Sick

I think Nina is sick. She can't tell me so, of course, but she's been rather pale the past few days and seems to have a hard time keeping up like she usually does. It's tricky to figure out what might be wrong, since not only does she not talk but she doesn't seem to understand or want to communicate what actually feels wrong. Normally she communicates quite a lot even without words, but she won't even hint at what's bothering her.

I bought a thermometer to check her temperature but she refuses to let me bring it near her. Instead, I tried putting a hand on her forehead, and she felt a bit cool, but I'm not exactly good at judging what temperature a person's supposed to be-I've never had reason to pick up that particular skill. I picked up children's Tylenol to try to help-if she does have a fever or if she's having trouble with headaches or muscle aches or anything along those lines it would do her some good, but she won't take that either.

I don't have any way to take her to a doctor, and considering she's not actually my child I can't take her to the ER. If she was a runaway, she might get sent back to whatever she ran away from, and if she was kidnapped... well, that would make me the primary suspect.

I'm not sure what to do. I may have to risk the ER if she gets any worse, but I'm hoping I don't have to go that far.

Nina

My apologies for the delay. It's been difficult to find time to deal with blogs while taking care of and getting to know this child. She still won't speak-I'm pretty sure she can't, to be honest. She also doesn't seem to have any particular preference to a name, so I've decided to call her Nina, since she's vaguely Hispanic looking and the word for 'girl' in Spanish is niña.

She seems to like it well enough, and we've been getting on pretty well. She's the sweetest thing, and very helpful. I'm pretty sure she's a runner kid, she knows what I'm talking about when I mention the monster, though thankfully we haven't seen him since she showed up. It's been very quiet, really, so we've just been spending time together and trying to get to know each other, which is harder than you might think, with the lack of talking and all. At least I know she understands what I'm saying.

Requium for a Dream

I'm sorry for the delay, taking care of a child is finicky at best, and under the circumstances I thought it best for us to leave town. We're secure in a new location at the moment, so I can finish this.

Shortly after we closed the door, Sam started to get pulled away. This happened every time we met up, but this time I was not going to just let it happen. I wrapped my chain around Sam and held on with everything I had. For a few terrifying moments, I was afraid I was just going to injure him further, because he sounded like he was in a great deal of pain, but then we both were moved.

Where we woke up next... well, it looked vaguely like the apartment we'd been in, but it was... twisted, somehow. There were stains on the walls and floor that looked like they might have been blood, the paintings on the wall had become horrifying scenes of torture and violence, and there was something standing over the bed, staring at us. It looked like nothing so much as a giant mass of shadow, and yet I'm certain that there was more to it that I just couldn't see.

It never moved while we were looking, but we were pretty sure that it could and might if we did the wrong thing. We froze, moving nothing but our lips to speak to each other in frightened whispers.

"What is that thing?"

"I'm not sure. Don't move, you'll get it's attention."

"It's okay, I've got you."

"Oh, Lysander, I'm so sorry I've gotten you into this."

"Shh. I wouldn't have left you here. You're suffering. I promise to do whatever it takes to get you out."

"You should go, it's not safe and what if you get hurt?"

The quiet conversation probably would've lasted longer if it weren't for Sam being jerked away again. Last time giant bruises bloomed on his skin, presumably marks where the invisible force was grabbing him and pulling. This time, however, his muscles started twitching and jerking painfully, all of them being tugged backward at once and forcing him into increasingly uncomfortable contortions. There was nothing I could do but hold him close and hope that it would be over soon.

Soon enough, we got jerked away again, this time ending up in a dusty looking abandoned factory. Instead of a bed we were on a filthy looking mattress on the floor. It took Sam a bit to come to, I guess this was hard on him. It was hard on both of us, but at least I hadn't been jerked around by invisible forces.

"Sam, are you alright?"

"I'm okay. I'll be fine, really."

"You don't look fine. That sounded like it hurt."

"I... well, it did, but I'm okay now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I am." He cuddled into me and we'd just started kissing when something grabbed me around my waist and hauled me back, pulling us apart and slipping the chain from around Sam where I'd wrapped it. The monster was not pleased to find me here, I think, considering the force with which it threw me across the room. Sam rushed to my side to try to defend me, but got smacked unceremoniously aside.

