continuing...

Dearest Asnick,
if you are anyone, you will be no one. if you have a family, you will have none. if you have a home it will be gone. you will no longer exsist to anyone you loved or cared for. you may ask why, but the only answers will be hidden in everyday things. the worn bark on a tree, a candy wrapper littering the ground or a lost cat poster. if you are quick enough to follow the clues, maybe you can keep your life... but i don't know if you would want if now... sincerly Defious Deants

"What the fuck?" Asnick swore quitely, "Who does this guy think i am? How the fuck does he know who i am?"
Something inside her cracked. The events of the night already had her in a cold sweat. The intial waking up in a strangers house, stealing from them and not knowing where on earth she was, had her nerves set on the edge and then to be lost in unfamilar bush land with a dud torch for what felt like four hours had killed any clear, optimistic thinking and strangled her emotions. And now to be informed that she is nothing and that if she wanted to continue living she'd have to follow some trail of clues. It infuriated her.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? Is my life a game to you?" She screamed into the dark, "You must be seriously screwed up to think this is funny!"
She only felt marginally better after this outburst and examined the note again. This guy wouldn't kill me, would he? she thought to herself, and how could he make my family, friends and Josh forget me? It must be just a joke. maybe following the clues would help me get out of here. theres nothing really to lose.
So Asnick examined the posters on the street light again and remembered that the lost cat notice was meantioned in the note. She scanned the sheet of decaying paper four times before she noticed the little green markings along its bottom edge. "with bends this sharp, no wonder they left more than skid marks." She immediatly thought of faeces stains on white y-fronts, but knew thats not what this guy was talking about. Deciding to risk it, she jogged along the road into the semi-darkness trying to make out any signs of burnt rubber or that of a bend in the road. At least half an hour had past and she still hadn't come across anything, maybe she had gone the wrong way, missed a hidden turn off or missing the tracks completely. Then out in front of her she glipsed a wire hanging over the road, infact she then noticed that the wire crossed the road numerous times, in a zig-zag fashion. It almost reminded her of a flying-fox her dad had built her older brothers, Trenkin and Sinor when they were younger. The road sloped downward suddenly and Asnick had to slow down to make sure she didn't trip, she could see water or something glistening at the bottom of the hill near the side of the road. As she approached it a fowl stench filled her nostrils, it was one of the more discusting things she had ever smelt. It made her think of the time when Trenkin forgot to clean out his rabbit's hut for two weeks and found it dead, buried in its own waste. Asnick stopped walking and just stared at the shadow and the glistening puddle below it. Mother of God! it can't be!
She ran towards the shadow, hoping she wouldn't trip and land face first in, what she got the nagging feeling was, blood. the smell got worse and worse and when she got within five metres of the shadow, it was no longer a shadow.
His coarse, black (well everything would look black in that light) hair was covering his face, which was probally good, because his mouth was twisted unnaturally, his skin bleached and his eyes had become empty pitts, like gateways to hell. Not for the first time, she swore under her breath. His hands were tied to a chain that had been looped over the wire, and his body hung limp, dangling a foot or so above the ground. he must of been there for atleast a day already. The smell was intense, a strong mix of urine and shit. The fuck deants wasn't talking about cars at all, he really was talking about faeces in the pants. arrg! (she probally said shit, but I wanted to avoid the bad word choice) the body moved slightly in the wind, but Asnick couldn't feel the slightest breeze. and then Jorge let out a moan. Asnick screamed.

[Authors note: please excuse Asnick's language, its dark and scary and she is totally freaked out. You would be swearing more if you were in her position, i know you would. You probally would of wet your pants ages ago. peace out]

the ladders on the outside of apartment block are called fire escapes, which makes sence to call stories reality escapes. the ladders are to escape from the fires and the stories are to escape from reality. pretty straight forward...

The lights went out and the world around Asnick subsided to shadows, the edges only faintly outlined by the slither of moon hanging in the sky. A curse creapt out of asnick's lips as she relised that the spare batteries she had so carefully stored in her coat pocket were gone. Feeling around inside the pocket to make sure she hadn't just imagined their absence she discovered a piece of paper. Asnick didn't remember putting anything of this sort into her pockets and so took it out and tried to examine it. Which was utterly useless because of the lack of light, the piece of paper may have been blank for all she knew. She turned around and started off cautiously into the dark, back the way she came. Hitting the odd tree and stubbling on the occasional ground living object, asnisk noticed the glow of a street light up ahead through the trees. Ignoring the path that eventually would end at the same destination, she bush bashed through the low pines and surrounding shrubbery. Finally reaching the road she felt quite strange, like she wasn't meant to be there, as if she was breaking the law just by standing where she was. Hoping for some sign to hint where she was, she scanned the road, only to see nothing of any assistance. She even examined the street light, trying to distinguish the suburb name on a lost cat notice, but it was weather worn and didn't help at all. The only bit of information that she got from the faded notices on the street light post, was that there was, or once was a circus touring somewhere around, Ms Hifen or Hilfen or Hilten was selling a trampoline and that of a missing black cat by the name of Jeeves. Sighing, Asnick suddenly remembered the mysterious piece of paper. Taking it out she noticed that it was infact black, with red writing that was only visible if you held it in the light a certain way. The text was strangely perfect, as if someone had written it out many times and knew exactly what they were saying before they wrote it onto this sinister piece of paper. She began to read...

