Luke's Journal
OOC: The following is a compiling of all of Luke's journal entries. Some of these are not submitted into a post, as they had nothing public to attach to, while others are. Luke's journal may be found at anytime in the event that I am addressed on the issue before hand. May Contain Spoilers.
November 02, year 1
This place is like a well tied knot. Every string I pull just makes the knot more dense--more entangled in itself. It's ridiculous.
So far I've a few theories about this place but not one of them seems to make this damned knot any looser... I'll start investigating the drones first. They seem to be the base of this hole experiment.
The question is: how can I see them all?
November 07, Year 1
The damned goverment! Everywhere I go it's the same damming thing! Bastards! All of 'em!
[His hand writing is particularly sloppy and difficult to read this entry, some letters are even written backwards, and tend to be jagged in nature.] [...] They took the other drone child while I was preoccupied. How could I have been so foolish? I've no specimen to watch except the ones I pass on the streets, which I doubt will be any time soon; Flora's still in a panic after the incident. Women... funny creatures when you think about it.
Speaking of that... I got the results I expected, but I didn't get the results I wanted. The majority had a negative reaction to "the drone". There were a few that had minimal reactions--Hunter for example, but there's certainly something different about him. As well as the Native American. Of course... the woman with red hair gave me the most... troublesome result. My right arm's "out of service" now because of it, as well. Bullet proof vests certainly don't protect from kitchen knives.
Reminder: Start acting more carefully around Fl [the entry suddenly stops here]
November 14, year 1
[His hand writing this entry is a lot more neat than the last, but the letters a slurred into a poor cursive style.] And just like that... this place is back to it's original state of mayhem. I can't help but wonder what got the milkman to be our "mayor" in the first place, though. Perhaps it was a bit like how Hawking did it.
Took about a week for the power to return and the rain to stop; as well our Mayor's been reestablished, which I won't count for any blessing any time soon, but... at least Flora's injury wasn't in vain. Hardly a positive way to look at it, though. Naive girl that she is--the scores would have been fine if she hadn't went.
[...] Why am I so worried about this? [Faintly it can be read if you look at the imprints of the pencil's original strokes. He didn't think to scribble it out at the time.]
November 27, year 1
Professor Hersel Layton...
And Luke. It seems impossible, but sure enough, both of them are here. If my understanding is correct, though, they're taken from slightly different time periods than each other and even Flora--and of course myself.
But... this place works in funny ways. The strange time flux here has successfully managed to keep back any suspicions. Maybe in some ways this place in a blessing.
[He sneered after writing this] Professor, perhaps our time here will be a bit more interesting than what I had planned at home.
December 06, year 1
I think Flora and I I'm in lo
The weather's been beautiful the last few days.
December 26, year 1
My hat... and my coat....
This was worth giving up... her?
THESE of all the god forsaken items that I have ever touched where the ones... that I would exchange her love for?
My hat--given to me by my parents when I was young--
And a coat--which I had bought with my first paycheck from the paper--
For her.
[The entry is a day old as of this moment; the next page is a description of those who he'd killed down to their speech patters and likeness. He's also listed some conversations between "H" and a number. AT the bottom of it all, as though the punctuation of an entire story.
Luke Triton.]
February 13, year 2
Flora is not my wife. Flora is not my wife. Flor
a is not my wife. Simon is not my son. Flora is
not my wife. Simon is not my son. Flora is not m
y wife. Simon is not my son. Flora is not my wif
e. Simon is not my son. I do not live in Mayfiel
d, America. Flora is not my wife. Simon is not m
y son. I do not live in Mayfield, America. Flora
is not my wife. Simon is not my son. I do not li
ve in Mayfield, America. Flora is not my wife, n
or is simon my son, just as that Nia girl is not,
either. The two of them I only happend to meet t
hrough a series of events. My home is in London.
I have a goal that I must not loose sight of whi
le staying in this town. I can't forget what he
did. I will not be fooled by this town. Not ever.
[The next page over:]
Valentine's is in a few short days, obviously. I've the house alone with Flora... Simon hasn't done anything, so far as I know, and his droning was sudden. With luck he's been sent home. Good for him, although I doubt Flora is taking it well... at least not better than me.
Remember to pick up Roses on your way back from work. Maybe I'll pick up some barrettes for Flora's new hair cut. I swear, if I ever get a hold of the bastard who conned her into it, he's going to wish his mother was never conceived.
