Monday, 19 September 2011

-Spencer- God Complex


it's funny

the little things you notice when y'think you're gonna die like how clean August keeps the kitchen floor

and how there's little spots of blood on the ceiling

can't help but wonder if it's mine

They pushed us into a big white room and I began to blink because the light hurt my eyes. Then I saw a table and four men behind the table, civilians, looking over the papers. They had bunched another group of prisoners in the back and we had to cross the whole room to join them. There were several I knew and some others who must have been foreigners. The two in front of me were blond with round skulls: they looked alike. I supposed they were French. The smaller one kept hitching up his pants: nerves.

... it's all foggy, all in that delightful fog that's been around for the past few weeks, i couldn't have done it by myself because I woulda died if I took the Gift out of me, wait for doc, she'll make it all better

something entered our territory, the House's territory; was reading about Miranda, poor, poor Miranda and Emma. They're dead. Dead. Am I going to....

Threw open a cabinet and HRRRGK there were the pistols the dishes fell to the floor with the prettiest of ugly sounds and I crunched over the broken glass with my boots and stepped outside and it was cold cold cold it was freezing

Day was coming in through four air holes and a round opening they had made in the ceiling on the left, and you could see the sky through it. Through this hole, usually closed by a trap, they unloaded coal into the cellar. Just below the hole there was a big pile of coal dust: it had been used to heat the hospital, but since the beginning of the war the patients were evacuated and the coal stayed there, unused; sometimes it even got rained on because they had forgotten to close the trap.

Tom began to shiver. "Good Jesus Christ, I'm cold," he said. "Here it goes again."

i'm sorry everyone, I should have known better
i should have known better

I couldn't move on my own; the crawling started under my skin and I SLAMMED into the ground and I could feel something in my chest crack and mend like dying and breathing all at once and I couched as I tried to get up and tried not to scream as my shoulders screamed in disagreement and then they dislocated and relocated and moved like they shouldn't


looking back, i'm not sure who I was talking to

Elaine, elaine beside me. I was going to kill her, she was going to kill me, and I-

told, tell her to get away and my head slams into the ground again

drops of thick, dark red splatter onto the ground and I feel a warm stickiness near my temple start to ebb and flow

"Kneel. kneelkneelkneelkneelkneelFUCKDAMMITSHUTUP!!!!"

she said she wouldn't leave me like this
I told her to get inside

i should have known better

below me, a patch of fresh snow.

There was a strange smell about Tom. It seemed to me I was more sensitive than usual to odors. I grinned. "You'll understand in a while." "It isn't clear," he said obstinately. "I want to be brave but first I have to know. . . .Listen, they're going to take us into the courtyard. Good. They're going to stand up in front of us. How many?"

He began to talk to himself: he never stopped watching the Belgian. The Belgian didn't seem to be listening. I knew what he had come to do; he wasn't interested in what we thought; he came to watch our bodies, bodies dying in agony while yet alive.

"Last Chance."

All three of us stare and I'm not sure if it's because we know what it means or not
Star gagged and coughed and clutched his head and moved towards the side of The House

I felt myself jerk to the left and felt more things crack and could almost see the bloody mist leave my mouth before I felt the pain and then the warmth spread the corner of my mouth

the temperature fell

and fell

and fell

until white flecks of snow floated down in front of my eyes and the area got a blue tint and all I could say was


a pathetic whimper of a man who has everything falling apart around him

At that moment I felt that I had my whole life in front of me and I thought, "It's a damned lie." It was worth nothing because it was finished. I wondered how I'd been able to walk, to laugh with the girls: I wouldn't have moved so much as my little finger if I had only imagined I would die like this. My life was in front of me, shut, closed, like a bag and yet everything inside of it was unfinished. For an instant I tried to judge it. I wanted to tell myself, this is a beautiful life. But I couldn't pass judgment on it; it was only a sketch; I had spent my time counterfeiting eternity, I had understood nothing. I missed nothing: there were so many things I could have missed, the taste of manzanilla or the baths I took in summer in a little creek near Cadiz; but death had disenchanted everything.

Elaine dragged Star to the House and came back for me
but I knew she would interfere
and probably die
it's funny
i never thought i would die on my own kitchen floor

it took two seconds for her to get to me but that was all I needed. The brick wall was long and endless and sturdy and beautiful and i admired it for a second before the third rib cracked from the backlash

then the fog moved in
then the nightmares moved in

those red eyes, those burning red eyes; they've haunted me since i saw them in that dream, since they told me what I was and what I could be

.... I have an idea, that you are here.....

He wept: I could clearly see he was pitying himself; he wasn't thinking about death. For one second, one single second, I wanted to weep myself, to weep with pity for myself. But the opposite happened: I glanced at the kid, I saw his thin sobbing shoulders and I felt inhuman: I could pity neither the others nor myself. I said to myself, "I want to die cleanly."

"This is my /HOME/, y'bastard, and I'm not giving it over so godamn EASILY-"

retch. Reeeeeeeeeetch. But don't fall, don't fucking fall

my arms hang limply at my sides and I think for a second that I'm not alive at all, just a puppet, just a stitched together doll...

Tapping. Tapping of a cane. I smiles then. Maybe I laughed, it's hard to remember.

