The Investigator

I will be updating this, at the very least, 2-3 times a week.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Aensa: Dream

Into the darkness her feet slowly brought her, carefully placing each foot fall as she made her way further into the darkened room. So alone. She felt so alone as she came to a halt and stood there, arms wrapped about herself trying to shrug off the enveloping dark coldness with an embrace of her own. And yet he was there. She felt his eyes, always felt his eyes. It caused the fine hairs at the back of her neck to stand up on end.

All she could hear was her breath, her heart beat. It was so silent that she listened to it pitter and patter, jump, skip a beat and finally fall back into rhythm with her soft breathing before she tried to swallow past the hard lump in her throat.


It echoed, pierced her ears like the most foul of sounds ever to come into existence, and what was worse, it was from her own lips, came back to her mocking her own voice, everything in fine print across it. The terror, the loneliness, the absolute fear rang through the echoed wavering voice as it caused her to flutter a step back, retreating. A shiver ran up her spin and back down, causing her entire body to fall into the tremor it caused, lips pressing tightly together in the fear that perused that delicate voice. She tried again.


And once again, she received nothing. Not a sign, not a trace of living or word spoken back to her. But she received the notice. She was told to meet someone here, someone. Even she wasn't sure what she was getting herself into as the cold of winter once more rushed over her bones, caused her skin to prickle. If a window was open, she hadn't yet taken notice or seen it. It was so dark within the room of unknown size that it caused her to lose herself, her thoughts, and soon enough, her sanity. The embrace fell from her arms as she reached her hands out. She could touch the wall; in her mind, she could feel the wall with her fingertips.

She stepped forward, regaining her ground in the room and tried to find the tangibility that her mind so blatantly laid out before her. Terror already took its reign over her body since she received the notice, but now how could further fear be sweeping into her body? How? That's when she heard the door close behind her. Of course her mind told her it was only her imagination or possibly the wind, but whatever light was strewn and tried to battle the shadows that crept with such prestige about the room now flickered and failed, defeated in its task to try and light the way.

Her hopes failed, her body slumped, and soon her mind wavered to thoughts she never did think of before. Where was her star to wish on? Where was her angel to guide her back to the light?

In just a rushing wave of emotion, she gave up, not even knowing what she was giving up on, not even sure what she had hope for. The darkness was like a pit of despair that she was pushed head long into and now there was nothing she could do. Not a dream or a moment of shinning glory shimmered to mind. She was lost now, forgotten to herself. Perhaps, out there, somewhere, they too forgot of her and her stories.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Aensa Xenthrope: Memories

Aensa bolted upright, her breath catching in the back of her throat and her hair matted to the back of her neck in sweat. A soft crackling fire sat in the hearth, having barely burned down from where last she saw it. The glass of rum that she had steadily been draining had somehow been knocked to the floor where it sat, on its side, contents spilled and seeping into the floor boards.

She deflated back into the posh seat in front of the fire, brow furrowing. The black outs seemed to be coming at a more steady pace recently, and the dreams that came with them were becoming more and more illustrated and memorable. This greatly concerned her. She left her caravan not so long ago due to these horrid dreams. There was something she needed to find, something that drew her here. Now suddenly the blackouts were coming in greater numbers and stronger and calling her back home once again. She couldn't leave yet, though. She was close. Or at least she thought she was close.

Reaching down, Aensa picked up the glass and ringed her finger around the inside, licking the droplets of alcohol off as she tried to understand this latest dream. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Puppets, strange men, golden cubes, churches, even her own family.

Leaning back, lightly twirling the glass in her fingertips, she thought back to her family. Her mother and father were always of the mind to teach her how to be a proper lady. They taught her the proper way to sit, to eat, to speak, to interact with others, to dance, to dress. They even taught her the proper way to do nothing at all. It had nothing to do with being a princess, for she heard in many stories that this was just the proper way for princesses to be raised. It had nothing to do with wanting their daughter to marry a young prince and become a princess herself. They merely couldn't stand that she was born with the heart of a tomboy.

The look of shock and disgust on their faces when she told them she was going to run off with the gypsy caravan to dance for coin was enough for them to declare she was never allowed to return to their home. Of course, Aensa liked this just fine as she was happier with the free-willed new family that took her in. She finally felt like she could be herself.

Rolling her head along her right shoulder only to prop it up to view the ceiling and count cobwebs in the rafters, a frown sat on her lips. She missed that chosen family. Why was she here? Why didn't she just leave and return back to her old home? If only she could remember what it is that brought her here.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Aensa Xenthrope

The fire is crackling happily, warm and safe and there I sit, sitting around the fire with my friends, dear friend, many lovely friends. We talk, we tell stories. But far off, deep into the woods where our fire is set, a noise comes about, traveling in the air, higher, louder than the fire, louder than our nostalgic stories and memories.

We pull straws. The long one is mine. Up out of the comfort I stand, up and away from the blanket of warmth and protection friends give you. Up away from the stories I stand and move off away from the light, into the darkness. Deep, deep darkness. Unknown darkness.

Death. Decay. Stench. My nostrils flare as I walk deeper, towards the noise, towards that unheard of violation to the woods. Things crackle, crunch under my feet. My slow, slowly walking feet. I look up; look up to see the blanket of the night, to see the mesh of stars, the canopy of green overhead. Nothing. Just darkness and dead trees.


A hit. A blow to the head and I am down. A foot connects with my stomach and my eyes close. Close as I become enveloped in the overwhelming darkness. The darkness, cool, soothing darkness. I can not breathe. Can not. Too dark. Too thickly dark to breathe.

Finally, my eyes open. I see before me stone. Cold stone. Little light. I can not move. I am bound to a table-no. Not a table. An altar. An altar surrounded with candles. Candles surrounded in a pool of their own bloody wax. Beside me another altar sits. Hand bound behind me, I turn my head to see.

A man.

A man lies upon the altar next to me and a tube, a simple tube is what connects us. Connects us through our stomachs. That stench. That stench of death and decay makes my nose flare and bile rise in my throat. Then a shadow moves. Too little light, I can't see. There, there in the darkness a blade is retracted. The shrieking silver comes down upon the other altar, upon the bare naked man, slitting open his tube, pulling it out of the way. His insides slip out, tumble from atop him down the altar. Deathly still, slow motion. The smell, the horrid odor.

I vomit. It is so quiet, so horribly quiet, and I vomit. I turn my head, close my eyes and am embraced once more by the calm, cool darkness.

I awake. Awake again, the smell of the sickness upon my breath, the shadow moving in the back ground, the man now lacking his innards lying upon the floor beside me. I stand and find myself lacking in clothes. Lacking in other things as well. The innards surround me. They are everywhere.

A circle. Perfect, happy circle. Never ending, perfect, happy circle.

My arms are bound, I can barely move, but I dance. Dance in the candle light, dance for the shadow, dance for the smells, the silence, the darkness, the man, the death, the circle. I dance. I am forever a puppet still dancing after the puppet master's death.