Friday, September 30, 2011

Sowing Season

I've been trying. I honestly have. I attempt to keep my moods in not burst into anger at random intervals. To not be expressive. But this curse that has been planted on me...Sowing Season. It's unpredictable. I go from having no emotions at all, to violently expressive. Which is, ironically, a good thing for me; without Grey's prior influence on me, I would have no emotions, at all. I would be some robot, or better yet, an ocean with no waves.

Today I let out the anger at both the worst of times...and best of times. You see, today was the meeting for membership into The 757. Everything was going smoothly, and we had multiple possible appliants to choose from...even if most of them were weird. See, apparently, most of the appliants were avid believers of witchcraft and other famous occult subjects, like spirits and fairies.

Steven and I don't believe in that shit...

The meeting was being held in some Walmart parking lot out into the city of Suffolk at around five. Steven drove the two of us there, along with our little brothers, Alec and Liam. Alec and Liam were both a year younger than us, so it wasn't like we were bringing annoying toddlers with us.

We got to the lot around four-thirty. They went to browse the aisles in the supermarket, while we sat in the car and waited for the appliants. One by one, they arrived, until about seven people were here...which, at least felt like the ideal amount of people we needed.

But the appliants...they just didn't feel right. I knew it right off the bat. No, it wasn't because of the fact that most of them were much, much older than us, or the fact that one of the people there seemed almost like an annoying fan of our blog, it was more of an instinctual feeling. The 757 needs to be a circle of fellow marked victims of The Fears, so that we all share something in common. These fuckers didn't know what they were dealing with, so before we got around to meeting everyone, I pulled Steven aside and told him that this wasn't right. If we went up against The Dying Man with these jokers, we would be squashed like roaches.

He understood, but he possesses tact. He convinced me to at least look at the appliants. So, with extreme dispassion, Steven and I interviewed them all. Most of the interviews were a boring chore, but...there was this one guy.

A homeless-looking man wearing a hoodie and torn blue jeans, with some type of greek lettering marked on the back of the hoodie. I remember being struck by how rough the guy's face was, but recalling it now, I can't actually place how it exactly looked.

Except for the eyes. This kid never got any sleep.

Oh...wait...kid? How old did he look anyways? Another thing I seem to have forgotten...

The first few questions I asked, which were generic ones like "Where do you live?" he gave terse, simple answers. But once the more complicated ones were asked, he seemed to start looking at me in a different way. Halfway through the interview, his head rapidly began glancing away from me, and soon, he was wildy looking around. His eyes looked so paniced, and sweat blanketed his forehead.

I stopped the interview, and asked him what was wrong.

"This was a bad decision, mate. Bad, bad, bad."
"What do you mean?" I asked.

"...He's always watching.... See that tree over there?"

There was no tree, considering we were in a parking lot; he was pointing out a streetlight...but I said yeah anyways.

He grinned and replied in a dopy voice,

"That's a nice tree."

I scratched my head and looked around nervously...I got paired with a crazy dude...of course.

"Look, sir, we don't have time to play around. What are you so scared of?"

His grin faded and he looked at me with a sober face.

"That's not a good question. At all. IN FACT, it sucks. See, you should have asked ["What are you NOT scared of?"]. Because when you're in my position, look at everything, and everyone, with a second glance. No, you should ask yourself that...what are YOU scared of?"

I felt like he was wasting my time there...Sowing Season stole my Fears away from me. So I answered,

"I'm not scared of anything."

He shook his head...

"Impossible. You are,...I'm aware of your exploits, Owen GREY (he yelled my middle name out, for some reason) Norris. Why are you so arrogant to think that your fears have vanished? How do you know Mr. Rivers was telling the truth?!"

"...I...I don't're right, but that-"
"And even if he was telling the truth,'re a don't deserve a power like that. I'm not saying Rivers should have left you to die by that organization, but that power you -supposedly- possess? It would do much better for one of the other bloggers to possess, don't you think?"

"I guess...but..."

"I don't have the time to converse with you...he's always watching, even if he can't be near due to this town's....eccentricities...I have a warning to give....It's important...SO LISTEN."

"...That thing that haunts this'll get stronger, and there's nothing you can do to stop that. It's already discovered the heart of Portsmouth. Literally...


The ham at the ending of the sentence made me snort, but a dire sense of panic set in. How could Grey get any stronger than he already is? And once he is could we even hope to kill him?

...Can he be killed?

"And it only gets worse from here on out. But...but if act like a man, and survive the Winter...the Spring will come bearing fruit.


Just...survive. You're nothing special...but this's different from most. Protect it. last thing..."
He cracked his neck, got up from the hood of the car, and started to walk away. About ten steps later, he looked back and whispered one last thing.

Though it was a whisper, I heard it, as clear as day, or however that saying goes.

