A Knife in My Chest: Best Vacation Ever

I guess I've been gone a long time.  (understatement of the year)  Its not really my fault, I swear.  As Pocketwatch told y'all, I was in a coma with a hole in reality shaped like a knife jammed into my chest.  

Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure how it happened. I ward my room at home, and ever since this business with the Evil started up, my house too. I was pretty secure in my, well, security when I went to bed that night. You see, I was visiting home for the weekend and had intended to return to school the following day.  

But I wouldn't be back for some time.

The next morning, I awoke to myself with blue hair.  I haven't had blue hair in 3 years.  Upon opening my door to greet the day, my dog ran in followed by my Siamese cat, rascal.  Who died in my freshman year.  As accustomed as I am to the unusual, this threw me for a loop. Opening my laptop (which melted down for the last time January of 2010), I saw the date.

December 25, 2007.

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

The spirits had done it all in one night it would appear.  Three and a half years ago, I was plucked from the world as I knew it and landed smack in the middle of another place.  There, music was the basic building block of reality.  I had a grand adventure with some amazing composers.  At the end of it all, they worked with the fae of that world to try to send me home.  Unfortunately, it sent me to this world.

Magic doesn't exist where I'm from.  It's the stuff of tales and legends.  Here, everything is pregnant with the stuff, if people know how to draw it out.  Of course, I do have ideological concerns about using it.  For the past three years, I've been trying to get home.  I've made it to a few other places, each with their own stories, but my own home seems to be blocked off from the rest.  Until now.

Considering the lack of evidence to the otherwise, it was actually pretty easy to dismiss the whole thing as a dream.  I actually lived out my next semester at school as a normal 18 year old.  (after a hell of a lot of making sure magic didn't work and I was actually home).  

As wonderful as the magical side of the world can be, it was kind of nice not having to worry about wards or the disturbing array of demons that seems to afflict my life.  I didn't need to worry that I might be breaking some ancient law which binds my kind.  Heck, I didn't even need to worry about the metallic contents of my rings!  It was nice to be "normal" again.  I won't say I didn't miss the dream world alittle bit, but I'll admit I got really caught up in the joys of no cosmic responsibility.

And then Friday the 13th of May happened.

I was lying in bed in my dorm room when I felt a wrenching pain in my chest like someone had stabbed me.  I couldn't breathe.  I couldn't move.  And suddenly I was lying in my bed at home with Pocketwatch and my parents standing over me.  A fourth creature, a delicate looking female faerie in iridescent surgical scrubs, held a black knife in forceps behind them.

Oddly enough, there wasn't any wound on me.  No pain.  I even felt like I had just gotten a good night's sleep!  The sun was just going down outside.  My parents and Pocketwatch spent into the wee hours of morning explaining what all I missed in my absence and listening to my tale of my return home.

The next day, they drove me back to my university to attend my graduation.  The Faceless Lady also had some things to tell me.  I'll get to that soon.

It's good to be back.

Where There's Smoke, There's... Dragons?!

Anyone who's been paying attention to this blog for the past year would know that the Traveler occasionally runs into dragons.  As fae, we accept it as a fact of existence, but he feels the need to analyze it.  Something about fog banks and "here there be dragons" and the emotional state of the surrounding area and whatever.  Well, I for one would like to know what in bloody hell caused this one.

Yesterday, I was returning to his dorm (or "residence hall" as the resident assistants keep insisting I call it).  There appeared to be some fog rolling in as the sun set on campus.  It had a distinct boundary at the western end of the grounds, thickest on the road which runs around them.  I like fog so I went to revel in it.

It wasn't fog.  Not in the least.

Smoke.  Not normally a big deal.  There's normally the scent of smoke to accompany the woodland controlled burns which happen in Arkansas this time of year, but this was centered on the road.  And it didn't smell like wood smoke.

I was immediately aware of strange air currents which flowed through the smoky area.  Regular down-blowing gusts.  Never strong, but certainly an unusual direction.  Visibility was such that I could see the sky through the pall of smoke.  Nothing unusual that I could see.

