Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Day Three-Sixty-Two: Most depressing New Year's Day ever



One of the nobles tried to commit suicide today. Lonnie. He looped a rope around one of the rafters in the pub and tied a knot 'round his neck. Jumped off a chair to do the deed. Thank the gods he doesn't know how to tie a noose - when he jumped it slipped right off his neck, and he broke his leg by putting it through a weak floorboard.

Funny. Kinda funny. Also incredibly depressing. A guy failing to commit suicide is what passes for humour 'round here, these days. Only a jester like Kierkegaard would find it genuinely amusing. Which is probably why he's doing all this…

He's not happy with how this went down, though. Not happy at all. After spending most of yesterday terrified of the barrier and the monsters beyond, I worked up the courage to go have a look at our impending doom for longer than a few fleeting moments. Every time I approached the barrier Kierkegaard popped out of the roiling mass of pounding black bodies, leering in at me and making crude gestures. He acts silly, but he's pissed. I can tell.

That fact was almost enough to make me point and laugh at him. Then he… shifted… partially… into that other thing… and I ran. I ran like hell. Gods, that tiny eye, staring out of… nothing… ugh. Gives me chills, even deeper than the ones I get standing in the snow.

He is the worst of the lot, but everything beyond the tree's barrier is creepy as shit. Even with two days to observe the things, I still can't make sense of what's out there. Most of the clamouring consists of green eyes (made slightly blue by the barrier between us and them) and writhing, undulating black. It's like these monsters don't have a stable shape; they're constantly twisting and rearranging themselves into new, featureless configurations that we can't hope to understand. Damned unnerving, and I hope I never have to meet one face-to-face for long.

After Lonnie's attempt to escape the situation, I ordered everyone into the pub. We're all huddled together now, sitting on cots or floorboards, either watching the windows or hiding away from the awful truth of what surrounds us. Few townsfolk dare to go outside for longer than a few moments, and when they do they shelter their eyes under their hoods and stare at the snow. Again, Libby's one of the few exceptions - she keeps screaming that the things took her baby from her, as if that's the only explanation for his absence.

Oh, and dad. Dad charged headfirst at the barrier earlier today. Knocked himself out cold. Nobody's dared to go get him. I'm sure he'll be fine, and if he's not, it ain't like it much matters.

I know I should be more worried about Grayson. He's my son. I love him. It's not even a matter of his innate weirdness that keeps me from being concerned. Quite frankly, I suspect that he's somewhere far away from the shadow creatures, protected from all this. If anybody's gonna survive this debacle, it'll be little Grayson. He has better chances of surviving on his own in a forest than he does in here. Who knows, maybe he's shacked up with Barrel somewhere… or June, hell, even better if it was June…

You might have noticed, diary, that I haven't mentioned food as an issue for our survival. Even if Kierkegaard and his cronies never get in here, we would starve to death. That was a very real possibility yesterday -

- but it's not anymore. I imagine we'll still have lots of winterweed to eat by the end. The end won't take that long to arrive.

Why?

Because the barrier's not white anymore. It's a slight tinge of purple. And not a healthy purple. I suspect that the constant smashing of heavy claws is weakening it, day by day. Eventually, inevitably, it's going to come down, and when it does it'll be like the removal of a dam from a stream. With the blockage gone, the water will come flowing in.

The silent.

Enormous.

Deadly.

Green.

Black.

Hateful.

Water.

8 comments:

  1. Bein' REAL decisive Drags...REAL FUCKING DECISIVE...

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    1. *SHAKES* GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF MAN! We just gotta calm down and think for a moment. So long as we put our trust in our leader, everything will be fine...

      ...OH GOD WE'RE GONNA DIE! THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN! I CAN'T FEEL MY FEET! I SMELL COOKING BACON FOR SOME REASON! THE WALLS ARE STILL CLOSING IN! WHERE IS THAT SMELL COMING FROM? I HAVE TO PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

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  2. o.O
    I'm calling deus ex machina on this one, because I have no idea how they would survive this.

    Taking all bets on potential things that will save them at the last moment.
    Beer demon lady or rats are the best sources I can think of, But Grayson's out getting help, so maybe the goblin kingdom?

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    Replies
    1. Oh! Havent read about stranger in a bit, but he could save them given that Bird referenced him recently...

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    2. ...yes...raining boulders from the sky, or maybe Plato?

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    3. I combined the two and pictured raining Platos from the sky.

      I don't know how effective that would be.

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    4. Oh yes, scythe wielding playpi would be no help at all. And of course my catapults are all buried, so they're no help at all. Also, new computer! So expect pictures as soon as I get used to this new beast I've obtained.

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