Second floor
Hand on a stack of bibles. You can't make this shit up
text; B< I CAN'T SEE WHICH ONE I USED BECAUSE OF YOUR LAYOUT sobs
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[No need to wonder what he's talking about; hellhounds are baying in the background.]
youd better notbe dead again i swear to merlin
[voice] a series of messages over the days following the superhero event...
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Once he regains composure, though, he's more than happy to write back.]
John?
[Who else would bother writing to him, really, though.]
I can certainly try my very best. What questions do you have?
John,
I will be available around nine, if that is convenient for you.
-D
[Neatly stacked before the mirror are all of the books Blake had given him, minus Frankenstein, which he's keeping safely in his room, tucked away where no one can find it. On top of the stack is a crisply folded letter.]
You asked me to tell you what I thought of the book when I finished it, and these are my thoughts.
The novel, of course, is a classic. I can't believe I hadn't yet read it, and I do appreciate the recommendation. I feel perhaps it parallels quite nicely the life that we lead on this side of the mirror. We are all creations of a twisted and genius mind, made from hands out of our control and set upon an unsuspection population to reign unintentional terror. Largely misunderstood by the people of the town, and tragic in our own right.
But this was not meant to be a sad affair, there are too many of those in our lives as is without including the metaphors found in fiction.
I wanted you to know that I appreciate your kindness and your thoughtfulness, your willingness to engage with me despite what I am and the face that I wear. Many wouldn't take the time or effort to do service for a stranger, let alone a clone, and for that I truly do think highly of you.
The psychiatric texts were very enlightening. If you happen upon any that specialize in PTSD, I would sincerely appreciate it.
Any other novels you find enjoyable would be appreciated as well.
I've included a recommendation of my own for you, should you care to read it. You might have already.
-Dean
[Included in the stack is Orwell's 1984.]
These are his stories. [x]]
[text] 02/12: think you could give your buddy a call...? we could totally use like five hundred utility belts and some batarangs yo
[text] 02/12: you got any idea whos doing this?? any leads or whatever? is it another event?
[text] 02/13: dunno if these are going through. hit me up, man. havent heard from you
[voice] 02/13: [Obviously distraught:] "Hey, uh-- I don't know if you're like incommunicado, or whatever... But people keep dying, yo, come on, this is serious shit... Where are you?"
[voice] 02/14: [Even more distraught:] "Dude, seriously... You're freaking me out here, man. Pick up."
[voice] 02/15: [Jesse is at the end of his rope here, and at this point he's assuming the worst. What other choice does he have?] "Look, man... I don't know if you're getting these, or if it's just ringing into nothing or if-- if this dude iced you, or whatever." His voice sounds a bit raw, there.] "Um--" [There will be some rustling, like he's shifting against a wall, and a groan, and the sound of his hand sliding down the side of his face.] "Yeah. Just--" [That's it, that's the message.]
[voice] 02/16: [Slightly calmer, though there's still an edge of anxiety in his voice:] "Okay so apparently when people die here they just sorta wake up the next day like nothing happened. It's been four days, yo, you gotta be back by now, right?"
First, he remembers being in My Darling Clementine and then he remembers--oh, Blake.
Without delay, he's walking swiftly to Blake's room and knocking sharply. ]
It's me.
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