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.