Ah, so dramatic.

Always look up for the source of a mysterious voice.

It's always up (seriously NOBODY EVER LOOKS AT THE CEILING IN MOVIES) 

In Defense of Writers:

Have you ever met a hardcore fangirl/fanboy? I'm pretty sure they're emotionally touched by books. I talk about them kind of constantly.

Also, books are life-changing. They have valuable lessons. They make you feel different than before. Or they just make you feel good/better.

I could go on, but this basically sums it up.

I'm not as attached to books as Sydney is, but I know they're important...this is bad. Could this be the murderer's work?

I shall never let go of books, never! I would rather die- oh. Um.

We're just going to submit the post now.

Day Seventeen

Quill and Saphira are planning to take over the world.

“I claim Australia and Asia! I also get Greenland, as well.”

Quill stabs a pin into the map, marking the appropriate places. Saphira frowns. “No, l want Greenland. That isn’t fair.”

Quill laughs. “Who says it has to be fair?”

“I do!”

“l'm not listening.”

Ah, but alas, Quill’s well being is suddenly threatened, as the two world conquerors to be have suddenly found a difference between them. Our dear heroine, Saphira, in a dramatic outburst of fury, loses her patience with Quill.

“I’ll gnaw your fingers off if you don’t give me Greenland!”

Quill, with many a devious and vile plans up her sleeve, deftly bounds out of the path of Saphira’s jaws. She is unquailed by Saphira’s fearsome threat.

After more violent threats of finger gnawing by our heroine, Quill finally relents under her and consents to hands over Greenland.

“Don’t see why you want it anyways.” She grumbles, vocally expressing her annoyance at nearly getting her fingers gnawed off. After some time and more threats, the world has been divided among the two. Not equally, as Quil obviously is an inferior world ruler then to noble Saphira.

“Now. we need some henchmen.”

Quill raises a very vocal opposition to this.
“Why henchmen? Hemmen are annoying! You can’t make them follow orders, they serve no purpose. We can conquer the world on our own!”

“I will show you the use of henchmen yet! Besides, who’s going to fight for you while you are busy monologuing like  the good villains you are?” Saphira explains to the misinformed Quill. Tsk, tsk. She’s no better than a henchman herself.

“Well, l'm not going to monologuing.” Quill snaps.

Ah, alas Quill for the very universe doth conspire against your wishes and your will. The fates have spoken.

“Oh yes you are, or you are demoted to henchman.” Frightened by this prospect, Quill wisely does not speak again. But in her mind brews an evil and devious plan to usurp the noble Saphira from her throne and position of ruler of the world.

Saphira whistles, as one might do to somman a dog.  Moon appears, in the room below them, where they are able to observe and not be observed. Moon is looking a tad confused by what extraordinary events have just occurred but mostly rather sleepy.

“See, l can summon my henchmen with just a whistle.”

Quill raises an eyebrow, steepling her fingers. She isn’t quite impressed, though.
“And what can these henchmen do?”

“They will fight for you to the very bitter end!”

Saphira snaps her fingers, and below them, Beth suddenly appears, also confused. She waves to Moon. The two of them put their heads together and after a few minutes. pull a table up and decided to thumb wrestle.

“So very useful.” Quill comments drily.

“Ah now but look at this.“

Paris and Bookworm wander over, looking them over. Bookworm tips her bowler hat to the two of them. Paris produces a notebook, presumably in the effort of gathering a manner of information. Bookworm gestures wildly.

Quill raised another eyebrow. “I don’t see the use.”

“Wait and see.” Saphira says, patently.

Soon, not too soon, as the fates would have it, Bookworm has lost her temper to whatever was the matter they were discussing. She pulls her hat off, flapping it madly. Moon and Beth are looking alarmed. Paris shifts from foot to foot, uncertain. Bookworm’s loud and disruptive options stabbing into the brains of everyone nearly by is most certainly not a pleasant thing at all. She is attracting attention. People converge around her, one by one, they are starting to voice their opinions about her options. She is at first, mildly threatened with finger gnawing by Shadow and Ellak. Then decapitation by Kestrel. Then Mirax finally threatens to possibly remove Paris out of consciousness with a frying pan. This gets her attention, finally convincing her that it would be a very good idea if she did not talk. Bookworm obliges. Paris keeps her consciousness. Mirax still possess of her frying pan. Daisy decides that that does not need to be the case any longer. Mirax is relieved of her frying pan. The Nova of her consciousness. (it was insisted that this happened by chance and the action had no intention of harm behind it. Judge for yourself) Chary was relieved of her sense of a good mood. Beth was gifted with extreme annoyance. All by accident. However, because of some strange and evil twist, lo and behold, the two of them hath mistaken each other for the offender with the frying pan (despite the fact that neither of them are holding nor have come in contact with the frying pan in question)

“I will gnaw your fingers off!” Beth cries, loud and resounding like a war cry.

