Anticlimax

Despite people fussing and ominous associations, the world didn't end, we're all still here, and nothing has really changed. Can we go back to worrying about things that actually matter?

Relocated

So it looks like I'm not going to be spending my holiday on the street after all, though whether or not this is an improvement is something I'm not clear on yet. For the moment, I've got a bed and solid meals for the first time in years. I'm half expecting to be murdered in my sleep, because it feels much too good to be true.

About a week and a half ago I was at the little cafe again, trying to catch up on blogs and maybe write a new post, when a very posh looking British man approached my table. He said we had 'things' in common, and that I should come with him, because he wanted to help me. I was not convinced, and not buying it-whether he was a pervert or a murderer or a proxy, I didn't want anything to do with him.

He ended up conveying some of his meaning by doodling one of those symbols on a napkin and telling me that he was on the side of the runners.

Fourty five minutes or so of heated discussion, none of which I can put up here for various reasons, I found myself in a car with him, going to what he claims is the remains of Hope. It's certainly fortified well enough, though it is perhaps suspiciously not destroyed.

My host is... apparently an old friend of the old owner of this place. He's asked me not to reveal what he claims his identity is, and for now I figure it's best to not cause problems. In any event, it's nice to have a bed.

Tis the Season

I used to love this time of year, before I hit the streets. Back when I had a family and a job and my education meant something. My dad went crazy with the decorating and the lights and the dinner that was so large it took a week to polish off the leftovers. We didn't always have a lot of money for presents when I was a kid, but he always made sure that the few I got really meant something. The rest of the family kept trying to win me over with dolls and pretty dresses and other 'girly' things, but Dad always knew better. Sometimes I did get a doll or a stuffed animal or a dress, but only when they were things I actually wanted. He never had to ask me either, he just knew.

I always made him something from scratch in return-handmade paper ornaments and cards as a little kid, then cookies or a painting or a handmade shirt when I got old enough to make useful things. He kept all of them, and those horrible ornaments coated in glitter still held a place of honor on the tree every year up until he died.

It's never really felt like Christmas since. But it's still nice to hear the music everywhere. I just wish this wasn't going to be another Christmas alone on the street.

Just Keep Running

I'm a little surprised at the sheer number of people I've found that are on the monster's side. I was under the impression that people like that who could blog were uncommon. It feels as though the opposite is true. I'm not sure if that's because runners have been weeded out, or if it's because they've abandoned blogging as too dangerous, like I almost did.

Either way, it's surprisingly lonely to only find such a few. I had hoped to find a grand community like the older bloggers had. In all my reading, it had appeared that runners had come together, had made this place their own, and were standing strong.

Imagine my disappointment to discover that one by one, they fell. The only hint of what came before is one solitary blogger left to remember and keep fighting, because it's all he can do now.

I have offered my help to a kid stuck in a tree, but the odds are high that we're too far apart for the offer to do any good. I probably shouldn't have, it's a big risk and likely to be a trap. I'm just tired of being alone.

I am back in a city for a while. There's plenty of tall buildings here (and lots of hills to help with the elevation), and it's warm enough to allow me to avoid shelters for the time being. I needed to replenish my funds anyway, this seems as good a place as any to do it.

Gamechanger

If anyone's still reading this blog, you have probably noticed  that several months worth of posts have gone live over the past two days. After much thought, I have decided that I am going to start using this again. All of my drafted posts that I'd decided not to post have been combed through, and all of the most relevant ones have been posted.

I am going to start using this, despite my better judgement, because no matter how dangerous blogging seems to be to runners, I'm going to completely lose my mind if I can't find some form of friendly interaction. From this point on, I fully intend to read and comment on other people's blogs as well as updating my own.

Another Dream

I dreamed of Sam again last night. We held each other and kissed and touched, and it was so nice to see him again. I've missed him so badly. All I wanted to do was pretend that nothing had happened, that he was still alive and we were happy.

But it couldn't last. My shoulder still hasn't quite healed from that last attack in the City. And Sam found it fast.

"What is it?" He asked, concern in his sweet hazel eyes.

I looked away and pulled my shirt to the side so he could see the wound. I didn't really know what to say.

Sam went pale. "Who did this?"

"These two assholes cornered me in an alley."

"Oh." He looked relieved, hoping blindly that I hadn't yet been pulled in for real.

"Sam, who were you running from?" I asked him firmly

His face crumpled and he shook his head. "No. It's not safe. Even here."

"Sam. Who were you running from? It's important. I don't know if I'm going crazy, or..."

He still shook his head and refused to answer, though I could see him grow paler still.

I took a deep breath. "Tall man. Wears a suit. Arms are too long, sometimes too many of them." He hugged me tightly as I spoke. "And he has no face."

"You did your research." He tells me quietly.

I shook my head. "I saw him."

He broke down crying and apologizing. I pulled him into my arms and kissed him and rubbed his back. Anything I could think of to comfort him, I did. Eventually he relaxed in my arms and started hugging  me back, trying to comfort me in return.

"What is he?" I asked gently, hoping he could give me some answers.

"He's a monster." He replied automatically. "And he's old. Don't let them convince you otherwise. He's this old... thing, that took the form of something some guy came up with."

I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself in his arms.

"As soon as you can, get up high. You'll be safer there."

I laughed weakly. "I know. I found the Tutorial. Now I know why you did the stuff you did."

He laughed with me, more out of a need to release some tension than out of any real humor in the situation. "I don't know that there's really any way to escape him. I think maybe he lets you think so, then comes to get you when he's bored."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I kissed him. I never expected to make it to thirty anyway, living on the street. I'd almost rather it were a monster to do it instead of some random person killing a nigger for kicks.

"You'll be alright. You're strong. Stronger than I ever was. Just stay good." He smiled at me, and for a moment I could almost forget what we were talking about.

I smiled back. "You're stronger than you ever realized."

"You're still stronger than me. You'll be alright."

"I love you, Sam."

"I love you too. I'm so sorry."

"You did everything you could."

He curled up in pain, abruptly crying out and sobbing helplessly. "Wake up."

"What?"

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Lils, you have to wake up!"

I kissed him, then let myself be pulled back into the waking world. Before I was even fully awake, I'd grabbed my weapon and jumped to my feet.

It would have been fantastic if what had invaded my camp hadn't been the monster himself.

I grabbed what I could and ran for it. I was lucky he didn't follow.

I'm in a larger city now, sitting in a rooftop cafe and trying to figure out what to do next. At least now I know that the dreams are real.

Alone

It is perhaps a cruel irony that the woods is the least safe place to be in. I'm well versed in survivalist skills. I could live quite comfortably in them almost indefinitely. But the monster forces me to retreat to cities, which are far less kind to someone of limited means. When I chose to live in the City before, I had hoped to rely on safety net programs that are supposedly all over. I wanted to believe that it was only temporary, and that I would come out the other side and go back to school.

I did not account for the level of discrimination I faced while seeking that kind of help. A black man without a job is not to be trusted-a genderfluid person is too sinful, a homeless woman of my color is obviously a whore. Aid was denied me again and again, but somehow in the City I never really felt alone.

From what I'm reading, there used to be a sense of community among those the monster chose for his prey. I   wish there still was, as I have never felt more alone. If I were actually planning on posting this, I would take this opportunity to plea for aid or companionship.

Instead, I simply have to realize I've lost the only thing I had left.