"You remind me of an old "friend-" gasping, laughing, I can't stop because if I stop then I'll start to cry because I don't want to die here but I'm going to face this with dignity-

These men dolled up with their riding crops and boots were still going to die. A little later than I, but not too much. They busied themselves looking for names in their crumpled papers, they ran after other men to imprison or suppress them: they had opinions on the future of Spain and on other subjects. Their little activities seemed shocking and burlesqued to me; I couldn't put myself in their place. I thought they were insane. The little man was still looking at me, whipping his boots with the riding crop. All his gestures were calculated to give him the look of a live and ferocious beast.

dignity- not something that one possesses as they retch in their front yard with such force that they feel a pop in their eye and lovely tendrils of red cloud my vision

gloved hands reach for my own damn gun and I give a few shots

"Hey hey hey, ugly, that's mine."

The hands vanish and I feel something smash into my shoulderblades, once, twice, oh look I'm going to be beaten to death by a tacky knick knack the warmth and stickiness spreads to the back of my head but I won't kneel, makememakememakeme

Valtiel, that's his name.

The Wall starts to crumble and Elaine is running but The House isn't exactly happy with me
so he drags me by the hair into my own kitchen
I keep laughing
haven't stopped

until It

They were badly mistaken. In the laundry I sat on a stool because I felt very weak and I began to think. But not about their proposition. Of course I knew where Gris was; he was hiding with his cousins, four kilometers from the city. I also knew that I would not reveal his hiding place unless they tortured me (but they didn't seem to be thinking about that). All that was perfectly regulated, definite and in no way interested me. Only I would have liked to understand the reasons for my conduct. I would rather die than give up Gris. Why? I didn't like Ramon Gris any more. My friendship for him had died a little while before dawn at the same time as my love for Concha, at the same time as my desire to live. Undoubtedly I thought highly of him: he was tough. But it was not for this reason that I consented to die in his place; his life had no more value than mine; no life had value. They were going to slap a man up against a wall and shoot at him till he died, whether it was I or Gris or somebody else made no difference. I knew he was more useful than I to the cause of Spain but I thought to hell with Spain and anarchy; nothing was important. Yet I was there, I could save my skin and give up Gris and I refused to do it. I found that somehow comic; it was obstinacy. I thought, "I must be stubborn!" And a droll sort of gaiety spread over me.

until It started calling.

It was only abbetted by the shadows that flank The House, the shadows that have always been there and never been there. Spencer noticeably stiffens and the room goes silent, but is it silence? it roars in everyone's ears like the coming of god and the destruction of the world all at once.

Something from nothing.

It gathers from the place in the corner of your eye that you avoid looking out of; every great fear and great love you've ever had; ichor webs string across ceilings and floors, gathering into a main, pulsating body; the static is getting worse. Even in the small kitchen the dark, pure black sky is endless, trapping, consuming, /OBSERVING/, and in the middle of it all, a beacon.
It was like viewing something from underwater
everything was beautiful and nothing hurt


I must've came to when He was gone.
Star was in bad shape, I could feel myself bleeding, and Elaine was hysterical.
thinking back, her eyes looked so incredible at that moment...

Todd was the first to find me
it's getting kind of dark
you wake up at Seatac

"Yes. What a fool. Of course they went by there this morning, that was sure to happen. They found him in the gravediggers' shack. He shot at them and they got him."

"In the cemetery!"

Everything began to spin and I found myself sitting on the ground: I laughed so hard I cried...

Hellen had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell. Hellen took some dynamite and blew the bell to Hello operator-


  1. Tsk, tsk, tsk~! Looks like the clock's running out for Mr. Fitzgerald~

    It's been a while, Teller. Do you remember me? Because /I/ remember /you/.

    And boy, do I have words for you, my dearest, most darling partner...


  2. Oh well this is just fucking dandy

  3. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
    Shit, Spencer! Guys. I. Shit, do what you can. My thoughts are with you, for what little it counts.

    I should go for now. Tia looks like she's about to threaten me with something.

  4. Addendum: Spencer Fitzgerald, if you die, I will punch you. I'll figure out a way.

  5. I think there's an order of precedence Lissie.

  6. Nemo: I know. I know. Believe me, I know. But tiny, flailing punching. Because that's all I have other than extending fear and concern right now, so futile threats, it is. Because I can and because I care. And... Yeah. I need to take my meds. Now.

  7. oh god Spencer, don't you start falling too. i need some kind of constant in my life!

  8. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, grinds the gears within the clock... heh

  9. Fucks sake Spencer... Get yourself together. If not you you, for your goddamn team. They need you more than they fucking realise.

    So stand up, you son of a bitch. Or are you just unworthy to live that long life of yours, Mr Miracles?

    So many people die, you survive, you hear me?


  10. Fools, he's not dead.

    He's /shifting/. He's losing.

    its not his fault.


  12. So that Writer guy is on Spencer's account now? Did he write the part in the post where it's third-person? (Second-person?)
    Also, I note there's nothing from Raven yet. Couldn't compete with the density of quotations within the post, I bet.

  13. I have been busy Ben

  14. Fuckfuckfuck, hang in there, Spence, you stubborn bastard, you don't get to die before I punch you for what you said the other night, you understand?
    Fuck I'm so sorry I couldn't stay, had to get him out, had to get him away, hope that maybe they'd leave you alone if we left...
    Please don't die.