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Strange in Upstate - Puzzle Rant | |
So as it turns out, both the Seraphim and the SACRED SITE were clues as to how to fully solve the puzzle. A Seraph is an angel on fire. Combine that with a web site and you are directed to look for Strange in Upstate on the free website host angelfire.com: http://strangeinupstate.angelfire.com/
This is why I am usually never any good at puzzles in ARGs because I just can't grasp the randomness of the elements that puzzle creators put in because they think that it's a good idea. Yes, it was possible for us to originally solve note3 just based on elements in the puzzle - but when most people think of trying to discover a new website, looking for an Angelfire site is not on the top of their list. If you're creating a new website and you aren't pointing to either a standard .com or another website on the same service as yours (like a tumblr site pointing to another tumblr site), then any pointers to that website should be specific and unambiguous. You shouldn't have to guess.
I think I'm even more pissed off at the second puzzle (note4) because it was completely random there what elements you took. You ignored IMITATE but used ||||† ||†. Used SACRED SITE but ignored ||||| ||‡||. If I find out that the handwritten words and lines end up meaning nothing overall, I am going to kill a puppy by throwing it through the PM's kitchen window.
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Strange in Upstate |
Okay, enough ranting about puzzles. Let's look at the Strange in Upstate website. It's almost your standard conspiracy website, except for the fact that it doesn't have multi-colored text on a black background with lots of animated images as proof about the claims that they make.
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Strange in Upstate
Welcome to Strange in Upstate, your repository for the weird in Upstate NY.
This editor has been compiling the creepiest and weirdest local legendry just for you, and we are always looking to add to the site.
If you know of a strange feature of Upstate NY that isn’t listed here, please contact us [strangeinupstate@gmail.com] so we can get it up!
Happy Valley
Fraicheur---- (pronounced Fraser) was a tiny hamlet located at the border of the Towns of Albion and Williamstown just north of the Towns of Parish and Amboy in Oswego county, NY. The main street of Fraicheur was Happy Valley Road, which ran north and south along the border of the Towns of Williamstown and Albion. It is included in the Atlas of the State of New York by Julius Bien Co., NY in 1895.
Florence Gardner, Albion town historian reported in 1998: "This little settlement disappeared completely (all that remains is the cemetery and schoolhouse)." It is now located within a remote, densely wooded Happy Valley State Wildlife Management Area. It is not known for certain why the hamlet ceased to exist. Florence Gardner reported in 1998: "One person told me an epidemic of "black water fever" struck, and killed many people. The one's who survived got out."
The town has been abandoned since, and is now a wildlife preserve. Rumors of a serious haunting at the site exist, and presumably explain why the site has been returned to nature, rather than resettled.This photograph was taken in 2008 by a hunter in Happy Valley. Postedon a hunting message board, the photographer makes no mention of the strange lights in the upper left hand corner of the photo. Paranormalists know Happy Valley to be a place where ‘orbs’ and ‘vortices’ are often caught on camera.
New Religion Central
Upstate NY seems to be a breeding ground for new religious movements. Both the LDS Church/Mormons and the Millerites/Seventh Day Adventists got their start in upstate.
The Mormons hail from Palmyra, where their founder Joseph Smith lived and first published the book of Mormon in the 1820s. There are a number of historic Mormon sites in and around the Palmyra area, including places where Smith lived, worked and prayed, as well as “Hill Cumorah” which is the place where Smith is supposed to have found the text of the Book or Mormon buried. According to the visitor’s center: “In A.D. 421, Moroni, the last survivor of a great civilization that had inhabited the Americas since about 600 B.C., buried in this hill a set of gold plates on which was recorded the history of his people. In 1827, Moroni returned as an angel and delivered the plates to Joseph Smith, who translated them and published them as the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. “
Every year there is a large Mormon gathering at the relatively nearby Rochester Convention Center.
The Seventh Day Adventists got their start when a man named William Miller began to lecture, preach, and publish about the second coming of Christ in a town near Geneva NY. The movement took off, and lasted even after the Great Disappointment; which was when Jesus was supposed to come back, but didn’t. Sometime after that, the believers that persisted became the Seventh Day Adventists.
Upstate NY however can take no credit in the creation of Scientology
Upstate's "Nessie"
This famous photo of the Lake Champlain monster was taken by Sandi Mansi in 1977. Thousands of people, dating all the way back to the Abenaqi Indians, claim to have seen the creature. This very deep lake lies on the border of New York and Vermont and is accessed by sea through the St. Lawrence Seaway. The first recorded sighting took place when Samuel de Champlain came upon the lake in July 1609. During this expedition, the French explorer noted "a 20-foot serpent, with a horse-shaped head and body as thick as a keg." Since then, sightings of the strange aquatic beast have been reported by over 300 people, many documented in Joseph Zarzynski’s definitive book Champ--Beyond the Legend written in 1984.
"Dennis Hall has personally encountered the creature on several occasions and has obtained several photographs and videotaped evidence. In fact, Dennis may be the only person to have ever captured a Champ specimen. In the 1970’s Dennis discovered an unusual looking 12-inch-long reptile in a marshy area bordering the lake. The creature looked like no other living reptile and possessed a strange forked tongue. Upon inspecting the creature Dennis’ father thought the beastie strange enough to be worthy of examination by the scientists at the University of Vermont who indicated that it was unlike any living reptile in the catalog. Like many a cryptozoological creature, this one was somehow lost thereby ensuring that the monster would remain an enigma. Dennis Hall subsequently saw what he thought was the spitting image of the creature he once possessed in a book on prehistoric reptiles. Tanystropheus, extinct for millions of years, appeared to be the long-lost twin of Hall’s 12-inch specimen. Considerably larger and with a fairly long neck, Tanystropheus enjoyed a semi-aquatic existence much like Champ." (Kirk, John, In the Domain of the Lake Monsters, pp. 132-133.)
Perhaps the most intriguing evidence for Champ’s existence came from underwater microphones installed in 2003 by a team doing research for the Discovery Channel. The team picked up a high-pitched ticking and chirping noise like what a dolphin or whale makes. Obviously these creatures would not be in freshwater, many miles away from the ocean.
Featured on the TV program Unsolved Mysteries, Champ has been amateur video-taped at least twice. On February 22, 2006 ABC News obtained an exclusive video of something just under the surface of the lake that some say may be Champ. The video (including the humps shown right and the long slender shape underwater that appears to be a head) was taken by two fishermen with their digital camera. Before their supposed sighting, they were Champ skeptics. The original video is now available via YouTube. In 1993 a Japanese team searched the entire lake with 15 boats and multiple helicopters. They came back with a sonar report of a very large object (about 20 ft long) having passed under them. Many people believe Champ to be a plesiosaur.
