Monday, December 10, 2012

I'm going to tell you a story.

Our hero was the oldest of two brothers. He grew up in the streets of New York with a mother who died early and a father who deserved worse than hell. The hero took most of his father's abuse of course. He was determined to protect his brother any way he could. Which meant that after his father also died, he looked for any way to keep them together and safe. The opportunity presented itself in the form of the Irish mob.

Which leads us to our villain. He was an only child, and lived a rather idyllic life with his parents up until the edge of ten when he was kidnapped by a family friend. The man kept him in a basement for eight  years, torturing him as he saw fit. The villain killed him when he was eighteen. Police found him slightly later, where an officer under someone's payroll taught the boy to be an assassin.

Perhaps they would have never met each other, if not for the hero's younger brother. He was not content to let his brother make all of the sacrifices for the both of them, and became a drug dealer to make ends meet. He managed to make enemies with the wrong sort, and the assassin was called in to kill him. Which he did. The villain was quite good at his job.

Our hero was devastated, of course. His brother was everything to him, in many ways his whole reason for living. So he went on a quest for revenge and began to track the assassin down. It took a year of research and hard work, but the hero found him. And while they were evenly matched, the hero eventually found himself winning. He could have killed the man.

He didn't.

Over the years, the hero would give many reasons why he didn't kill the villain that day. Perhaps it was mercy, perhaps it was a connection forming. It's really hard to say. But the assassin lived, and through the efforts of the hero began to work for the Irish mob rather than against it. Eventually they became friends. And one day the villain arrived at the hero's door with two children.

Something happened inside the hero's mind that day. Somehow, he saw those children and in them saw his brother. They were a chance to make things right, a second opportunity to protect the ones he loved. So although they were technically called the assassin's children, he considered them his own.

Then the younger one, the girl, got sick. Having obtained them by illegal means the two men didn't have many options. While they did what they could, the girl died. The boy moved away shortly after, cursing his parents. The hero once again experienced profound loss.

Life went on like that for a while. The hero worked, not entirely sure what he was doing it for anymore. And he and the villain continued to bond. Though the hero never forgot who he was, what he had done. Regardless of how they felt for each other, he would always be the one who killed his brother. The one who killed his daughter.

But one day, the hero met our heroine. She was cop, lost in her own way, and looking to save her sister. Our hero instantly forged a bond with her, and once again found someone he could help. Once again he failed. But this time he refused to just go back to life as usual. He left everything, secluded himself. Drank away his sorrows. Until one day he came across someone who claimed to be able to help the heroine.

Now, this might be a good time to mention that 'cure' may not be the greatest term. It was long, intensive therapy. And the heroine's mind would always be susceptible to the Evil. but she would be able to function again. Think again. And the hero saw this as an opportunity. He started a blog, brought people in to his story. He introduced them to the heroine, hoping their care would lead the doctor to them.

And like clockwork, the villain came to him.

He put words into the hero's ears, made bloody and dramatic declarations telling him that the hero belonged in the dark. That that was where he would be happy. And little by little, the hero listened. He gave in to the temptation and the promises of this adversary who knew him so well. He joined the Evil, though he never told anyone. He was waiting for the right time, of course. The perfect moment that never came. And the villain was right, he was happy. But it didn't fix anything. So he sought out the doctor himself, and he forced him to help the heroine.

It took a long time. But little by little, the heroine began to return. The hero helped her as much as he could, with the villain lurking just behind. But he underestimated the heroine. She saw how he had come to her, the trail of fear and bodies that the hero had made in order to restore her mind. And she didn't like it one bit.

The hero was reintroducing her to firearms, a favorite of hers before her accident. She held the gun shakily but firmly. The hero asked her a question, looking over at the targets. She answered, hesitantly. And after a muttered 'I'm sorry' aimed the gun at the hero's head.

That was all the time the assassin had to respond.

