<Jesse Fforde> The nightmare is no longer a nightmare. It doesn’t matter that ever since taking a dive from the third tier of the Eyrie, I’ve foresworn ever sleeping again. It doesn’t matter that the nightmare doesn’t have me sleepwalking anymore—because the nightmare is now following me around. Every single time that little creep sneaks up on me, it’s like looking into a mirror from my past. Every single time I see that face I remember everything. I remember all of it. It’s like being doused with acid, innards curling and burning with… what?
He tries to convince me that I can talk. That he doesn’t blame me. But I can’t be convinced that I’m not going a little bit insane. I try to keep him away, I try not to acknowledge him. And besides which, if he’s real? He wasn’t there afterwards, was he?
But it’s getting to be a bit too much. If I am going insane, it’s only going to get worse. And I don’t particularly feel like being insane. That’s not something I want people to see me as. I need to talk to someone about it. I need to at least open up to one person, just so that they can reassure me that I’m perfectly fine, or maybe help me to regain some sane footing. I cringe, inwardly, at the idea of asking for help. And I know that I won’t. But I will request an audience anyway.
I tome back into the Eyrie after an hour or so out in the city. I’d been out to feed. Of course, I’m still thirsty—always am—but I’m at least sated, in a small way. As I land upon safe ground, I retrieve my phone. I text Velveteen:
”I need to see you. Are you free?”
[Attire: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iMsG...1_n.jpg ]
* Velveteen had just got back from the raid, disappointed and exhausted. How can there be so many bloody sorcerers and not one of them have a key to the next floor. She grumbled to herself as she kicked off her boots and removed her coat, tossing it lazily over a nearby chair after having retrieved her phone from the pocket. It had been set to silent whilst in the raid and if it wasn't for the obnoxious vibrating insisting she check it now she may have missed the text all together until much later. It sounded important and before she did anything else she replied. "Of course. I'm on fourth. Come on up."
<Jesse Fforde> For a second after recieving Velveteen's text, I consider changing my mind. I consider texting back and telling her to 'never mind'. I linger longer than needed on the second floor, risking retaliation by those armed with paint guns and water balloon launchers. With a sigh, I finally enter the elevator. I don't think I've been to the fourth floor. As soon as I step out the doors I am confronted by a mob of zombies and summoned beasts. I perk a brow, lingering a few seconds before before climbing the stairs, gaze sweeping the room in order to find Velveteen. My hands are shoved into my pockets. I nod my greeting.
* Velveteen lifted her head as she heard the telltale whisper of the metal slifing door and she offered the male a smile and waved him closer pointing to a chair across the table from her as she flopped into one herself. She gave a slight tilt of her head as she did a quiet appraisal making sure he was not wounded or was experience any other such afflictions by another's hand before she nodded. A satisfied nod that atleast physically he was fine. "Hey Jesse. Your text sounded kinda urgent, is everything ok?"
<Jesse Fforde> I take the offered seat. It's not particularly urgent. I'm not on death's door or anything. But I have no idea how to start. Unbreathing, still, I fold my hands on the table in front of me. I bow my head, staring at the worls of wood, before finally sighing and retrieving the pen and paper from the inner jacket pocket. I write, slowly:
"I think I might be going insane."
* Velveteen watched him curiously though waited quietly, wondering what seemed to be weighing so heavily on those shoulders of his. She leaned forward to watch as he write and couldn't help the crooked grin that caught at one side of her mouth. "I think we are all a bit insane Jesse. Though I think considering we are dead...but not, it is acceptable." She paused for a moment before crossing her arms over each other on the table. "So what makes you think you are possibly crazier than me?"
<Jesse Fforde> Velveteen's humour at least allows me to relax a little bit. I give a smirk, and nod my acknowledgement. Yeah, alright, we are all a bit insane, but that's by choice, rather than by something actually physically broken. I think I could actually be mentally broken, and not quite sure how to fix it. In order to make Velveteen understand, I need to tell he the whole story. The things that I can now remember, that I could not remember before. I bow over the pad and write:
"I had a twin brother. Jordan. We were 8 - we lived in an apartment complex. We were making a fort on the roof. Our Uncle came up, he was drunk. We were defiant. My Uncle tried to beat Jordan. There was a scuffle. Jordon got thrown over the edge. He died. It was because of me, because I bit Uncle Tommy's shoulder - he lost his grip. It's since then that I haven't talked. Because of that."