The interviews all took about half an hour. It was dark when we started to drive back home. We all told the six remaining strangers that we would follow up with the interview, which was a big, fat lie. We had no intention on seeing those creeps ever again.

Liam and Alec went home with some other friends, so we were alone.

When we were almost halfway home, I thought about what the hooded figure had said...


All througout my life, that's all my mother's ever called me. A mistake. Something she regrets.

But that's enough about don't need to hear about anything except my relationship with Grey, and the hopeful, eventual defeat of him. Just know... I am no stranger to hardship. My life...frankly, sucked before Grey. I've had to, multiple times througout my life, reformulate my life, and deal with unwanted grief.

That made me angry, how the guy had just openly called me that. He didn't know me. All I post here are my thoughts, which are colored by prior thinking. The words we say, take different shades, for anyone who hears them. I could be a wildly different person than I portray on this blog, as you should already know.

The anger left me wide open...I shouldn't have let it control me like that.

I felt Grey inside of me. He was using the connection left from his possession of me, and now was trying to contact me on another plane. I...I let him do that. I wanted to fight.

I disappeared from the car, if Steven is to be believed. For ten seconds, I had left the Earth, and stepped into somewhere - in between -.

One second, I was looking out the side window of a car, and the next, I was in a field. Above, there was the Harvest Moon. Far on my right, a farm stood, cold and alone. To my left, the desolate wasteland stretched forevermore. In the air, the lush smell of a "cold fire" least, that's how I describe the smell that Autumn brings.

It was Sowing Season. Literally.

Suddenly, a man in black robes and a skeleton mask appeared out far into the field. Though he was far away, I could hear him humming softly to himself...I recognized the tune...

Do you miss the blend of color she left in your black and white field...?

Do you feel condemned...just being there?
A few steps later, he had traversed an entire field's length and was now standing four feet away from me. His chuckles hinted to his identity, but his posture completely revealed it; his shoulders were slumped, and his head was cocked to the side.

It was Grey. He had a different mask, for some reason.

"Welcome, Owen."

Time to get the seeds into the cold ground,

takes a while to grow anything.

Before I could reply, he stepped up to me, took his left arm, and with superhuman strength,

he stabbed into my chest.

Pain flashed through me, coupled with images of Anna.

Images of Anna as she died.

"Do you miss her, Owen?" a voice asked inside of me.
It wasn't Grey.
"I missed her...and I have her now. Do you want her, Owen?"
I wanted her.

"Let me-"

Grey suddenly pulled his hand out, and looked at me with a confused look on his face.

"Did I pull out too soon? Shit...well, Owen...I fucked up..but next time..."

pain throbbing, I picked myself up off of the ground, and tried to tackle Grey, but he calmly stepped aside. While on the ground, I spotted something glowing in his hand...

"Too slow, kid, hahahaha. Well, I've gotten what I wanted...seeya on the flip side, soldier..."

He disappeared, and the world around me started to collapse. Before it all completely faded away, though, I saw Grey inside of a familiar looking body...a hooded one...

He was the alpha, and now...he was also Omega.


I awoke on the side of the road, with Steven standing over me. He had my phone in his hands... he was calling the Old Man. According to Steven, I was gone, so he pulled over. When he had gotten out of the car, though, to look around, I had appeared on the sidewalk next to the steet.

No marks remain from what must have been a fantasy...or something...

This is not good. I've fucked up. I let Grey in for a second,

and now he has something.

but it isn't all bad...

I noticed something about Grey..

he was in a panic. He's scared. was the best of times.

Or something.

I don't always, I'm tired while making this post, and to add to that...

my chest is now in a great deal of pain...

Going to talk to the old man about it...


Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Notes 3 (Part 2)

For this last Notes entry, at least for now, I'll be focusing on the connections between its history and now.  I am summarizing from documents provided to me by the Old Man.

There are three main documents that I will be showing. There are others, but they aren't as important as these...actually, they don't seem to be important at all. I'll show those at a later date. Promise.

Each document I have recreated through text. Some of the letters have faded, due to some of the papers appearing to be quite old, so I have filled them in with the best guess they could actually be.

The feel of them....they remind me of the documents Peter Rivers left here.


December 17, 1975
Cold night in December. Reports of three recent infections. Seem to correlate with victims in the previous case down in Georgia. Possibility: Migration. Bodies suffered the same body defects; signifigant decay and self-afflicted wounds. Masks were also found near; possibly related to -Faceless-? Unlikely.

Tracks in the snow leading from the first victim's house into the steet. The tracks stopped at the opposite end of the street, at a vacant lot. They suddenly end where the concrete changes into soft, dead grass. After some investigation before the first two scheduled inspections of the scene, I found a green leaf, from a tree in the full bloom of Spring.