Whitley Strieber
It is an accepted fact in the UFO community that very few scientists will entertain the idea that UFOs are real. To take this one step further, it is even rarer that an educated, professional person would delve into the dark, puzzling world of alien abductions. Author Whitley Strieber is one of those rare individuals. His book, "Communion," is a must read for anyone interested in the subject. Strieber is an abductee himself, and his abduction is one of the most bizarre on record.
Strieber was already a well-known author when he was vacationing with his wife and son over the Christmas holidays in 1985. His strange abduction would take place in an isolated cabin in the northern part of New York state. The lonely setting of the cabin caused him to have concerns for this family's safety, and he had only recently had a cutting edge security system installed.
Strieber had activated his system at about 11:00 PM on December 26, and his family began to retire for the evening. A few hours later, he heard a strange sound, which woke him from sleep. Thinking that he might have a burglar who had set off the alarm system, he went to check it out. As he did, he was shocked to see a creature standing in his bedroom.
The next thing that Strieber knew, he was sitting in the woods that encircled his cabin. He was at a loss to explain what had happened, and how he had gotten from the bedroom to the woods. His memories were lost, and he eventually sought the help of Dr. Donald F. Klein. Klein would perform regressive hypnosis on Strieber in an attempt to recover the lost time. The sessions would be helpful, and enable him to recover many of the details of what had really happened on the night of December, 26, 1985.
Strieber recalled being floated from his bedroom to a UFO, which was waiting somewhere above the thick woods. He would see several different types of alien beings on the ship: one a little robot type, another was a short, stocky humanoid, the third type was very thin and frail with haunting black, slanted eyes, and the last had smaller, button-type eyes. He would undergo a number of medical procedures on the UFO.
One of the harrowing procedures was the insertion of a long needle directly into his brain. The aliens also inserted a tool into his rectum, and took a blood sample from his finger. Because many of the details of his alleged abduction were so bizarre, Dr. Klein diagnosed Strieber as having "temporal lobe epilepsy." One of the most common effects of the condition is the onset of hallucinations.
According to Epilepsy.com, temporal lobe epilepsy can be explained this way:
The features of seizures beginning in the temporal lobe can be extremely varied, but certain patterns are common. There may be a mixture of different feelings, emotions, thoughts, and experiences, which may be familiar or completely foreign. In some cases, a series of old memories resurfaces.
In others, the person may feel as if everything—including home and family—appears strange. Hallucinations of voices, music, people, smells, or tastes may occur. These features are called “auras” or “warnings.” They may last for just a few seconds, or may continue as long as a minute or two.
It is interesting to note that Strieber would not accept Dr. Klein's diagnosis, and believed that all of the events he recalled in regressive hypnosis really happened. He would form a support group for abductees, and writes extensively on the subject. He maintains the Unknown Country web site.
Sons of Grace
The so called “Sons of Grace” became a formally recognized institution after the death of their so-called founder Edmund Grace in 1897. The organization is centered around the Lyons area, but has spread roots throughout the upstate area, reaching through Rochester, Syracuse and Albany.
While the Sons of Grace appear on the surface to be a religious institution, they have never been granted non-profit status by the state of NY, and hold no officially declared religious affiliation or denomination. By those in the know it is almost universally believed to be a front of some kind; but there is dispute as to whether it’s true purpose is as innocent as something like Moose or Rotary International, or as sinister as the Free Masons, Rosicrucians, or Illuminati. Indeed there are those who suggest its origins go back much further than its official founding.
What is known is that the organization is still run by the Grace family, makes annual local charitable donations, and is rumored to involved in local politics. The heads of the organization supposedly habitually wear two hematite rings, a practice which is said to extend to lower members. Dispute arises as to the purpose and symbolism of the rings, ranging in possibility from a sign of devotion to Satan, to a secret code between members depending on which fingers the rings are worn on.
13 Curves
An oft-repeated urban legend of Syracuse is the supposed “13 Curves” of Onondaga Hill. Unfortunately details of this legend are few and far between.
Regardless the ’13 Curves’ is a twisting stretch of road that many believe to be haunted or paranormal in some way. The most prominent telling that this editor has heard is as follows. This “apparently is the site where about 70 years ago a newly married couple had been killed in an auto accident trying to go through the treacherous curves. To this day it is said that a woman in a flowing white gown can be seen through the woods looking for her bridegroom.”
The other version that is floating around, is that the road is not haunted but paranormal in its own right. Supposedly there are 13 curves driving one direction, and twelve in the other.
Most of the entries are "legitimate" in the conspiracy world. I had heard about Champ and the 13 Curves before and Googling gives you some information on Happy Valley, the Mormons, the Seventh Day Adventists and Whitley Strieber. By the way, don't go Googling around for Whitley Streiber. Next thing you know you're on a website listening to a podcast about how Stanley Kubrik faked the moon landing video footage and told about it in his later films and then by the time you get to the part where you are informed that the moon is an artificial construct for a race of aliens observing the Earth, you've lost half your braincells.
Anyway, one of the entries doesn't have any additional information to find on Google: The Sons of Grace. It seems that the Sons of Grace are an actual institution in the area. Publicly they seem to be a charitable organization but most believe that the charity part is just a front its deeper meaning, although no one knows what that is. The article doesn't talk about how one becomes a member (do you have to be a male relative of the original Edmund Grace?) but it does talk about how members often wear two hematite rings. The meaning of the rings are unknown, but it's suggested that it could be a secret code depending on what fingers the rings are worn on.
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Ring Code Theory |
A couple of people on the Unfiction forums emailed Strange in Upstate to ask him more about the rings and what the code meant. Strange in Upstate responded "like you wear the rings one way it means ur like the new guy, and if you wear them another it means ur gonna take a bitch out, or that ur working for some dark god or something".
If that's the case, we can make some educated guesses based on the words that Mystery Man has given to go along with the ring positions. Of course, there is also a question as to how the lines translate directly to the fingers. Is it palms down (Pinky -> Thumb - Thumb -> Pinky), palms up (Thumb -> Pinky - Pinky -> Thumb) or a combination of both? I'd vote the first way, but I've been wrong about things in this ARG a lot so far.
Initiate: ||||† ||†||
Heir: ‡|||| |||||
Angry/Ready to Fight/Enemy [Hostile]: |†||| |||†|
Servant [In Direct Service]: ||††| |||||
Religious Figure [Sacred Site]: ||||| ||‡||
Right now these are all just guesses, but hopefully we'll get more concrete information later that lets us refine our 'definitions' of the ring patterns.
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Car Trouble |
Poor Tom is not having a very good day. His car won't start. And when you live in the middle of nowhere, your car is very important to you. I can sympathize. My poor car is slowly dying and it sucks when it has to go into the shop. Hopefully Tom's problems will be a lot cheaper to fix than mine were and he can get back on the road soon.
