Wednesday, 18 July 2012


I've decided, after sitting up all night in different states of anger, rage and despair. 

I'm going to The Point in a few hours. I'm not going to give Deadwood the satisfaction of winning this fight and conquering me. I can't - Lillith and Robert's memories demand that I get them some kind of justice; I failed both of them and caused their deaths if my dreams are to be believed, and it's only fair that I pay the piper and try to redeem myself the good old fashioned way. 

It hurts me to look at this house, now. To see Michael and his wife in such pain; they were just coming out of the fugue of losing their son, and now Lillith was taken, too. Her corpse is not even cold - I can still feel her in this house. Her scent lingers on the couch where we spent so much time cuddled up together. Her notebooks are still here, the pen-marks still fresh from a few days ago when she began to write again. Everything here sickens me because it reminds me of her. 

Even though Michael sat me down and told me straight out that I'm not to blame at all, I can't accept it. The dreams tell me otherwise - that I was always His target after I asked Robert about his notebooks. Somehow it - moved, from him to me. But He still took Robert because He wanted to feed. And now, despite everything I tried to do to keep her safe, He took Lillith, too. At least I can take solace in the fact that it wasn't Him personally who took her, but that motherfucker Deadwood. 

In a way, I pity him. He's obviously a slave to The Weaver fully; his mind isn't really his anymore. He's only a puppet, a shell, a tool to be used - and he can't even realize it. But even so, tools have their uses and it's obvious The Weaver has a lot of them. He wants to make me into one, at least I think so. And I won't go quietly, He knows that. 

I mentioned how the notebooks seemed to be how He draws you in. He told me why in my tormented sleep last night - because it allows Him to know you fully - by just seeing Him, that means nothing. It's almost like when a mouse sees cheese in a mouse-trap; it doesn't know anything else other then "I want this". But when it springs the trap - in this case, the notebooks, under the guise of providing succor to the physical pain He causes - it's too late and the trap slams shut on you. 

It could all be bullshit and just a dream, but I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. 

I don't know what I will find tomorrow when I go out to The Point, but I'm not shy about my chances; it's very likely I may not make it back. I could be wrong, and I could walk out of those woods unscathed, but I'm not going to leave my life up to chance. And even still, if I do survive - who knows how long I have? I've already seen Him in the waking world, and when that happens, you don't really have long unless you run and don't stop. 

It's kind of surreal; when I started this blog, I just wanted a place I could post about my love of nature. And now it's become an outlet for my battle against a supernatural entity that defies all laws of anything. 

I just want to say thank you to those of you who've read and commented on this blog. Lucia and Zoidberg deserve most of the credit - you two have offered some excellent insight. I may not know you personally, but your comments helped Lillith in what turned out to be her final weeks on this earth. 

I may see you again, but if I don't: Stay safe and keep fighting. 

Life's obviously too short and fleeting to get caught up in petty shit. 


1 comment:

  1. Sebastian,
    I'm so, so sorry about Lillith. You have my deepest sympathy.
    Hang on to the fact that none of this was your fault at all - the Weaver is the only one to blame, and you all just got caught up in it. When he tells you in your dreams that it's your fault? He's talking rubbish, trying to poison your mind.
    Try and stay safe tomorrow. We're all with you.