Addendum: Cadejo

It is incomprehensible... what good lies in writing memories... if by the end of the day they will be lost?

Do you really find relief in making public your insanity? As I said before, no one will ever believe you.

I was sent to track down someone. And it happens that I stumbled upon you. So unassuming, looking like any homeless man... but that little notebook of yours was quite the giveaway. I get to say, it is the feat, fooling them like that. Perhaps the only flaw in your plan was that there is no way for an illiterate Australian to write those epitaphs. Nice touch, thought.

"Evolutive", daring, perhaps...  Audacious even. I like the effort you put in triying to fool me, so I would help in making your little journal a bit more interesting. Every time you fell asleep, I would make a few edits... Add some things... And you never cared, perhaps because you already guessed who was the one whispering.

Maybe not right now... Seeing your face when you wake up and find this entry will be worth a laugh or two...

But count on this my friend, I will be seeing you very soon.

I'm buried alive

I got to escape from that foul marshland… and I barely recall what I did next. All I remember is waking up in an ambulance, people saying I nearly drowned in the Hudson River and that my left hand was severed…. I just wanted to die… and they didn’t let me…

I am secluded right now. They say it is for my security… how wrong they are.

I saw him, he was in a church.  He was using a hood and spoke like the gangster; I fell for it… He embraced me; he told me that everything was going to be OK… all that I ever wanted to hear, was said. When I tried to return the gesture, I could feel a huge wound on his right side.

He tightened his hold when I touched his wound... His wound was bleeding water; his hood fell down, revealing a horrible face… it was a sick and disgusting collage of different skin colors, eyes whose shape didn’t match, all manner of scars and birthmarks… all his “trophies” in one body.

Since that day, I ran out of options. They will hunt me down.  The water wants me down. The Nightwatch wants me down… he believes I am the one responsible for his brother’s “malady.” There’s nothing left… except him.

All I hear are his whispers… words demanding me to confess. Sometimes, he changes people’s words, so all I hear are blaming and curses. And in rare occasions, in the corner of my eye… he shows himself, a blurry black creature standing on all four, staining his mouth with my hand’s blood.

I am ambidextrous… but I favored my left hand for writing. Why would he want to cripple me? He must think as the Nightwatch… I’m so sick of being the scapegoat.

There is a mirror in front of me. I see myself, trying to talk me out of it… that he will fix anything… but that he needs me alive to do it. There is a leak in the ceiling… There is even a little girl, nonchalantly drawing the word “coward” with her crayons.

The assassin said that if one of them grabs you, He can’t take you…

He is standing in the corner of the room, an opaque stain vaguely dog-shaped. There are two big red eyes in the shadow, their dark pupils fixated on me. The stare is like a dagger to the chest, but it felt so soothing.

The others are gone… no voices, no scribbling, no dripping… just silence and the dog’s judging gaze. He has a few pages in his mouth; seemingly from them, judging by the use of German and Greek…

They are haunting my dreamworld

The creature mimicking my father froze upon seeing all the other creatures in the swamp. Then, all of a sudden, he was in front of me. His eyes… God, his eyes… I could see all of hell’s fury reflected in them. He took hold of my neck and started to tighten his grip. His intentions were clear… I didn’t oppose him, I could finally have sweet relief... If it weren't for my accursed savior.

She was beautiful… raven hair and ivory skin… she was dripping wet. She was embraced by tiny tendrils coming from the swamp, delicately gripping her neck and arms… I recognized her by her necklace. It found a new vessel.

She walked towards the creature, rather seductively, and stopped at inches from his face. I think I heard the impostor whispering “not again” causing the woman, and the others, to laugh. The creature let me go; he clearly had something to deal with. She smirked when the man smugly came to her.

She did something that left him frozen. She showed him her necklace, and she broke it with a clenching fist. The man was shocked… It couldn’t be possible. She threw away the pieces in her hand with a grin in her face; the man could only stand there, unbelieving at what his eyes showed him. “You are next” She said.

Thin transparent strings rose from the water. They pierced the skin of the man, like fishhooks… they went deep through him and slowly reeled back, ripping apart the shape of the man like paper. He was clearly distressed; he couldn’t leave, the woman wouldn’t let him… he could only scream… and soon after, not even that.