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Today did NOT go the way I planned. On the Brightside, I got a lot of painting done. But it was very angry painting. Because my car wouldn't start when I tried to get to town. I just don't even know what to say. Somebody's coming out to look at it tomorrow- I just hope it isn't too serious. So, needless to say, I didn't get to the post office, and I didn't get to go yell at the guy who was supposed to have fixed my camera.
Since my last post, some people told me that the angel notes were pointing towards a webpage (strangeinupstate.angelfire.com). In addition to being some kind of horrible visual pun, I guess the point was to get me to see the contents of the 'conspiracy' page, which levies accusations towards the Sons of Grace. Not feeling up to a few miles of walking, I haven't gotten a chance to go check out the Grace Mission House yet, so I don't really know whether it's a 'Masonic' type order or not. I haven't seen hide nor hair of Emmet Grace since out first encounter, and no, I don't recall whether he was wearing any rings.
Initially I suspected that the webmaster of the 'Strange in Upstate' site was my mysterious note-leaver, but after corresponding with him via email; well, let's just say I don't think so any more. He seemed very surprised to have gotten so many emails from all of you. Anyway, he divulged a couple more details about the Sons of Grace gossip to me. Specifically that he thinks he knows someone who might know some of the supposed 'ring code'. I'm waiting to hear back on that.
Trying to enjoy my evening, but things just keep piling up. Notes, conspiracies, amnesia-drawings, busted cameras and busted cars. Oy vey.
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Another Bad Day |
Poor Tom. His car is still broken - expensive electrical issues. Plus he has a monster headache. And to top it all off - it's snowing out. I'm amazed he was able to write up such a long blog post. If it was me, I would have just stayed in bed all day with a cold compress for my head and a huge pile of blankets to keep the rest of me toasty. But because of all the issues, he hasn't been able to mail anything out to anyone. So if you're wondering where your business card from him is, it's still at the Windmill.
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I have the devil’s own headache right now. It feels like I slept on a rock; or was repeatedly clubbed in the side of the head with one. I got like 15 hours of sleep; I should feel fucking great, but no.
I went to bed last night after a somewhat embarrassing incident. I was reading in bed, around 9 o’ clock when I thought I heard someone come in the door on the ground floor. I leapt out of bed, grabbed my pocketknife off the nightstand, and dashed downstairs in my boxers.
Yeah, there was nobody there. The wind (which has been really strong the last two nights) blew open a window and knocked down one of my easels. Of course, at the time, I was freaking out thinking somebody came in and knocked it down. I ran outside and started yelling at the forest. Walked the whole way around the windmill looking for the guilty party before I realized what must have happened. By that time of course I was freezing and my feet were covered in nearly frozen mud.
God I felt stupid. I feel stupid now just writing about it. I came inside, took a quick shower that didn’t have enough time to get cold (thank god) and just went to bed. I was out like a light. I don’t usually go to sleep that early, but I guess I needed it given how long I slept and how shit I still feel.
Some guys came out and towed my car to the shop…Saturday? Friday? One or the other. Apparently there was some kind of electrical problem. I don’t really understand it, but of course it’s going to be expensive to fix. A part of me really, really wants to blame note-leaver for this. Going to have to ask the guy when I talk to him if its something a person could have caused. Ugh. Just…. Ugh.
I haven’t heard back from K at Strange in Upstate yet- part of me kind of doubts I will. Hell, for all I know he made that stuff up. Half of the content on his site appears to have been stolen. Kids. Oy.
And its snowing here today. Really fast and heavy. I’d be surprised if we didn’t have an inch on the ground by the time it’s done. I really thought spring was here. Should have known better.
I have an appointment with Doc on Saturday. Don’t know how I’ll get there if the car’s not fixed by then. I certainly hope it will be, much as I don’t look forward to sharing all the shit that’s gone on in the last couple weeks. I donno, maybe Doc’ll have a better perspective on all this. I just don’t want to screw myself over by sounding crazy.
I want to apologize for the delay in the business cards, guys. Shame on me for thinking anything in my life right now would be easy or simple. Argh.
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Silver Key Note |
The Mystery Man is back to leaving notes. He must be satisfied that we found the Strange in Upstate website because no pictures of Seraphim this time. Instead, we get a snippet of the H.P. Lovecraft story "Through The Gates of the Silver Key".
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Well, I was beginning to think our note-leaving friend had given up and gone on to greener pasture, but no such luck. Found this one when I came downstairs to paint today. It was shoved under the door and into the room itself. My guess as to why? It’s been raining and gusting like hell for the last day or so. Our chum must not have wanted his handiwork to have been soaked to unrecognizability.
Frankly I’m both annoyed and intrigued; this is the first note with any content I actually recognize. The passage is from ‘Through The Gates of the Silver Key’ which is a short story Lovecraft co-wrote. I can’t say its one of my favorites, but it’s an alright effort given that it sort of started out as fanfiction. Haven’t figured out why the passage would be relevant to note-leaver’s agenda yet.
The car’s running again, though given the state of my camera I’m a little wary about whether or not it will stay that way. Don’t like to think how much dad paid to get it fixed.
Anyway, I want to thank all of you for sticking with me through all this. It’s, well, monumentally weird, and frustrating, and somewhat frightening. I guess if you can say anything good about the whole thing is I sure haven’t been thinking about Jessica much.
I got some comments asking if I'm Jewish. The answer is I'm not; lapsed Catholic, actually. Can't really say where I picked 'oy vey' up; I have a few semi-close relatives who have been NYC nattives, but if I had to guess I'd say its too many Spider-Man comics.
So surprise, surprise - the puzzle isn't the same form as any of the other puzzles we've encountered. It has the missing letters of the two newspaper articles, but none of the previous methods used have proven worthwhile.
he w Car r n s t n s b g ng o e e y k o a d s spe ed
There were Carters in settings belonging to every known and suspected
e of
age of Earth's history, and to remoter ages of earthly entity transcending
knowledge, suspicion, and credibility; Carters of forms both
non-human, vertebrate and invertebrate, conscious and
vegetable. And more, there were Carters having n
earthly life, but moving outrageously amid
and systems and galaxies and cosmic co
drifting from world to world, univer
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Birth
The missing letters are: TREERETESIETIGELONITVRNWNNUCTAG. They aren't usable as is (like the first note). It's not a Vigenère with a keyword of BIRTH (via the obit note). It's not taking every 6th letter (ala the Seraphim). It's not a ROT. Simple substitution doesn't seem likely. A few too many letters to get a easily identifiable anagram out of it. And so basically we're stuck until Mystery Man gives us another clue because he is such a terrible puzzle creator.