I pulled my staff, which dream logic quickly turned into a sword-a real one, not a blunted practice sword like I'd always used in the past. Properly armed, I proceeded to have a very strange swordfight with the monster, it using it's tentacles as 'swords', I suppose. Dream logic further prevailed in that I managed to get a clean slice right through it's torso and it fell over, oozing azoth from the wound and no longer moving. If only it were that easy to defeat in real life.

I rushed over to Sam, who was carefully sitting up and groaning in pain.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it's just a bump. What about you? That looked nasty."

"No, I'm okay. Really."

He beamed up at me. "Your mother would be proud of you."

My heart sank. Annalee was right after all. "My mom?"

"Yeah, I know you don't like talking about her, but she'd be proud of you from what you've told me."

I've never met my mother, a fact that Sam should have known. My father is the one who would've been proud, the one who would've been a tender subject, ever since he died a few years back. He's the one who made sure I knew how to defend myself, and the one who made certain that I knew to use it to defend others as well. It was almost for the best that my chain yanked me away from him at that point, dragging me back into the floor.

When I woke up, there was a little girl shaking me awake and looking terrified. She doesn't speak, I've discovered, but she doesn't really need to to get her point across. There was blood and fur splattered near where I was sleeping, which is what caused her such a panic. Jill... Well, I can only imagine that since the fur matches hers, the blood is probably hers too. There was far too much of it on the ground for any dog to survive. My poor Jill died protecting me.

For some reason, I now have a seven year old girl taking care of me instead.

Chains

That... did not go as well as I might have hoped. But I was lucky enough to meet a new friend, so I suppose it's not all bad. She's probably saved my life-I seem to make a habit of meeting people who do. But I should start at the beginning. Taking care of my new friend has me a bit distracted, but there's no sense in doing things out of order.

The past couple days I've been busy in preparation to go in after Sam. I procured a drug guaranteed to knock me out for at least twelve hours, and did a bit of furious last minute research after a certain comment showed me the need to widen my research.

Yesterday afternoon I found a safe bit of roof and dosed myself, careful to hide any evidence of the drug before passing out-I didn't want to get arrested for drugs while I was unconscious. Jill was poised to protect me in case someone tried something.

Falling into a drugged sleep is a lot less peaceful than I would've expected. Less gently drifting away and more falling like a rock into sleep. It got the job done, though. In what felt like no time at all but might've been hours, I 'woke up' to Sam, curled up with me as usual.

For a little while, we were both just happy about our reunion and the time we'd get to spend together. Even now, after everything that's happened, being able to just hold him and talk to him felt right somehow. Even though he was scared for me and crying, I knew that everything would be okay as long as we were together.

And then we noticed the chains. It was an old fashioned ball and chain, fastened to my ankles and wrists, long enough to allow me a full range of motion, but still there. Heavy, ominous, and a stark reminder of why I was there. It was then that I had to tell Sam what I'd done, why I was there. He was terrified that I was stuck,that there would be no escape for me now, or worse.

That was a distinct possibility, but we didn't have time to waste panicking, I didn't know how long we'd be able to talk before he would be taken away or the monster would show up and lash out at us. I started by asking him questions about what he'd seen where he was being kept. When I saw him, it was somewhere different than where he was the rest of the time. Where he was being kept was a cage. A huge cage in a black, empty void. Sam said he could walk for hours or days without hitting the bars, and that the bars were the only thing there that he could see. Literally the only thing, there's not even a visible floor. All there is to do is wander, and wait for the pain to come. He said it hurts, sometimes, like the place itself is clawing or biting him.

Where we always meet up looks like a normal apartment. A bit generic, bland floral prints on the walls and hotel style bland furniture, but we quickly discovered that there was nothing that suggested anything more horrifying than a cheap motel room. At least, until we opened the door. The door opened into a city that's like nothing we'd ever seen before. It was...twisted, somehow. In a way I don't understand and couldn't explain. The shadows were too heavy, the buildings too tall and... warped, somehow. Sam started shaking like mad and rambling about the city watching us somehow. For a split second, I thought I saw the city sprout thousands of eyes to stare at us with, then they were gone and I closed the door.

Sam and I collapsed in a heap of fear and relief, clinging to each other frantically because we knew that things would only get worse from here.

Oh, I think my new friend wants to show me something. I'll have to come back to this later.