He saw me… I know he did. He turned and gave me one last look. His eyes, once they were green… now they were a deep shade of blue… The tentacles caused horrific gashes in the body of the man, as he slowly began giving up. Those tendrils were like maggots, scurrying and invading every wound in his body.  

All of the man’s limbs were damaged beyond repair. It would have been quite the mess… but there wasn’t any blood. Yet, I could see how life was slowly drifting away from him. The only effort he could do was to keep his head above the water, trying not to look as the pathetic and helpless little kid he really was.

With a cold smile in her face, and with eyes that shone with glee, she caressed his worn out face, even kissing it, before pushing it under the water. She calmly spoke to him; telling him all the horrifyingnthings she had in store for him… she said that this is only the beginning. Evolutive Flow… No more. All shall know of what it is capable… it shall never be ignored again…

Of the thirteen, there is no forgotten one.

He is lost in the darkness

I got to escape from the water’s domains… it held me and two others as prisoners in a swamp, were it experimented on us, treating us like filthy guinea pigs. The other two were acquainted with all this madness; an assassin for the Nightwatch and one of the Cleric’s gangsters. The former was beyond redemption; all that was left was a mumbling mess counting his every hair. The latter, was too calm; he simply stared at the sky, sitting on a rock and insisting that “Father” will eventually come for him, all while drinking from the tainted waters as if they were fine wine…

I left the two servants, but I kept seeing disturbing things… I saw a beautiful woman, impossibly so, with blood dripping from her chest in the vague shape of a dress. With her there was a man; he was horribly deformed, with sickly green skin and black scales replacing hair… the woman and he… they hadn’t shame.

I kept moving… I saw a satyr. He was playing a harp, sad notes coming from the strings. I thought I heard a soft mourn coming from his mouth… before he abruptly dropped his harp on the water. Or something came from the water… I didn’t turn back to watch. I had to keep going.

The swamp was rife with the water’s creations… all fauna was altered beyond recognition. The birds could have easily been mistaken for lizards, with all those scales and protrusions… the crocodiles had gills and enormous muscles… The aberrations I saw didn’t deserve to be called fish…

But that was nothing with what I found next. The water is smart. It is vengeful… it won’t stop. It didn’t suffice with the creatures living in its swamp… it had one more trophy to collect.

That ugly bastard, I hated feeling sorry for him. He looked like my father, but he obviously couldn’t care less about impersonating him correctly. He was mocking me, presenting me with a caricature of my beloved parent.

When the impostor saw the deviant couple, the satyr and the gangster… it went into a rage. It shouted in an unknown language… so eldritch that the gangster and the assassin fainted after hearing some words. His words were like a tornado going through my ears, but other than that, I couldn't feel anything else. It seemed to be talking to the other creatures… but no one listened.

Even thought I hated him, he didn’t deserve that… I know what it feels like. Everyone you know, suddenly acting against you…

The End of the Son

For some reason, I decided to take my child to a park. I knew it seemed a bad idea… that this fall was very chilly, but something kept telling me to do it…

We sat on a bench. We were under the shadow of an immense tree… and my child’s eyes glowed with relief. A faint smile appeared on that worn out face and I think that I heard a soft whisper.

I felt the tension on my chest slowly disappearing, even more than when the kid first appeared. And a soft smell, like incense, drifted in the air…

After coughing a little… My child hummed my silly song… I hummed with him, I think he smiled when I did... but a sharp pain silenced him. He clutched his chest, his face wincing with agony... He stopped singing and returned to his usual, distant self, shuddering after the episode.

After some awkward moments, my little child broke our silence... "Why?" He said, his voice hoarse from so much coughing. "Because I... don't want it to happen again." I replied, trying my hardest to not cry. The little one started distancing from me when I said that... tears bubbling in his little gray eyes... "Me too" He said as he tried to gather strength... but the pain was too much for him.

I didn't feel the chains on my chest anymore... but I still felt hurt... For a minute, I was tempted to leave the kid there and actually, I nearly did. The kid was expecting it... he wiped his tears and a particularly powerful coughing fit overtook him. I felt ice crawling inside my veins as I went farther from the bench... as I walked away, I started to forget... and for a minute... I dismissed my own flesh and blood as just another hobo kid.

