Fear @ MindSay

This is an original work by Duncan Morley, please don't fuck with it.



                                                                   Personal Demons
    In a single sight you may see a man, sleeping with his eyes open, but a man nonetheless. You can never see him for all that he is while he is there. He will never even see you for anything. He is a man obsessed. He is no longer a human; he is but a man gone mad.
    He is lying alone in the woods of eastern Ontario. The bugs know not to leave him be, but the mammals and birds would rather devour their own offspring than take a step in his direction.
    His body has been all but stripped to its bones. All around him the aroma of pus is prevalent. His breath is rapid and rattling. His mouth is dry, and his body is absorbed with open sores. The maggots and worms are already ravaging him. He is a man embracing Death, but Death will not take him.
    He is a man who has stuck himself in time.
    He lived in a small tight-knit community near the provincial town of Cobalt. He was a man whom some respected for his duties and tasks about the community, but most regarded him as a stranger to them, even though he has lived in the same spot for upwards of twenty years.
    He was a reclusive man: he kept to himself. He would never have dreamt of leaving his home if it were not for his job or if food were not a necessity to him.
     He worked as a wilderness guide in the Canadian forests; more commonly, a canoeing guide for the few local tourists. Sometimes he would leave with a client, or even all alone, for weeks at a time. He knew he was never at peace with the fresh waters and thus, he had an uncommon dread of his profession.
    When he would eventually come back, he would go unseen. He would ride the river all the way to his cottage, and contrary to a welcome after up to a month alone, he would go unnoticed by the townspeople.
    On one occasion he returned by the route straight through the village center. Although not many people were out, and when most saw him they did not know who he was, the ones that did were at a loss for words at his sudden appearance. He was a strong sight. He was carrying more than his share of food, but alone still.
     It wasn’t a terribly uncommon sight to see him alone. The ones who knew his name figured he simply went out on a solo trip as opposed to business.
    Once he was just out of earshot of the town a barely audible mumble was heard to arise from his boat:
    “This… This makes no sense...”
    With this he promptly disappeared to his home.
    When he exited his boat and hung it upon his formal rack, as opposed to flipped next to his cottage. Despite the early time of 4:15 P.M., he hurried into his bed and soon fell asleep.
    During the night, he dreamt a nightmare. He saw a body rising into the air. It rose so high the height was beyond recognition. The body began to glow a demonic green, and a river of the same mist flowed from its body. With no warning it burst into an inferno of grey flame.
He woke the next morning to remember nothing of the night before. Contrary to his normal routine, he showed himself at the town’s only diner.  It was more of a chip-stand than anything else, but it served coffee. It served its purpose.
    He ordered the drink, but never moved even once to so much as smell it. He let it sit until it was as cold as the air around him.
    At about noontime, he was still motionless. A fellow townsman who sat down next to him, staring directly at him, greeted him. The townsman, Matthew Fraser, then waited half an hour himself before saying anything:
    “Why have you come back?” He asked in a serious tone. “You know as well as I do that the people who know you here want you out.”
    His first words in hours were spoken:
    “But I have nowhere else to go,” he replied with a grin.
    “ We don’t care about those things here, soon you too will realize that.”
    “You really are the only one here who cares about me. You really are my only friend.”
    With a smile, Matthew was gone.
    The waitress, Leona Smith, then came over for an inquiry to what Mr. Fraser wanted. He told her it was just an innocent exchange of words. She asked him if he would be paying for the coffee that was drunk. With a puzzled glance at his now empty coffee mug he said:
    “Yes.”
    With this he paid the young lady, leaving a generous tip, and left her for his home once more.
    A few days passed with no sight of him, but on the third day he was spotted once more at the diner. He once again ordered coffee, and he once again paid and left for his home.
    He would never return to the diner, or for that matter, the village.
    He laid down for sleep and entered yet another nightmare, from this one he would never wake.
    It showed him living in a world not unlike the world in which he actually lived.
    There was a small village near which a cottage sprung forth. The area was abundant in wildlife and had a moderate amount of people living in the town. But every living thing that was exposed to him in the dream would begin to decay. Some would bloat and host themselves to hideous parasites, while others would gain sunken features and seemingly wilt.
    There was a constant glow of twilight around the town and along the river, it could be evaded nowhere in the dream.
    The scene changed: it was now a portrait of the river that ran through the village. The river was not as he remembered it, instead of the crisp, cool blue he was used to, it was a cold and deep shade of black.
    He knew what was to happen next.
    In an instant the river went a pale white with a line of crimson waters flowing through it. With this he saw a spectral hand flowing through it. He only saw it briefly but he knew exactly what it was.
    He cried out in horror. With this he woke the dead.
    The body of Zachary Smith, recognizable only to him: the child he took on the prior trip, burst forth.
    A completely different entity than the naïve young boy who set out weeks before, the thing that stood before him was a demon. A demon conjured from all the evil thoughts surrounding the boy’s death.
    In a single swift motion, the demon brutally maimed him. The demon was to devour him.
     It rose up into the sky. With a flash of remembrance he exclaimed:
    “ At six miles up you will explode, I have seen it all!”
    The demon replied:
    “No one listens to the damned.”
     But this man was not damned. He was an innocent, never taking more than he needed. It was an accident that the boy died. Leona knew this, Matthew knew this, but he did not.
    The demon rose, to a total of what was now six miles, and burst apart in an inferno of grey flame.
    With a moments hesitation he exclaimed for joy, for he thought he had defeated the demon.
    Little Zachary began to form once again out of the ash. The man wept when he saw the boy again, but he knew it would not last. The boy began to grow wings, horns, black skin, and demonic eyes. He knew it was done.
    A moment before the demon pierced his heart, it all ceased. There was a flash of absolute nothingness, followed by an eternal repetition of the agonizing horrors he experienced.
    