He launched himself at the heroine, wrenching the gun out of her hands. She responded. There was a fight. While the villain put up a fight, the heroine got a shot into his leg. The hero stood there, trying to figure out what had happened. What the villain did. Even then, that's all the assassin was.

While focused on the injured villain, the heroine placed two shots into the hero's head. She left the villain there, content that he would bleed out.

I can't tell you why I'm telling you this story. Maybe I just think you should know. Maybe it's my last act as the villain of the story, to show you a side of Ronan you may not have known. It's hard to say what the moral of this is. What my husband's life was worth. What it means that he's gone now. But it's the end. Two bullets from a friend. It's both appropriate and an anticlimax, I think.

Stories need to be told.

And this one's reached its end. May he rest in peace.

Monday, July 23, 2012


I didn't mean to worry Derek. Or anyone else, if anyone else was worried. I'm really sorry about that. But things had to be done, which was why I was gone. And why I lied. It wasn't a big lie, either. Just a small one. I do feel bad about it though.

Through the notebooks, through collecting people's stories, I found something. Something that could help Minori.

And this is what it was always about. All the stories, all the talking to everybody. Dr. Spelling finds people through the blogs, you see. So I needed people to know. I needed people to care.

And so I lied, but only a little. I always wanted to talk to Minori. And by now, you hopefully understand why this was done.

And it was good! because I found him. I found him and I talked to him. And he's going to help.

He's going to cure Minori.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Derek again

Does anyone know where Ronan is? He's not answering his phone.

He left some of his notes here. Audio recordings, notebooks and the like. And I don't like what he's getting into. Or that he lied to me. All of us really.

Leave a comment here if you know where he is. Or know anything about a Dr. Spelling. I think he went to look for him. And as furious as I am at him right now, I just hope he's all right.

Friday, June 1, 2012

New York

That's where we're headed. David and I stopped there briefly when we first started travelling together, but not for very long. There was too much danger and too many memories. Maybe the same is true now, but David's got business. And I have spent far too long in fear. Plus there are lots of things I'd like to see again. New York still is my home, even if I haven't been there for a while. And I don't plan on burning it like I did my last one. Though that was sort of a house. The difference always sort of confused me.

Maybe I'll visit Minori.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012


It's been a while hasn't it? A lot been going on. I hung out with zombies and ran around cafes and went to see Derek and somehow ended up traveling with a proxy defector. As well as David, who people have probably noticed is a proxy.

Oh, and I'm speaking in first person now.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The Notebook: Minori

The Mad Ventriloquist thought a lot about his last conversation with David, and about the slender man, and all the deaths and crazy people he had been looking at. He sort of wondered how he had gotten into such a huge mess. But he went to the apartment anyway, if only to tell Minori not to go.

She was in the parking lot already when he arrived, wearing baggy pants to cover up the fact that her leg still wasn't perfect. She waved to The Mad Ventriloquist. He felt very guilty for a minute. It felt wrong, for some reason. It felt horrible.

He told her about the deal with David, and why they couldn't go into the apartment. She got really mad at him. The Mad Ventriloquist should have expected that. He tried to talk to her, tried to tell her how they would be safe, how nothing could bother them, how he didn't want her to die.

"So, you expect me to just let him continue? He killed my sister Ronan. I'm not the kind of person who becomes best friends with the person who slaughters my family." She said, then realized it was kind of a low blow and softened a bit. Just a bit though. "Why did you even think I would agree to this?" she asked.

"Because you're a survivor." I said, "Like David and me. You'll keep going, no matter what the cost. We're really not that different, Minori." Minori laughed. It was a bitter laugh, though. Not the actually happy kind. "I get that so much." she said, "How much I'm like you. Have you ever thought for one minute that maybe you're like me?"

The Mad Ventriloquist stopped. He wasn't sure how to answer that. Minori was strong, and brave, and full of unshakeable morals. The Mad Ventriloquist was nothing like that. But there was always that hope there. That thought that he could do something. That he didn't have to be the bad guy. That's when he realized that he didn't want to be the bad guy. It was a really weird moment.