There's still more to come, but I pause, allowing Velveteen to read before I continue. I've never told anyone this before. Velveteen is the first, maybe the only. I watch her carefully as she reads.
* Velveteen 's brow furrowed as she read and shook her head though she remained quiet for now. There was obviously more to come so she figured it best to let the guy purge and let her know what help he was needing before talking out of turn. But it was obvious in that moment that her heart went out to him, those few words there on a paper telling the story of an entire life.
<Jesse Fforde> I nod, as soon as it's certain that she has finished reading. I keep writing: "You know how I took a dive from the Eyrie? It's because I kept having nightmares. They started as only irritants, but slowly got worse. Had me sleepwalking. Like something from the past was trying to force me to remember. And now I do." I roll my shoulders. I think about Jordan. In a way, I call to him. There's a movement out of the corner of my eye. My jaw tightens, clenches. I write, the words a little heavier, a little more angry: "Can you see him?"
[Jordan: https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akam...0_n.jpg ]
* Velveteen reads once more nodding as she does, some things finally making so much more sense. She notices the shadowy figure appear but before she can even appraise to see who it belongs to her gaze is drawn back to the paper. She nodded though confusion was evident on her features. "Of course I can see him. That is why you think you are going crazy?"
<Jesse Fforde> I visibly relax. Jordan moves forward, his face devoid of expression, though his eyes are wide and expectant. I shake my head at him, and then proceed to ignore him. I nod at Velveteen. I write: "Make it sound so normal, why don't you? I'm being haunted by my own ******* dead brother. He's the cause of the nightmares. Of my throwing myself off the Eyrie to nearly die so that he could hitch a ride back with me. Yeah - I thought I was going insane."
* Velveteen smiled and shook her head, her soft laugh soon filling the room. "He isn't haunting you Jesse. He is a wraith. Your wraith. YOU summoned him. That is why he is here." She leaned closer, her smile still present though her eyes now held something more serious. "I don't think he was the cause of your nightmares....more a ...result of them."
<Jesse Fforde> I sit back. The pen taps against the hard wood. I think about it. I think about the implications. I shake my head. I write: "I don't want to remember. And he's a constant reminder." But to think, if I'm not insane, if he's not a figment of my imagination...I glance sideways at him. Jordan remains silent, though I know he knows what I'm thinking. He knows I'm considering his suggestions, quiet as they may be. He smirks--an echo of the smirk I often throw. I write: "So you think it's all me, then? That subconsciously I'm forcing this **** on myself?"
*Velveteen watched the silent exchange and shakes her head. "Not at all. It's obviously something you have kept supressed for the longest time. It's a painful memory and not only that. You blame yourself. These things have a way of finding us eventually, Jesse, no matter how hard we might resist." She paused a moment, her gaze flickering over the small figure. "Has he said anything to you, told you or showed you anything at all? You walk the path of the necromancer Jesse, our roots, for lack of a better words seem firmly planted within death and as ones powers develop its like walking between two different word at the same time....kinda. Until you were turned you were able to effectively shut yourself off to it but now....you are a part of it." She furrowed her brows a little. What they were still escaped her when it came to definition. "Does that make sense?"
<Jesse Fforde> I nod, slowly. It makes sense, in a way, but I'm not sure if it has anything to do with my current situation. I write: "He's trying to convince me to find Uncle Tommy and kill him." I write. That's the gist of it. Like the wraith has realised that something else is amiss. That it isn't just because I blame myself--there's something else chaining my vocals to silence. The wraith is a schemer. And though he's too far away to read what I've written, he still grins. Creepy ******.
* Velveteen 's brow rose curiously. "Ok...maybe you shouldn't say that too many cause that does sound kinda crazy. All the serial killers say that." She grinned a little realising that perhaps this was not the time. "How do you feel about that. I imagine it is probably something you have wanted to do since you were eight. Why does he want you to do it?"