She has shown no
sign of regaining consciousness, but it appears as though she used my computer.
She left several
news stories open on my browser. One dates back to 1999, concerning the
identification of a body; his body was nearly destroyed on the surface, but
tests confirmed that the body was that of a school teacher who worked at
[REDACTED]. Just outside downtown Ottawa,
closer to the south end.
were rumours that he was a pedophile. He had been preying on students for
years. The murderer was never found…but his body was empty.
His blood had been
drained, but no one ever found a drop.
April 22nd (evening):
Jack and I are
reading through his book. He was upset that the Mistress has not awakened yet.
I hoped to calm him by bleeding for her even more, but it seems that I am
running low. I can hardly move, for the vertigo, and I am extremely weakened. I
can no longer tell whether my body is freezing, or my apartment. I am so cold
and numb that it feels like I am on fire.
Just having computer
access again is fucking fantastic.
snippets of her side. Snippets from my Priestess’s side.
I’m sure most of you care the most about my side.
My apparent boost in
popularity has given me more strength than I know what to do with, and I adore it. Sincerely, I want to thank all
my marked for indulging themselves. Your sex drives… What are you people,
rabbits? All that blood you shed in my name, all that energy…it’s
I appreciate it.
Sincerely. You’ve pleased me.
Now do it again.
I need the power boost.
That monster is still stalking me, which I find hilarious – mostly because
he may shadow people extremely well, but ‘stalking’ is Smiley’s
art. He’s just angry, that
I made this one my vessel before he got a chance to twist her into a proxy. Now,
really, doesn’t he have enough of those? He may have marked her, but I
got inside first.
I call her my Blood
Vessel. Aren’t I clever?
The fact of the matter is –
and, why I’m writing this in the dead of night while my little Priestess
sleeps – is that there may come a time when I need a new vessel. I know
there are several of you out there, already. If I’m already inside you, kindly
disregard this letter.
If I’m not, come to
me. You know where I am; I’m sure you can all feel me, just as I feel
If the Slender Man murders
this vessel, I will seep into the most worthy. We can share a body, instead.
You would be serving me in ways you can’t even begin to fathom.
I like this vessel,
personally. She’s like a magnet – feeding is easier than it has
been since Marilyn Monroe.
But I need a back-up plan,
and I would rather not use my Priestess. She serves in another capacity.
am endlessly honoured, but she is in poor condition. I will enter her logs, and
then explain further when I reach today’s date.
feel high. Starting at about nine o’clock tonight, I felt like I’d gotten some
kind of surge, jolted directly into every nerve – it was energy and power and
climax and everything good. It was fucking incredible and I had
no clue what caused it. I can’t even remember what I was doing at the
time…which would worry me, normally, because it was a few hours ago, maybe. I
don’t even know what to do with this kind of energy.
is tinted red.
can’t remember the last few days, but I’m buzzing. I mean that literally. My
entire body is filled with this vibration, and I can’t figure out whether it
feels good or not.
says we’ve been playing. I don’t know if that’s good or not, either.
I do know is that there’s blood up my arms, a gash across my throat, and I’m
stuck in a church overnight. Not to call myself a prophet, but what the
spent the last hour or so stacking bodies. Every single one has a tattoo, and
if you guessed that they’re bearing twin triangles, you win a goddamn prize.
enough, Jack doesn’t seem bothered even slightly. He isn’t batting an eye. He’s
just sitting on a pew, reading from his story book.
ARCHANGEL BEDTIME STORY
a Timberwolf, I swear to play across the board.
promise to do anything to get us our reward.
all of a moment, I knew rapturous bliss.
fall to the abyss.
The writing is
childish and misspelled, but the vocabulary is hers. I imagine she was
our way to safety. Spent the night inexplicably clawing at my own throat. It
was like a trance. I kept pulling at the old scar until my neck was so mangled
that there were strips of flesh hanging from my nails. Jack had to snap me out
of it. He had grabbed my head and was shaking me, almost violently, trying to
get me to stop.
still not fully aware of what the fuck I was doing.
then, out of fucking nowhere…Razzie
had found us. We’d left him by the car – I figure, even if he runs off, he
always finds us again. And he sure as hell had found us. Growling, snarling. He
lunged at my face. Was trying to rip at it with his claws and teeth. Opened two
gashes under my eyes – he nearly managed to shred my corneas.
going the only place I can call relatively ‘safe’ for the moment. Jack is
upset. He thinks I may have hurt Razzie when I split him in half.
damn dog will be fine. He always is.
