-1-
Okay, this story moves at a much slower pace so we are going to interject some humor in here.
It was dark.
I kept it that way
I had plenty of time to think, especially when the scotch ran out.
OMG, I made Mr. F a drunk.
Were those people’s blood on my hands ? Their lives gone. . . so gruesomely because of me.
I
wanted to be locked away for what felt like my crimes, but no one would ever
believe me.
Best to punish myself
The truth was I was reckless. . . I was careless.
Tomas : you don’t know anything about reckless
LiLe : um, what are you doing
Tomas : My story takes place in NYC so I thought I’d interject
LiLe : Not okay
I should have been more careful from the very start, I let my emotions get the better of me.
Anger, guilt, envy even happiness
To hell with all of them
Angst Angst Angst
I turned my attention back to the darkened hotel suite. I searched out for the ash tray in the dark and let the embers fall. It was my last cigarette.
I was so close to being close to happy, I could rearrange and change every action in my mind to get the ending I wanted. . . I deserved.
We deserved.
My hand began to tremble against the glass
No
Not now
Not ever
Awww, he’s crying }:
I began to silently coach myself. My grip on the glass I didn’t realize I was holding tightened.
My lips shifted as a slow drop of salt water slipped between them, silently followed by another.
---
Let’s run away together
I was hearing voices, so clear they echoed.
I can show you the wonderful places this world has to offer
My eyes opened and I began searching the room for the source of the voice, in the process I stepped over the fallen pages of the calendar on the wall.
They
don’t even make calendars with tear away pages anymore. I was just being dramatic.
Unlike you I’ve seen beyond this desolate piece of land and even with this second chance you likely never will.
Also flashbacks ! These lines are said by Clara in HOF.
The voice was beginning to get louder, I was close to recognizing it when I slipped over a page of the calendar.
Instead of hitting the floor I woke up in bed.
It was daylight, I had awoken at the best and brightest time of the morning.
It was April.
The
suite was entirely to lived in now. I knew exactly what was in every drawer the
order each of my shirts and other clothing would be in, I would wake up the
same time everyday.
I made my way down to the bar, as usual. There were no new messages for me at the front desk, Emile had been rather busy lately, he had told me he still wasn't over the death of his friends.
I purchased a paper and watched the comings and going of people in the main lobby. The morning was starting to slip away and I could still hear the voice from my dream
“Morning, sir”, the bartender said, as he said to everyone.
The front entrance to the hotel were close to the bar and the doors were loud, every time someone entered or left it was echoed across the room, it seemed very hotel was like that. I suppose they wanted it that way.
I had considered leaving multiple times over the past few months, just going down the block but something always stopped me.
I kind of wish I would have explored Ghost!Lucie keeping Mr. Fierro company for all those months.
Something
felt different that day
So this is the same month that Clara comes back to New York all preggers and eveyrthing
“How is it outside”, I asked the bartender
He nearly dropped the glass in his hand, partially because I’d never bothered to speak to him except when necessary. The thought never occurred to me.
“It’s good”, he said stumbling over his words.
I wondered where I would go.
It wasn’t as if I could get lost seeing as I had nowhere to be
-2-
As I walked I thought about what a burden life was—had been—is now.
One minute you are on on Earth the next your not. Nothing you’ve done while you are “alive” matters after that.
We don’t need to find meaning in every faction of our life for the very reason, yet the majority wasn’t convinced.
So I continued walking
Looking for meaning.
NIHILISM
The streets and turns I took were so ingrained in my mind that I honestly couldn’t get lost if I wanted. However I stopped and lifted my eyes to an empty storefront more specifically to the words etched on the store front window.
RUNAWAY
There were a few other words on the storefront as well but I was already through the door.
There was a woman sitting behind a desk, she looked up twice before she realized I was standing there. There were several posters on the walls, most of them were falling down
“Hi, welcome to Runaway Travel LTD”, the woman said. . . her expression brightened.
She offered me a chair and went to make coffee and returned quickly.
“So”, she said, “Where can I set up your dream vacation ? Miami, Costa Rica and Tahiti are popular this time of year.”
Vacation, somehow that hadn’t seemed like the right word.
