The houses have no doors.

My name is Eleanor. That much I am sure of. Whatever else I tell you from here on out are the facts as I know them, but I cannot promise, with any certainty, that I am telling the truth. It’s not that I’m lying – it’s that reality is shifting. Changing shape.

Being replaced.

But for now, my name is Eleanor.

I live in a house I’ve never seen before, in a town that nobody can identify, with a young boy who says his name is Mr. Eli.

He is six-years-old, likes dinosaurs and aliens (“But not alien dinosaurs,” he tells me angrily, toys frozen mid-air in his white-knuckled fists. “The law forbids it.”), and has a monster under his bed he calls “Nana”. He is my son.

When I went to bed in my other life, I did not have a son.

I believe I do have family, though. Just not here… wherever “here” is. I have tried to contact them, but phone numbers are out of order; texts won’t send; e-mails come back “user unknown”; letters are returned unopened, a large red stamp across the front reading “UNAVAILABLE”.

I got through once. The man on the other end – my brother, James – said he didn’t have a sister, and hung up. I hit redial, but the phone number had been disconnected.

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Harvest Moon: A Wonderful Update

I literally haven’t touched that fuckin’ game since I last wrote about it.

I’ve proposed to Muffy, and we’re about to hit winter, which means 10 more game days until the wedding and chapter 2 and the baby that will grow and abandon me. However, according to what I’ve read (after all the damage has been done, of course, I couldn’t possibly have read it first and then not fucked everything up, that is not how things are done in this house) winter is going to be an absolute mess which is going to result in some not-so-wonderful farm fatalities.

All of my animals are going to die. Starvation. I haven’t made any effort whatsoever to collect grass for fodder, and I have nowhere near the funds to buy “good fodder” for an entire season for a barn full of animals.

The death of all of my animals should irreparably tank my farm. I could start over and actually do things right, but I just… don’t want to. At all. I’ve already started over once because I screwed something up on the first run, but I was just at the end of Spring when that shit went down, so it wasn’t too much of a loss.

I don’t know. I was enjoying it. I want to keep enjoying it. But having to start over from the beginning irritates the shit out of me.

Plus, I want to play “Save the Homeland” at some point.

Excerpts taken from the diary of Angela Pleasant.

Had the dream again.

*                 *                 *

I think I’m running out of air.

My room smells funny. I asked Mom about it, thinking maybe she’d installed some new air freshener or something without my knowledge, but she insists that not only would she never (although she has before, which is why I asked), but she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. She says my room smells “fine”.

But there’s an earthy smell in here, something damp and almost… sweet? Not in a good way.

I’ve searched everything, even the closet, but there was nothing to find. I finally gave up and tried to open my window, but the wind was doing that howling thing again, and I couldn’t stand it. I had to close it again.

*                 *                 *

Still smelling it. Can’t find a source.

I’m afraid it’s in my head somewhere.

Something rotting and meaty inside of me.

I can’t get it out.

*                 *                 *

I take the pills to help me sleep.

I can’t manage without them. Sometimes, I can’t manage with them. But when they work, I burrow so deeply in the darkness that not even the nightmares (and I know they’re looking) can find me.

We Came Along This Road

x-posted @ my a03 account

Fandom: Rule of Rose
Pairing: Wendy/Jennifer
Summary: On December 20, 1930, tragedy struck the Rose Garden Orphanage, leaving only one known survivor, nine-year-old Jennifer Brown. Years after the hideous event, Jennifer seeks to reopen the orphanage. News travels fast, and quickly piques the interest of a long lost dead girl who never forgot the promise made to her by her old friend.
A/N: This story is part of a 14-part album fic challenge, in which each song from a single album will serve as inspiration for the story. The album I chose is “And No More Shall We Part” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

WENDY
It was late, and the weather was poor. I should have been at home, half-finished with my nightly rituals, preparing myself for bed. Really, I should have been in my favorite nightgown, perhaps even crawling beneath the heavy blanket, sinking into the warm embrace of my glorious bed. Under less unusual circumstances, I certainly would have been.