“I will gnaw your fingers off!” Chary repeats not seeming to be intimidated by Beth’s threat.

“You are unoriginal at threats!” Mrs. Elton informs them in a somewhat annoying manner that neither of the two are inclined to listen to.

The crowd starts to circle around them. From above, Saphira starts grinning. The two of them stare at each other until someone starts chanting, “Fight, fight fight!” (it was H.A.B.) Someone pushes Beth so she stumbles into Chary. (it was Sandra)

Quite suddenly, they know what they're doing.

Quill quinces, unwilling to look away. For a sudden second, everyone is unable to see a thing. Then it clears away. Saphira is laughing, disturbingly. Quill glances at her, edging away. She is starting to have doubts, oh yes, many a doubt creeping through her mind and destroying everything that she ever thought she knew was true or right. Perhaps she doesn’t exactly want Greenland after all. Saphira can have Greenland, all if it she wishes so.

“Well.” Swummer nudges a body with her toe. “That was not expected.” Bookworm and Paris have rushed over, poking around as usual.

“They have appeared to have died of…..Young age.” Paris declares. “While attempting, rather badly (f l say so myself) to fistfight.”

She shakes her head. “Quite so, quite, so. I dare say this is one of the strangest cases that l have ever chanced upon, eh, Bookworm?”

“No.” Brisns says. “I do not think so. I think they were….murdered!”

Tara gaps, apparently. And promptly kneels over, directly onto Richard.

Jarvis sighs melodramatically.

“Oh my goodness. This, this is strange. They, they need a death speech! Be glad that you have a noble speech writer in your midst to give proper honor to the deceased!” She cleared her throat, pushing her glasses on her nose. She shuffles her papers.

“Friends, Romans, henchmen. I come to bury Charybdis and Clarabeth, not to praise them. They were, as we all hope to be, noble citizens, and good friends. They, as l hope as their speechwriter and having no actual knowledge of them, were good people and did not try to gnaw people’s fingers off too often.” She pauses.

Quill inwardly groans.

“They tried to do some very ambitious things in their lifetimes. I'm not exactly sure what, but they were epic, let me assure you. They failed and they won. They did normal things. They were actually pretty normal. They didn’t do anything notable, l mean really. They tired, but they were the best at being mediocre. No one really noted that they were gone. I mean, l know that l didn’t. The world goes on without them. And if l dare say--l think their existences were a tad useless. Maybe it was a bit convenient and pre-planned that they died like they did. Anyways. Nice lives, tragic deaths, they will be missed even though we all know that the only one to remember them after this say will be the impressions of their gravestones. If they were here with us today,  they would not like to hear this. Everyone wants to hear how they were great and they were special at their funeral, they were not. We want to remembered, each and everyone of us. We wants to do things with our lives, for whatever that actually means, we want to be remembered and perhaps admired a bit.

But chew on this.

One day there will be no one to remember us. Some day, perhaps, the earth will die in fire and no one will care about your or what you want to do because everyone will be dead as a doornail, including you. You cannot base your value, or your  legacy in other people, because quite frankly, other people die nearly as easily as you do. Or l don’t know. Maybe you die faster.

The next time, friend, you wonder about how other people think or view you, remember this. It doesn’t matter. none of it does because none of it is ever going to last.

Nothing lasts forever.

You are not immortal.

Everyone will die.”