“It’s okay if you don’t know”, she said placing a well worn and very detailed globe on her desk, “Just pick a place.”
She spun the globe and waited impatiently for it to stop, she became more excited the slower it started to spin.
The dust started to settle on the table and I reached out with one finger and stopped the globe from spinning, my hand landed on the South Pacific Ocean but that didn’t matter.
“What
did you choose”, she was ecstatic
I thought about it for a second and turned the globe so it started to spin again. I never took my eyes away from it.
“Why do I have to choose one”
She smiled and started typing.
I watched the globe as it continued to spin and suddenly the world did not seem as different as I thought
Okay guys here it goes. I had to get Mr. F on the road. I really liked the idea of him ON A BOAT going around the world. As you know that’s not a very easy thing to do. Sure he could have bought a boat and done it, but I don’t think people can do that anymore.
Although now I kind of wish I had done it for the isolated effect.
Anywho I fond our about these Cargo ships that people take all around the world. It seemed like a fun idea and I read so many blogs and forums about this. I swear someone should write a book about the people on a Cargo ship and the bonds they form.
---
The HMS Matisse was a large and at first glance unwelcoming ship. nothing about the cargo ships ominous appearance made it all welcoming. Containers were being loaded, the crew was at work there did not seem to be room for anything or anyone else.
Either way I would put thousands of miles and a 160 day voyage between me and my past.
Earlier that day I had checked out of the hotel with two suitcases one with clothes the other was lined with cash. I’d had one last drink in the hotel bar and decided to leave early and head to a used bookstore the concierge had told me about.
It
was a large two story building and when one entered a bell went off, a person
was then greeted with a sign that read.
For whom the bell tolls
it tolls for thee
I would have plenty of time to read and therefore was not overly concerned with which books to purchase. Most of them may have come from the philosophy section a few just seemed interesting.
The
young clerk was half-asleep behind the register and began mechanically
ringing me up on an antique register, he was frustrated and started over every
few minutes.
'Bookmark ?", He said pointing to a box filled with odd flat paper items
that could easily be used for bookmarks.
I didn’t really think i would need one but I sensed I was making him nervous as
he started ringing me up again. I choose the one laying on top and after
turning it over I gazed upon a familiar image, it was the image of the skull
and knight I had seen in the library in New haven. There was a name inscribed
on the front, as if it had been signed by someone named 'Robert Essex'
So he found a tarot card signed by Robert Essex.
Wait,
I just realized I named Emile’s side piece in JNRR Robert. Oops. Oh, wait did I
even give him a name ? *looks* Yep, his name is Robert to.
Suddenly looking at the card the context made sense to me, it was a
tarot card.
Death
to be exact.
"Do you know who signed this ?", I asked him
He looked at the card and bent over his desk for a moment.
"Looks like he is some sort of occultist or something. . . we get alot of
weird stuff like that. . . 149.45", he consulted the register.
I paid in cash and he began to pack up the books and then stopped. He reached
over behind him and pulled something from one of the window displays.
“I think this is one of his books”, he said, "I'll throw it in for half off"
Finding Nirvana by Robert Essex
It was a small and looked to be a harmless book so I asked him to add it in.
Mr. F : Why can’t I afford new books ?
LiLe
: Because you aren’t going to find old tarot cards in a new bookshop.
"Sure is a lot of books, are you going on a trip or something ?", he
asked looking over the receipt
"As a matter of fact I am."
"Where to ?"
"To be honest. . . a little bit of everywhere"
“You should comeback and visit us when you get back”
“Thank You, but I don’t plan on coming back”
Hey guys ! Since it’s plot dumping /deux ex machina-ish for me to tell you why the story ends the way it does I made up a character (Essex) to do it for me. That’s storytelling 101
---
-3-
It was sunset when the ship lurched and seemed to come alive. It happened so swiftly that if I hadn’t witnessed it from the deck I would have never thought that we were actually moving.
Behind me cheers went off as the bar opened for the first night and every night after that.
So
this is the past so there is a few hints insinuating that he is telling the
story from the present.
The ship cut through the water so slowly it seemed the glittering city
was getting smaller and for a second or perhaps longer I felt a tinge of
sadness.
