Sunday, 22 January 2012

the false dreamer spoke to five children

he did nothing as they were Stalked

they are gone now

Saturday, 21 January 2012

he said hold tight

hold tight

and we walked together in the snow

no one remembers but me

and I was frightened

my first snow and it had fallen so heavy

the trees gave no shelter

they were no longer with us

they were HIS

and he took him from me

I remember

because it is my duty to remember

to keep the memories safe

HE has taken so many

things lay broken

and now I am very angry

Saturday, 11 December 2010

12. Unsounded

Strange music played, as if it were the opposition of sound, something draining and black.  I moved my limbs, floating, soaring, or perhaps drowning. I was dressed in off white, I could not say what exactly, there seemed to be nothing to it, vapourous, glowing.


Bloated faces pass me, merging together into hideous form before parting to reveal more twisted unknown visages. Though I see my aunt in the distance, her flesh teased open by veins, as I stare these veins push outwardly and bloom, thick with blood.

I'm so tired, my mind pulses, I do not know what is wrong.

I went then to her dressing table, and opened the middling drawer. I'm so tired.

I do not know if I have woken up.

Thursday, 9 December 2010

Red alert

Hello again! Nice to be out and about. Heheh.

Okay. Right. Things are not going to plan. In fact the plans are pretty much scrapped already. Here I am, mentally chucking them in the bin.

Now, the being I'm up against, lets call him the Godfather, for two reasons:

  1. The more familiar Yankee name is like something out of a comic book. For homosexuals.
  2. He always reminded me of some Made Man. I love gangster films.

is moving a Hells of a lot faster than I thought he would, or can really handle. See, I thought he'd be older and weaker now, and I thought since he picked on kids, he was actually quite low on the old supernatural totem pole.

But he's changed. Theres just so much more of him now than there ever was. He's already effecting the prick's dreams. The scary thing is I don't know where I was when he had that operation dream. As in, I didn't live until it was over, I was just gone.

Heheh. I'll must have to make new plans!

Oh and as a nice bit of slice of life, I bought some new clothes, got a haircut and shaved for the first time today. Didn't do a bad job of it either. No point keeping the loser in the dark any more I guess. This isn't how this story was supposed to go.

He is controlling the God damn weather.

Hang on, hang on. I'm not giving up that easily. I don't think I can. So wait, right, I'm going to post again later, there is something I can show you.

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

11. Operation

I am on a operating table. I am completely aware of my surroundings, as if my senses exist both within and spread out into the air. I can smell rot, sulphur, burning rubber and bleach. I can see a bright light shining in my eyes, all the while seeing the black, half-decomposed bags in tall glass cases. The bags drip foul liquid. I can hear machines, machines that are connected to me. Somewhere down the hall music plays, tiny sounds, like a music box. Further still I thought I heard two people, to put it bluntly, copulating.


A knife makes an incision upon my chest. I can not see a doctor or any person holding the knife. I feel immense pain but can not scream because my mouth has been bolted shut.


Meticulously the presence removes my organs and places them in fresh black bags. The movements are like clockwork:

  1. something severs the organ
  2. plucks it out
  3. flicks open a bag (which stays open by some light breeze)
  4. places the organ inside
  5. as the weight of the organ causes the bag to fall, something twists the top of the bag into a knot
  6. finally places the bag in an old tin bathtub filled with bleach

After I am emptied time seems to slow to a snail's pace. Another instrument is is gathered from a bloody rack that is pulled out from a wall, something I have never seen before, like a spoon with sharp pins growing from it. I am scrapped clean. Until I am just a sack of skin. It feels so cold to be empty.

Soon other objects are used, things that the Spanish Inquisition might have admired. I think it tries to cut open my scalp at some point. I can hear the music slow. I see whole bodies folded into black bags.

Some of them still seek to move! How long have they been in this place? How long have I?


By the end of it all...I think...I think everything that was taken was put back in, still in the now bleached grey bags.


If I am honest (which I try always to be) I checked my body for scarring. Silly, aren't I?

I can not remember my dreams well this week. Sorry. I am too tired. It has been an awfully long day.

I have a tremendous headache. I am going to bed early, as much as I do not want to.


...It appears there is some image behind my words. I will now remove it. Sorry about that dear readers.

A string of errors

As I was publishing my tenth dream the electrical power died within my home. The odd, but certainly not unusual, code, that now replaces the tenth dream became because of this.

Many of the houses on my street are suffering similar occurrences due to the severe frost. Most people living on my street have gone to stay with friends and relatives until the council, if possible, solve the problem, or, we all must wait out the weather.

The tenth dream was titled Luna, but I can't remember enough now to rewrite it accurately.

Thank you for your time, I will write the next dream some time today, for now I must work.