um.. sorry i gotta get off the comp, but tune in next time when i write something else. woo hoo, holiday fun is only the begining...

today is thursday. reminds of the band. good band too. mountain ranges, mourning red bathed ridges. hows life going for you? did you have a good christmas? to me, it really didn't feel like christmas, just another sunday... maybe i've lost my christmas spirit. stab up at the trembling blue horizon, grey slides lazily off rooftops, lands on the incandescnent ground and dies. but i never really had the "christmas spirit" i guess. sure i enjoyed giving and recieving presents and i acknowleged that it marks Jesus' birthday (even though the 25th of Dec is actually Saint Nick's b'day, the guy santa claus is mirrored from), but i wasn't really wrapped in the whole christmas carols, decorating the tree, seeing christmas lights peope around the neighbourhood put up. i used to think that they must be so bored with thir lives to be bothered to do that. A flock of little men touch down on the thin surface of the porchlight, dawns footsoldiers return, to match twilight across our faces. but i guess those people should be admired for being bothered, sometimes it seems as if people in general are get less and less motivated to do anything. not to say everyone should put up extravagent christmas lights, but just that we should be more bothered to make an effort to enjoy ourselves. what a stupid thing is a cbf life. skylights ignite and explode, scattering shards of april around the room. it even sounds a little suicidal, doesn't it? if people are that unmotivated with life, sould they kill themselves? if they go on and on about not wanting to be alive anymore, should they kill themselves? maybe it would help them, sometimes i think, but the space left behind would be devistating. I'm lucky i've never lost anyone close to me to death. but that luck won't last forever. no one even lives here, we're too busy crashing our cars every morning at the same house. paving the same roads, unwilling to walk them. and a suicide is so emotionally confusing, a death itself is, but a suicide leaves so many more questions undone. and it cheats everyone who ever cared about that person. how selfish of the dead soul, but maybe they were just tired of everyone elses selfish lives, tired of giving. and even when we extend ourselves, its only to be included, in a moment that stands still. so often we don't struggle to improve conditions, we struggle for the right to say "we improve conditions". suicide is such a touchy and dangerous subject. its so easy to stay to one side of the issue, stick to the common belief that every life deserved to be lived, even if thats not shown through all of our actions. those people who disagree with that, what happened to them? where have they been? where have they lost all interest in life? was there even a reason or was there just the outcome? and so often we form communities, only to use them as exclusionary devices. we forget that somewhere a man is beside himself with grief. questions annoy me, answers that don't make sence annoy me even more. but i guess things can just 'be' without any reason or cause and to ask 'why?' would be a waste of time. like in my drama class when we had to do interpretations of scripts, there weren't set reasons why we did it like we did except that we liked it like that. but of course that is not a sufficiant answer. we forget that somewhere people are calling out for teachers and no one is answering. somewhere a man stands, walks across the room, and breaks his nose against the door. sometimes things don't work out right. like when someone calls sick an hour before the movie starts. or when you can't find your favourite pair of pants. or things that really matter, like when someone tries to kill themselves. it gives them a second chance, maybe one they don't want at the time, but something they'll apprecate later on in life. i don't think you can't appreciate anything when your dead. and somewhere these people are keeping records and writing a book, for now was can call it "the book about the basic flaw" or "the book about the letter 'A'" or any title that a book about a man that no one cares about might have". i'd hate to be forgotten. i hate feeling like i already have been.
and as we turn the pages we call out the sounds, the sounds of a vanishing alphabet standing here waiting...

...the crows are flying eastward...

..::>Dresden Dolls<::..

coin operated boy

coin operated boy
sitting on the shelf he is just a toy
but i turn him on and he comes to life
automatic joy
that is why i want a coin operated boy

made of plastic and elastic
he is rugged and long-lasting
who could ever ever ask for more
love without complications galore
many shapes and weights to choose from
i will never leave my bedroom
i will never cry at night again
wrap my arms around him and pretend....

coin operated boy
all the other real ones that i destroy
cannot hold a candle to my new boy and i'll
never let him go and i'll never be alone
not with my coin operated boy......

this bridge was written to make you feel smittener
with my sad picture of girl getting bitterer
can you extract me from my plastic fantasy
i didnt think so but im still convinceable
will you persist even after i bet you
a billion dollars that i'll never love you
will you persist even after i kiss you
goodbye for the last time
will you keep on trying to prove it?
i'm dying to lose it
my confidence...
i want it
i want you
i want a coin operated boy.

and if i had a star to wish on
for my life i cant imagine
any flesh and blood could be his match
i can even take him in the bath

coin operated boy
he may not be real experienced with girls
but i know he feels like a boy should feel
isnt that the point that is why i want a
coin operated boy
with his pretty coin operated voice
saying that he loves me that hes thinking of me
straight and to the point
that is why i want
a coin operated boy.