Then the ground shook and there was a wall of shadow immediately in front of me.  The gusts stopped abruptly.  I took a few steps forward to investigate, which was probably stupid given the circumstances.  What I encountered was a mass which resembled a cross between an elephant leg and a sequoia's trunk.  With scales.  Enough investigation for one day.  I did a heel face turn and ran like hell.

It noticed me I think, 'cause there was a cacophonous noise like an army of screaming crack babies on autotuner and it took a few steps toward my direction but it faded out with the boundary of the smoke cloud.  Let me tell you it was massive to the point that the bank was filled with it and I think that's only what could manifest given the bank's size.  I hope that was an isolated incident.

Somehow I don't think it was.

Comatose Daydream, the Traveler's Absence

 The Traveler is comatose. He has been for some months, but it's taken some time to figure out his password. It started after New Year's.  The Traveler disappeared some time ago in Mid-October.  Shortly after the Solstice and what the humans call Christmas, there were rumors of his return.  A post I found here seems to corroborate that.  Two days after what was to be his return to school, the Voice which he has often referred to as a faceless lady crashed a very important masquerade ball. As you can imagine, having no face draws more attention in such a situation than the most garish mask. A la “Masque of the Red Death”, silence fell where she walked as she approached the Unseelie Queen and whispered something in her ear. The color drained from the ballroom and the music stopped. She hastily announced the ball was over and that there was to be court immediately.

Most of the fae disappeared into the shadows along with the ballroom and the Queen's throne materialized in the center. We all knelt as she set, but she uncharacteristically bade us all rise. This was serious. The Voice stepped onto the dais upon which the throne sat and addressed us.

“As you are all aware, the Traveler has not been seen for some time,” she began, “I know that many of you have no interest in the daydream, and even that some of you wish he had never been involved in the court to begin with.”

Silence greeted this, as though they were afraid to confirm or deny her statement.

“I am also aware that he has been invited to court on several occasions, some of which he has declined on account of obligations to the Boy Scouts and other human organizations.”

We didn't really know where she was going with this. The Voice turned to the Unseelie Queen.

“I trust that you are still indebted to the Traveler for the Creative Spark which he recovered for you.”

The Queen slowly nodded. In case you don't know, debts are serious business in the world of the fae. For the Voice to bring up her debt to another it had to be serious business. Any other circumstance would be so crass as to make it grounds for dueling. She turned back to us.

“Then, on the Daydream's behalf, I ask the repayment of this debt.”

There was a pregnant silence for a moment. Then, the Queen rose and said, “What must we do?”

“The Traveler lives with his family an hour away to the east when he isn't here,” the Voice replied, “He should have returned to school two days ago. I would know why he has not, but I am bound to this town until the longest night. I have his phone number, but his phone has been dead for nigh two weeks. My request is thus: that you send an agent to see to his well-being. That agent will then report to me and then in turn carry a message to the Traveler should I require it. Upon the completion of this task, your debt shall not be repaid, but the responsibility for it be transferred to me, leaving you without further obligation. Do you accept?”

“And what of our restrictions?” the Queen asked, “Our kind may not enter a dwelling without permission of one of the occupants.”

“There is one among you,” the Voice said, “Which has standing permission to come to the Traveler wherever he may be.”

They both turned their gazes (figuratively for the Voice) to me. Dammit if I didn't know this was coming from the moment she opened her... started speaking.

“I am willing, Your Majesty,” I sighed, “if that is your wish.”

“It is,” she replied turning back to the Voice, “Then I believe our business is settled?”

“Yes it is,” came the Voice's response, “I can see myself out.”

And she did just that. I met the gaze of the Queen.

“I suppose I'll see to her task, then, Your Majesty.”

“See that you do, Pocketwatch.”

I returned to the Traveler's dorm room to gather what few things I kept there as well as the materials for a flight glamor. (He keeps his stores of magical reagents well-stocked for someone who distrusts magic.) For the past five or so months, I have been living as him. Initially we used a fetch to mask his sudden disappearance, but fetches are strictly short-term. Replace the person, get sick, die, leave no trace. That wouldn't do for him if he was coming back. Using one was actually part of the repayment of that debt as he had asked that we mask any extended absences. The Traveler was gone so long, I (being the closest thing he has in the Unseelie Court to a friend, and he being the only living thing I actually trust) volunteered to wrap myself in a glamor of him and live as a changeling until hopefully his return.