"You need to stop believing in David so much. He's a monster." Minori began, and didn't even let The Mad Ventriloquist interrupt  "He brings you down. I know you like him, but you have to look at what he does to you. It's sick." The Mad Ventriloquist yelled at her for a few minutes about that and she yelled back and there was lots of yelling and it lasted a long time because neither one really wanted it to end.

"I'm going in there, I have to." Minori said finally. She knew they couldn't stay and yell at each other forever. The Mad Ventriloquist tried to stop her. He believed David when he said she wouldn't come out. The Mad Ventriloquist didn't want Minori to die.

"Just don't forget me, ok?" she asked.

"Don't talk like we'll never see each other again." The Mad Ventriloquist answered. She shook her head and laughed. "Even if I get out of here, we'll be on different sides won't we?"

He hugged her, one last time. Then he waited outside for her. He waited for several hours, just knowing that she was going to come back. Six hours later, she did.

Except her face was blank. Her eyes were empty. She walked right past The Mad Ventriloquist, didn't seem to recognize anything.

She was gone.

Monday, April 9, 2012

The Notebook: David

Minori was pretty much healed, and she and The Mad Ventriloquist were trying to find more people to interview. They couldn't find anything. Minori wanted to go back to the apartment. The Mad Ventriloquist didn't think that they would find anything there. Whoever it was had probably moved by now. Minori didn't think so.

"They chase other people off, they don't run." She said, "There's no way they would abandon a place just because we found it."

The Mad Ventriloquist thought that made sense, and it did turn out right in the end. But it still didn't sit right with him, and he told her so. She just smiled at him.

The Mad Ventriloquist eventually gave in, and they made plans to go before he went home. David was waiting for him. This wasn't really that out of the ordinary. David doesn't have a house. He moves from place to place, and when he was in New York, he used The Mad Ventriloquist's house. It sort of became normal to come in to David playing music at two in the morning or making himself a sandwhich in the kitchen.

But this time, David was sitting on the chair in the living room, waiting for The Mad Ventriloquist. "You can't go back." he said. The Mad Ventriloquist doesn't know how David knew about it, and David still hasn't said. "Why Not?" The Mad Ventriloquist asked.

"Because if you go, you won't come back."

The Mad Ventriloquist just laughed at him "The great David Banks actually afraid of something?" he said. David just sighed and pulled up his shirt. It took a while for The Mad Ventriloquist to figure out what David was trying to show him. His body is so badly scarred it's hard to see anything. But after a while, he did notice something that was new. Two scars that hadn't been there before, sleek and red and reaching all across his stomach. The Mad Ventriloquist had never seen a scar like that before. Rope came close, but not quite. This was completely smooth. It was unnatural.

"How did you get that?"

"He came to me the other night." David said, "And believe me, he is more than you could ever imagine. He could have killed me, right then and there. And you know how hard I am to kill Ronan."

The Mad Ventriloquist nodded.

"He wants me to join him. And there's room for you. I know that you hate it here, under incompetent fools who can barely keep you safe. Under him, you'll never have to worry about anything. And you'll be following someone worth following."

The Mad Ventriloquist stood there for a moment. "And Minori?"

"I've got something for Minori too. She doesn't even have to do anything for him. Just stop seeking him out, and she will be safe."

"I don't know if she'll do that."

"Oh, she will. She's a fighter, like you and me. When it comes down to it, she'll do what it takes to survive. I do like her, Ronan. I want her to be ok. But you both need to stay away from that apartment. At least for now."

The Mad Ventriloquist said nothing.


Then he nodded.

"Alright. I'll talk to Minori." He said.

David smiled and Hugged The Mad Ventriloquist.

"You made the right choice. You'll see."

And The Mad Ventriloquist believed him.