But there was this pain, this grief, as if I failed at something... I saw my child, he was crying... I realized that I failed... After some minutes, the cold faded away... and I remembered my little soldier... There was a soft weep in the cold air, as well as a smell of tobacco, neither disgusting but not too pleasant... and I rushed to my child, like any concerned father would do.

My little one was getting tired... I sat on the bench and he leaned closer to me, eventually falling asleep on my arm. I could hear a faint "thank you" coming from somewhere... and I noted that the incense, the tobacco... even the cold... were gone. There was sadness in the air, not grief... only sadness. I didn't know from where it came... but I felt pathetic... impotent... and the chains returned.

“His name was Tim” A voice told me…

Tim was fast asleep… he was so tired… the little tree branch scratching his face didn’t trigger any reaction. It was getting cold, so I took my jacket and gave it to him… little kids shouldn’t be cold…

“I know you were hurt… by someone else… I see it by the way you carried yourself… if you had let me… here’s what I’d do… I’d take care of you… I also have lost…”

I know he listened… even when it has been one hour since he fell asleep.

The End of the Father

“My only wish is to die real… Cause that truth hurt and those lies heal…”

It’s an old song I used to listen with my kid… And now that I have this new kid, I’ll try to do the same…

I’ve been such an irresponsible father… But, this time, I will not botch it; this kid won’t pass the same hardships my old son used to endure. The poor soul endured worse things than my son… I knew it the minute I opened my door, wearing such a tired face… those grey eyes, just begging for someone to do something… You must be really coldhearted to say no…

The child is very quiet, often reminding me of my son. I see him, instead of the sick kid… but I really can’t tell… after the storm a week ago… I don’t know. After that day, everything changed. My son… he yelled at me, accusing me of ruining everything. But I know that that wasn’t him… his voice was too hurt… the strength he showed wasn’t his… I know that he tried to punch me jokingly… that he forgot about his strength…

He left the house after the fight. Ever since, I felt such weight in me… my doctor says that it was because of my injuries but I know that it wasn’t true. That one of them was doing this… just like they made my son do such things. It feels like chains… heavy chains worthy of a prisoner like me…

I felt such pressure, sometimes I would pass out because I couldn’t breathe. I would be immobile in my bed, life slowly being choked out. Everything would go cold and dark… all I could smell was gunpowder and burnt wood… My house, now a dungeon… But I deserved it… even though I would scream for freedom… fainting when I ran out of air.

But when the child arrived, the pressure slowly yielded… all the guilt slowly gave away. I knew that I was granted a second chance… it was in those sad grey eyes…

We were very weak... but we seemed to feel better when we were near the fireplace. The fire… there was something in it that brightened the dungeon… We would fall asleep by the fireside; such warmth took all the pain away…

Addendum: Schlanke Mann

I refused to believe the claims. But now I see what a big mistake I have made. I supposed that we weren't having another Crisis #330...

The plague that struck Ichor's vessels is likely the reason for the recent alterations. Butterfly and the Compiler have denied any involvement in it, despite the fortuitous nature of the disease. And the only ones with such powers... went MIA three years ago. And for an Author to go missing...

The claims to my brother's mental health are largely unfounded. Although its lack of activity in comparison to the other thirteen its worrisome...



At the End of everything

Now that you have enjoyed the stories of the Compiler, it is my turn to show you my stories.

I, the Bard, have been observing how these stories unfold. After they are made and edited, it is my duty to tell them, adding the ending they may need.

I am in the end, I have seen the road these stories took... Now that I know where they are heading, I can prepare the final chapter. That's my duty. I must finish them.

For the Pain to Stop

Come little changeling, come out and play

Run fast little changeling, it is time of the fay

 

What art thou looking, little changeling?

Is it your mom and dad?

Worry not, little changeling

Nothing will go bad

 

You say that it will happen again?

My, little changeling

I can feel your pain

 

But do not worry, little changeling

With thee I will stay

To happy thee most

From all this we will away

 

I know of a place where winter is not

A place safe e’en to the blind

And you find the ones you sought

No fey will you find

If you want to enter, all you must forgo

 Free you will be of all your throes!

