̖͍̦̯̦̹͕ͬ̒̏͢͞W͓̘̩͙ͥ̑́͂͐a̸͊ͦ̅ͯ́҉͍͓̩͔͎l̗͚̰̬̘̫͎ͥͤ̓ͅl̻̄͆́
ͯ̔̈́̾.̣̠̯̝̞͚͚͒ͬ͆̅̈͜͢͢ ̬͇͍̞̫̱̟̒͛͑ͦͤͩ̐̾͟B A C K  ͉̝̰̣̩̞̭͌̆́̅̓̑̒͜SH O RT̷̡̺͒͗̐̒ LY…͑͌͐ͥ́͞҉̛̪̜̙
͔̿̍̈́̿͒ͭ̍ͮ̍҉̡̞̻̯̩̮̤̰̹O̲̯̯̭ͣͬ̔͘!̩̬͙͇͚͇̩̄̒͐͌̈͗ͨ̀ͅ

Part I – [link]

Hatstanding Work…

Further to my ‘The Hidden’ entry last week (as there’s reality in there between the gung-ho dramaticisms 😉 ), I’m making this place a tad less… personally identifiable and purging away the pictures of myself. So they don’t know I’m here…

Heh, sounds like the beginning of a contemporary Lovecraft story, but to-

Gah!! Admirable enthusiasm, Mr. Cthulhu, but it’s still not your time. The stars are all unaligned and messy and the end of days is a long way off, so back to bed with you. Go on, off you go…

As I’ve said before, they’re like over-zealous puppies, those Great Old Ones. Anyway, I do actually have a semi-finished modern-day Lovecraft-style story hanging about somewhere. However, as you’ll have noticed from my not crowing from the rooftops and dancing merrily in text form, every single one of my writing deadlines has slunk ashamedly past me and are now long gone; on their way, I hope, to fresher pastures than these. The state of my WIPs is pitifully mirrored by the state of our house’s single plant, which is now nothing but three dried claws sticking out of a pot.

‘This is a hardy plant’, the description sticker boldly claimed…

I am now using it as a hat stand.

Not Quite Shakespeare

Apologies for the tardy post

I really am a rubbish host

But my brain has been replaced with spam

Fried into a fritter, how lucky I am

.

Not to be too grumbly though

My mind has turned to crumbly dough

Which brings with it a certain bliss

That steers me away from places like this…

.

About the lack of updates: I’ve been processing and analysing so much new information in the past week that I’ve had to dedicate pretty much my entire being and faculties to getting through it all. Seriously – this is being typed by a team of highly trained monkeys doing their best to interpret my neanderthalic grunts and vague gestures.

Good work chaps.

The Hidden

They keep warning us.

They tell us about the dangers of our new responsibilities, that people are always listening. Always. And they are watching, with piercing eyes. If we say the wrong thing, at the wrong time, it could end us. Just like that. The power of language…

Ironic really.

But the dangers don’t stop there. You see, once they know who we are, they try and find us. There’s nothing to stop them, and no way we could even try. In this modern age, our presence runs deep; traces of ourselves are scattered across digital streets. So what happens when they find it? The boundary is broken, and cannot be resealed. We would be compromised, our authority undermined, and so we are forced to withdraw, to disguise and to conceal.

We hide before the eyes of many, or else we are powerless.