Poison Yourself - The Begginers' Kit

Please bear in mind that English is not my native language, so grammar errors might occur pretty often. Please alert me if you see one. Also, my tensing is hellish, enjoy having a headache.

Drafts

Cousin Ian's lack of existence

Interrogator's Note

Been two weeks since the 49B bus was suspended because of that incident, and no trace of Ian. Still on the lookout for him, but don't expect anything.

Cousin Pat - Rumor Story

Collaboration with Avelon and Roget

go check it out in the Rogetbox

go check it out in the rogetbox

Who's at the door? You can stop knocking, I'm already here. Yes, that's me. I'd rather not— Oh, I see. Come in, then. Be quiet, the neighbours underneath are pesky even when I don't have guests. Take a seat. I'll tell you what I can.

I arrived at the chalet not long before Ian. I think you've been there, you know how you have to make your way across those shrubs after you leave your car behind. It took me a few hours to find everything needed and find the cabin again. It was difficult to begin the preparations alone. That klutz was of little help, like usual, though the extra pair of hands did make everything go a bit smoother and luckily, he didn't mess up the candles. What Francis left was everything but instructions, as if we're not all going to take part in the same thing.

I might've made a few mistakes, but nothing that can't be fixed. Of course, cousin Francis found it appropriate to unravel the work we've done so far, and start again. In all that frantic cleaning, he even forgot the pots outside. Aunt Moon helped him too. I guess Ian was angered at how those two had little regard for what we've done so far, as I heard him stomping outside as he went to gather some firewood. Perhaps it reminded him of the plums.

I was shoved outside of the chalet as to not 'mess up' further, so I thought it'd be a good idea to oil and check the hinges and locks. They somehow weren't rusted, but Aunt Moon didn't seem to bat an eye. She's always bragging about the 'wonderful' shack she has somewhere in the eastward mountains. I wasn't to hear her complaining about the negligible amount of dirt there was on the chalet's floors, while ignoring the suspiciously perfect-kept doors.

I couldn't see Ian nearby while I was going about my business around the doors, though I could hear some of those awful big cats— lynxes, I think. All went smoothly around the cabin, and he was the only thing missing. Frances and Aunt Moon didn't seem to worry about that. Besides, Ian can take care of himself. Despite that, I stalled around, making sure to not leave the tallow buckets outside, as it got darker and darker. Finally, I went inside, not without leaving the kerosene lamp lit, next to the door, so that knucklehead could find his way to the cabin.

I tried to sleep after that, though Aunt Moon's figure, sitting up stiffly, looking out of the window kept me awake for a while. And I couldn't even sleep for a few hours, because I heard the window shatter. There was no one left in the room, only a scent of ember. I scurried out into the main room. More than half of it was ablaze, and I nearly entered the blaze in my hurry. I did what any other rational person would do, and hasted to jump out of the broken window next to Aunt Moon's bed.

I can't recall much after that. I think I might have hit my head after throwing myself carelessly through the broken glass. When I came back to my senses, the chalet was already ashes, and it was morning.

---

bin

guide for the aspiring star hunter

Guide for the aspiring star hunters [maybe]

I'm someone who's been accustomed to the Main Hall's vaulted ceilings inlaid in gold with their velvety greens depicting Chief Archivists¹ and the NexuLibrary's history. Used to Handyman's Moss thriving among shelves, handing out books and being a general nuisance while trying to slip unobserved by the Pages amongst the shelves. Familiar with the Wallwalkers, ones who are not careful enough and almost stomping on me while I was trying to find a book with quality ink.²

Of course, when I first saw stars, I did not know what they were.³ And it certainly did not help that so many of the worlds I slipped in had their own skies, their own patterns and cycles.

SSS night sky dual

SSS Night sky dual

I know what you'll think, that I've travelled too much to not have known the stars from the beginning, to not have seen the beautiful, cold patterns of night skies.

Have you seen anything other than these decaying domes, children?

But the place I've dwelled in my early centuries was no world like this. It is a place between the worlds, a crossroad of sorts, a place full of knowledge and wonder. Ink would be plenty, and so were words, and not often would I find myself looking up, for more.

The shelves here, they've been abandoned. Not quite dead yet, there's a long way to go yet to empty the books here.

some scattered sounds

i still remember the nurse's skin. not calloused, but somehow rough, her fingers chiding with their surface. they truly were emery when i was paying attention to them. with childish folly, i thought them rude and snubbed.
her voice was monotone. i knew it was not meant for me, nor for any of my kin. despite this, i listened.
a list of numbers
some sugars
and some fats
perhaps some cells or some sediments. all this was calming. i felt the tranquil of the words. the sounds themselves, slipping through one another with some, shy as rabbits, hiding and with others, yelling with their rhythm, were making me numb. i thought it was poppy at first. but then i listened more closely.
i could see. yes, see the sounds, as they jumped and dashed. they were now mine, for me to listen and to watch them, as they slid through the nurse's worn lips. she perhaps thought of her words as reassuring, for sad sad news. perhaps she thought of them as bland, as to not colour my own thoughts before i seized them. perhaps she did not think of them at all, as i am just another number.
for me, the words were happiness. the phonemes, woven in satin, devoid of any meaning in my ears, were bright and smiling as a bulb. i felt the euphoria embrace me like a long lost friend that never was, making me shiver.
after was an eternity submerged in sound, i was not there anymore. improper thumps of cruel boots encircled me, masquerading as rhythmical. i was dragged across the cold cement, back into the slippery darkness.
a familiar feeling creeping into me, i wept.

Footnotes

1. Before knowing better, I was admiring the seemingly epic figures.

2. And with the same carelessness they entered Deadzones. It's people like them that lead to outbreaks of bookrot.

3. In my defense, I never saw the appeal in consuming astronomy books. Geometry textbooks are certainly more palatable.