 

Now…wait!

 

Do not away from me, little changeling!

It all for thy sake!

Wait… do not go…

 

Please... If it was yours

Away him from our wars

 

Prayers

In water, I pray upon Mannanán, so his waves clear anything foul

In the hearth, I call Brighid, her Awen enlightens my soul

In darkness, I call Arawn, to put the restless under control

In my mind, I pray upon Cernunnos, from this life He gave parole

 

For the water were clear

For the winter to endure

To know our world’s frontiers

To honor music and its allure

 

Please, accept this gift

Come in wings swift

Come that gone is the day

Come before the other fey

 

I be your faithful servant

Once gone astray

I do worship you most fervent

I do not know how to betray

All I ask you is to forgive

For he is very young

He is not your key

For you he has not sung

 

Please stop haunting him

His life can not be this grim

He hath to stop living

To every plague whim

The Compiler

Veiled, she can't keep a single face

Gloved, because her stain isn’t yet

Inexorable, if by her rules you bend

You will find her near the end

She is the sword no one can befriend 

She makes sure the story goes to her intend

 

Capped, so you know when he knocks                   Covered, so the world he can endure

One Glove, picks if mark or not                            Gloveless, lasting is his spoor

Whimsy, brings joy or naught                            Stark, his sight you can't obscure

God knows where shall now be                           He is there, don’t try to hide

Like gold mines, hard to foresee                        Like a cane, he'll be your guide

In his stories, drama he decrees                          He narrates as the story goes by    

 

Bruised, all accidents he felt

Ragged, his mark slowly fades

Kind, he knows you from youth

He is at the start, at your roots

Drink from his cup and you'll see the truth

He made you, don't be uncouth

What Was... And now Is

That morning was unusual. Father said he would tell something important at breakfast… but he was gone. He didn’t answer his cellphone, either… Knowing him, probably he was in his morning walk but he didn’t take his earphones or his music player. He really wished to know what his father was about to tell him...

“Don't be afraid, you're not alone… You will soon stop being in the unknown.”

Looking from a window was the injured man. He was pointing at an intersection not too far from Chris’s house. The man makes a beckoning gesture and walks away, probably to guide Chris. Given the situation, the young son could not be distracted, so he took a good number of pills before following that stranger. He never turned around but he was sure he was being followed.

Outside, there was a lot of fog and a strong wind blowing. Christian could barely see anything... but he could hear everything. There were moans, screams, pleas... Ominous silhouettes faded into the dense fog, leaving a lot to the imagination. For brief moments... trees stopped being trees, kids stopped being kids, birds stopped being birds... and they faded into the fog. Chris's was slowly being driven to madness and the injured man was about to turn to see him... before his neck violently set itself straight, making a brief, but painful, cracking noise.

They soon arrived at the crossroad. The fog dispersed, revealing it crowded and full of cars. Chris could see Jacques and Ophelia... and the SUV, and the mean mother. The injured man saw skyward, it was about to rain... with a look of sadness in his face.

Christian was very confused… and he felt a very cold breeze that chilled his spine. The clouds gathered… and a heavy storm fell over the place. When the young man tried to talk to the injured man… An imposing man, with a grey coat and frozen blue eyes, was standing in his place. He slammed the lid of his pocket watch, making a loud clapping noise.

 “Feel the winds coward! This you, from now onwards!"

From the south road emerged Constantino, his hands full with delicious coffee and some donuts. His smile and his desire to surprise his kid faded away when he saw it… himself, walking with his young son... and he turned around, seeing the grey man tap his watch. When his son tried to see, Constantino forcefully turned his head, causing it to sound painfully... and causing Chris's neck to hurt.

The father hurries to his son, who was brought to his knees. He is made a wreck... he saw it too. He couldn't believe that he was stalked all this time... Constantino's apologies didn't suffice... it should have been in another way. Now Chris has to deal with his present... He has to deal with us, now.

East and South, Cups and Wands, Attention and Detachment

Christian Vânt and Constantino Errante are special men. Old Constantino was an overprotective father, especially when your son has the energy of a hamster on caffeine… Young Chris was very hardworking and energetic but he had trouble focusing...    