I gripped the railing along the deck, staring deeply into the darkness of the water beneath me. I imagined the water was cold and for several minutes I entertained the idea of falling in. Letting the water consume into the mindnumbing unknown that was death.
The truth was I was running away.
I didn’t really have anything to live for.
Oh, now he’s suicidal
---
It had been five days when the ship ported in Barcelona for three days. It was actually a relief to see land after so many days. The sun was its highest when I stepped onto the dock, there were beaches teaming with life and people.
I located a phone in one of the port’s office and dialed Emile’s number, I didn’t think he would pick up and I was unsure why I tried to call him
“Hello ?”, He picked up on the first ring
“Emile, I-“
“Where are you calling me from ?”, he asked
“Spain, I’ll send you money for the charges. . . I just wanted to know how things are.”
“Nothing’s changed”, he spoke carefully, “Are you sure you want to go through with this. . . the lying.”
Cause there is something you might want to know
“What
do you think would happen if I didn’t ? You have seen what Lucie is capable
of.”
Emile : well I guess Lucie is a bit murderous, no need to have her following you back here
“I understand”, he said. I believe he was still mourning and explaining the lost of his friends and didn't seem to be one for conversation.
“I’ll speak to you later”
“Wait—when will you be back in the states.”
“August, I believe”, that was when the Matisse would make it's second call in New York.
"Good"
Okay,
so August is when Rosalie is born and Emile figures he will tell him when he
gets back to the states. Of course he never makes it back in time.
-4-
So yeah, I had to make it seem like Mr. F was really away so I made little stories and adventures about his travels.
Finding Nirvana
I hadn’t read the book but from inference in others it was a fringe books of sorts. Essex was an occultist and deemed illogical on his views of the afterlife.
He’s like a Crowley expy
I thought about the word
Nirvana
Heaven, real heaven. Maybe I had gotten lost along the way
The first few pages were predictable and simple. However The way the author wrote about the aftetlife (apart from his civilty) intrigued me for more reason than one.
Take, dear readers, the mirror. The false world created in the looking glass is at best similar to our own. Consider the afterlife in the same respect. A reflection of the gathered knowledge of entire generations in one interlocked place. Each man comes into the afterlife with value as opposed to having to seek it out. In this first life we must prepare to provide for our role in the afterlife
His words rung true, to true
Okay, okay , okay. So in Start Wars (The new ones) they explain that “The Force” is occurs by certain types of DNA. People hated this because they explaind The Force using Science. I was afraid that this is what I was doing here.
I was explaining Litany Lane, but it’s not like anyone would ever believe what Essex says. I mean what if there is a 100% true theory on life and death out there are we are disregarding it because it’s in our nature.
Seriously guys.
Twilight
could be real and we are ignoring it because it's to crazy.
Yeah, I went from Start Wars to Twilight.
The book had first been published over 20 years ago and the more I read the more I was convinced that this man new something about the Truth. He wrote of the beseeching terrors of leaving what he called the afterlife he wrote about poltergeist, ghost and other terrors what he called Trial By Fire.
Perhaps he could help me to help Lucie
I turned a few more pages before a few words caught my eyes.
Dear reader the time has come for me to explain myself in terms of the title of the book I have written for pages on the afterlife but what of Nirvana. It’s simple. . . it doesn’t exist. Once we enter the afterlife we can starve, stab, dehydrate for the fun of it but you will be stuck in the afterlife true purgatory forever.
If true heaven is out there you have to find it.
I spent the better part of the night reading true to his word not once did he use the term Nirvana not once did he use the word death, it was always afterlife.
Mr. F: Hmm, kind of like you
LiLe : Er
See , I invented a book and character to do all the explaining for me.
One by one the candles in the order I lit them began to blow out. There was a sharp chill in the air. I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized I was on the floor and as I stood I came face to face with Lucie.
I remembered her being smaller and perhaps younger when we last we met.
“What have you been up to ?”, she asked.
She reached out to touch me, he touch was so cold it burned. I think it even hurt her, not that she would admit it. More importantly she had touched me it made her all to real.