The next evening, I wrapped myself in the form of an owl and flew the distance to his home. The front door opened for me in spite of being locked, which because of his request indicated that he was indeed there. I checked the rooms one by one. Living room, small kitchen, some kind of office, a bathroom, another kind of office, linen closet, some other kind of closet. A ha! Bedroom.

The first thing I saw was the Traveler on a bed by a window. He was on his back, asleep. Around the bed was a circle of white material. Knowing him, salt. I stepped forward to inspect the circle for breaks. And then I couldn't move my arms. With my higher eyes, I was suddenly aware of the flare of an aura. It was a strange gunmetal streaked with glowing oranges, luminous yellows, and the occasional verdant green. The air took on the scent of burning oil. A short (for a human) mostly bald man holding a book and an equally short red-headed woman stepped out of nothing, both staring at me intently.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked, “What do you want with our son?”

The kid has parents. Magical ones. Who knew?

“Just checking up on him,” I say casually, “It's a favor for a woman with no face.”

They shared a glance, then the woman, his mother, looked me in the eyes. Her expression was one of mixed motherly concern and nigh-excited curiosity.

"Has one of the Voices has taken an interest in him?” she inquired, “We weren't aware there were any about in Arkansas."

“As far as I know, yes. Now since you see I mean no harm, do you mind undoing the binding? My arms are getting sore.”

Her eyes flashed pink and I smelled a sweet, milky scent and my arms fell to my sides.

“What happened to him?”

“He was stabbed with a cursed blade,” his father replied, “He isn't dead, but neither of us know what the enchantment is or how to break it. Not yet, anyway”

I stepped around them over to the edge of the salt circle. From this close, I could see the guard of a small pocketknife protruding from his chest.. It was a matte black like it was sucking the light out of the air around it. I would assume the blade was the same. My higher eyes saw it as a knife-shaped hole in the air.

“You haven't even pulled it out?”

“Basic first aid,” his mother responded, “Never take something out if you don't know how to treat the wound.  It might make it worse.  He's still alive, and that's the most important thing for the moment.”

I couldn't argue with that logic.

The Traveler's parents bade me stay for supper before I departed and we took the opportunity to swap stories. Apparently his father has some kind of “mortal peril sensor” which allows him to scry on his kid when he's in the aforementioned mortal peril. The Traveler doesn't seem to have any idea what they are. His dad's descended of wizards. It's been dormant for a while, but the talent manifested in him. His mom's what my people call the “Victoriana”, commonly called flower faeries. The bane of our existence. They were born from the dreams of little girls in Victorian England and have persisted since. She seems pretty cool in spite of that. This explains the daydream thing. And the power.

Afterward, I left to report to rhe Voice. Her usual haunt is beneath the sign of a little taco joint just off the University's campus. Lo and behold, there she was, smoking her usual unusual turquoise-flame cigarettes.

“All right,” she said after I informed her of the Traveler's fate, “I'll need to speak with the other voices, but this has the Evil written all over it. I will have a message for his parents, but for the moment you're free. Thanks very much, Mr. Pocketwatch.”

And then she disappeared in that infuriatingly comedic way that Voices can do when they're feeling mischievous (which is pretty much all the time for some of them). She slowly faded out, leaving behind a grin which hadn't been there before, and eventually that too faded. And all that was left was me, having nothing left to do but wonder what the hell she meant and keep living my semi-stolen life.

Until she called me back, that was.

Snatchers, The Shadow City of Lacuna, Sympathy on the Highways, 12 Very Tiny Reindeer, the Jolly Old Immigrant, and a Fetch (Work In Progress

I daresay it's been awhile.  But I've got a good excuse, I swear!


It started Mid-October back in my little college town.  It was Friday and I had just gotten out of my last class of the day.  The day was warm and sunny, and as averse as I usually am to sunlight, even I was enjoying it.  I headed back to my dorm to unwind.  I opened the door, surveyed the mess, made a mental note to do my laundry, dropped my bag, and checked my wards.  


I probably should have done that first. 