“You should take things calmly, kiddo, time won’t jump out of the window” Says the father, still seeing Chris as the adorable 6 year old and not as the 25 years old adult… He knows that he has to stop living in the past, as Christian knows he has to stop forgetting about the now. But a little mishap... and the world will fall over...Or it is falling already?

They feel ghostly company… Their enjoyable evening with beers and cigars would turn into something worse. Constantino knows us… But Chris doesn’t. His fixation on the little child and not on the grown up prevented him from telling his son about us. I am standing right there… looking at them.

Gray jacket and a top hat… He looks at a pocket watch, whose cover has a stylized Wand covered in ivy as an engraving. Constantino’s stern gaze was met with a nod on part of that man, but he refused to leave…

“It will come… You will hear the Nor'easter thrums”

Christian never saw Him but he always says he feels someone watching him… Constantino would always bite his tongue. If the young boy knew that those things were in his life, he would be like the others… Miserable, scared… unable to live. However, what he didn’t know was that Chris could see things too…

A bandage covered his forehead… His white silk gloves were tattered and holed… His necklace looked like an hourglass, but one of the triangles was slightly smaller giving the impression of a Cup. His gaze was tender, tired and pained, but nonetheless, gentle…

“It is set in stone... The truth shall soon be known ”

 All what the old father could see was the figure tapping his watch… All the young man could see was the injured one cranking his necklace like a key … And then, both were gone.

Chris saw his father spilling a few tears before saying “I have to tell you”… but in some minutes, he was back to normal, asking again if Chris wanted a beer.

What Will Be

After the shocking morning, she will arrive at the office. Despite her worries, she wouldn’t be late. She will try to dissimulate, but the only thing she wants was to be in her office alone. Ophelia shall give everything she owes to Christian and he will coldly take everything; all paperwork will disappear from her desk, the records of the sales will be handed over to Constantino, who will be very frustrated about something. She shall be busy in her desk, so she will never smile or greet back when they speak to her.

She will sit in her chair and stare at a photo. “Lindsay never seemed so happy…”  Just one mishap… And the world fell over. That made her change… and she decreed that her future would be made by her, nobody will interfere… 

The woman’s face still fresh in her mind; it will hurt to remember it… And her voice still was clear as ice “Never look, but don’t disturb the brook.” Was she supposed to not interfere with the young girl? What she meant with brook? That fear of not knowing will eat her from the inside… It will be about to happen.

Her boss will die. Every executive, herself included, will be forced to decide the fate of the company. The news will soon arrive… And all she will do is wallow in grief.  Everyone will head for the conference room; doubt regarding their CEO will cloud their minds.

 While heading for the conference room, she shall see a mysterious figure in the window. It will be covered in rags and look poor. The familiarity will strike again. And soon, she shall see… Nightmares are just fakes! They will never come to reality? Do they? They aren’t supposed to be like this…

 She will feel impotent… She knows Edward wasn’t a leader. She will begin thinking of every outcome: Poverty, loneliness, dependence… Loneliness… The huge shadow casted against her will snap her out of such negativity.

A veil will cover her face… Red opera gloves… A crystalline octahedron will hang from her neck, each face showing something different… It was very thin; it looked like a Sword…

 The woman will silently caress Ophelia’s hair... And she will remove her veil. For a moment, she will look like that mother… For other, she will resemble the poor crone… And her face will always resemble Ophelia…  Either she or someone else; but a police officer will arrive, an order in hand which to take Lindsay away… based on emotional neglect and lack of response after an assault.

 “You shall see what the waters took, after I told you to not look."

North, Swords, Duplicity

Ophelia Maschera will be a happy person. She had many of the worries of a typical single mom yet she never gave up. “Never leave anything for tomorrow” She will say with a smile to her beloved daughter, Lindsay.

“If you do everything, tomorrow won't surprise you" She will say. She never believed in the future, it was an illusion.  She always lived her present and remembered her past… but she never cared for what was beyond.

