Here I Am, Come and Get Me!

Helloooooooo, good readers, whomsoever you may be. You may call me Shady, or Shade, or any variation thereupon. Some of you may know me, no doubt many of you shall not. For the full version you may find it in my previous blog The Long Game. If you don't have the time, or simply wish to do something more meaningful with it I shall summarise:

I began with stating that I had several encounters with a Hooded Stalker Freak who displayed odd abilities. I soon came to the conclusion that he was a servant of mysterious entities known as Fears (more on them later). I was coerced by one of these entities into entering a forest for an encounter with yet another, known as the Slenderman (whose name may mean something to some of you). I blacked out and awoke in hospital, to determine that the staff and even my family were having a hard time remembering who I was. My entire life was being erased by a Fear known as the Quiet. Thus I decided to run, in the hopes my situation would improve. After several more encounters with several other Fears I was contacted by a group known as the Archive who possesses knowledge on pretty much everything. I traveled to their base in Paris, almost getting myself exploded by Timberwolves on the way. After they discovered I had a fraction of the Dying Man inside me, I was captured by the Quiet's servants and turned into one of them. I was sent to hunt down several runners and enemy servants, one of which was a Towerborn who lured me into the Empty City. After some time I found my way into the Manufactured Newborn's domain and it killed me.

Confused? I SHOULD BLOODY HOPE SO! If you're not, please contact me, maybe you can answer some of my questions. By the by, the link above will probably explain some of it.

How did I go from being dead to being here, you may ask. Well, after having all my flesh removed by a metal-spider-baby I woke up as a Monk in a monastery in some far off mountains, like was described in this here blog a few posts ago. I was inside the head of his monk, unable to do anything but observe the world through his eyes. Eventually I discovered that I needn't be confined to his head, and I managed to pass through a sort neural network into other people's dreams. I had to find someone compatible, wouldn't have their life completely ruined by my presence and most importantly: Had a blog! Nick fit all these criteria, seeing as he's being targeted by the Grotesque I figured being able to protect him, I may in fact be capable of improving his future. And he seems mentally compatible as far as I can tell. Seeing as I'm typing this, that seems accurate.

Oh also, I don't seize control of him like a Dying Man Fragment, as far as I can tell I just use his brain as a sort of transmitter to access nearby computer-devices.

Now, if you have no idea what a Fear is I would have stopped reading at the beginning of this post, but I would definitely stop reading after this post. You may have already learned too much. Except you Nick, you don't really have a choice anymore. I'm hoping that everyone who continues reading has had some experience with Fears (Well, I hope no one ever did, but it's a bit late for that), so I won't have to explain everything. In case some of you are still confused I'll train to explain more in my next post.

Also, I'm going to take the liberty of spicing up this blog design. Seems so mundane.

Tally ho!

-Shady

Tired

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I don't know what to say. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in days. Every time I'm asleep I wake up after a couple hours. I haven't had a dream since the one mentioned in my last post.

By now it's almost starting to hurt. I wake up with a sudden jolt every night, my head's starting to ache. I'm feeling sick and drowsy all day. The job-hunts certainly off. I went to the doctor, who prescribed me something to help me sleep. They're not helping. I'm sorry if this post isn't very informative, I can't even think straight.

You think YOU have problems? I'm the one stuck in this wei

I didn't write that. I felt drowsy and when I looked at the screen again that was there. I don't know what's happening. This is starting to creep me out! What am I saying starting, I'm into seriously freaked out territory here! Maybe I need to see a psychiatrist, not a medicinal doctor.

Bye, I guess.

The Circus

There was a circus that spread beyond the horizon. Thousands of stands and performers and spectators. Contortionists that twisted their bodies into unholy shapes, loud popping and cracking heard with each unnatural turn. Contortionists should be able to twist their bodies safely, these ones seemed to have no care for their bones. Fire breathers with burnt clothes and faces scorched to the their blackened skulls expelled plumes of bright red flames. Knife jugglers with long blades protruding from their heads, and crimson blood pouring from open wounds, were surrounded by faceless observers. 

