew into the night, tapping tree branches against the nave’s windowpane like a gentle greeting to wake up. So, head throbbing from sleeping on the hardwood pew, I woke up.
Times like these I’m surprised I can even close my eyes, sensing the things I will sense and seeing the things I will see, but most of all a witness.
I am a witness to the delay, to the inevitable of what’s to come.
No one is up this time of night, so I am alone again, stalking the silent corridors of the cathedral, with the chilly wind lingering here. Something tells me... no, it implores me... to follow it.
When I first ended up in this city, I had suspected that my psychic magnetism had gone completely. I used to be able to find people just by thinking about them... for the most part. Whether or not if it led me to my objective or imminent demise, that was a gamble I always left to the supernatural aspect of my native instincts. It’s depressing to think that my gift rarely ever provides me with enough detailed information to go on to prevent an entire catastrophe altogether.
But for now, I was allowed to be guided by that similar pull. To take me by the hand and draw me down the dusty corridors.
It led me to Lilia’s room.
A few nights ago, I found myself haunted by the ghostly black apparitions of bodachs. In British mythology, they are mythical creatures that steal away children, kind of like the boogeyman. Earlier I recounted my tale of the British boy with the same gifts as me... That’s what he called them just before he died.
I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t plan on dying messily, or so early. Some would call it hopeless optimism, considering the way I have lived my life hasn’t exactly been the most prudent. Sometimes I wonder why I delude myself into the hope that I will die blissfully of old age, preferably in sleep. That being said, however, I don’t have any desire to meet my end being crushed to death. I may not be the most sensible person there is; I am certainly not suicidal. I wouldn’t risk brushing aside the lives of an entire household to the presence of bodachs, either.
When I go into these modes, it’s near impossible for me to sleep anyway. The past few days were spent fortifying the cathedral to the best of my abilities. Paranoia seems to be of normal behavior here, as no one really questioned my sudden inclination of scavenging impulse weaponry.
We had enough, or so I thought, to be considered secure. Though the sight in Lilia’s room seemed to mock me with the reality of how futile my endeavors truly were.
She slept so soundly, unknowing of her silent, shadowy spectators crowding around her bed, twisting their invisible fingers through her hair while she dreamed.
How naïve of me, to think that, for once, I would be safe here. Recently I have started to believe that there is no such thing as safety. Not in this life, anyway.
Whatever was happening, it was coming to us fast. Perhaps it was already here. I had stopped trying to defeat the inevitable when nineteen lives were lost at the Green Moon Mall, back at my hometown-I had ultimately lost the only girl I ever loved as well. That kind of lesson you never just forget.
Having everyone move out was out of the question, for that, too, could lead us directly to the same path of ruin I am trying so hard to herd us away from.
Fortify and defend. That was all I could ever hope to do.