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Easter Break |
It's been a few days since we've heard from Thomas. Normally no news would be good news, but not in Windmill land. On the 21st, Thomas "woke up" to find himself in a small, pitch black, stone chamber where he was being watched by something that he couldn't see. He was kept in that cell until the sun rose, where he then noticed he was back in his room. Personally to me it sounds like he just experienced a night terror (with maybe a bit of sleep paralysis thrown in), but what do I know? I certainly can't blame him for wanting to get away from the Windmill for a while and deciding to spend the Easter weekend at his dad's.
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Today’s the 24th. Last time I updated was the 20th. What’s happened since then? Too much. Too fucking much. I’ll tell you about it chronologically.
I was painting most of the night of the 20th (I’ll have more to show you soon, provided…well, provided), but I actually decided to go to bed fairly early. That headache that had been coming and going had come, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere, so anyway, I went to bed around ten.
I woke up and I felt like I had slept for a million hours, but it was still dark. Those of you who live in a city don’t have ANY conception of how pitch dark it gets out there at the windmill with no lights on. If I were a cartoon character I’m sure my eyes would have been the only thing visible on a black screen.
Eyes… there’s a reason they come to mind here. Coming to wakefulness in the pitch dark room I felt something heavy… like something watching me like a lead ton weight. Couldn’t see anything couldn’t hear anything but my own breathing, but somehow I knew there was something in there with me.
I thought at that point that I couldn’t become more frightened. That was when I realized that this dark place I was in wasn’t even my room. I put my hands against the wall and the floor and found that I was sitting in a small, stone chamber, and I still wasn’t alone.
I don’t know how long I sat there in a shivering stalemate with whatever was sharing space with me. I called out, but I only got its continued attention in answer. I was barely conscious when the sun rose, I guess that’s how I didn’t notice the transition.
Because when I noticed the run had risen I noticed that I was in my room.
Have you ever had a moment when against all logic and against all reassurance you did not feel safe? When the sun rose on Friday I should have been telling myself ‘Its okay, it was just a dream’. But instead I was telling myself ‘you have to get out of here!’
That was probably the fastest I’ve ever gotten dressed. I didn’t stop for my painting supplies, or my laptop, or anything, I just got in the car and booked it.
I stopped a McDonalds on the way between the windmill and my Dad’s house. While I ate I had time to reflect on my situation and realize that yes, the experience I had that morning was almost certainly a dream. But it was also the most vivid and upsetting dream I have ever had, and yet another reason to just get the fuck away from that windmill.
I drove the rest of the way to Dad’s house. I told him I hoped he didn’t mind if I stayed over, I didn’t want to do all the back and forth driving given that I had my appointment Saturday and Easter Sunday.
I couldn’t tell if he knew that wasn’t all there was to it, or if he was just surprised to see me, but he kept giving me these looks when he didn’t think I was watching.
Anyway, the rest of Friday was pretty normal. I helped around the house, and just kind of enjoyed being around other people. I even watched some TV this weekend, which hasn’t really been my habit in a while.
Yesterday, Saturday, was my appointment. Honestly I had psyched myself up to tell Doc all about the weird shit that I had been experiencing, even if she thought I was crazy. But when I got in there, I choked. I couldn’t do it. I ended up just prattling on about mundane stuff. I told her about you guys; that I’d gotten a kind of following online, and I told her I’d been painting and actually sold some art. I’m pretty sure she knew I was keeping something important from her, but its not like she could make me say anything, I did feel bad, because I’m usually pretty straight with Doc, but I just felt like I donno, something was wrong.
So that was Saturday. Nothing much else interesting happened aside from telling lies of omission to my psychologist. :/
Today has been okay so far; some of my step-mom’s family came over for dinner. It’s always really weird interacting with them for reasons I’d rather not go into, but they mostly behaved themselves.
I’m sorry I didn’t post about what’s been going on the last few days until now, I just… writing about it makes it seem more real, you know? I don’t like thinking about all this bullshit.
I reread ‘Through the Gates of the Silver Key’, the story is one of the really weird ones. The ending especially reminded me of another of Lovecraft’s (better, IMO) works, ‘The Whisperer in Darkness’. Humans trapped in strange bodies, weird things pretending to be human. All very creepy and strange, but I don’t really get what it’s supposed to mean.
All the other notes have hidden some kind of code, so, this one probably does too, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is. Why double the first line like that? Why are half the letters missing? Even sitting there in plain black and white, the meaning eludes me. God it makes me feel stupid.
I don’t know if I even want to keep after this problem. I’ve been thinking all day, maybe I should ask my dad if I can just stay in the guest room. Yes it will suck, but will it suck more than living in a freaky windmill with mysterious…stuff?
I don’t know.
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The Silver Key Solve |
Since it had been 4 days without anyone coming up for a solution to the Silver Key note, Thomas gave us some of his thoughts on the puzzle.
All the other notes have hidden some kind of code, so, this one probably does too, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is. Why double the first line like that? Why are half the letters missing? Even sitting there in plain black and white, the meaning eludes me. God it makes me feel stupid.
I wish I could say that the hint made everything all clear and that I should have felt stupid for not seeing the solution earlier, but it didn't. It did lead me to look at both the given and missing letters as being important to the puzzle, rather than just the missing letters.
he w Car r n s t n s b g ng o e e y k o a d s spe ed e of given
T re ere te s i et i g elon i t v r n wn n u ct ag missing
Apparently the Mystery Man was inspired by Thomas' painting of the Windmill floor, because he decided to use Binary in this puzzle (instead of reusing any of his previous methods). Setting the missing letters = 0 and the given letters = 1 then reading in the original order, you get 0110010001110010011001010110000101101101011010010110111001100111 which decodes to dreaming. Slap a .html on the end of that and you get taken to dreaming.html.
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Dreaming |
The new Dreaming page appears to be a copy of some deleted text from Tom's blog. The first and last paragraphs are taken from his entry on 4/13, but the middle part is all new. The redacted text is Thomas wondering if he is becoming schizophrenic and if he could have broken the window and killed a bird without realizing it.
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so important, he decided to send it twice. Only slightly less
creepy than theory a, and much more plausible because
crazy.
I picked up my camera from the repair place yesterday. Of
course, it worked fine while I was there, but now it won't
sync with my computer. The computer just pretends it
doesn't fucking exist. I am just pissed beyond belief.
Wasn't going to post about the angel; definitely not going to
post about the rest of this. These people in a weird way
have become my friends, but I'm still not comfortable telling
them. So much really. But definitely not this. Not that I'm
probably gong nuts. I think they suspect it any way.
Did I really break that window? If I did, does that mean I
killed a bird? How could I have even done that? I know
schizophrenia can run in families, but even when Reggie was
at her worst she didn't kill anything. I'm frightened, and I
don't know what frightens me more, the thought that I
might be going crazy, or the thought that I'm not. Because if
I'm not, that means the shadows, the sounds, and the
things disappearing are real.