In the middle of it all was a tent. A massive big-top, of traditional red and white stripes. It loomed above everything, a citadel of cloth and music, casting a shadow over all around it. I walked through the fields of disturbing spectacles, casting wary glances at the bloodied, bruised and burnt entertainers. Music permeated the air, emanating from an unknown source. It was the classic, almost cliché tones of amusement, but as if played on a broken tape. The volume undulated, notes jumbling themselves. But it was nothing compared to the laughter and screams of agony which filled the air in equal measure.

I was drawn towards the centre, into the big top. As I passed between its folds and into the dark, dank innards of the demented dream world the noise died abruptly. I glanced behind me, the world outside continued as normal (whatever normal meant here), but no sound came. I continued into the tent, passing between two seating stands. I stood just before the entry into the centre ring, which was shrouded in inky darkness. The stands however, I could see perfectly well, and each seat in the stadium sized tent was filled with a sleeping person. Man, woman, child, each one with eyes closed and bodies limp. Nothing but the barely visible rise and fall of their chests told me they were still alive.

My eye was drawn across the seats, where something moved. As much as I tried to focus its body remained blurry and undefined. The figure walked on all fours, or sixes, or eights, its sickly coloured body covered in eyes which blinked in unison. The corner of my eye was caught from the other side of the tent, where the beast also moved. Flickering between the sleeping audience, examining each in turn. I looked from left to right as the beast traveled at impossible speeds over great distances.

Boom. A spotlight appeared on the stage, and in it stood a human figure, dressed in a red ring-master's uniform, a cane in hand and a hat held down over his eyes. "Hello, ladies and gentleman!" he announced, his voice booming though I saw no microphone, but that is little obstacle in a dream. "Thank you all for joining us this evening and we hope you will enjoy the show." At the last word he held his head up, and his eyes were visible. They were but human eyes, yet unlike human eyes, they did not remain stationary. They swam about his face like fish, switching place and changing position.

"For our first act we will need a volunteer from the audience! You, good sir, I see you volunteer." To my relief he was not pointing at me, but rather to one of the many sleeping men in the crowd, who rose still sleeping to his feet and wandered down to the stage, a spotlight following him the whole way, as well as the gaze of the beast. He stood lazily next to the ring-master, who looked at the man with his maddening eyes. "Hello there, and what would your name be?" The man merely swayed slightly on the spot. "Aha! Pleased to meet you. If you'd please just stand here." He indicated the spot where he was standing as he moved out of the way and the sleep-walker mindlessly did as instructed.

"Ladies and gentleman, what you see here tonight is no trick," he announced as he receded into the blackness, leaving the man alone. Seconds ticked away slowly as the man continued to sway. Then a gnarled claw reached out from the dark. Eyes, teeth, legs, tail. It came from multiple sides, sliding in and out of the shadows. Then it struck. Flickering out from the nowhere to grab the man's head in its hands. His eyes snapped open and he began to scream as the the beast opened its mouth and began to literally suck the life from him, a dark light pouring from the man and into the creature. When it was finished feeding it dropped the man to the floor and flickered away once again.

I wanted to wake up, I had to wake up, but the circus wouldn't let me. I tried to turn away, but just as I did I was grabbed by the ring-master. "I see we have another volunteer! We don't usually do two in one night, but unforeseen circumstances mean for you we'll make an exception. Aren't you lucky?" He dragged me onto the stage in a vice-like grip, too powerful to escape. I was tossed into the central spotlight and the ring-master disappeared again. I immediately began to run back to an exit, but the beast blocked my path, jumping from corner to corner of my eye, forcing me from every attempt at freedom. I was trapped. It advanced on me, rising on its hind-legs, its blurring form gazing at me with malevolent intent, each eye burrowing into my mind. 