A Very Welcome Visitor

I was at the library again yesterday, buried in piles of books that were mostly useless and mooching the free wifi. The library in the town I'm currently staying in has great little study rooms, fantastic for privacy (and not half bad for taking a nap in relative safety). I'd taken a break to check on my email and the blogs when I got an email from Picasso asking where I've been staying. I told her, and a couple minutes later there was a knock on the fire door at the back of my study room. I grabbed my staff, just in case, and opened the door.

I don't know what I expected to find, but it certainly wasn't Picasso, looking pale and beat up but grinning at me. I helped her inside and fussed over her injuries, but they really weren't anything more than scrapes and bruises, which she was more than happy to point out to me. She played with Jill, who was admittedly glad for the attention considering I've been inside libraries a lot lately so she's been feeling a bit neglected.

It wasn't until after dinner that she got to the real reason she'd come to see me.
"Have you figured out what makes you dream of Sam?" She asked shyly, looking... almost nervous

I shook my head regretfully. "Not yet, no. I'm going in after him soon, though."

"You found a way?" Her eyes went wide.

"Not really. I'm knocking myself out and hoping really hard that that takes me to him and that I find something that either confirms it's real or that it's fake."

"Well I was thinking... If it is real... maybe I can rip a hole into it..." She looked excited to be able to help, but I was confused.

"What do you mean, rip a hole into it?"

"Like I rip a hole open when I use the path right...?"

"Do you think you could do that to other places?" I was just stunned at the idea.

 "Maybe... I never tried."

"I don't want to put you in danger."

"Fuck that! I got super powers! LETS SMASH SOME DOORS!"

"Let me at least try and confirm it's real before we put you in danger."

"I'm not a hapless child." She glared, looking away.

"I know that. I don't mean to imply you are. But I hate seeing you get hurt, and I want to avoid that if I can."

She groaned. "Fine! Jerk." Picasso pouted at me, but I stood firm.

"I'm sorry. I'm just scared. I don't want to lose anyone else."

We spent the rest of the night goofing off and playing with Jill, and this morning Moth showed up and took Picasso back to wherever they were staying. For the first time in a long time I have some hope I might actually be able to make this work. I'm going to go looking for Sam as soon as I can.

Research

I've been putting off this post, because I keep hoping something will come of the mountains of books I've been pouring over. I'm running out of places to look here, I'll probably move on to another library soon. Maybe somewhere else will have the information I'm looking for.

It's actually surprisingly easy to track mentions of the monster through history, if you know where to look. I was surprised to discover that I'd run into mentions in the past-the Der Ritter of German folklore. I'd never paid much mind, I was studying warfare, not folklore, so I didn't really care to look into it.

There are descriptions of children taken and people killed, as well as lots of discussion of it both in a practical, half mad Lovecraftian sort of way and in a detached scholarly manner that makes me wonder if they even knew they were writing about something real.

There are exactly no useful mentions of any instance of the monster imprisoning an adult against their will. None at all, so far as I can find. The closest I can find is this. There are some books that back up this theory, though they usually also tend to assert that the monster is a manifestation of the devil.

I've come to the conclusion (with a little help from a friend) that my best bet is to go in and try to get more information. I plan on checking out the environment thoroughly, as well as seeing if I can get any more useful information out of Sam himself.

I realize that the logical conclusion here is probably that none of this is real. But I can't give up on him until I exhaust every option. Maybe that makes me stupid, maybe that makes me gullible. But I love Sam, and I can't just let him suffer.

Hitting the Books

Still no luck finding anyone who's even heard of anything like what's happened to Sam. Instead of answers, I've gotten a series of ever more sympathetic looks as they condescendingly explain that him being alive is impossible, and that it's very sweet that I don't want to give up on him, but that I should really let go.

I have a very sneaking suspicion that people think I'm not very bright when they say this. I guess it makes sense, I'm a big hulking black 'man' who's been homeless for years. None of that is associated with intelligence in this country. That's partially my fault. I've let myself get lazy, taught myself to act less intelligent to blend in.

I know I mentioned a while back that I have 'an unused degree', but I've never talked about it any further. I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a BA in Medieval History eight years ago before going on to pursue a masters in Medieval Warfare. I may be a big burly guy with a stick, but when it comes down to it I'll always be a researcher first and a fighter second.

Fighting hasn't done me any good so far, so it's time to crack open the metaphorical books and see what I can find. I've stopped off in a town with a big library. I'll post as soon as I find anything.