See
Lucie can touch Mr. F now. All the people she’s been killing have made her
stronger.
“I should ask the same of you.”, I said
“It’s not my fault they all deserve it.”
I wanted to tell her not to hurt anyone aboard the ship but that would have just provoked her.
“What did these people do, Lucie”
“It’s what they were going to do. Love always ends sour, I was trying to help. I'd hate for them to have to find their love to be lies in a years time. No it's just easier to end it now.", she turned away, I certainly hope you enjoy traveling.”
“Why is that”
“I just find. . .it suits you.”, she stopped, “do you hear that.. . more reckless lovers who need correcting.”
And by correcting she means killing
"Lucie you have to stop this"
"Why ? Haven't I fixed us ? Aren't we both better off without her ? Better off without Roger. Or perhaps we should make our arraignment more permanent?”
"No Lucie, I made a promise to you"
That he would stay away from Clara
Her painfully cold lips touched mine briefly, I somehow stopped myself from recoiling as the heat began to fill the room and smooth hum of the generator filled the air.
Oh, and he kissed her. So. . . yeah.
Lucie’s only taking break from her killing spree because she has found out that Clara is pregnant.
---
I arrived in Rome with nearly half the energy I expected. Lucie’s chilling late night visit was still fresh in my mind for the weeks that followed.
Everything about the city was beautiful; I began to see why she loved it so much.
I think she wanted to take me there, promised to show me the wonderful things the world had to offer. . .
The thought darkened my day and I stole into the closest wine bar for a drink. It was still early in the afternoon so I ordered a red wine and gazed into for a while. The glass was rather large and the restaurant name “Via Girbraldi” was etched into the side in gold.
The restaurants walls were covered with gold frames of what I assumed what the Girbaldi family. The frames were all handmade and the man behind the counter explained he was making one for his great-grandchild's picture, though he would gladly sell it.
Okay,
so Mr. F kind of carries an idiot ball here. Via Giribaldi means Girabaldi
Street but he assumes it’s the name of the family. Although I’m sure there is
some signage here to indicate that the Romano family (Clara’s Grandparents) own
the restaurant. So Clara's Grandfather (who is NOT dead yet) sells Mr. F the grame for his great-grandchild's picture (hint hint it's Rose)
I took him up on the offer
I decided to stay on the deck as others went in search of the “southern hospitality” that I wasn’t familiar with. I was still immersed in Essex's books there were plenty of notes in the margins but it all added up to nothing.
I was concentrating on the 4 day journey it would take to get to New York and I began to wonder what Emile and I would speak about.
For the first time in a while I began to feel weak and had fallen asleep for the rest of the day. I felt as if I were bleeding out in the middle of the woods again. Like in HOF
The medic was a retired doctor, he moved quickly and swiftly for a man of his age.I did not like having him near me,the illness, whatever it was weakened me so quickly.
“I should take you to a hospital”, was his final diagnosis but I would have none of it.
“You can’t”, he probably thought I was delusional , “I just need to make a phone call.”
He must have given me a phone, because all I remember is staring at the numbers trying to recall Emile’s phone number and nothing was coming to me. The phone silently slipped from my grasp and the world around me became dark again.
Against
my own insistence they had taken me to a hospital in a small town outside of
Savannah.
I woke up in the middle of the night with my suitcases underneath the hospital bed. I decided I would be leaving in the morning against medical advice.hoping I could hold myself together long enough to make it. . . somewhere.
I often wondered what Emile thought when I didn’t show in New York the day I was supposed to arrive. When we talked later her never spoke of it.
What Emile thought
Emile : Okay, Fierro didn’t show up. Maybe I should have told him why I he needed to come back to New York. Why doesn’t he have a cell phone ? Maybe this is a sign. Maybe it’s better this way, it would just complicate things. Who know what Lucie might do to Baby Rose. I just won’t say anything.
The suitcases were heavy now and I ended up throwing most of the books out, except Essex's , before getting into a cab. There was clatter on the pavement that sounded nothing like a book.
It
was the gold frame I had purchased in Rome, it was still empty and
I had forgotten all about it.