No one seemed to quite pick up in the fact that Jarvis seems to have pre-planned her Chary and Beth death speech.

~~~~~

End Day Seventeen. Death Toll: Charybdis and Clarabeth. Rest in peace.

Too melodramatic you say? WELL YOU ASKED FOR IT.

Day Eighteen

They wake alone.

They wake in darkness.

They do not know where they are.

But if there’s one thing they know, it is that whatever question they ask today, it will be answered. How they know this, they are uncertain.

“How come  l know this?” Bookworm asks to the darkness and empty walls.

Magic.

“What?”

I doubt you’re deaf. Magic.

“Please clarify.”

You asked a question, l gave you an answer. Good day, good bye.

~~

The day (or rather night, the lack of windows made it hard to tell the actual time, thus leaving the CBers prone to waking and sleeping at the most inconvenient times) started with a pillow fight.

“Take that!” Nova smacks Kestrel over the head with a pillow. Kestrel is asleep. Kestrel always sleeps. Do not question. It is a rather boring thing to have a  one sided pillows fight, as you can imagine. Nova sighs. She tries to engage Ellak in a pillow fight. He is also asleep.

“And here l will be, forever, riding ferris wheels alone and talking to empty walls.” She’s feeling rather oddly poetic today, and is unable to explain it fully. This bothers her, deeply, but she’s able to put it off. Oddly poetic is nice feeling, like bursting into song at the sight of anything.

Which may be or may not be exactly what Paris is doing. Which may or may not be driving Nova out of her mind. Her voice may or may not seem to be following Nova wherever she goes, no matter how far she is away from Paris. Which is most certainly annoying. Which is odd, as everyone else seems to be sleeping. Also, Paris doesn’t want to have a pillow fight.

“Why is Paris singing? Her voice is like a dagger to my skull. Actually way more painful than that.” Nova nearly screams, clamping both hands over her ears.

She feels the need to have a media to use her rather extraordinary imagination.

“Not helpful. How can l stop her?”
Decapitation. Fire. Tear gas. Crushing her vocal cords. A blow to the face.

“Something a bit less violent and deadly?”

Carpet. It can be quite useful, you know. You didn’t quite specify how exactly you wanted to stop her, anyways.

“Not helpful. Maybe l  can go annoy her with the beauty of poetry.”

Least to say, it’s rather amusing to see a robot read Greek ballads. Not quite enough to make Paris stop singing, though.

~~

Saphira and Moon are back to bending over their maps, stabbing pins into it.

“Why can’t l conquer the world?” Saphira asks.

Simply because you are lacking of the intellectual properties required to complete the task.

“Are you calling me stupid?”

…

Yes.

“Okay, new tactic. How can we conquer the world?”

Large army. Nuclear bomb. Aliens, they tend to be helpful--”

“No, like something readily available.”

Your comrade.

“What?”

She can conquer the world.

Saphira turns to Moon. “You did hear that answer……”

Moon blinks. “l-- l never thought. I could be general of the world!”

Saphira snarls. “No, no you are not. You are staying right where you are, you hear?”

“Moon is slightly useless, l think you’re wrong.” She whispers.

No, l’m not. I'm never wrong.

“lt doesn’t matter, Saphira. I can conquer the world. What else can l possibly need?

For one, food, water, the right mix of oxygen--

“No that was rhetorical. I don’t need you.”

Actually l have proven myself to be very--

“Shut up.”

~~

“What is the secret of life, the universe, and everything?” H.A.B. inquiries.

There is not secret.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

This universe is how you see it. You can shape who it is, or that is your view of it.

“Still not answering my question.”

Your question was rhetorical.

“Was not.”

Is so.

“Is not.”

~~

Quill sighs. “What is going on with this place?
She is very, very lost. And she doesn't like to remember what happens to people who get, very very lost. Right now she has wandered into an amory, supplied mainly with Roman emory. And it is huge. And unhelpful.

Many things.

She jumps at the quiet voice inside her head.

For one, thermodynamics. Biological life. Nonbiological life. Mechanical--

“No, l meant why is this place so seemingly huge, with endless rooms and halls that no one remembers, and they’re always wandering off beyond the places that we do know to do things and are neither troubled by their new surroundings or questions.

...

That was awfully long.

“Well you're supposed to answer my questions, so get to it.”

I don’t know. I'm not Einstein. Maybe you’re just brainwashed and partly blind to all the horrors around you. Or maybe you’re just sheep. Sheesh.

Quill frowns. “So….we purposely don’t notice things?”

Maybe. It’d be bad for business if someone finally got wind of all the dead bodies laying around.

“Dead bodies?”

Exactly. My point.

“There are dead bodies laying around.”

I don’t know. Maybe if you look around more. Do you want to find some? Two rights and a left.

Quill is a bit disturbed, but also morbidly fascinated. She follows the directions, and ends up at half-open door. She pushes is open with one finger. At first she is unable to see anything for the abundance of cinnamon in the air. Partly choking, she tentatively enters.

With a yelp, she stumbles back. Someone’s--someone sleeping here. (no, they are not dead. They can’t be dead.) She recognizes the person aas Tara.

“Is she…..dead?”

Yes.

She stares for a few moments. “Who-who could’ve done this?”

Everyone could have.

“Who actually did this.”

I believe it was--

“Are you talking about me?”

Also, yes.

Quill edges away, feeling the wall at her back.

She is speechless.

“You! I never could have guessed--How could have you done this?” Quill eyes the door, and then the person, blocking it.

They laugh.

“Why are you doing this? How could you be so heartless?”

They just laugh again.

“You’re not getting me to say anything.”

Quill stares blankly  the feathered arrow that has appeared in the center of her chest.

“Do l really have all of that blood?” She wonders vaguely.

Yes.