She will wake up. It will be Monday soon. It was uncommon for her to have nightmares… But she will brush the disturbing dream aside. Dreams are just TV your brain remembers…

There are still hours for work, so she’ll decide to do some cleaning. Cleaning will help her clear her thoughts, as she’ll have an important event that day. The floors were dustless, the windows were clean and the furniture was in pristine condition… But she always cleaned, “just in case.” She always thought that there could be a visit or check… Her daughter will wish to see the day she will pay attention to her…

After cleaning, two hours will pass. She must be in her office in one hour. She must rush to get dressed and make breakfast, as the school bus will come in thirty minutes. She must make her way to the office; she’ll ignore Lindsay again… After a couple of streets, she will hear a loud scream. For some reason, hearing that sound will strike a chord in her.

After making sure nobody will see her, she will try to localize the source of the screaming. It will be very hard for her to find it, as the houses stretched for half a mile, so she’ll abandon her search. The best action she could do was to call the police. They could handle the situation… Whoever screamed will be helped…
 
The little disruption will cost her a huge sum of time, so she’ll take a shortcut by the intersection.  She will hurry the pace and try to make a good excuse… While on her way, she will notice a woman. The woman will hold a child by the hand and the child will look sad… Ophelia would feel hurt… Seeing the child reminded her of Lindsay. The woman was very harsh to her kid; she was literally dragging her along the street… Ophelia will notice but she shan’t know what to do…

The woman was very unsettling; Ophelia could feel familiarity with her. That poor kid was being taken against her will… Getting soaked by the unearthly rain was also upsetting her, so the mother turned to her daughter…

The utterance will traumatize Ophelia… even more than the sight of those faces

“Never look; don’t disturb the brook”

What Could Be

After that shaky morning, he arrived at his office. He wasn't late, I think. He greeted everyone, trying to dissimulate his little "incident" and, as he hoped, nobody seemed to care. His co-worker, Ophelia, was incredibly fidgety and she didn't notice his greet; the sales manager, Constantino, was very bitter and angry and he just snorted at poor Jack. Even Christian, the section chief, was acting abnormally! The brooding shell of a man that stood there couldn't be him... It simply couldn't be.

He sat in his desk and tried to work. Even though he had nothing to do... or probably because his boss hasn't sent anything for him to do. Even in the safety of his cubicle, he was shaking... Perhaps he reminded the phrase? Could he have thought of the meaning of it? Could he feel... unsafe?

All of a sudden, the VP assistant came crashing through the door of the office. She was crying an awful lot... or it was sweat? Her makeup was running... or it was blood?

"Th-the VP Carlson is dead..." She stammered, as she collapsed in a chair. Many gathered to attend her before she faintly whispered: "The CEO wants to see you all"

So far, Only Carlson knew who this guy was. Some even thought that Carlson was The CEO.  The fact that he wanted to see everyone could only mean one thing... he wanted a successor. Who could have the so much sought promotion? Get all the money, the power... It should be a moment of hope and  dreams to come true... It should.

As expected, the CEO was a weird man. Besides his outfit looking taken from a casino dealer, he had a black beret and a red leather glove in his right arm. But the weirdest thing in him was his taste in necklaces... A dog tag, engraved with a Pentagram. It kind of looked like the Ace of Pentacles...

"So, good morning everyone" He said. "I'm sorry about the... unfortunate... incident we had today. But don't let that get you down! Not everybody is luck's bitch!"

"I see you all are perfect for this post... so, don't be afraid! Speak!" He shouted, while fiddling with his right hand. Everyone was very quiet and he seemed upset... "So isn't anyone speaking? Then, I'll nominate... You, Jackie! I heard many good things from you... goddamned little survivor."

Jack's ears were probably mistaken... He could be going mad... And he probably knew that he was in the fifth floor... And the CEO arrived minutes after, as he was caught in the traffic...

"Thanks for raising the bet. How will you pay your debt?"

West, Pentacles, Probability

Jacques Tuuri could be a happy person. His life was very boring... his usual mantra was "Get a job, fail to get the girl, get a mortgage." All he felt he was doing was... due. Methinks he wasn't a very interesting person.

But he was not without his reasons. A little mishap and the world could fall over... And he knew about mishaps, so he changed. He decreed that probability wouldn't have him.

One day he woke up. It could be a Monday, as he often cursed them. After his morning rituals, he hopped into his old Ford. It seemed that he wished for his misfortune to end.

