61
Today's curse apparently involves werewolves. I recommend staying inside.
Yesterday might have been one of the last decent days to walk through the gardens. The summer plants are dormant now and the autumn blooms are opening. (This holds true for much of the garden, but certain areas appear to be immune to seasonal changes. There was a healthy Ochna serrulata blooming near the graveyard.) Most of my house plants are dormant, but the Tricyrtis formosana--also called the blue Tricyrtis, the Dark Beauty, or the Toad Lily--opened its first buds.
I like plants. They're predictable, quiet, and not prone to cannibalism or murder.
To my knowledge, the latest murders remain unsolved. I doubt anyone will reply, but If you have information regarding any recent criminal activities, you are encouraged to come forward. Thank you.
---
[Private to Shilo // Unhackable]
How are you? Where are you? If you're not affected by today's curse, please stay somewhere safe.
This isn't important, but I found another insect for you. I hope it isn't one you have already.
---
[Off Network // Unreadable]
The unsolved murders are frustrating. Abby and I have nothing to go on, and I've heard little from other members of the police force (if it still exists). If I had the power to further the investigations--
But I wouldn't further them. Richard, for all of his arrogance, was an astute judge of character; how many times did he tell me that I'm all talk? I wouldn't have been capable of strangling the woman if he hadn't been so sure that I couldn't do it. It's been almost a year--two weeks short of a year--and I still can't decide if I'm glad he's gone. Yes, we were two halves of a whole, but, as a whole, we were monstrous.
It's a good month for montrosities. Today's curse, the cannibalism curse... I'm constantly disturbed by the City's ability to rob us of our wills, forcing us to take actions we would never otherwise take. I was fortunate. The curse allowed me to maintain a sense of control, and whatever drove us to eat flesh was satisfied with a taste of my arm. I neglected to mention that to Abby. She still doesn't know about the candlestick incident with Road (she attributes my limited control of my left hand's fine motor movements to my inherent clumsiness, I believe, so she may not need to find out about that). If she knew a fraction of the things I didn't tell her, she would never let me out of her sight. As much as I appreciate her concern, she can be overbearing.
I thought about this entry while I was walking today. Until now I've never considered the monsters in the Underground, since they're easy enough to avoid. What if they are permutated forms of those who can never leave the City? Are their names on the graves in the cemetery? I am hoping that an investigation into the issue will be more fruitful than any murder investigations.
Road will be involved. I'm not surprised; she's a monster in her own right and can likely dissuade hostile entities Underground from eating us. I'm going to bring my gun along. I doubt it will stop a monster or Road, but it may slow both down. (Could I shoot Road? I don't think I can. If the situation were dire enough...)
What if the monsters are nothing more than people who couldn't escape from the City? I'm afraid to find out. I need to, but the answer may be discouraging. I'm dead. I have no world to go back to. Will that condemn me to an eternity in the City? Over time, will I transform into one of them and lose myself? I've worked hard--I've worked to create who I am. I was nothing but pieces of an identity a year ago after everything I was died at the Bluff, but I'm someone now. I'm more than I've ever been. I have people--not absent parents or a diseased twin like Richard, but people who care. Does that make me less of a monster than I was when I murdered the woman?
If the monsters were people, they must be people who had the capacity for evil. Thinking about them scares me. How like them am I? I was almost convinced that I could be entirely forgiven and escape what I did. I'm unsure now. Maybe the City feeds on the wicked, draining them and warping them into monsters to guard the clock. No one who is good and innocent--no one like Shilo or Abby--could become monsters. The monsters are people like me. Perhaps nothing I do can change that.
I can hear the clock right now. Some say it counts down to the end of the world. At night when I'm thinking--times like this--I wonder if it isn't counting for each of us individually, measuring out the moments left to us. Maybe I'm becoming more of a monster with each tick.
I don't feel like a monster, but can monsters see their own deformities?
Yesterday might have been one of the last decent days to walk through the gardens. The summer plants are dormant now and the autumn blooms are opening. (This holds true for much of the garden, but certain areas appear to be immune to seasonal changes. There was a healthy Ochna serrulata blooming near the graveyard.) Most of my house plants are dormant, but the Tricyrtis formosana--also called the blue Tricyrtis, the Dark Beauty, or the Toad Lily--opened its first buds.
I like plants. They're predictable, quiet, and not prone to cannibalism or murder.
To my knowledge, the latest murders remain unsolved. I doubt anyone will reply, but If you have information regarding any recent criminal activities, you are encouraged to come forward. Thank you.
---
[Private to Shilo // Unhackable]
How are you? Where are you? If you're not affected by today's curse, please stay somewhere safe.
This isn't important, but I found another insect for you. I hope it isn't one you have already.
---
[Off Network // Unreadable]
The unsolved murders are frustrating. Abby and I have nothing to go on, and I've heard little from other members of the police force (if it still exists). If I had the power to further the investigations--
But I wouldn't further them. Richard, for all of his arrogance, was an astute judge of character; how many times did he tell me that I'm all talk? I wouldn't have been capable of strangling the woman if he hadn't been so sure that I couldn't do it. It's been almost a year--two weeks short of a year--and I still can't decide if I'm glad he's gone. Yes, we were two halves of a whole, but, as a whole, we were monstrous.
It's a good month for montrosities. Today's curse, the cannibalism curse... I'm constantly disturbed by the City's ability to rob us of our wills, forcing us to take actions we would never otherwise take. I was fortunate. The curse allowed me to maintain a sense of control, and whatever drove us to eat flesh was satisfied with a taste of my arm. I neglected to mention that to Abby. She still doesn't know about the candlestick incident with Road (she attributes my limited control of my left hand's fine motor movements to my inherent clumsiness, I believe, so she may not need to find out about that). If she knew a fraction of the things I didn't tell her, she would never let me out of her sight. As much as I appreciate her concern, she can be overbearing.
I thought about this entry while I was walking today. Until now I've never considered the monsters in the Underground, since they're easy enough to avoid. What if they are permutated forms of those who can never leave the City? Are their names on the graves in the cemetery? I am hoping that an investigation into the issue will be more fruitful than any murder investigations.
Road will be involved. I'm not surprised; she's a monster in her own right and can likely dissuade hostile entities Underground from eating us. I'm going to bring my gun along. I doubt it will stop a monster or Road, but it may slow both down. (Could I shoot Road? I don't think I can. If the situation were dire enough...)
What if the monsters are nothing more than people who couldn't escape from the City? I'm afraid to find out. I need to, but the answer may be discouraging. I'm dead. I have no world to go back to. Will that condemn me to an eternity in the City? Over time, will I transform into one of them and lose myself? I've worked hard--I've worked to create who I am. I was nothing but pieces of an identity a year ago after everything I was died at the Bluff, but I'm someone now. I'm more than I've ever been. I have people--not absent parents or a diseased twin like Richard, but people who care. Does that make me less of a monster than I was when I murdered the woman?
If the monsters were people, they must be people who had the capacity for evil. Thinking about them scares me. How like them am I? I was almost convinced that I could be entirely forgiven and escape what I did. I'm unsure now. Maybe the City feeds on the wicked, draining them and warping them into monsters to guard the clock. No one who is good and innocent--no one like Shilo or Abby--could become monsters. The monsters are people like me. Perhaps nothing I do can change that.
I can hear the clock right now. Some say it counts down to the end of the world. At night when I'm thinking--times like this--I wonder if it isn't counting for each of us individually, measuring out the moments left to us. Maybe I'm becoming more of a monster with each tick.
I don't feel like a monster, but can monsters see their own deformities?