Sunday, November 28, 2010

New ground

I don't know if I will update here again, I am trying a new thing here.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Katjas story again

 "We should meet."

The night is heavy. My lacerated knees scrapes against the concrete floor. I must not let them heal. My hands are locked as in a prayer and tears are streaming, streaming down my face. Fresh blood. Iron.
At first I could not hear his voice through the chaos. The spirit went mad. Their screams felt like knifes through my head.
Now I hear him too clearly. He speaks in a language I do not understand. Two wrinkles between his eyebrows.
It's a lecture and I know I must listen, that it is important, but I do not understand the words.
When did I get here? When will I be home? Sam, I love you. Sam, you are my everything. Sam, you are the world and lite and death and blood and the executioner and the Saviour.
The wounds on my back are fresh. I have been punished, but I do not know of my crime. Inshallah!
It scares me that I can no longer close my eyes, that I am not alone in my head, that the spirits are my world. It scares me that I do not know where I am going or where I will end up. Sam is everything. Sam is everything there is.
Suddenly I realize. Sam is saying farewell. This is our last dance of death and he shall never return.
When his heavy footsteps leaves the room I want to scream. My heart is bleeding, my voice is hoarse of sorrow when I reel off prayers, curses, I am begging, but he is gone. I haul my palms against the floor until they are leaving red marks. I am alone, alone, ALONE.
What does a human do without her saviour? What do you do when the lights has gone out and the world dwells in darkness? When the bridges has cracked and the lava wells out? What do I do without Sam?
The pain is so real, the first reality I've tasted in forever. I bite my arm and drink my own blood. I cannot stand the screams and mix my own with theirs. No one can hear me, no one can find me, no one can save me.

Save me!

Help me!

Who am I without Sam?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Cthulhu cultist in town

When Halloween got near she felt relieved. This was the one time at the year that she could show her true self to the world without getting any crap for it. She felt joy in putting on the cloak, the mask and the medallion, and she felt comfort in the fact that soon, very soon, the stars would be right.

(A little display of my Halloween outfit, complete with a cute paperback edition of the Nectronomicon!)

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Katja's story

The drunk taken out from the back seat sleeps, snoring. His stench fills up the world when Katja takes him on her shoulder and carries him up the stairs to the apartment. She has to use up even more blood to manage and starts to feel a worry spreading through her body. It is as if everything has shifted a bit, like reality does not really have what it takes to visualise her world.

Tobbe walks in front of her. She can see that his shoulders are shaking as if he is crying, but she knows it is the cold. The longing for the kicks. The longing for yesterday. She wished he would go back, but he is very determined and she doesn't want to give order. No more orders. They were friends, right? She needs no slave or servant, just his friendship.

He unlocks the door. It is dark in the apartment and she drops the drunk at the couch. The single light in the ceiling is lit and its sudden light almost makes Katja flinch.

The voices have started again. They say a thousand things. Their voices chatter. The spirits are hungry. They demand blood. Blood that she must give them. They don't seem to understand what she intends to do, instead they talk about Tobbe.

"You must do it." they say. "You must give him to us. Give Tobbe to us. To us."

She shakes her head and walks over to her ghoul. He is standing with his face turned to the black painted windows, almost as if he could see something outside.


A hand on his shoulder, and by that light touch she can feel how tense he is and removes the hand again. Want to help. Can help. Determined she unroll the bandage around her wrist and uncover two deep, open wounds.

"Tobbe. Drink."

He doesn't hesitate for long, the calm that no chemical preparations may give him any more can be given temporarily from Katja's blood. Salvation. She cannot get the same thing back any more though. Their symbiosis is gone. Their common ground has moved. Without his drugs he is tense and she is completely exposed to the dark waters of insanity.

Memories starts to show before Katja's eyes. The memory of how much blood she has used and sacrificed the last couple of nights. The question about when she last ate and the answer that she could not remember.

When it is over the storm arrives. The red mist that sweeps away everything in its merciless flood.
Afterwards. Afterwards the walls are stained with blood. Tobbe lies unmoving in a corner of the room. The drunk is not asleep anymore. He begs silently with his bleeding lips. He has a hole where there should be flesh. What it is that made reality return to Katja she doesn't know, but she must act fast. The last of the drunks blood is consumed, gives her strength, and then she breaks the rules again. He gets his blood back mixed with hers. He changes, transformes, you already see the madness glowing in his eyes. Katja weeps when she snatches up the drumstick she pinched from Brujah last week. Breaks the tip. Makes sure that he who recently was just a drunk but now is her childe keeps still. His red-tainted eyes looks surprised and she almost laughs through the tears. It looks silly.

Her attention goes to Tobbe instead. She kneels besides him, tries to see what is wrong. The bad conscience stabs and stabs and the spirits continue to speak.

"Now is the time. Take him now. Give him to us. We need him. Now you have someone else. Give him to us!"

They have gotten it all wrong. She notices that he is breathing and gives him more life. He heals quickly. The world has a new interesting blurr due to the alcohol from the new family member.

“Sorry.” Katja says.

It is just an empty word. Nothing that can erase the regret she feels. On purpose she gives Tobbe too much, lets him be swept away by the intoxication and pain from the healing.

Now is the time. That is something the voices got right. Now is the time. She makes the preparations almost mechanical. The newspaper clips is ripped down from the wall. Symbols are drawn with a thick, black marker. A pentagram on the floor. The newly born malkavian in the middle of it.
Katja sits down by his side. She knows that he knows, that he is awake. That he wonders and thinks and feels, but cannot move. What she is about to do fills her with illness and despise for herself, but she must do it. The spirits will do something awful if she doesn't give them of her blood, and he is her blood now. His whole life ripped apart in a few hours, stolen by her. She is a life-stealer. She doesn't deserve to please the spirits.

Tears are still falling when she raises the knife. It is no sacrificial dagger, just an ordinary bread knife with occult symbols carved into the wooden handle. Slowly she begins to chant in a language she herself almost don't understand. The blade penetrates his jugular. More blood. Always blood. Blood everywhere. In desperation she continues to stab. She stabs and stabs and can feel how her childes' mind is poking her own, wondering, screaming in panic, not understanding. Go! He must be gone! She starts to sever the head from the neck with her pathetic knife. How long it takes and if it succeeds mostly because of her again strengthened powers is impossible to know. Somewhere in the room she can hear sobbing and echoes of sobbing. She knows that she herself is crying, but assume that Tobbe also is doing it. That he knows what is happening. That he knows how she is falling, feeling her darkness embrace everything.

It is over now. Katja has broken the rules again. Her heart is beating like crazy. The spirits is quiet. Only the sticky warmth on her hands and legs remain.

Edited and corrected by Max. Many thanks!

Monday, October 18, 2010

Hell is in my head

Nine, ten - Never sleep again.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Supernatural love

Well, for everyone that's been following me over at Facebook it's old news, but anyhow, here goes: I really, really love the show Supernatural. It is the X-files of the 2000. It has absolutely everything; ghosts, cryptids, demons, good acting, interesting characters, enchanting plots, a sense of humour and nice quality in filming aswell as the special effects. Another nice thing about it is all the references to horror movies, popular culture and music.
Oh, about the music. A real treat is that they've made this super modern show, with modern plots and thinking and then almost exclusivly plays rock classics as music. Isn't that just great?

And I would really like to live in Sam and Dean's world. I would like to know what goes bump in the night and how to fight it, that it can be fought. I am so sick and tired of being scared all the time.