And if I am crazy it will ruin everything. My art, maybe even
my life. I don't think I could bear it, to give dad more ammo
that I'm just 'confused'. Bullshit. Bullshit bullshit.
The camera. That's what makes me think this might be real.
I had a weird feeling, I don't know why but I took the
camera and my laptop out into the woods. I took it further
and further away. When I was finally out of site of the
windmill...suddenly it linked with the computer, but all the
pics I tried to take of the windmill were corrupted. I tried to
take some more, and every time I got within site of that
damned structure...nothing.
I'm still going to try to take it back in for repairs. I hope that
The bit about the camera not working at the Windmill though is a bit creepy. It would be interesting to see if this was just a problem Tom experiences or if someone else came out to the Windmill, would they be able to get the camera working. If there is some sort of weird electrical interference going on, it might explain why his car isn't working.
It also might explain why Thomas is getting such intense headaches. Once upon a time, I used to know some people who were acutely bothered by electrical fields, so much so that some of them would retreat to the mountains of West Virginia during the summer just to get away from the problems. Makes me wonder if Tom ever dreamed of being a cat.
Oddly though, the image on the page is not a screenshot of Tom's computer while he was writing the blog. It seems to be a photocopy of a print out of what Tom originally wrote. Not only that, it appears that whatever photocopier was used was also used for the first newspaper article and the second seraph note. All three have a similar 'notch' on the lower left-hand edge of the image. So 'whoever' is leaving the notes for Tom is also able to upload images to his website.
I'm guessing that the name of the file (20110420165135.jpg) is just the time stamp it was created. 2011 is obviously the year with 04 being the month. The Silver Key note appeared on the 20th. I'm guessing it was placed around 4:51 pm (16:51:35). If Tom was home all that time, that would mean that if it was an outsider, they must have remote access to his server in order to be able to upload stuff. He should really check to see if he has a keylogger (or else figure out a way to stop himself from uploading stuff without realizing it).
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A Stalker? | |
While still at his dad's, Tom tweeted that he got another note placed under his windshield wiper. This one said 'Don't StaY HerE' written on the same type of paper as the original Welcome note. So either Tom has a stalker who is willing to follow him all the way out to his father's house, or Tom is rapidly developing a dissociative disorder.
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Enaxor's Painting |
Enaxor received the original Roosting Bridge painting from Tom in the mail. Not only that, but the original 'Welcome to the area neighbor' note was in the package as well as another diary page from Tom.
§
perspective on all this. I just don't want to screw myself
over by sounding crazy.
I want to apologize for the delay in the business cards, guys.
Shame on me for thinking anything in my life right now
would be easy or simple. Argh.
I'm starting to feel like a major asshole for not telling
Roxanne about the painting, too. I just don't know where to
find the courage to tell her that it disappered just like the
fucking notes. I am hoping to god that it turns up because
seriously, fuck. Hours of painting just vanished off the face
of the earth after I took money for them.
Not that I could send it anyway, with the care out of
commission. No matter wheater its 'possible' or not, I really
feel like that was done deliberately to cut me off.
Haven't had a note in days, haven't heard back from
Strange in Upstate, haven't had the stomach to post much
about it. Every day that marches toward my appointment
with Doc I feel crazier and crazier.
I'm sure now that it's the dark man and his friend with the
light who were leaving the notes, because I haven't seen
them since the last one. I've heard whispering, but I don't
know where its [sic] coming from. I can't tell my online friends
but that's what I really went chasing down the stairs after
last night.
Ghosts and shadows. I'm going mad, and its going to ruin
my life.
|‡||| |||||
ProTector
Hmm, so the Roosting Bridge painting went missing like everything else. Does this mean that Tom didn't actually send the package? Sure there is a note from him in there, but he could have printed that up beforehand and it could have been taken along with the rest of the stuff. Of course, that's assuming that there really is a Mystery Man and it is not Tom's subconscious doing all of this. I seriously doubt that Tom would have sent the diary page knowingly. But if it is Tom's subconscious, then that means that his alter-ego knows about the ring code somehow.
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Back to the Windmill |
Tom is back at the Windmill. He decided that he didn't really want to find out if the 'Don't stay here' note was a threat or not and so, wanting to protect his family, decided to err on the side of caution. Luckily for us, him being back at the Windmill means we get a very long update from him now that he has his computer back.
§
Those of you who follow my twitter (is that everyone who reads these?) know that I had an unpleasant surprise yesterday at my dad’s house. By which a mean a note. I don’t have a scan of this one, but I don’t think that’s very important because the message was really simple.
It was on the same kind of paper as the first ‘welcome’ note, and in the same writing as always. It simply said ‘don’t stay here’. Some of you have wondered whether that was a threat or a warning, and frankly I don’t know. But if it was a threat, then I don’t want my family involved in….whatever this is. And if it was a warning, well…
I slept on it to think it over. Took a long nap in the middle of the day, and then drove back here towards the evening hours yesterday. The good news is I finally managed to swing by the post office my dad wants me to use. So I finally have a PO box and will be able to get those business cards.
The bad news is it is finally unavoidable for me to believe that there is something very wrong going on here.
Things were quiet when I got back here. It looks like everything is the way I left it, my paintings are fine, nobody stole my laptop. I didn’t find anything out of place.
Except on the internet of course.
First, someone pointed out to me that the Silver Key note was some insipid cipher that decodes to a page on my own website. At this point, I don’t even know if I can say I’m surprised. Did I put it up in some kind of fugue state? Is someone else accessing my computer and my website?
At least this time I can say that yes, I wrote that. I will admit that I have been keeping a personal journal that was never meant to end up online, to write everything I thought was too stupid, crazy, or personal to share. Maybe that was unfair of me, or maybe I’m entitled to some secrets. I don’t know.
But someone clearly doesn’t want me keeping secret, because right after that I found out that the package I had mailed to Roosting Bridge’s buying contained more than just the painting and my letter to them. Oh no, it also contained the original copy of the ‘welcome’ note (which went missing, if you remember) and also ANOTHER page from my personal diary. That entry mostly goes on insufferably about how I’m seeing shadows, and the painting disappeared for a few days and I thought I would have to issue a refund. The page had the note-leavers hash mark code on it, which several people have suggested to me may be a written version of the supposed Sons of Grace ring code.
Needless to say, I certainly don’t remember putting those in there. :(
I guess I’m going to stop keeping a personal diary, because it clearly isn’t private. I should probably just stop writing things down altogether, and maybe this would end. Somehow, though, I doubt it would help.