    After two months since his last appearance the knowledgeable village people began to grow an uncertain concern. There was a buzz about the town of how he had fled without any reasons, or that the Ontario Provincial Police had found him living off the grid and taken him away.
    Mr. Fraser knew that none of these rumors could be true. He set out for the man’s cottage that very evening.
    After some ragged rapping upon a locked door, Mr. Fraser battered it down.
    He arrived inside the house and immediately smelled the foul stench of rotting flesh. He moved into the bedroom and saw the body of his friend. It showed glassy eyes staring into nothing, it showed a split mouth, with dried blood all over his face. But what it didn’t show would be the question to haunt Matthew. It didn’t show the guilt of a man. It didn’t show the key to immortality to being eternal repentance. It didn't show the insanity of a man who would confine himself to damnation for an innocent crime.
    Mr. Fraser simply closed his eyes and turned to leave: he could no longer save this man.

The monster stocks my thoughts day and night.

He creeps along in my sleep and controls my dreams.

He beats me and is trying to kill me.

He follows me everywhere torturing my mind.

I look over my shoulder and he is there.

I run from him and he is to fast for me to out run.

He lives in my head and tells me I must leave this earth.

One day he will win and I will forever be gone.

He tells me in my dreams to kill myself and harm the ones I love.

Dreams and ideations of walking in front of a train, hanging myself, shooting myself, etc

Haunt me over and over and repeats like a pre recorded message from Satan.

I must put an end to this thing that is causing so much terror for my family.

It won't be long before I am gone.

A goodbye to those I love.

The monster will cause no more terror for you.

I know I will be missed but it must be done before someone gets hurt.

We shall all be together again with no monsters, fears, or pain.

No more chaos or confusion for anyone.

We will come together in a cloud of safety and peace.

I must close for now but shall return later if it is meant to be.

I love you all and carry you in my heart.

 

Ever since he came home from the party, he's been thinking about you.  He hasn't been sleeping well because he keeps having bizarre dreams that involve you.  He's become distant and very unresponsive; it seems that all he can think about is you.  But you're not his wife.  I am.

"I'm polyamourous," he said to me yesterday.  "I can love more than one person equally." 

"So you're telling me that you can love me and her at the same time, in the same capacity, completely equally?"  I made sure that I kept my tone as calm as possible even though I could feel the fear awakening deep down inside.

"Yes," he answered with that charming smile of his.

But you're not his wife.  I am.  I need his love.  You don't.  So back off.

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Dixie currently feels:

 Neutral

 

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Blog #65

Blood, Bloody & Bloodier!