Staring me right in the face, at the base of my door, the salt line was broken.  No sooner did I make note of this than I was aware of a humanoid form across the threshold.  It (he?) was dressed in black boots, jeans, a black leather jacket, and a ski mask.  What skin that showed from behind the mask was pale and its eyes were milky while bloodshot.


A snatcher.  Joy.


Snatchers are born of parents' fears of someone taking their precious babies.  They're actually a kind of Nervosa (referenced here.)  They grab kids, walk purposefully away and once they're out of sight, they just disappear to Xenu knows where.  Anywhat, the kids aren't seen again.  Nobody (that I know) is really sure what becomes of them.


Anyw-word, the snatcher stepped on through my door reaching out for me.  Naturally, I backed away and tried to think of something that would get me out of this mess.  Except then another one came out from under my bed and joined the first one.  They backed me into a corner (which wasn't much of a feat, considering how small my dorm room is).  Normally, I'm good under pressure, but I was at a loss for what to do.  Long story short: they each grabbed an arm, I thrashed (it didn't help), nobody else was around, so they did their thing and we disappeared.


But wait! There's more!  Post-In-Progress.

The Evil that Followed Me Home

Normally I try to ignore C's ramblings, but it's hard to do so when they suddenly become relevant.  (And by C, I mean the other author, not the completely awesome follower.)  Late July, he mentioned Phantom Cars.  Personally, I'd never encountered one.  I don't really get angry that often.  But tonight, one almost ran me over.

I was on foot.  It was about midnight and I was walking home from Taco Bell.  The street between the Hearth and campus was empty.  I walked.  I was to the third lane over from the school when something bowled me over from behind.  I flew forward to the sound of a revving engine and the noxious scent of exhaust permeated the air.  I was still in the road and clearly there were cars, so I scrambled to my feet.  I was suddenly yanked backward by my collar to land on my butt.  A car rushed past right in front of me, where I had only moments ago stood.

As it passed, I became aware of the Faceless Lady standing on the curb.  It was the first one with the coat but sans the cigarette.  She immediately rushed forward, grabbed my arm and hauled me forward and off the road as another car rushed through the lane in which I had been sitting.  Once I was up on the curb, I turned to see what had almost hit me.  It was a shiny black car, which quickly faded from sight (and I mean "shimmer, shimmer, not there anymore").  Immediately, it reappeared in the lane closest to me and sped through before fading out for the last time.  It had but one yellow headlight, no driver, and left muddy hoofprints on the road as it passed.

C was telling the truth, it seems.  But I wasn't angry, so why attack me?

"The Evil sent it after you," came a voice from behind me.  It sounded like Bernardette Peters if she were a chain smoker and was accompanied by glossolalic whispers.  

The Faceless Lady spoke.

I was incredulous.  I stared at her blank face.  

"It followed you home," her disembodied voice added, "You did not go to it across the River, so it crossed for you.  Didn't Squeak warn you?"

And then she turned and walked away, leaving me to figure out just what was going on. 

Side Note:  The hitchhiker-type is still out by the entrance of my dorm when viewed through the Brittney Glasses.  People walk right through him, but I'm still worried about going anywhere near him.  Last time I made contact with anything like him, I was given visions and had nightmares for a week.  Still don't know what that's about..

Shadow Offramps, The Town of Lacrima

Quite a fun little weekend.  I came home to see my family and pick up a few things.  I spent most of that time quite ill.  There was also an ill-fated episode in which the 'rents tried to give me a haircut but the clippers weren't cooperating.  It all works out.  I had hoped to be back at school by 4 PM at the latest, but I didn't even get on the road before 6.  That was all well and good except that it meant I would still be on the highway after nightfall on the way back to school.  I hate driving at night...

The shadow highways are still there, crossing and looping and whatnot alongside the normal interstate highway, but I don't worry about it much during the day.  I try to stay off of it at night.  Especially after what happened last time.  But alas, as I was getting off at my exit, the lights in the distance went out and the name on the offramp changed to "Lacrima,  Population: Unknown".

Not again.