So instead, I’m just going to share all that stupid crazy personal bullshit. Some of you will probably think I’m crazy, or will hate me, or won’t want buy my paintings because of what I share. But at this point I don’t care. I’m pretty sure some of you at least will stick by me, and that..makes me happy. Thank you, to those of you who are willing to forgive me for this mess that has become my life.
So today I am going to share 2 secrets with you. One crazy, and one personal. Very, very personal.
The crazy is this: I mentioned in my last entry that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing what was going on with Doc. I told you I just had a ‘feeling’. I didn’t have a fucking feeling. I saw her hand. She was wearing a black hematite ring on her finger. I didn’t see a second one (though part of me thinks it was thick enough that it could have been 2 together) but just the one was enough to shake me. It was probably nothing, just paranoia; plenty of people wear rings like that. But when I saw it I just couldn’t bring myself to say what I’d been going through.
The second thing. The personal thing. That’s a lot harder to admit. I don’t want to write it, I don’t want to tell everyone. I don’t want it to be a thing. I don’t want it to be important, I don’t want it to be something people know about me. Hell, I don’t want it to be true. But now I’m afraid that if I don’t tell you all, then this person, or force, or whatever, that has been airing my laundry will tell you using some idiot code.
So here it is, and I swear to god if any of you that I trust make a fucking issue out of this I am just done. I will just close up shop and stop posting. I won’t hold you accountable for fucking trolls who decide to fuck around, but if any of my regulars makes me wish I didn’t fucking share this it is all over.
Fuck, okay, not waiting any longer.
I was not born chromosomally male. The shots I mentioned are Testosterone injections. I wasn’t born with the name Tom. That’s why see a psychologist every month; because I have had to fight every step of the way to be who I am. I don’t know what else to say about this. It isn’t something I like to talk about. So yes, I am what people call ‘transgendered’ but really I am just a man who has to go through a lot of bullshit. Beyond that, I will answer well-intentioned questions via email, and ask that this not be brought up on any other part of this website aside from the comments to this entry.
Moving beyond that, I have priced out art prints. Individually signed prints of any painting I put up will be available for $12 USD plus shipping. If you want one, please send me an email with ‘PRINT’ in the subject.
On that note, the original painting of March of the Red Rook sold to the photographer, so sorry to the rest of you who were interested. I have been doping a fair amount of painting though, so expect new work to be available soon, provided I’m not totally interrupted by weirdness bullshit.
Speaking of which, now that I have the PO box I can FINALLY move forward on those business card. I am very sorry to those of you who have been waiting patiently for them, especially those who said they needed them before May. If you were one of those people, please, send me your new post-May address, and I’ll make sure a card gets to you.
On the subject of the PO box, I have something to say. I love mail. You can call me old fashioned, but letters, and stationary, and actually sitting down to exchange letters, photos, etc, I really enjoy. Letters have more weight, more reality to them than email. And so, invite those of you who correspond with my online, to correspond with me via the post. I’d appreciate if you didn’t sign me up for any bullshit catalogues. You can address mail to
Thomas Pickman
P.O. Box 93045
Rochester, NY 14692
Now, because my dad insisted on the post office being the one near him, it is like a 45 minute drive from the fucking windmill, so I will only be able to check it once a weekish. But I am still more than happy to correspond, and I hope some of you will indulge my silly hobby, and help me get some enjoyment despite all the weird shit that’s going on for me.
As for said weird shit, I am going to try inverting my sleep schedule for the most part of this coming week. I am hoping that sleeping during the day will mean I avoid experiences like my recent nightmare, and also leave me alert enough to maybe catch our note-leaver at work.
Night of 4/26 AKA 12:30am 4/27 longentry.html
The highlights:
- He links to the dreaming page. He confirms it is part of a private journal that he was keeping and that he did not put it up on the website.
- He confirms that the diary page Enaxor received was part of the same journal. He admits to mailing the painting and the thank you letter, but not the Welcome note or the diary page.
- He's no longer going to keep a private journal since it's no longer private. He'll share it all with us instead.
- The reason he didn't confide in his therapist during his last session is because he noticed that she was wearing a black hematite ring on her finger. He doesn't say what finger it was on, but thinks that she was wearing two rings on one finger.
- Tom wasn't born chromosomally male. That's why he visits his therapist every month and takes injections of testosterone. He'll answer well-intentioned questions via email, but doesn't want it to take over his blog.
- Art prints are now available for $12 USD plus shipping. If you want one, email him with 'PRINT' in the subject.
- He finally has a PO Box so business cards should be out soon. You are also free to mail him since he likes receiving snail mail. He'll only be able to check the mail once a week, so be patient if you mail him anything.
- His snail mail address is:
Thomas Pickman
P.O. Box 93045
Rochester, NY 14692
- He's changing his sleep schedule so that he's now sleeping during the day and will be awake at night. So look for update times accordingly.
I'm really most curious as to what rings his therapist has. The only double ring entries we have so far are Protector, Heir and Sacred Site. If his Doctor is a Protector, it may mean that Thomas doesn't have anything to fear from her. Unless of course a Protector only protects members/secrets of the cult. Then he could have a lot to worry about. We really need to find out more about the various members of the cult.
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Just Life |
Nothing exciting has been happening to Thomas lately, so I guess that's a good thing. No notes, no nightmares. He did see Jessica while he was out shopping, but since she didn't see (or acknowledge) him, there was no drama. The only real information he gives us is that he thinks that the Doctor's rings were on her left ring finger. So it would probably seem that she is a Protector |‡||| ||||| . If only we know what she is supposed to Protect.
§
Argh. Okay, so switching your sleep schedule on purpose isn’t as easy or as fun as it sounds. I’ve been tired all the time for the last two days, and basically sleeping in catnaps because I can’t stay awake, but I can’t stay asleep either. I’ve mostly been active at night, and done some good painting that I want to have up soon. Maybe Monday when I can get to the library to scan it.
I was up long enough during the day today to get into town and do some very necessary grocery shopping. I had a nasty surprise while I was there, though. I saw Jessica. It was the first time I’ve seen her since we broke up. We didn’t talk. She either didn’t see me, or pretended not to, and I wasn’t going to go up to her and start a scene. But it was hard. It fucking hurt like a knife. I had almost forgotten how beautiful she is. I should have painted more of her, no matter how much I loathe portraiture.
I haven’t had any more notes, nor seen their mysterious delivery agent. And thank god I haven’t had any more nightmares beyond vaguely restless dreams. I probably haven’t slept enough to have any really intense ones, I guess.
About doc, I’m sorry I forgot to mention which finger the ring (rings?) were on. I was pretty flustered by the whole thing. It was her left hand, and I believe it was the ring finger, though I might be mistaken. I feel so paranoid, because its fucking normal for people to wear rings, and here I am freaking out about this.
