Zombie

When I say that the Lovers was my worst nightmare, I'm not exaggerating.

As a  child and teenager, he  was in my head.  When I closed my eyes, I saw his smile.  When I dreamed, I was in his field.  He was my constant companion.  And he wanted out.

Can you imagine that?  Whenever I was asleep, I was with him.  Everything he has wrought upon his victims was wrought upon me.  Every night.  For years.  Others can escape their monster by running.  But mine was there.  Always there.  Pounding on the walls of his cage and smiling, always smiling, always goddamn smiling.

I knew he was trapped, somehow.  I knew it.  The only way he could contact anything was through my head...through my head, somehow. I don't know how.  I don't know why.  What could lock a Major Arcana away like that?  How could it break free?  Why did it need me to do it?

From their most recent post, it looks like one of them is the same.  Fitting he chose the same suit.

I removed him from my head.  I did what the King of Cups and his friends are trying to do.  I unleashed him on you all.

I'm not sorry.

Isn't that the funny thing?  I'm not sorry I unleashed him.  With him in my head, I was in hell.  My life was unbearable.  I stopped sleeping.  I nearly killed myself over and over and over but he wouldn't let me die.  Did you know I spent my teenage years in a mental hospital?  Because I did.  All those tests, all that therapy, and nothing helped.  Nothing ever helped because my nightmare was there, with me.

And when I released him, the first thing the Smiling Man the Lovers did was take my eyes.  He looked in my eyes and I saw so much, so very much.  Too much.  It burned them out of their sockets and I screamed and wept blood in pain and joy with the knowledge that he was out of my head.

So yes, I know it must suck to be you, King of Cups.  I know a part of you would kill your whole family, all your friends, resign the world to yet another unstoppable monster if you thought you could be rid of the terrible thing in your head.

But I'm not telling you.

Because even though I'm not sorry, I know what I did was wrong.  Even though I would do it again in an instant, I know it was unforgivable.  And even though I know the agony you are going through,  I know the agony everyone will go through.

So I'm sorry.  Just to you, I'm sorry.

The answer is still no.

Finally

I finally have a Braille keyboard overlay.  Good.

Some good news and bad news.  We've found the twin triangles spray painted on a few walls, as well as The Devil's call to embrace him.  That's..actually both the good news and the bad news.  It means we're on the right track.

In other news, I FUCKING TOLD YOU TARA WE SHOULDN'T HAVE SAVED HIM HE'S PETER FUCKING RIVERS WE NEED TO ABANDON HIM AS SOON AS FUCKING POSSIBLE IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A SUCKER YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO RELY ON JEANETTE SAVING YOUR STUPID ASS.

You're like a Nintendo Princess who thinks she's a Disney Princess.  You can't change the world.  You can't help the downtrodden.  Life sucks and there's nothing we can do about it and you insisting you can just means that the Black Queen needs to pull you out of Check every other move.

We're in the Devil's territory.  For the uniformed, that's the Archangel.  Looks like the Lovers decided to kidnap some potential Timberwolves!  And it's our job to save them!

Except it's my job, apparently, because Jeanette is in Colorado with my dumb lovestruck sister for some stupid reason.  When the Smiling Man says jump, Jeanette and I have to ask how high.  Except he doesn't ask us to jump.  Instead he kidnaps future victims/servants of the Major Arcana and then makes us save them, because we will be blamed if they aren't returned.

And you know why?  I'll tell you, and this is your fault too, Tara.  Ever wonder why Jeanette survived?  Why I survived?  Eye injury is usually fatal.  Shock and blood loss can kill you in seconds, if not minutes.

We're proxies, even though she doesn't want to admit it.  Yes.  We. Are.  Both of us.  I'm starting to think everyone in our little too-dumb-to-live online group is a proxy now.  Except you, Tara.  The Smiling Man lost interest in you.  Why would he want you, when Jeanette is so much more interesting?

It's your fault.  It's all your fault.

You see?! This is what it means to be the Smiling Man's proxy.  This is what it means to be his servants.  You're a piece on a chessboard, sent against other pieces--except he's setting his own pieces against each other.  He doesn't want us to worship him, he doesn't want to offer us power, or glory.  He doesn't want to protect us.  He doesn't want to use us, or make us think we're useful.

He wants us to struggle, to fight each other, and to kill each other so he can watch.  He wants our pain and our discord and our despair and our panic and our oblivion.

So he can watch and Smile.

This is your fault, Tara.

It's your fault that this is what Jeanette has to look forward to.

A whole lifetime of this.

Just so she can protect you.

And here you are.

Sheltering a two-faced monster.

Because you're soft.

Because you're weak.

Because you're stupid.

But worst and most damning of all.

Because you're a good person.

In  a world full of monsters.

Better sleep with one eye open.

Welcome!

Welcome to scenic Hope, New Jersey.

I assume it's scenic, anyway.  Though the term Tara uses the most is 'quaint'.

We're camped out in a cheap motel while we get our bearings.

Three delinquents were nabbed the other week, each with a bouquet laid out for them.  From what Tara and I can tell, they had ties to some local gangs.  I hope I am not right about which.

I don't like being here.  I had the birth of The Sun recounted to me.  There's something in the air.  It's setting me on edge.

This would be when I would say "It was a mistake to come here", but it isn't.  I'm not sure how I know that, but I know this is what I  was supposed to do.

That worries me too, though.  I call myself a seer, I give vague prophecies, but the truth of the matter is, whenever I do, I don't feel as though I'm the one giving them.  Something speaks through me.  Maybe that's my lot, on the chess board.  I provide exposition.  I explain the rules, I state the venue, I deliver the pieces.

But the game is changing, and I've not been  informed of the new rules.  Already, what should have been a concrete vision has changed.  Jeanette was supposed to be the one here.  Chelsea was not supposed to be involved.  I was not supposed to have stumbled through a choking mass of overpowering smells and cacophonous whispering leaves and end up halfway across the country.

And yet, Cups and Pentacles have replaced Swords for the time being, and I don't know why.

Oh well.  We're going to get something to eat, and then begin investigating.

I hope this wasn't a mistake.  I wish I was still locked away, safe in my room, distanced from events by a computer and a disability.

But I have been placed on a different board, in a different game, with different rules.

For now, I have no choice but to play along.

--Penny

Dreams

I dreamt I was out of breath.  I dreamt of something tight around my neck.

I dreamt of an empty face staring through me as my breath left me.

I dreamt of struggling, of reaching for a weapon.

I dreamt of it availing me not.

Then, a crash.  I woke, blackness begetting blackness.

I wonder whose dream that was?