~~~~~

R.l.P. Quill and Tara.

So sorry for not posting, my dear readers. My laptop though it'd be awefully funny to keep dying and me and then take forever to upgrade its software. 

Also, writing murder scenes is ridiculously difficult when peppy, cheery pop music has been playing for hours. (e.i. Owl City)

*sighs* Poor Tara. She died for the second time. She can't actually post on this because, you know, I got rid of her. 

Richard: Loosing her for the second time..... *shakes head* Goodbye, sis.  

Also, in defense of Saphira, I don't think she's the main murderer. Why would she kill her own counterpart? She mourned the death of Tara as much as the rest of us.  

Saphira: Yes indeed. I do miss Tara. I would never kill her. 

Day Nineteen

(Part One of the Library of Voices)

Good evening. (Or mourning or mid afternoon, etc.) l would like to tell you something. Also, someone get rid of this annoying fourth wall. It’s distracting.

Ah yes. That’s good.

There is a German term, zeitgeist. Its definition is the dominating mood or spirit of a particular period of time, as shown by the ideas of the time. In essence, it is the cage of how we understand things, and view new things. We are trapped to see new things b our understanding of other things.

Why is this even important? You ask.

It is, now shush. I reply.

when encountered by something new, we and always have, tired to explain to to the best of our knowledge. Largely incorrectly, as one might see as poking one’s nose into any sort of history book. We thought, for example, the world was flat. It is not, but the people at the time thought it perfectly reasonable to assume so.

And guess what?

You assume many things.

Of which, to our current understanding, makes perfect sense.

However, it may not the some future person, poking their nose into a history book.

History repeats itself.

You are making history.

Shush, l know. I gave you this lecture in a hope to possibly be able to explain the following events.

~~

For hundreds of thousands of years, people have traveled across time and space to seek a single place. To hear, the people of the galaxies converge. To here, the masses, the old and young. To here, the kings and the outcasts.

Welcome to the Libraries.

One of voices of and one of silence.

One of hope and one of fear.

To the Library of Voices, they were promised the ability to gain whatever they desired the most in the world, abstract or concert, through their own wits and intelligence.

As good as it sounded, there were a few certain….catches, let’s say. There was a certain type of person draw to the Libraries, a certain person with…..dark intentions.

Regardless, on this fine day, nothing could have seemed more ordinary.

The group formally dubbed CBers, have loosely gathered themselves at the entrance.

The Teller had explained to them the contract of this place, of course leaving out all of the fine print. Ptth. who needs fine print anyways? Most were rather skeptical. Nova was sleeping. Jarvis was nowhere to be seen. Daisy and H.A.B. weren’t paying attention. Mrs. Elton and Swummer wandered off.

“But what if you don’t know what you desire?” Sandra asks. She was in the mood for questions.

“The Libraries will know.” The Teller explains, vaguely.

“Anyways. I have better things to do. Namely watching lava lamps and feeding goldfish. Kudos if anyone avoids dying in there. Actually, don't die. Just don’t. It’s bad for the tourists. Anyway. Good-bye don’t die.”

She disappears in a plume of smoke.

The door marked Vox slowly creaks open. Bookworm supposes that she should feel something, intimidated, amazed, fearful.

She doesn’t feel anything.

She wonders if that scares her more than, feeling anything.

The doorway appears to have been carved into the natural rock, a cool, dry tunnel leading onward as far as the eye can see.

“Well then.” Mirax is the first one to step up, then tentatively over the doorway. “To go where no man has gone before, eh?”

Once inside, she glances back. But there is no door, just a plain rock wall. She jumps slightly, but is determined not be unnerved. Well of course she can't leave, that’s perfectly normal.