 

 

Today has been the most meaningful session I've spent with Dianne yet.

I brought along a copy of Regenbogen Streifen and let her read it.

 

Together, I've discovered even more ambiguity and double-meanings to a lot of the sections.

 

For instance - the part I wrote about crossing the road mindlessly and being saved by a stranger before I was ran over - this actually refers to February 2008 where I attempted suicide by walking out into main road.

Though, the day I wrote Regenbogen Streifen, I was walking to the bus station - there was a disabled boy walking in front of me. I've seen him in college, I think he has Down's Syndrome, or something similar.

Either way, we got to a crossing, and I looked at him as if to say: "Hey, wait until I go over, then it'll be safe."- and he did; because I knew he'd have just went straight over otherwise.

I continued on, he still walking in front of me - until we came to a second crossing. He went to cross as traffic was still going by and the red man was still displayed - a woman behind us grabbed him by the arm and stopped him.

 

Also - the sections about sex - I refer to my hands as "useless appendages" - although the narrator is not gendered, the people they desire are clearly gendered as female. Obviously, it's written as myself, so it's from the perspective of a lesbian - but it could be viewed as a male desiring these females, and the "useless appendage" could refer to his penis.

 

We both agree that I'm far better in writing than I am verbally.

I know this myself, I communicate myself and my feelings across far better in writing than I do speaking.

This is why I'll only ever use text speak shorthand for comedic effect. Everything I write is written in continual prose - even on MSN and online forums I write in fully punctuated sentences.

 

I know my punctuation has a spazzy fit on my blog though - I use dashes in proper random places.

 

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After my session, I went and sat on the square tables - took out my sketchbook, plugged in Lisa and the "NEW PLAYLIST" (which I've recently updated), and wrote 3 pages of analysis to stick into my sketchbook.

When they're stuck in, I'll have completed around 10 pages.

 

My "NEW PLAYLIST" now has 170 songs, instead of the previous 150.

I deleted it totally and started again - this time adding some overlooked favourites.

 

Ashleigh and Shelly came into college not long before their A block lesson - sat with me for a while and talked.

One of the chairs was taken up by my tuppaware box - containing my 3 litres of fake blood.

Today was the day of my Photography exam, and I was absolutley shitting it.

 

While those two were in A block, I resorted to Solitaire.

I'd been distracted from my sketchbook work - and once that happens, it's difficult for me to get back into the right mindset to continue with it.

 

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After they'd came back - we all walked into town, first stopping off at the Dundas Arcade so I could buy an ox heart.

£1.70 - which isn't bad. Pig's hearts are about 35-45p, and ox hearts are considerably bigger.

And considerably HEAVIER. They must weigh about 2 stones.

Thankfully, Ashleigh said I could hang it on her handles as I was pushing her. This took a bit of strain off my arms.

 

We stopped off at Home Bargains and Greggs - then went and sat in a different place yet again.

We sat by the text tower in the centre, on the black stone bricks.

THEY'RE FUCKING FREEZING.

I sat on it and squealed as the cold penetrated my arse cheeks. Shelly did the same, rofl.

 

I did vow to myself that I wasn't going to eat a lot of chocolate, incase nerves and squeamishness got to me during my exam shoot and I ended up vomiting - but I changed my mind and ate a Terry's Chocolate Orange bar and a chocolate bunny with praline in the middle.

I bought two of those, but I did save one for later on.

 

I'd bought Sprite today - a variation on my usual Pepsi.

Sprite makes me feel funny inside.

 

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Walking back to college, I was pretty close to "bottling it", as Shelly puts it.

I had bus fare in my pocket, I could have skipped off the exam and just got the Leven Valley bus back to nana's.

 

Shelly tried reverse psychology on me. She knows I'm almost as childish as she is - so she was like: "Alright, you just go... Come on Ashleigh, we'll leave her..."

 

So eventually I did end up following them with my tail between my legs.

I hadn't actually gone anywhere - they'd just started walking faster in front of me.

 

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Arriving back at college, we had around 20 minutes before E block - so we sat on the benches in front of Hair & Beauty.

I didn't say much, I was drowning in my own fears.

 

When the time came, Ashleigh practically took me by the arm and pulled me to the lift.