I know I go on and on like some sappy asshole about this, but I want to take a minute again to thank you guys for sticking by me. Yeah, maybe it’s easy to be supportive of somebody when they’re on the internet, but it’s equally easy to be a major douche to them. All the support I get from you guys, it really helps.
Night of 4/28 AKA 12am 4/29 justlife.html
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Sickness |
It's been several days since we've heard from Thomas. It turns out he's been extremely sick (and not killed by some whacked out member of the Sons of Grace). He's had a few more of the stone chamber nightmare, but was too sick to panic.
§
God in heaven have I been sick as a dog. Fever, vomiting, ugh, you do not want to know the details. I was sick all weekend, barely been out of bed except to puke. I didn’t even fully realize how long it had been since I posted, until this morning when my twitter-to-phone bleeping woke me up. Somebody, can’t remember who at the moment, wanted to know if I was okay.
So, yeah, I am sort of okay. Feeling a little steadier on my feet now, but man it was a couple of days of hell. I swear I had these weird fever dreams I can barely remember now. I do remember having another one where I was in that dark stone chamber, but I was so out of it this time, I didn’t have the energy to panic. At least the delusional stone felt really pleasant on my skin. It was so real. Fever dreams are like that I guess.
So yeah, I dragged my sorry ass out of bed this morning planning to write an entry much earlier for you guys, but then I found the note. And that meant I had to find the goddamn energy to drive to the library and scan it for you guys. Then I came home and napped because it fucking wiped me out. So I’m sorry that its taken so long for this.
Looks like our friend Mr. Notes is getting crazier.
God my head is killing me. I got the prints done while I was out to save energy, but I haven’t been to the post office yet. Sorry to any of you who sent me letters. :( I do however have 1 available signed print of March of the Red Rook, and 2 of Roosting Bridge if anybody is interested.
And that’s all I got. I am going back to bed. If this lasts much longer I am going to have to see a doctor. I do not have money for a doctor. AGH MY LIFE.
The Mystery Man wasn't deathly ill as he managed to leave another note for Tom. At least his puzzle is straight forward this time. Just take the underlined letters and it spells BERGMAN DIARY. Is that where this note comes from? Peter Bergman's diary? It sounds like it could be, but why give us just a page and not the whole thing - especially if it sheds light on the Sons of Grace? Or maybe Mystery Man only has a part of the diary and wants us to look for the rest of it. But where would we even begin to look?
§
the Arab's testimony. Furthermore it is my
suspicion that these rites are not merely
discussed in secret, but carried out in a
most unwholesome fashion. That the Graces
themselves are involved I do not doubt, but
to what degree I know not. They may be the
sick ringleaders of the whole endeavor, or
they may simply be turning a blind eye at
the let us say practices, of their
associates. Either way I grow tired of their
visitations upon my property, and more
RITUAL ||||† †||||
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All Quiet on the Windmill Front | |
It's been rather quiet in Windmill-land the last week or so. Thomas has posted a couple of updates, but nothing too exciting, which is why partially why the guide hasn't been updated in the meantime. That and I'm lazy. But with Thomas mailing stuff out earlier this week, we're in for a new round of note leaving goodness. So let's get caught up.
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Fight With Dad |
When we last left Tom, he had been really sick. He seems to have gotten better, but the whole situation with the Windmill got him wanting out. He asked his dad if he could move back home, but his dad refused. Maybe his dad noticed Tom acting strange around his house and wanted him out in case he snapped?
§
I don’t even have an excuse for not posting this time. This whole debacle is just using me up, one day at a time.
I was a coward. I asked dad if I could move home. He said no. We had a fight.
I’m depressed. I’m scared. I haven’t gotten anything done. I hate this.
I looked at the last note again and something jumped out at me. The first phrase is about the ‘Arab’s Testimony’. In Lovecraft fiction the ‘testimony of the Mad Arab’ (Abdul El Hazred) is another name for the Necronomicon. But it can’t possibly be a reference to that, because if the note is, as some have suggested to me, Peter Bergman’s (the guy who died in the windmill) diary, then it would predate Lovecraft’s writing.
I don’t understand what’s going on any more. Is Mr. Notes trying to suggest that the Sons of Grace are some kind of Cthulu worshipers? Because I’m going to be completely honest, I’m exhausted, and maybe a little crazy, and that still sounds stupid and impossible to me.
Even if I have been seeing things in the woods.
Midnight between 5/10 and 5/11 usedup.html
Thomas is afraid that the Sons of Grace might Cthulu worshipers since the note from Bergman's diary possibly references the Necronomicon. Great. Just what I needed. To throw myself up against another cult that worships an Elder God. I wonder who would end up being worse: Cthulu or Yog-Sothoth.
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Mr. Notes |
Thomas hasn't received any new notes from the mystery man (who he has taken to calling Mr. Notes now) but he has seen him (or at least someone) prowling around the woods at night. And it seems that Mr. Notes has a friend that sometimes accompanies him. I wonder what he's doing wandering through the woods at night. And why hasn't he left Thomas any messages lately? Are we missing something or is he just pissed that I got annoyed at his puzzles?
§
Actually managed the energy to leave the windmill tonight. Drove the 40 minutes out to pick up my mail.
2 people sent me letters, and 2 people sent me postcards. Thank you all so much. It really cheered me up to get these from you guys. Reading them made me smile. Stopped at walmart and restocked on envelopes and packing crap. I’ll be sending out replies and art to people this weekend. Thank you again to those who sent mail, it really made my night.
As you guys can see from my posting times, I seem to have succeeded in flipping around my sleeping schedule. The problem is, I can’t tell if its helping or just inching me closer to nuts. I’m all out of sync with the world, and the light for painting is shitty of course. I have a couple of pieces that are just sitting half done, waiting for me to suck it up and work on them.
Haven’t had a note from our friend in while, and I don’t even know whether I’m relieved about that or not. It almost seems a bit worrying. It’s like he’s santa and won’t bring any crazy messages unless I’m sleeping.
Seen him, though, at least, I think its him. Tall fucker, big, worrying smile practically in the middle of his head. I see him in the woods at night, weaving through the trees in the distance. Sometimes there’s something shorter with him, carrying a light.
Been hearing whispering too, but don’t know if it’s all in my head. Seems to be coming from under my feet. Somebody warned me there might be a well under the mill; I’m starting to consider it. No way to get in though, I’ve been looking. Floor’s as tight as a tomb; no way in from outside.
A couple of you wanted more info on my dad’s recent fuckery. I should have expected it, really. He’s more willing to throw money at me than spend too much time in my company. I hate it,. I’ve always admired him, and wanted his respect, but I know I’m not what he wanted in a kid. Still wish he’d even considered the idea for a few fucking minutes. He seemed really damned keen on me staying in this damned windmill. Windmill of the damned.