The traffic was record breaking, according to the many tweets he got.  The four way intersection he used to take was at its fullest and the lights weren't changing any sooner. Normally, he would join the other drivers in honking the desperation away... But he was calm this time... perhaps he saw what was coming...

He was in the north channel of the crossroad and he had to go the west road. But while he was slowly approaching the end, he noticed something... The traffic police disappeared. He was gone from his post... That meant he could do a little turn and get to the western road without inconvenient! It seemed like a lucky day!

Maybe he wasn't listening... perhaps his windshield was dirty... It wasn't anxiety, just an annoying loud air horn. He was shaking afterwards.

He didn't realize that the lights changed in the most unfortunate time possible. What was worst, there was an speeding SUV heading right into his position.  He didn't notice until it was very late... Apparently, the SUV made a very violent swerve and crashed with a small car. The road was stained with the burnt tracks an the huge car completely break through the small car. A female voice could be heard screaming for help... But all Jack could see was the visible scratch in his bumper... Have the car not made that swerve...

After the crash, enormous gray clouds were forming. Perhaps it was  going to rain? The thunder made it more likely... Or perhaps it wasn't thunder at all...

"Never raise the bet. Just hope to stop the roulette."

aanhangsel: эксперимент

Si alguien ve esto... por favor... Mande ayuda!

They won't listen

Essi hanno più persone! Hanno in programma di fare qualcosa!

Don't believe him... He is insane

Eu não sei quanto tempo eu tenho sido neste pântano

We can't wait to see what they will do to you

Bitte! Bitte! Helfen Sie mir

I can feel it... running through my veins...

  Quick... before the water knows...

You don´t fool anyone
The Cleric will kill you once he knows your little secret 

Cernunnos Court

On Imbolc he sleeps

In Beltane he weeps

On Lammas he schemes

In Samhaim he sweeps

 

With sweet music and delightful games

Lost you will be, if you were to dance

He wants in his domain you stay

But by morrow, he hath been overcame

Beware, not only in sleep he attacks

In the night with an axe

In the day with his harp

In wakefulness he leads astray

Many dreamers who forgot about day

Whose mind forgot about reality

And soared high away

 

Like a dragon to his gold

You will never leave his hold

Once he hath thou once in delight

He is free to bring again the blight

The Satyr's Ending

Most happy the couple were…

Alas! He decided to knock there

At dark midnight he awoke

Roused by the call of the wolf

Unto a lake he went

With eyes closed, to better repent

The fireflies his guide were

They guideth him to the quiet lake 

And he danced, in the watery hell

His absence made her awake

Hurry! Hurry! It might be too late 

What she found left her in tears

And the sweet music eased her fears

Dancing at the will o’ the wisps

Enclosed by the elves’ ring

Beastly skeletons and banshees sing

All at the music of the satyr’s string

Alone he was not, other people were found

“Why leave the fantasy? Why leave the dreams?”

They are better under his wing

And they will dance, till next Samhain

Eyes closed, for no awakening

"Dost thou dislike thy life?"

Leave it to the dreams... It is my right

Part III

The animals gentle her not. Their plague roars and anger claws prevented the young girl from leaving. They trapped her in a cave and always stood in guard, so she could not escape. Not that she tried… But the beasts, brothers were not more, always got her.

Her bird friends were gone, now vile owls followed her every move. The fireflies betrayed her position e’ry time, so no longer they were her friends. Her dreams were more decadent, as an ugly figure stood watch outside her lair. The abominable ogre would be outside, and when he entered he seized her arm and… She awoke with the wolves still mounting guard outside.
Her fantasy was gone… Now there were nightmares. Now, she knew evil… She knew malice… And she knew desire. She was yearning, for some reason she became attached to the mysterious musician of that night… Every waking moment, she remembered his music, only for the animals to howl violently.

But… It came to happen. One day, the wolves left the cave. They were a hungered, and they were desperate so they left her by a few instants. And she ran… As fast as she could… With all their power, her legs ran.