-7-
I spent hours writing and rearranging the seven letters that lead to Emile’s number but none of them appeared to be right.
It was the third time in my life I truly thought I was going to die.
So I just sort of liked the idea of between Clara and Fierro being Not!Dead and Victor stealing Rose’s soul that there would be some sort of paranormal connection between Clara/Rose and F. So Mr. F is ill at the same time Clara is almost dying of childbirth.
So now Mr. F has left the hospital and is at a motel.
It seemed to be always dark in the purposely windowless room, after all there was not much of a view. I felt as if I were still just barley clinging when I heard the door of the motel creak open.
The wind, I had thought.
I had fallen against the door closing, to exhausted to make it back to the bed. My eyes began to adjust to the dark and I noticed something was in the room.
At first I thought it was a pillow lying on the floor, but it became obvious that I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
It was a person
A small person with long dark hair fanned out across the floor, the figure was wearing a patterned dress that seemed very familiar to me. The figure was lying face down in a puddle of shimmering blood.
I backed further against the door, using the handle to stand up
It was a little girl and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was dead. With a strange burst of energy I began pacing the room keeping clear of whatever was before me. I kept waiting to wake up or for the horrific image before me to disappear.
Still the green and yellow patter on her dress appeared very familiar, everything about that image did.
So, once again Victor is making him see a vision of Rose dead, so that later on he can convince Mr. F that he is supposed to kill Rose. Then Mr. F is going to tell Clara he is suppsed to kill her and then Clara trues will want to kill him. It's a crazy killing chain of chaos just what Victor wants
I never saw her face and nothing made much sense after that. As I had expected I awoke as if from a nightmare but the tip of my finger was still stained from the little girl’s blood. I convinced myself the images was nothing more than a ghost, another terrifying image I would have to live with.
Strangely, my fever broke the next day.
He
is seeing Rosalie wearing her doll’s dress. (A doll he would have seen in
Lucie’s room when they were both alive) . This is supposed to be a tip off that Mr. F is supposed to kill Rose.. This vision
plays apart later
I felt a strange sense of relief and though I didn’t believe much in pre-destination maybe I was never meant to make it back to New York.
At the bottom of my suitcase I found the CD Emile had played for me that cold January night in his apartment. There was a case along with it and with renewed strength I cracked the hard plastic around it letting the paper backing fall out.
There was a list of songs but also a picture of her as well. She was smiling her reflection mirrored in the piano she was leaning against. Her eyes were dark but bright at the same time.
For the first time in months I realized I missed her. The picture fit perfectly in the frame and I considered placing it on the bedside.
Awwww ) :
It relaxed the strain and burden I had felt---
7172940
He suddenly remembers Emile’s number.
I
almost drop the frame reaching for the phone and dialed the number.
I dialed 7 times till there was a click
“Hello ?”
“Emile?”
“Where
were you?”, he asked, "you bastard, you just missed the birth of your child. Seriously. Well I guess it's my fault for not telling you but still . . .
“I was taken ill. I’ve just gotten better after. . .”
I paused not sure why I was telling him the strange events that unfolded last night but I did. He listened carefully and remained silent
“Emile, are you still there ?”
“Yes. . . so um, the girl did you ever see her face ?”
Although I couldn’t see him, he seemed distracted.
“Emile, listen. I won’t be able to make it to New York. I feel as If I’m on to something. There is someone I think can help.”
“I understand”, he said listlessly so I began to question him.
“Is something wrong ? Has something happened ?”
“No. . . not all. Just call me when you think you’ve found what you are looking for.”
Also Clara had a baby, but I mean there is a small chance that probably has nothing to do with you.
LiLie : Wait now that I think about it I do wonder how Clara told Emile who the Father was. I don't think she told him I think he just you know. . . saw Baby Rose.
He
finished abruptly and I heard the dial tone. It occurred to me later that the
nightmare I had described to him must have bothered him. No . . . .
I scanned Essex’s biography at the back of the book for the first time, he was a professor at a small university know doubt because of his eccentric views.
Foolishly I began put all my faith into one person I didn’t even know.
It lead to nothing more than a three year dead end.
DEPTH made a reappeance. This chapter should have been cut in half.