Tuesday, April 17, 2012


The Messenger here.  Paying my last respects.

I'm not going to call this a Report.  After all, she's not actually dead.  But Poe...Annabel...whoever she was...she's still gone.  I didn't kill her.  But I killed who she is.  And I think that might be worse.
I loved her, and I killed her, so the least I can do is remember her.  Not as Annabel, since that's ultimately what ruined her.  But as Poe.

The first time I actually spent time with her was after Caper's death.  We bonded over a death.  Guess that shows how messed up our type are, huh?  We couldn't get to know each other until someone died.
She always wore those dresses.  The Gothic Lolita ones.  She explained the style to me.  I told her I thought Lolita was about pedophilia.  She wasn't happy.  Tried to explain.  I told her I was just joking.  That I liked the dresses.  And I did.  They looked good on her.  I guess...I kind of missed them when she stopped wearing them at the end.

She had an amazing memory.  Whenever she told me about things she went into such detail.  When she told me about books or movies or blog posts she could recite them from memory near flawlessly.  I would stop her.  Tell her I only needed the basics.  I feel terrible about that now.  I never told her how impressed I was with her memory.  I only asked her if it'd always been that good.  She said that it was ironic, but she couldn't remember. 

She wore her hair in bunches tied up with these ribbons and it always looked really cute even though she always looked so sad and I just wanted to see her happy.  I only saw her happy when she tried being Annabel and when she was drunk.  Which I guess might have just been Annabel sneaking through.  Her smile was so forced otherwise.  It was like she was trying to be happy through the pain, but the pain was still there.  and it hurt.  I just wanted to see her happy.  And I did but I don't think it was worth it now.

There's so much I'll remember that I could say.  How soft her skin felt.  The way she looked at everything so analytically and pulled all the parallels and symbolism and subtleties out of it right away.  The sound of her voice.

That smile.

But there's too much of it.  And it really doesn't need to be said.  They're the personal ways I'll remember her.  They're how I knew her.  But it's clear now that I never really knew her.  So I shouldn't tell you how you should remember her. 

Remember her how you want to.

Take a moment and do that.  I think she'd like that.  Even if you didn't like her.  Because that's how you saw her.  And I think she'd want to be remembered as you saw her.

I'm sorry, Poe.

I'm sorry, Annabel.

I love you.

I'll miss you.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Friday, April 13, 2012


It was many and many a year ago

Memories just mix together, float by.

I don't know what any of them mean

Sometimes I think I can grasp them, and I reach forward but they're lies. Or they fall apart like bubbles.

In a kingdom by the sea.

Am I anything now? Maybe this was all a dream and I'm going to wake up where I've always been. Nothing has changed. He won. Screwtape was right. I should have been a shell.

Who is Screwtape?

It was many and many a year ago

I remember warmth. Love. But I don't remember where it's from.

O xaqiq M tu bumz kegdr

He was a child

and I was a child

I deserve this. After everything I've done.

I wish there was a better way.

O xaqiq M tu bumz kegdr

Sadsd O pwwqk chc

It was many and many a year ago

Many and many

Many and many


Tuesday, April 10, 2012

I remember

I remember that my parents were named Peter and Lydia. They were both english majors. There was a lake, I think. A place where my father went fishing.  Clear blue water. Calm. I used to sit there, by the lake.

I remember liking turkey. It was something I didn't remember until Donovon came back. He mentioned how I ordered a turkey sandwhich. Funny how he knew that. But now I do. Turkey.

My last name is Johnson.

I loved The Dark Is Rising series by Susan Cooper. I liked my hair short, and had these old worn out khaki pants that I loved to death.

I remember looking at a boy, and he told me that I was amazing. I didn't believe him, and told him so. He laughed at me and quoted something. A book I think.

No, that was Poe. I don't want to remember Poe. She was a monster. She killed her coworker.

Like Caper did.

I was much more like him then I thought.

Poe was, I mean.

I liked anime. Not as much as now. I can't whistle. When I was in third grade I outwitted my terrible principle and befriended a kindly teacher.

No, that last part isn't right. Actually I think it's from Matilda.

The point is, I remember.

I remember so many things.

It's just hard not to remember Caper, how he was always kind to me though he covered it as a joke, how Eddie came every other day for a month after I became Poe, to make sure I was all right.  When I found my first runner and Caper called me a genius. When Caper died. That raven's neck breaking.  Caper's first Christmas present to me. Screwtape's abuse. Being with Messi. Screwtape laughing, getting his way even in death.