Once inside, I pressed ALL the buttons - and when it got to first floor, I mashed the ONE button, so that the doors kept on opening.

 

I did the same on 2nd floor, until Ashleigh grabbed me by the arms and pulled me away from the panel.

 

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I will say that in Photography - thanks to me - Shelly, Danny and Ashleigh all did NO work.

 

Shelly helped me tape the tarpaulin to the wall below the projector while Paul was setting up a tripod.

Danny was proper facinated by the heart. He was only too happy when I asked if he'd help me get it out of the bag, as I couldn't at the time - my hands were covered in blood.

 

One mint thing though - Amara wasn't in lesson, and Danni-slagface was too squeamish to stay in the room, so she went and hid in the art rooms next door.

Even Jonathan and those two emo slags seemed interested - those who I thought didn't have a high opinion of me. I still think they don't, but at least they weren't arseholes.

 

The first few photos, I'd just tipped blood over my shirt as I held up the heart or a meat cleaver I'd brought along.

Then of course, Shelly tipped the blood over my head - as much as she didn't want to.

(She later admitted to me that she'd felt so guilty about it, she'd gone and cried in the 4th floor toilets.)

 

Ashleigh wasn't as remorseful - she was manning the tripod, taking all the photos. I could see she was secretley enjoying watching me writhe.

 

GOLDEN SYRUP FUCKING HURTS WHEN IT GETS IN YOUR EYES.

 

That happened TWICE - it started dripping down my fringe and running into my eyes. We had to stop twice so I could wipe my eyes down with a baby wipe.

I don't really like the taste of it either, but yeah...

 

Tanya and her friend from Art came in.

They said the printer was broken - they take a chair - they both sit on it, directly behind the tripod and stare at me.

 

"We're coming in to watch."

"Am I honestly that interesting?"

"No, but the printer's broke and we're bored."

"That's nice."

 

Here be some photos:

 

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Rofl, then came the task of cleaning myself up.

It's a good thing that the toilets all have locks to the actual outside door.

 

Ashleigh rinsed out my shirt and my trousers while Shelly mopped my face down and rinsed off some of my hair.

I put on my clean clothes and wiped down my feet and my chest. My hair wasn't totally clean, so I'd thought ahead and brought a baseball cap to wear to the bus stop.

 

I trust them both enough. They've seen me practically naked before - and I them, so what be the problem?

 

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I nearly broke my back walking to the bus stop though.

The heart and the remaining blood was BEYOND heavy.

I had to carry it slung over one shoulder, but even then, it was breaking my back. I sort of alternated between shoulder and arm.

Very thankful when I got to the bus stop and I could put it down.

 

There was this ginger chav sat next to me in the shelter - he kept giving me dodgy looks. Probably because I smelt of golden syrup. Lmao. :)

 

The bus was proper late as well.

I killed time with Lisa and texting Adam.

They were all like: "LOL GINGER CHAV SNIFFING ME." and "OMG PROPER NEED A SHOWER MATE."

 

When I got back to nana's - she'd made me chicken dippers and spaghetti, but I'd proper lost my appetite earlier. I scraped some of the spaghetti, so she put the chicken in the fridge for me.

 

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I was so fucking thankful to get in the shower like.

My hair still felt a bit strange afterwards, but at least it wasn't sticky - and it hadn't gained a pink tinge from the food colouring like I'd expected.

 

I bought a Wii Points card yesterday - I bought two songs on World Tour (Gimme All Your Lovin' and In The Shadows), Streets Of Rage and Super Mario RPG on Virtual Console.

 

I keep missing ONE note on In The Shadows - on both Hard and Expert... Annoyed.

 

Gimme All Your Lovin' is a cover - HOW DARE THEY GIVE AWAY COVER SONGS AS DLC.

It's not an amazing cover either - it's by Wavegroup - and Line 6 do FAR better ZZ Top covers than them.

But I bought it becuase it's a mint song. I'm practically a lifetime ZZ Top fan. :)

 

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I spent the rest of my night playing Streets Of Rage.

I got to the 7th level - the stupid level with the lift, and I got killed.

GAH.

 

I'm going to play the 2-player mode with Shelly on Saturday. She loves this game too. :)