She felt huge steel claws in her head and painful bites in her legs… And she was heading right into the ogre…

The ogre took her by the hand… Unto the plains he carried her. She wisheth to dream... But she awoke... And she saw no ogre… But a man, red stained white shirt and black trousers. Soft he spake, quiet his walk… “Blessed be the Lord! I thought I lost you!” He sayeth with teary eyes… His embrace was cold and warm and the same time… And she felt kisses in her face as he tightened his grasp… But he wept, for those eyes hath no idea of what was happening…

He took her to his cottage in the fields… he shewed her many paintings, as he called them, of this beautiful girl, he claimed, was her. Slowly, memories returned…

“D-D-Dearest Michael?” She mumbled, as her glazed eyes slowly came back to life. Disbelief he hath… “What is thy name, gracious wench?” He sayeth… “Beloved, thou knowest well… For this is your wife, Enid.”

He rushed to embrace her, with trembling voice and teary eyes… His suffering hath stopped and his nightmare… not forgotten.

Part II

It came to happen one day and it goes on this wise: Among the fields young Leannan were walking alone, until she found a strange object. Peculiar it was… It depicted a young woman like her, dancing in the waters like her… But she was in something, flat and shaped like the stones in the river…

She was a pleased and danced with her new companion. Stuck was her, in one eternal pirouette unlike her flesh sister. Confused she was, she got closer to the immobile dancer and she tried touching her. There was a curious cold slick in her flat body and the young Leannan was stained with blue… And the beautiful midsection of the dancer was a muddled, and the flat object fell from his standing… And the naiad fled, dread in her face, for she killed the dancer…
For the next days and nights, her brothers were very protective of their sister. Lynxes would growl at her when she tried to leave her forest, wolves carried her back when she went to the plains, and her choir and lights would leave her in the night if she deviated… And it was for the best, nobody was to disturb her little innocent dream…

It came to happen that she leaveth her little grove, when her brothers were off in their sleep. She ran, as fast as she could and went to the plains. She found another woman… Another dancer, this time with wispy lights following her… It happy her most, seeing her good friend back. She then started to dance again, this time she made sure not to touch her friend. And while she danced, she heard soft notes… Not the nightingales neither the robins nor the warbler, but a soft chime of wind. It made her dance even more, for the tune was very sweet and enticing…

When she was very distracted, a swift shadow appeared before her. It was very dark for her to see, but she knew she was not alone. The music was stronger as if the musician hath been playing far and now is near… She felt in company but her brothers were not close… Who could it be?

The music halted the minute she started asking herself these questions… She heard a loud sound, like when a rock falls unto the ground. Then, loud howling and growling, and behold, wolves and lynxes.

Against her will, a vicious hand pulled her. His vile grip damaged her flowing hair... And she felt her force flow away... And when she woke up, she was back in her lair.

Abandon All Dreams

Back in the time, when humanity were still young, there lived a woman. She was a fair woman, of beautiful raven hair that paled even the jet stones and endowed enough to make e‘ry lady green. Aye, wondrous was this wench and aye, she was a wee girl. She only knew herself, the forest who she called her home and her brothers, the beasts.

 Her life was full of dreadful haze… All she remembered of her past was being taken into this very field, a rough hand holding hers and a sweet whisper not unlike those of the wind. Then, she awakened and found herself hither.
The girl innocent was… She did not know no womanhood. No man ever shrouded her in his cape. Many people visited the once called Land of the Millesians just to see this maid. They called her the Leannan, for she were a dangerous sweetheart. Many her suitors were, they offered her golden circles and shiny rocks, and delightful tastes and delicious smells....

Malice her not, gentle her… For her spurning were not of disfavor but of ignorance. Have you tried to make thy horse to sit with thee in the table? Does he drink thy wine with a cup or make thee a painting? No, for he is a horse and that is beyond his grasp. Similar the Leannan was, innocent she was and never understood the idea of love…

The girl would simply away the men, for she never knew the language of man. In the rivers she would be, dancing… Her sweet figure mingling with the ripples and waves of the rivers, the birds singing songs of glory and nature and the fireflies lighting and moving with her… Such a spectacle to behold, the graceful phatom, that inspirited many artists…  

In blissful unawareness, she liveth… She knew did not know no malice, no disappointment, no desire… For her, life was a fantasy… One in which she never knew she would be awoken…