Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Pale Men

Took the time to give Silas a funeral. No body, unfortunately, but felt it was necessary. Going to try to stay in control of emotions while I write.

It is difficult.

Had to quit writing yesterday. Felt myself breaking down... the loss of a family member is difficult. It is the worst kind of pain. A pain that only time can numb. Can't deny that I expected it a bit. I expect to lose more before this is all over with. Wonder if it gets easier the more it happens. Suspect some of the other runners might have the answer to that. But for all my attempts at stoicism, I am... I was unprepared for it.

Three nights ago, we were making the nightly preparations. Setting alarms for sleeping in shifts. Silas and Roland are not used to sleeping during the day, and I cannot ask them to adopt my strategy if they do not want to. So they were to sleep in shifts, so two of us would remain awake at all times. The size of Silas' house was a comfort during the day, but the night cast an unpleasant gloom over the place. It also meant more entry points for proxies...

As if proxies are worth worrying about anymore.

Dumah has been quiet since the last attack. I have only caught occasional glimpses of It watching at a distance. Never lingering long. Never letting me forget that It could strike at anytime, and any place. I kept this in mind as I watched and listened. The radio was playing an unpleasant song. I do not know the name, but the lyrics and tune were unnerving to me.

"The dance of the puppets
The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun.
I walk a road horizons change
The tournament's begun."

This as far as the song went before a burst of static drowned out the music. The lights themselves seemed to dim to an unnatural low. I felt very cold... Silas and I woke the idiot and we prepared ourselves for Dumah's entrance. We were frozen in place however, when we heard a bizarre chattering sound coming from the hall. Another seemed to reply... It was a strange thing to hear. I do not think a human could make that sort of noise. It seemed... Insect like. This was clearly not Dumah, and so my thoughts went to proxies. I drew my gun and prepared, Silas following suit with a shotgun. The idiot had an aluminum bat.

We entered the hall with guns prepared to fire, but we saw nothing and no one. In a moment of... Stupidity, brought on by fear, I took several steps further into the hall. That clicking noise echoed from the stairs. Silas and I slowly went towards the stairs, while Roland kept a watch behind us. Creaking boards underneath our feet and the faint static from the radio were our company as we stalked for what seemed like an eternity towards those stairs. As we stood beside the stairs, preparing to look at our foe, I felt Roland's elbow hit me, and I turned. At the end of the hallway where we came from were three pale men, clad in long dark coats with wide brimmed hats. In their hands were long daggers, glistening in the faint light.

In shock I aimed my gun and nearly fired, when Silas cried out. When I turned back, I saw another pale man with dagger raised and covered in a dark red liquid. Silas collapsed and I yelled, and I turned and I shot the murderer. His cold blue eyes showed no emotion, his face conveyed no pain, as I saw the bullet lodge in him as he staggered backwards from the force. Having seen what had happened, Roland struck him with the bat and kept striking until he was forced backwards down the stairs. More clicking came from the strange men across the hall, and clicking from the stairs answered.

I fired my gun at the approaching men. The stress, the fear... I know it threw my aim off badly. But I hit them. I know I hit them. They staggered slightly, but kept approaching at foreboding pace. Roland charged them with the bat, growling as he went, but as he did I heard steps upon the stairs and saw a pale man emerge slashing with his dagger. But the adrenaline had kicked in, and I tried grappling with the man to take his knife. I am no weakling. My father was a war veteran and a rather paranoid one. He made sure that I had the skills to survive an attack from enemy soldiers, and I adopted the training regimen of a soldier quite enthusiastically. I maintain it to this day. But despite this, despite the fact I know I am a strong man, this pale murderer possessed a strength I could not call human.

I received several unpleasant wounds from that knife. Roland fared little better. He was angry of course. He managed to knock one of the intruders on the floor temporarily, but we could not get them to relent. We could barely even slow them. So I yelled for Roland to follow me, and we entered a nearby bedroom, locking the door behind us. Roland had been stabbed several times but the adrenaline was keeping him up. I told him to break the window and he did, as those... Entities entered. With no other options we had to jump out of the window. The snow was a poor cushion for our fall.

I twisted my ankle in the fall and limped away with Roland to the van. That was when we noticed the smoke.  Arriving at the van, we could see that much of the house's front was engulfed in flames. The intensity of the fire would surely consume the house in minutes... So we fled. Roland drove while I nursed my wounds in the back of the van.

As we drove off, I could see the strange men gathering together in front of the house, watching us depart... But amid the fire and smoke, I could see that tall silhouette towering over the pale men. I... wept. I cried as It watched us escape. As it let us escape.

Whether or not it knew of our preparations is irrelevant. There was nothing we could have done to prepare for that onslaught... Silas was, something of a last hope for me. Now I have no plan, and nowhere to go except away. Away from those... Things and their damned master. But they'll catch up. Sooner or later. They'll corner us... We'll feel the sting of their knives and fall just like Silas did... God...

Help us. Please. Anyone.


  1. They always have to find out there is no hope for themselves. Everyone thinks they're special. It's almost heart breaking.

    Welcome to the hunt.

  2. Hope soldier, or your fucked!

    You have military past, something I was not aware of, how do you think your father survived trough war, lots of hope. Thats how all of us soldiers go trough shit like that. Thats how I'm still going, hope, no, not even hope, a certainty, a fact, there is an end to this, just like there was a beginning.

    So get it together and concentrate.

    - Mr. Incognito.