Alas. I’m tired, but well awake, and instead of surrendering myself to the luxury of my soft bed, I have instead submitted myself to the indignity of the stiff, torn fabric of a bench seat at the back of a dreary bus. Trundling along at this indecent hour, looking for a girl I haven’t seen since I’d lead the dogman on the death march to the orphanage door, in the tender years of my own girlhood.

Jennifer.

Even now, her name fills me with such terrible longing.

If only she hadn’t betrayed me… chosen that filthy creature over me. Humiliating me not once, but twice. Without even trying, I still plainly remember the feel of her palm across my face, the heat in my injured cheek. The poisonous swill coursing through me, spilling black and viscous from the cracks in my heart, as I laid pinned beneath her on the floor, like a butterfly.

The memories are automatic, and unstoppable. The anger in her voice and the furious tears in her eyes as she demanded that I “give her back her friend”, even though I had not been taken from her, at all.

No… if only she’d understood, as I had, as all of the others had, that nothing of value had been lost to her… that the only friend she truly needed – after the lengths I had gone to just to prove to her the immeasurable depths of my devotion – was there already… everything could have been so much different.

We could have been so happy. All of us.

Royalty.

A family.

Instead, she’d been selfish. Cruel. Unbearably cruel. And in the end, it was she who was taken away from me, a second time.

I won’t lose her a third time, however. This time, she will be mine, and no one else’s, ever again.

I have been so patient.

Through the dirty, discolored window, there wasn’t much to see. Trees, mostly. The tedious landscape stumbled past on an endless loop. Trees and bushes, bushes and trees. How putrid. I sighed and turned my head away from the glass; I’d never really been one for the supposed beauty of nature.

Finally, the bus shudders to a halt alongside a bench I recognize immediately.

Once upon a time, I’d found a Stray Dog sitting there, waiting for his son.

I do not pause to linger on those memories. They are worthless to me. I leave the bench behind me without a second glance, as I follow the worn, dirt path up to the Rose Garden Orphanage.

Continue reading

The Sorrowful Wife

x-posted @ my a03 account

Fandom: Rule of Rose
Pairing: Hoffman/Clara
Summary: Days, and years, and entire lifetimes have passed since Hoffman abandoned his post as the headmaster at the Rose Garden Orphanage, but those little brats are still a constant thorn in his side. But not Clara, his sweet Clara. His refuge, his salvation… his terrible sin. His sorrowful wife.
A/N: This story is part of a 14-part album fic challenge, in which each song from a single album will serve as inspiration for the story. The album I chose is “And No More Shall We Part” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.


It has not been easy.

I have not slept well since it happened.

Since I left.

I see it in my dreams, that horrid building. It waits for me, crouched in the corners of my wandering mind, looming in the creases of my eyelids, so that when I lie down at night and close my eyes, it drops heavily into view. I see it plainly, every inch and every detail. The enormous, rusted lock on the gate. The rows of darkened windows punched into the grimy walls. That odd picture they’d drawn of the dog, candy spraying from its screaming mouth.

Stray Dog gives us sweets.

I took Diana by her shoulders and shook her until her head wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. “What is this “stray dog” nonsense?”

Stray Dog kidnaps kids.

“Answer me, damn you!” She cried out when I struck her, but only once. After that, there was only the sharp sound of my hand on her flesh, and the anger in my voice as I demanded an answer that she would not surrender.

The shame bubbles up in me, every memory is a slap to my own face. It is inescapable, what I have done.

Inescapable, yes. The irony of it. I left in the middle of the night like a coward and a monster, but I am still there. I can never go back, but I can never leave.

I am trapped there as surely as they were.

It has not been easy.

Continue reading

I Have No Twitter, And I Must Rant Publicly

Oven is 100% done for. Good riddance. I spiritually piss on its grave.

Had to move the cheesecake next door to finish baking (to finish baking and beyond… I fucking hate using other peoples’ ovens, as grateful as I am to my neighbors for allowing me to use it… temps vary so wildly and you never truly know what’s going to happen until it’s too late) and I’m going to have to get up early tomorrow to go up to my parents’ house to bake the pumpkin pies. Christ on the cross, it never ends.

In other mildly upsetting news, I finally bit the bullet and bought a new domain. A .nu domain, yukyukyuk.

I’ve been very patient so far today, but it is really beginning to push my buttons.