Saturday, August 20, 2011

Memento Mori

I don't expect to survive this. I'm at the point where I'm measuring my life in hours.

I'm in an apartment building. I can no longer access the City. I can hear a sound above me-- knives scraping against the floor. It's the Rake.

I look out the window and I can see my former master-- Slender Man, might as well call him what he is-- standing out there, watching me. People pass by as if he's not even there, oblivious to him. One group of people moves oddly, their limbs loose, their movements strangely exaggerated. The Wooden Girl's dolls.

I look out another window and Judgment is there. I remember he said something about his sins burning him up soon, and I see now what he meant. I can't even recognize Sleight's body anymore; it's so decrepit looking, like he's aged 60 years in the span of a week.

I hear whispers, telling me to just give it all up, and a gray blur moves in the corner of my eye. I don't know why the Choir is after me, but there are a lot of things I don't know.

And I can feel the Ichor within me, spreading. I cut myself on a nail about an hour ago, and no blood came out. Only clear fluid. It won't be long now.

One way or another, I am going to die soon.

And you know what? I'm OK with that.

In the past few months, I went from just some random, insignificant college student to a supernaturally sponsored murderer. I've killed people without hesitation, and afterward I'd come up with justifications for it, and I'd try to ignore that feeling in the back of my head that what I'm doing is wrong. I'd try to block the inevitable nightmares from invading my sleep. I'd try and try, but to no avail.

Guilt is the punishment for our sins, and I feel little else these days.


But my sins end tonight. I have no intention of becoming a puppet. Not again.

So, all you monsters, all you horrific abominations? What are you waiting for?

I've got a machete on my right and a shotgun on my left. First prize goes to the one who brings me down.

My name is Joseph Amory Steward, and I'm ready for you.

So come and get me.

14 comments:

  1. I'd say I felt sorry for you...

    But oh, wait. I don't. You deserve what's coming to you. Or has come, by now.

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  2. Goodbye

    And i hope you find peace.

    -Ethereal

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  3. I was sometimes angry with you Steward, because I think you were always a good man, just misled and perhaps weak, at least up until this point. Whatever happens, I will be sorry to see you go. If nothing else, you provided a window into how Slenderman and the others operate and that was an invaluable insight.

    If you survive (which seems all but impossible) and our paths cross, I will still do whatever I can to help you - whether it is to somehow get the Ichor out of you and restore you to yourself or to put to rest whatever remnant is left of you.

    Whatever others might think of you for the work you did for Slenderman, I think you also did us a service, even if it was unintentional.

    I hope you get revenge on all those who shaped you.

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  4. Your Judgement is On the Grand Creator Hand,s , For You have Played a part in the Reordering of Things
    You will not be alive to meet me
    But i will try to re channel your soul, lest you fall to the false god
    may we meet on the hands of the clock
    Clockmaker

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  5. Sleep is a blessing, may you wake in a better place.

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  6. Be happy everyone. I found one universe where Steward survives. It is unbelievable but he somehow escaped all six of his pursuers in that world. You should praise him for his courage and achievement!
    I will travel to another universe again now. I only came back these few times to see if this world would deviate from the norm or not.
    Farewell!

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  7. Farewell! And may you be Joey once again before you go... I'll miss this blog...

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  8. Aww... This was so well written, even with the few typos. Thank you for your story.

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  9. Thank you for your story, Joseph Steward. May you finally find some peace.

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  10. They say they killed you in every universe imaginable.
    They're gods, my Fears.
    But they aren't mine, not really. Not really? Not really.
    Just their strings, given unto me, bound with every last drop in someone's something's bodies given twisted through everything in your universe now and we know and we are coming and do you see?

    Do you see it, the man outside your window?
    These are your nightmares. You created them, you animate them, you FEAR them. and that is all that matters.

    i had no name when i was born and i have no name now
    the fears bow to me i wiped the quiet out with a thumbprint
    fear me
    fear the fears
    there is nothing to fear but fear itself

    noted.
    hah.

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  11. May your eternity be peaceful, and your fears be alleviated.

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