Like it or not, I had wandered onto the shadow highways.  Or rather, wandered off.  I switched on my high beams and followed the road as it went on for a ways into empty plains (which if you know anything about Arkansas is totally uncharacteristic).  Finally, I came across Lacrima proper.  "Population: Unknown" my foot, the town was completely empty.  What's more the buildings were mostly Hollywood facades.  Sure they were shades of grays and blacks and the door frames looked like the maw of some horrific beast (which in spite of my flippant tone is sure to give me nightmares for a while), but their not-really-a-building-ness just seemed to rob them of the scary.  I would have turned around right then, but the road was only wide enough to travel one way.

There was one building that was more substantial, however.  A large manor house which might have served as a town welcome center or something similar where I come from.  A bit creepy, but not the least bit scary, I got out of my car and walked up to the door.  It too was sculpted to look like a hungry nightmare.  Being an actual building, the manor was gaining fear-reaction points by the moment.  I knocked.  Nothing.  I waited for a moment, suppressing rising discomfort.  I knocked again.  Still nothing.

I turned to go back to my car.  There was a swish behind me.  I turned around.  A letter had been pushed under the door.  There was no light inside and the door was windowless.  I picked it up.  The letter had my name on the outside.  I opened it.

It read;
"I dreamed a dream of a land not far away,
Where no birds sang,
No steeples rang,
And teardrops fell like rain."

I was suddenly acutely aware that there was no sound in Lacrima.  Unsettlingly so.  And then I could feel something like bending, creaking, cracking wood where the door was behind me, but I couldn't hear it.  Panic rose. I ran back to my car without looking back.  As soon as the engine was started, I found in the rear view mirror that the road was suddenly two-laned.  I didn't need a second hint.  I was out of there and headed back toward the highway.  As soon as I entered the onramp, I was suddenly back on the offramp  to my little college town.  It's probably better for my sanity that I never saw what it was that came from the door.

A few things once I got back to my dorm.  First, I did a search on the lines from the letter (which seems to have disappeared when I left Lacrima).  It's from a choral piece called "The Awakening".  No idea what that was about.  The other thing was that the hitchhiker type was still outside my dorm.  He hadn't moved at all from last week.  That probably isn't good.  Anywhat...

No more interstate night driving.  Never again.

Things Happen in Threes

Some time ago, I mentioned a bracelet I had made which carried a curse or somesuch.  Blah blah blah it concentrates negativity in people blah blah blah.  I have now come to find myself in possession of two other objects which are likewise bedeviled.

The first, or rather second of the three, is my high school class ring.  It seems to be given to roam.  Two years ago, at the end of my freshman year of college, I put it in my jewelry box with my scouting medals and hadn't seen it since.  Until two weeks ago.  I bought my new (relatively speaking) backpack shortly before I returned to school last year.  Two weeks ago, I found my class ring in one of its pockets.  A bag which I had only had for one year and which had never been anywhere near my jewelry box (rather it was always at school or in my car's trunk for the Summer) suddenly contained a ring I hadn't seen much less touched in a little over two years.

Then it gets weirder.

I put it in my dorm room with the other unusual trinkets on my bookshelf.  But then four days ago, it was there in the same pocket.  Back to the bookshelf.  Today, after my swimming class, the lifeguard approached me and asked if a certain class ring they had found the previous day by the pool was mine.  And bloody hell if it wasn't.  I wouldn't call it a true curse per se, but my class ring seems to have a very "One Ring" personality about it.

And then there's my "Brittney Glasses".  They're a pair of rose-tinted frameless sunglasses which started at camp as a sort of in-joke (which I might share if I get around to it) with other staffers.  I still wear them at school if I need a distinctive look or to get my creative juices flowing with an unusual view of the world.  Today they started showing me things.  In mirrored surfaces, I would get a reflection of creatures which were not there.  Tonight, I've seen silhouettes of small animals move across campus only to take off my glasses and see nothing.  I have excellent night vision and should have seen whatever they were without trouble with the glasses off.  Just before I returned to my room, I saw a strange gentleman who reminded me of the Hitchiker I saw back in the early Spring standing outside my dorm.  But only with the Brittney Glasses on.  And THAT can't be a good omen.  The problem is, I don't know if my glasses are showing me things that are there or are cursed to show things that aren't.  I've had "the eyes to see" for a while and I don't really get why I wouldn't notice these things before, but there you have it.

Good Strange things happen in threes.