Perfectly normal

She takes a deep breath. This place will do anything to get inside her head. She doesn’t know if she can hold on this long.

~~

Mirax's experience is the same with every other CBers

Except Paris. The doorway back to the hotel yawns back at her, light and warm, versus the dark, cold cave of horror before. She knows she can go back or keep going. She chooses the latter.

“Welcome, house of nightmares.” She mutters, softly. “Welcome, all monsters and demons. You’ve chosen the wrong one to scare.”

~~

Someone can’t tune an electric guitar…..and is doing it anyways. Just around the corner, Shadow is dead certain. Normally, part of her would object to this ridiculously task: eating person tuning guitar, but she thinks that part died in a lonely corner long ago. The living part just wants to eat whatever is in her way. It pulls her relentlessly through the rock passageway, dim and cool, with no visible light source and yet not dark. Shadow is oddly glad of that. Yes, for heaven’s sakes, her name is Shadow. And she is suddenly deadly afraid of the dark.

The lights flick off for a brief second.

She jumps, curses herself for being spooked, and freezes. The lights flick off again. And again. Randomly and terrifyingly so.

She hates herself at this moment, for being so weak to fear the dark.

She hears footsteps. dancing , tapping footsteps, irregularly.

No, no you idiot. It’s probably just Moon and her stupid Irish jigs or something.

That didn’t help. The footsteps stumble closer. Shadow finds herself unable to move. The fear, this monster, claws it way up her throat, slithering around her teeth, forcing her jaws open.

Oh my--

“Don’t eat me!” Moon yelps, disgruntled and rather annoyed. Being eaten was not on her bucket list today. Actually none of this was on her bucket list.

Regaining her dignity, Shadow growls at Moon. “Well maybe if these stupid lights that are conveniently setting the mood and you stupid zombie-Irish jigs hadn't erm, unsettled me, l wouldn’t have.”

“ls not  normal to eat people when you’re frightened.” Moon grumbles.  

“Excuse me. Was not frightened. l was--”

“Never mind”

The lights flickers dramatically. Moon and Shadow look up, abruptly.

“You know, there’s something strange about this place.” someone says. The lights flick off. Thier footsteps pace closer. “It did something to these people.  l have my theories, so many theories--”

The lights switch on.

“My goodness!” Bookworm yelps. “You don’t have to try to eat me! Sheesh!”

“Quit spooking me--”

The lights switch off. Bookworm shakes her fist, but sadly no one else sees it. Shadow attempts to eat Saphira and Kestrel, nearly biting Kestrel’s head off.

“What is wrong with the electricity?” Bookworm demands.”it’s way too convenient! Just going on and off like--”

Like this.

And the time the lights do not come back on.

Shadow gets nervous at first. And then beyond nervous, she gets very paranoid. The Teller said the Library would give her whatever she desired. Could that possibly be….darkness?

She can feel it now, beyond simply seeing the dark, she feels it seeping into her, like rainwater through cracks. It floods her veins, overcoming the fiery blood.

And finally, it finds its way to her heart.

Here be Shadow.

One with darkness.

The lights turn on. Bookworm blinks.

She need not say the obvious.

Which she wonders--because she knows what she wants, desires that most--can it kill you?

The lights flick around some more. Ellak appears and tries to eat someone, namely Brian.

More footsteps. “Who is that?” Kestrel wonders.

“Richard.” Bookworm says, automatically.

“What? How do you--”

Know?

Because now…..

Bookworm feels like she has now finally hsaw something amazing. She is starting to know everything. Because that is what she desires. Oh the light, so much light, so much beautiful…..facts.

She suddenly freezes. She also knows when she's going to die. Which is in exactly a half-minutes.”l...l...know everything.” The others turn to face her.

“If you do.” Moon pleds. “Please tell us something important.”

“I'm going to die soon.” she pauses, a few painful seconds ticking by. But, in everything, every single thing that she knows…...she cannot think of anything good enough to be her last words. Only….

“Everyone dies.”

~~~~

End Day Nineteen. Rest in peace, Bookworm and Shadow.

And before you Sherlock Holmes-wannabes get out your deerstalker caps and steepled fingers, let me point a few things out for you, as to “who dunnit?”

Who has been lurking the shadows, only appearing for a sentence or two every day, very mysteriously, might l add?

Who is very verbal about CBers fighting each other?

Who advocates  very strongly for Bookworm’s death, hrm?

Now, now, l'm not low enough to go around pointing fingers…..but do, please, but the facts together.