There were no trees in sight. Just like the other cases down in Georgia.....

I deposited the leaf into an envelope at the scene, and carried it to the lab for testing, but when I had arrived there,...the leaf had vanished from the paper container. Just like the two other leaves...

It seems as these leaves are marking something. As if...there's something behind the -curtain.-

Something like a forest.

...oh, look, I'm rambling again. An old man rambling! How original!

There's one last piece of evidence...

the name Grey was painted on the door.

Just like the ones down in Georgia...

This investigation is not over.

I will track this creature down.

I swear...I will.
January 2, 1976
Another child's murder.

Why is it focusing on children now? The murders seemed to be mainly focused on random adults and teenagers, but's only children. Also, the -elemental- seems to have stopped wandering. It's staying in  one place now; the Midtown area of Portsmouth (Va).

The leaves have progressed into full blown tree branches, the murders are doubling, a mysterious figure nicknamed "Noroling" is connected to many of the victims, -Faceless- endlessly watches, but does not interfere, apples shoved down the throats of the victims, those strange masks...

This is almost too much to absorb....too much to handle.

-Faceless- targets children, yeah...but he...we don't see the results of that.

We're seeing what happens to these kids.

Oh god...that one kid? What was his name...Drew? Drew Wood? Something like that? I'm positive his last name was Wood anyways...


his own arm was claw its way inside of his chest. As in, the arm itself somehow stabbed its way into the chest,...and clenched itself around the poor kid's heart.

The kid's own body betrayed him.

And he was only eleven...

I don't know. The bodies seem to move by themselves.

The -Elemental- seems to be like...a demon. Yknow, like a possesion type deal.

Wood was a chubby, quiet kid. Kind of a loner. Maybe he was targeted for that reason.

or maybe it was random....

christ, I need sleep.

There's been 11 murders....I don't want to sleep...

At least we don't have to deal with any press.

Whatever this -Elemental- is, it's keeping the murders hush-hush.

It doesn't want to draw any attention.

But why? What are you so afraid of, "Grey?"
Nothing will ever be the same again for Porstmouth.

I have made arrangements though.

I have to fix this....what has happened to this poor town.

It may not be exactly my fault...what originally happened

but...I have made it worse.

Grey will return,....

firstborn son

blue eyes

blond hair


family friend

that's all I can say about that.

This..I'm sorry for the disjointed writing style.

This thing has changed me, severely.

I want to perfect that pocketwatch. I want to kill this -Elemental-.

But I have to plan for when it returns...and that won't be easy. I need someone to watch for the signs...

I need a lighthouse...

I need money, too. Lots of it.

I expect this thing won't rise to power for another thirty or so years...plenty of time to prepare...

It all goes back to that Crawford fucker

all back to him

he just HAD to settle this cursed place...

This is...hallowed ground....

That's far as that goes, anyway...

I haven't a clue to who the author can be...Oldie won't tell me

you guys have any thoughts on who it could be?


Saturday, September 24, 2011

Notes 3 (Part 1)

Sorry for my absence. I did not intend for that to happen. Honestly.

I would rather not discuss what has been happening behind the scenes relating to that, but I would like to say....well, Grey's inhabitation of my body HAS left some aftereffects, apparently. Many.

But I don't want to think about that, really. Let me live in ignorance for a while, I guess.

Now, on to the final entry in this information on Grey. We may have more entries about this subject, but for now, I'd like to focus on The 757's recruiting efforts, and also our hunt for Grey. I'd like to make this short, though...I've got to get to bed. School doesn't stop for kids my age, you know.

This will be posted in parts. I planned to have it done with this post, but I have to go to bed NOW.


Portsmouth Virginia seems to be the center of Grey's influence.

How do I/or the Old Man know this?

I haven't really enlightened you guys on this subject, but...The Dying Man is killing kids. There have been 9 murders specifically connected to him now, according to The Old Man. He doesn't have any evidence to back this up, yeah...but I believe him.

Grey is still connected to me. I can feel him...working. And I see him every night now, in my sleep.

That organization Peter was apart of won't let the media publish anything about the murders....I don't agree with that. If I had my way, I'd try telling every Virginian what we're up against.  But that would surely put me back on their hitlist.

Or was I ever marked off? Will they come tonight while I'm asleep, and slit my throat?

Who knows.

Now, back to the original subject; the murders seem to center in between two sectors of the town. The first area, known as Oldetown, which is apart of our Downtown area, is the "historical" part of Portsmouth. I'm not surprise the Dying Man haunts this place...many buildings there are -haunted-, apparently. Hell, every year we have some sort of Ghost Walk. If there's any place more suitable for's that place. The murders that take place here are mostly hobos....

I used to live near Oldetown....a short walk only, in fact.