The log ends there.
Now, she and the child are asleep on my bed.
The gashes on her
neck and face are hollow. She is not bleeding. I watched what looked to be
blood sometimes peek out the surface of the wounds, and retreat into her. Like
a sentient liquid in a human shell.
Naturally, I slit my
wrist over her wounds. I will bleed for the Mistress.
My blood entered her
body, and I think I heard something in her chest laugh.
was in no condition to type anything, yesterday.
tribute was larger than I ever would have expected. I wouldn’t have expected so
many of us, in such a small area, but I think there were travellers. People had
come from outside the area, just to participate. I’m not even sure everyone
started off marked.
was weird, though, was the amount of respect the other marked gave me. It was
like being a celebrity. My offer to sacrifice myself was rejected, and instead
I was bathed in red. Blood from a priest, no less. I found it hilariously
hypocritical, but completely expected. Religion seems to be founded on sexual
it, we Scarlet-marked wouldn’t even exist.
rise in crime rate has the Mistress lying low, I think. The logs passed on to
me this week are inconsistent, as though she doesn’t have the time to write
anything down. I have news of my own, however.
going to be a congregation tonight. I was invited by a fellow marked – that
means the other Scarlet-marked have found me, and I’m not sure how to feel
about that. I know I’m depraved, but I just don’t know how ready I am for a
mass tribute. While part of me is proud that something so great came from such
shame, I’ve never done anything like what I’ll be expected to do.
would a true Scarlet-marked care?
am her Priestess…I should be the truest there is.
been plagued by more nightmares, and I genuinely feel like the next one might
blast a hole in my skull.
been more consistent, though. If I believed in that whole ‘dreams are your
subconscious trying to tell you something’ shit, I’d be interpreting like
fucking mad. Truthfully, I’m so desperate for them to stop that I’ll interpret
the fuck out of them, anyway.
all involve red ooze. Like blood, but thicker. What the hell would that
symbolise, aside from…exactly what it looks like?
a lot of them, I’m wandering around the Empty City. Lot of twists and turns,
static-y silence, being completely closed off and cut off from power. In the
dreams I just…walk. Sometimes in circles, and then I lose hours. It’s hard to
tell, but somehow, I know. One second the sun will be high up in the sky…the
next, it will be setting, at a regular speed, no indication that I’ve spent my
time doing anything but pacing. Except for the ooze. Thick bright red fluid,
all over the ground, slithering after me.
then there was another one that played out like a game. I had entered a church
– which, right off the bat, you know that’s weird because I’m pretty sure that
if I set foot on religious ground I’d implode, or something – and made my way
past the pews, ducking behind these giant wall hangings. There was a crack in
the stone that was big enough for me to slip through, and I left Jack and
Razzie and went through on my own. It led to this gigantic room, more cavernous
than the rest of the building and bigger than it had any reason to be…a few
stone pillars, and a hole in the wall across from me. Again, that viscous red
was coming through…only this time it was pouring down the walls. Not just
dripping. Pouring. It was pooling on the floor, and there only ever seemed to
be more of it. Distantly, I could hear screams and groans – I couldn’t
tell if they were of pleasure, or of pain, but something tells me it was both.
After that…it’s like I blacked out. Blacking out within a dream – how redundant
can you get?
I know is, I fought. I know it was terrifying, that I escaped the encounter
shaken up and with my throat cut, but alive. And then it started over again.
was as if I’d loaded my game from the last checkpoint. I was going through the
crack in the church wall, about to face that giant room with all the red and I knew,
this time. I knew exactly what was waiting for me, and I knew how the encounter
would go. I knew I would escape with my life.
I also knew it would be fucking terrifying.
rest of the dream played out like a movie. I was stuck in a seat, watching with
all the influence of an audience member. I had to watch all this…gut-twisting
stuff, like…disturbing, violent sex. The sex was worse to watch than the death.
I saw Jack beheaded, his head impaled right through and dangled from the church
that red ooze, without a mouth or any way of laughing, just wouldn’t
stop. I felt it, rather than heard it.
I woke up, Jack told me I’d been laughing like a fucking maniac all night.