The following comments are additional Journal entries made
November 02, year 1
This place is like a well tied knot. Every string I pull just makes the knot more dense--more entangled in itself. It's ridiculous.
So far I've a few theories about this place but not one of them seems to make this damned knot any looser... I'll start investigating the drones first. They seem to be the base of this hole experiment.
The question is: how can I see them all?
November 07, Year 1
The damned goverment! Everywhere I go it's the same damming thing! Bastards! All of 'em!
[His hand writing is particularly sloppy and difficult to read this entry, some letters are even written backwards, and tend to be jagged in nature.] [...] They took the other drone child while I was preoccupied. How could I have been so foolish? I've no specimen to watch except the ones I pass on the streets, which I doubt will be any time soon; Flora's still in a panic after the incident. Women... funny creatures when you think about it.
Speaking of that... I got the results I expected, but I didn't get the results I wanted. The majority had a negative reaction to "the drone". There were a few that had minimal reactions--Hunter for example, but there's certainly something different about him. As well as the Native American. Of course... the woman with red hair gave me the most... troublesome result. My right arm's "out of service" now because of it, as well. Bullet proof vests certainly don't protect from kitchen knives.
Reminder: Start acting more carefully around Fl [the entry suddenly stops here]
November 14, year 1
[His hand writing this entry is a lot more neat than the last, but the letters a slurred into a poor cursive style.] And just like that... this place is back to it's original state of mayhem. I can't help but wonder what got the milkman to be our "mayor" in the first place, though. Perhaps it was a bit like how Hawking did it.
Took about a week for the power to return and the rain to stop; as well our Mayor's been reestablished, which I won't count for any blessing any time soon, but... at least Flora's injury wasn't in vain. Hardly a positive way to look at it, though. Naive girl that she is--the scores would have been fine if she hadn't went.
[...] Why am I so worried about this? [Faintly it can be read if you look at the imprints of the pencil's original strokes. He didn't think to scribble it out at the time.]
November 27, year 1
Professor Hersel Layton...
And Luke. It seems impossible, but sure enough, both of them are here. If my understanding is correct, though, they're taken from slightly different time periods than each other and even Flora--and of course myself.
But... this place works in funny ways. The strange time flux here has successfully managed to keep back any suspicions. Maybe in some ways this place in a blessing.
[He sneered after writing this] Professor, perhaps our time here will be a bit more interesting than what I had planned at home.
December 06, year 1
I think Flora and I I'm in lo
The weather's been beautiful the last few days.
December 26, year 1
My hat... and my coat....
This was worth giving up... her?
THESE of all the god forsaken items that I have ever touched where the ones... that I would exchange her love for?
My hat--given to me by my parents when I was young--
And a coat--which I had bought with my first paycheck from the paper--
For her.
[The entry is a day old as of this moment; the next page is a description of those who he'd killed down to their speech patters and likeness. He's also listed some conversations between "H" and a number. AT the bottom of it all, as though the punctuation of an entire story.
Luke Triton.]
February 13, year 2
Flora is not my wife. Flora is not my wife. Flor
a is not my wife. Simon is not my son. Flora is
not my wife. Simon is not my son. Flora is not m
y wife. Simon is not my son. Flora is not my wif
e. Simon is not my son. I do not live in Mayfiel
d, America. Flora is not my wife. Simon is not m
y son. I do not live in Mayfield, America. Flora
is not my wife. Simon is not my son. I do not li
ve in Mayfield, America. Flora is not my wife, n
or is simon my son, just as that Nia girl is not,
either. The two of them I only happend to meet t
hrough a series of events. My home is in London.
I have a goal that I must not loose sight of whi
le staying in this town. I can't forget what he
did. I will not be fooled by this town. Not ever.
[The next page over:]
Valentine's is in a few short days, obviously. I've the house alone with Flora... Simon hasn't done anything, so far as I know, and his droning was sudden. With luck he's been sent home. Good for him, although I doubt Flora is taking it well... at least not better than me.
Remember to pick up Roses on your way back from work. Maybe I'll pick up some barrettes for Flora's new hair cut. I swear, if I ever get a hold of the bastard who conned her into it, he's going to wish his mother was never conceived.
The following comments are additional Journal entries made