BANG! A gunshot rang out, striking the beast which scrambled away in its disjointed movement. Lights came up, and I saw running towards me with a gun in hand was a boy, merely a teenager. "Hey!" he exclaimed, stopping as he reached me, "You're dreaming!" My confusion at such a statement -dreams do not usually say you are dreaming in such apparent ways- was interrupted as the creature collected itself and lurched towards us. "Time to wake up!" he said and he punched me in the face.

I guess it worked, because next thing I knew I was awake, terrified and thoroughly confused.

Okay then...

This morning I woke up and found my dream journal. On it were 2.5 words which I don't remember writing, apparently about a dream I don't remember having.

You'll do.

Hushed Monks

What's weirdest about this dream is how realistic it is. All the others, hell, all the dreams I've ever had had been dreams, crazy, barely coherent, impossible dreams. But this one, it could, somewhere in the immensity of the world, be true.

I was a monk in a monastery somewhere. Somewhere high in some mountains somewhere in traditional monk fashion. Everything was just. So. Quiet. When one of the other monks 'spoke' it was just their mouths moving, no sound coming out. But I still knew what they were saying. Well, the monk did. The monk I was 'inhabiting'.

A medallion was hanging from around my neck. Set within was possibly a jewel, of a deep, dark black beyond any jewel I had ever seen. I wandered about the monastery, along freezing cold ramparts that oversaw the range of rocky mountains. But there was no wind, no footsteps, nothing to interrupt the perfect silence.

I wandered down the many halls. Before entering a large room, several pillars running down, two lines of them parallel. The room was dark, brown in colour with an altar of flickering candles at the end. In the middle of the alter was a box. That was the box the medallion had been kept in. I don't remember witnessing anything that would support that, but I my dream-self knew.

Several other monks were there. They knelt along the length of the room, with half a dozen gathered by the altar. I passed between them, clearly the centre of the ceremony or whatever it was. I knelt before the altar, head bowed, my hood pulled over my head. I gazed at one of the other monks, all but his mouth obscured by his hood. He mouthed to me, his lips moving silently, yet I knew the words he spoke, as if I had heard/seen them many times before.

"The quiet claims us all."

Then I woke up.

Of the Dead and the Faceless

Hello again. So, my party was last week. I couldn't have it on my actual birthday unfortunately, because some of my friends were busy. But we went out and celebrated later. It's all the same in the end. It was all pretty simple really, we went to a couple bars, drank some beers. Mark tried to set me up with some chick he met, didn't work out. Some drunk guy punched Johnny, he was thrown out. It seems all my friends drink far more than me. I'm more of a casual drinker, rather than a "drink to get drunk" kinda guy.

Of course it still lead to the most disturbing dream I've had so far.

I was standing on a field of black rock, onyx or obsidian maybe, when a person appeared in front of me as if it were always there, I don't remember it being there before I remembered, if that makes any sense. The person was thin, and its face was a blank canvas; it wore a black cloak that rendered it almost invisible against the dark field of stone.

I stood before it, its gaze of non-existence tore through me, ripping away at my mind. I screamed uncontrollably. I heard a high-pitched screech that drowned out my own screams and I dropped to my knees. A thick fog rolled in, surrounding me. Where the fog touched me, my flesh rotted and fell from my bones. My skin, my muscles, my organs all fell away.

Now skeletonised (that should be a word) the screeching died away and I rose to my bone-feet. I looked into the eyes of the eyeless beast and struck out, my hands raking through it. It turned to an ink black fluid, collapsing to the ground fully. Fallen.

But it rose up against me again, its now liquid form lurching towards me. It wrapped itself around my skeletal-self, pouring between my bones. I struggled to be free and fought for air despite having no lungs. I gasped, the ink poured into my mouth, consuming me from all sides.

I became nothing but darkness in a world of darkness.

I don't know how disturbing other people will find it, but to me, it was so vivid, too vivid. My mind hurt so much. I needed air so much. I couldn't stand it. Just remembering it now, I can't help but shudder.

I'll tell you about some other weird dreams I've been having some other time. For now, I need to get a good night's sleep.