I can't. That isn't me. It's not me anymore.

I am Annabel.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

It's done.

I am not proud of what I have done. I have lied to Messi. I have lied to all of you. I have caused so many deaths, even when I don't give the killing blow. This time I did.
Screwtape is dead. I killed him myself. I do apologize for lying to you all about the runner I was protecting. There was no runner. I just had to make Screwtape believe that there was. The coordinates led to a place I had been scouting out for some time now. It's in the middle of nowhere. No one ever came there. Muad'Dib would fly me there every once in a while and I would plant traps. Some were simple snares, others were a bit more malicious depending on how much pain Screwtape had inflicted on me that day. I wasn't really sure if I would ever use it. I wasn't sure if I was capable.

Then I saw Donovan's head.

I really wasn't myself for a while. However, when I came back I knew what I had to do. I also knew how to do it. Screwtape never did think much of me. He always thought of me as stupid. When I posted a thinly veiled code on my blog, he didn't think twice about how easy it was. I had him exactly where I wanted him.

I can't believe I did it.

By the time I got there, he was waiting for me. Stuck in a hole, praying quietly. He looked up at me when I approached. "Hello there Raven." He said to me, "So this is your grand revenge plan? Rather typical of you, I must say." I didn't say anything. Just took a gun and shot his kneecaps. He didn't show his pain much. He said nothing, actually.

I jumped down into the hole and pulled out a knife. We both said nothing. I could have just slit his throat. That's what I should have done. I didn't want to. Instead, I caused him pain. I wanted to pay him back for everything he had ever done with me.

He didn't fight back. Perhaps it was because of his knees being shot. Yet I had the nagging feeling he still didn't take me seriously. He seemed to think I couldn't hurt him. Maybe he thought I was just too weak to do any damage.

I showed him otherwise. Zombie told me that he didn't believe in revenge. That his skills were meant to heal, and he hated how much that had been perverted. He let me watch anyway. I knew exactly where to cut to make it hurt most.  I slammed him against the walls of the hole until his bones broke. I bent his fingers back and pulled out his teeth. I did everything I could think of. Eventually the pain became too much. He started screaming. Then he stopped, and for once I saw fear in his eyes. It didn't last long, and was soon replaced with something else.

That's when he started laughing.

It shook me for a moment. Then I continued cutting. I couldn't stop. Even though Screwtape seemed to be ecstatic. I just needed to cause him more pain. I hit and I cut and I rubbed dirt into the wounds. I was out of control. I didn't want to be in control. I finally stopped. He was a bloody mess in the middle of a hole, still laughing. I can't get the sound out of my head.

"Thank you father." Screwtape said, "Thank you for letting me see. You truly make no mistakes." then he coughed and smiled at me. "Welcome to the family, Poe."

I snapped his neck.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

I guess I'm posting again.

There has been a lot going on. A lot of things that I don't really want to talk about. Zombie tells me that I need to, though. Not all of it, of course. Just enough to help me deal with things. Prevent me from going back to where I was.

Donovan's dead.

Screwtape sent his head to me in a box. Zombie is the only reason that I can talk to you again. He's been very patient. Very kind. I was gone for a while. It was just like it was before. I can't really remember much of it. When I'm like that, everything shuts off. I'm no longer anyone anymore.

I think that was what Screwtape was trying to do. Break me. He always told me that I didn't deserve awareness. For a while, he took it away from me. He miscalculated my friends, and how much they'd go through to help me.

Saved by the power of friendship. This hardly seems the place.

Even now, I am not completely back to normal. I still feel... hollow is the only way to describe it. As if not all of me is here. It's hard to concentrate and nothing feels truly... real. Zombie's helping me. So is Messi, as much as he can. I just don't know how long I can hold on to myself.

K hpzv detr gtoiitvick r tucrvt. I zrfy twek K swslnd csk, dui trtt dj dg ddijpt reig accdqrt. M ncni xf uaki jqmtseg. Srvvytptv fotwev kcsn cbdyk jib. Lzu icjftmpxzqn xw fp mn prrtdt, vpcgcgves yefeg seg ou xyg oilvt fxpvu. Ptvycph mk kscx ggruitv, bjx zvs evfverxvf hxq jq fpv. Z eac seny wsgg ii gfptxrlgs is uq sd.