The second area is Port Norfolk...more of a suburban area. My old elementary school, John Tyler, is located there. The murders there seem to be composed mostly of small children going to that school.

Pattern: Everything leads back to me.

If I was in a joking mood, I'd say this thing has a crush on me.

But I never joke anymore. My mirror only reflects back a permanant frown nowadays.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Sorry, Owen hasn't updated lately due to a sickness. He's been sick all week.

At least that's what he said. Personally, I don't think that's exactly it...

He doesn't seem to get any sleep...

Meanwhile, I thought I'd update you on...stuff.

Remember The 757? The group Owen and I planned on making?

well, we're recruiting members right now, actually. The old man's helping us...

he somehow knows...who's "aware" of The Fears.

I have no idea's the same way he knew that we were telling the truth on this blog, though...

That's all for now, folks.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Notes 2

The thing I wanted to talk about...

it's really...~out there~, okay? But stay with me here.

According to the Old Man, along time ago, people fought with the -Fears- all the time. They actively knew of their existence, so they developed ways to fight them back. The ways usually involved spiritual enlightement achieved via three techniques;

1. Sowing Season. (eliminating the aspect of Fear from a person)

2. Meditation. (to travel inside of your psyche and create a barrier to protect against Fears' effects, such as loss of time caused by the Slender Man)

3. William Tell. (to engage in a spiritual battle on an alternate plane of existence against a Fear)

Only the first two were usually successful in any way.

The Dying Man seems to have been,...well, everywhere in the United States. The Old Man keeps making it clear that alot of our early Native American ancestors battled regulary with Grey, and others like him. We're not sure if Grey is..."part of the whole", if you know what I mean.

Is he an individual? Or is he representative of the entire Fear?

Let's diagnose what The Dying Man is, first.

Symptoms of Dying Man infection:

  • Mood Swings
  • Body Decay
  • Nightmares
  • Memory Loss
  • Possesion
I did not experience body decay, as far as I know. Maybe The Dying Man's effects vary. I did have the other symptoms, though. As evident with how The Dying Man tried to mess with me, he needs a mind that's unbalanced. Insecure.

The Old Man says The Dying Man is usually passed down through families. The oldest son of a family of mostly brothers "inherits" the dying man, and then it's "passed on" to the other brothers after the oldest one's passed on.

I am the oldest brother in my family. I have two brothers and a sister, aged 15, 14, and 5.

To prevent the passing down of the monster, the Native Americans would teach their younglings to delve into the Spiritual Plane/their mind. Once there, they would travel into the Otherworld, and meet with their greatest fear. After that, they would formulate a new weapon out of the bits and pieces of negative energy from the fear, and create a barrier to protect against "Evil Spirits."

The Barrier would usually manifest as an animal, and would be given a name.

If you ever forgot the name of your animal, the animal would eat away at your mind until insanity.

According to the Old Man, anyways. I wouldn't trust him though.

But still...if it's true, this is very valuable information. I can use this.

I have two options; William Tell, or The Meditation.

The second one sounds the easiest, so I will go with that.

I'll save the first option for another day....just in case.

Next entry, I'll be focusing on the effects of The Dying Man on Virginian history.

Stay tuned.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Notes 1

I should talk about that old man who accompanied Steven the night I attempted to kill myself.

His name is Tim (probably an alias...he chuckled and had some type of look in his eye when he told us that). He hasn't told me what his last name is. He's about 6'2, has a remarkable mane of grey hair (considering his obvious age), and blue eyes. He's usually wearing a suit whenever he visits me.

He visits me weekly to check on my body for any damage caused by Grey/The Dying Man. During the checkups, he usually insults me; he's a grumpy man. His emotions seem to be a bit subdued beyond that, however.

Now; why the hell did he save me? Who is he?

Well, I can answer one of those two questions.

He saved me because he was "just doing my duty", as he put it. He keeps a track on events in the blog o' sphere, and somehow found my blog. After that, he attempted to find contact with Steven or me, but this took months, apparently, to pull off.

He's hinted at prior dealings with the -Fears-. He also claims to have known Peter Rivers personally.

Other than that....I don't know very much. I don't know what his deal is.

I just feel like an actor reading off of a script when I'm talking with him.Something about his a starving wolf. Determined. Unemotional.

For training, he's had me..."retreat into my mind."

Which...I'll bring up next's a schoolnight, and I have to do my homework...

Seeya next time~

Saturday, September 3, 2011


I couldn't save her.

I keep telling myself, "It'll be alright. It'll be alright. This is just some messed up dream."

But it's not. This...this is real.

The Winter is coming...I don't think I can survive it...war...war is coming.

I have to spend this month doing research. A fuckton of it.

I'll keep you guys updated....if I care enough to...everything just....numb.

Everything's numb.

I keep having these...dreams...again.

A car crash. I keep seeing a car crash.