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Rain, Rain, Go Away |
It's been raining a lot in upstate NY (and the rest of the North East) this past month. There's been some flooding in areas and in general it's just been a very grey month. It sucks. Can't wait for summer. The sun is supposed to shine then, correct?
Still no new correspondence from Mr. Notes. Thomas keeps seeing him and his light in the woods though. Thomas said that it seems like Mr. Notes and pal are acting like some sort of guard. Are they guarding Tom from the Sons of Grace? Are they guarding the Sons of Grace from Tom? Or are they guarding something completely else? The hiding place of the Bergman diary, perhaps?
§
I’ve spent the evening so far tonight quietly writing correspondence. It’s an activity I’d let myself forget just how much I enjoy. The quiet, reflectiveness of it is soothing in a way that tapping on a keyboard (much as I enjoy that) will never be.
Those of you who wrote to me, and those of you who are awaiting prints or paintings should have your replies in the mail tomorrow. I won’t be driving all the way out to check my box again, just dropping them off at the local post office by the grocery store.
It’s been raining like the flood here the last two days, and the temperature’s taken quite a plunge. There’s been wind and fog, and honestly the change hasn’t done my temper any good. It’s hard to sleep, but equally hard to stay awake.
I’ve been drinking a lot of tea lately, instead of coffee, which is a little bit easier on my nerves. I managed to slag a pan in my idiocy though; I started boiling water yesterday and then fell asleep for half an hour. It took forever for the smell to clear out, even with a fan going.
Looking out the window just now, I saw that light again, in the trees and the fog. Mr. Notes must be out with his friend. I wonder what the hell they’re doing, when they aren’t leaving me messages. Maybe only prowling. They strike me almost as some kind of guard. Maybe there is something in the woods?
I’ll try not to dwell on this though. It’s easier with my inverted sleep to shrug it off; partly because it feels like I’m dreaming, even when I’m awake.
One more thing before I sign off for the night. I got a postcard in the mail with red umbrellas on the front and no address. Could the person who sent it please contact me? Thanks. :)
Midnight between 5/15 and 5/16 rains.html
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A Package from Tom |
Yesterday, I received a package from Tom. It contained a Roosting Bridge print that I bought from him, a new drawing Thomas made of Mr. Notes, a letter in reply to a postcard I sent him, and an extra note from Mr. Notes himself!
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The Windmill
5/15/11
Dear Rowan,
Thanks for the postcard! I did find it quite funny - especially the "mystery man" up in the corner. Really, this whole situation is just so ridiculous, that maybe laughing at it is the best response. I wish there was even a single facet of the situation that I could wrap my head around.
At the beginning of April, I was more angry than anything else, but now I don't know what's going on. I don't know how to feel.
Anyway, that's my problem, stupid as it is. How are things in your neck of the woods? I hope that things for you don't involve madmen or spectres.
I'm enclosing this letter with your print, and a sketch I doodled up this afternoon. In light of what happened last time I sent mail, please let me know if there is anything in the package besides this letter, the print and the sketch, because I DID NOT put anything else inside.
Hope that you are well. Looking forward to hearing from you again.
With fond regards,
Tom
It seems that Mr. Notes has traded in his codebook for a pair of scissors, because instead of a cipher, he's just chopped up what appears to be another page from Bergman's diary and photocopied the pieces. But when you put it all back together, you can see that he has left one of his patented underlined messages: HEED MY NOTES
§
of the door, or the Dweller in the Threshold. If this is
correct then I must assume that the Sons are maintaining, or
intend to conjure some kind of vile conduit of
betweenspace; though I cannot fathom for what purpose.
Such a thing would be a cursed abomination - a wound upon
the earth. I thank God and all His Powers that they cannot
yet possibly have full control of such an entity; the universe
itself would tremble in unmaking at its mere approach. The Dwellers
servants, though, I fear the Sons may already
||†|| ||†||
GaTE
I really wish we could send a message back to Mr. Notes saying that we are heeding his notes. We just don't know what the hell he's driving at. However the latest diary page scares the crap out of me. Although Bergman says the 'Dweller of the Threshold', I wonder if he really didn't mean 'Lurker at the Threshold' which would mean that the Sons of Grace are interested in Yog-Sothoth. Which means they are batshit crazy. And dangerous. But it's still rather confusing if Mr. Notes wants us to stay away from the Sons of Grace why he is drawing so much attention to them. It's not like Thomas (or any of us for that matter) was investigating the Sons before the notes were left. Sure he was seeing his therapist, but that's just a coincidence. Right?
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Other People's Packages |
Several other people received packages from Tom. They all seemed to have gotten a handwritten letter from Tom, a sketch by Tom and a message from Mr. Notes. The messages from Mr. Notes are the same chopped up message as above, but the ring codes are different.
||||‡ |||||
Death
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ReBIRtH
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Tom Talks Madness |
Tom is not happy about the packages that we've received. He doesn't understand how the extra notes got into the packages. He's been dreaming a lot, even in the daytime. He also seems to be spiraling down into depression since he lays in bed all day and just stares at the ceiling. He's not even painting anymore. Hopefully he'll snap out of it soon.
§
Its hard to sit down and write these days. I haven’t been bothering, but I know there are people out there who care. Care if I’ve vanished, or gone mad or been eaten by things in the night.
I haven’t. Not yet anyway. Well, maybe I am going slowly mad. There are days were all I do is lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. I was supposed to see Doc this weekend. Didn’t go. She called my cellphone but I didn’t answer. Pretty sure she called my dad; didn’t answer him either.
I haven’t been painting. My canvases are sitting half filled down on the first floor. I don’t like going down there now. Walking on that floor I feel like I’m close to…. Something.
The dreams have been coming even in the daytime now; even when its light out I find myself pulled back to that dark, cold cell with…whatever is in there with me.
People got the packages and letters I sent them in reply, but at least one person got something else, too. A note. It looks like Mr. Notes is sick of writing just to me.
Here’s what someone got.
Put it back together and its something about the sons of grace again. Worshipping some evil god. I’m guessing its another piece of the Bergman diary, if that’s even a real thing. More Lovecraft nonsense. Seems like someone got Yog-Sothoth mixed up with some weird dream creature, the Dweller on the Threshold I googled it. Supposed to be some kind of weird Jungian demon that fucks with people who astral travel.
The forest around the Windmill is green now. Somehow it looks more sinister with leaves than it did bare. If I can get my willpower together, I’d like to do a picture, even if its just some hackneyed photoshop sketch- if I can summon up courage not to just lie in bed and try to tune out the whispering.
I’m not bothering with comments. You all know how to reach me. Twitter. Email.
Midnight between 5/25 and 5/26 madness.html
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Continue to Page 3 >>
See the Intro page for a list of all the websites, plus brief information about this guide and the game.
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