The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

This is the tale of an incident that occurred to me a few years ago, when I was a younger man, and convinced that the world was exactly as I saw it, and worked exactly as I was told it worked. I had just finished my undergraduate degree at a college I shall not name, in the middle of Wales. Though my degree was interesting enough, I really wanted to leave behind the books and the academia, and immerse myself in the study and practical research of the paranormal. Though my funds were slight, at best, and my student loan needed repaying, on returning to London, I placed an advertisement in my local gazette, asking for anyone who had experienced paranormal phenomena, and didn’t mind talking about it to give me a call. I couldn’t offer anything in the way of a reward for their troubles, but I did promise to buy them a drink or two while we talked over what they had experienced. It didn’t take long for me to receive my first and only caller, and to be honest, I was quite surpris...

You stumble into the kitchen, covered in sweat. Mind racing. Heart thumping. Christ, could he have followed me here? You think. How did he even find me? A moment passes. One thing is certain. He’s not here now. Your stomach rumbles. Even someone in your position has to eat. Your refrigerator door cries as you tug it open. You peer through the shelves. A jug of tea catches your eye. You take a swig, right out of the container. Your mother won’t know. The tea tastes sharper than usual. You examine the label. Black tea. She bought the wrong kind. You shrug, reach for some leftovers. Flip the TV on in the other room as you slide them into the microwave. The five o’ clock news plays in the background. It might say something about him. The usual teary story about the war. Some presidential candidate is coming to your town. You count down the numbers on the microwave. 5, 4… “And, finally, tonight a food contamination alert for all residents in this county.” …3, 2… “A shipment of Lipt...

It is said that all of us have ancestral memories locked away within us. Some even argue to say that these memories are kept in consciousnesses separate from our own, or, to put it more simply, in multiple personalities. To unlock these memories is to gain an infinite amount of wisdom from the mistakes and experiences of the past, but to access the memories, one would have to discover their “other” personalities. And once they’re awakened, they’ll be wanting a body to STAY awake in….

It wasn’t until I broke down in front of my sister that it occurred to me to use the word ‘haunted’. When I tried to explain what was happening to me, finally articulating the weeks of dread and utter dislocation, I found that no other word would come. Haunted. There’s still a part of me that scoffs and glowers at this, to use the language of folklore; it seems to compress what I’d experienced into a simple banality, a prisoner of language. I paid cash upfront for the house in West Toluca Lake. Something about the 1930′s Spanish architecture tucked behind the grove of weeping willows triggered a strong association with my childhood ideal of what it meant to be famous and successful in Los Angeles. It was far more than I needed, and I struggled to fill the extra rooms with bedroom sets and elaborate smoking lounges; more out of an obligation to keep up appearances when guests were over than to satisfy myself. I was happy there, for a short while. My friends stop visiting a ...

During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States involving a strange, humanlike creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, as most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed. Primarily focused in rural New York state, self proclaimed witnesses told stories of thier enounters with a creature of unkown origin. Emotions ranged from extremely traumatic levels of fright and discomfort, to an almost childlike sense of playfulness and curiosity. While their published versions are no longer on record, the memories remained powerful. Several of the involved parties began looking for answers that year. In early 2006, the collaboration had accumulated nearly two dozen documents dating between the 12th century and present day, spanning 4 continents. In almost all cases, the stories were identical. I’ve been in contact with a member of this group and was a...

If you grew up in the country as I did, you’ve heard it. The one about some bridge or some location, usually in a valley and almost always near water, where something horrible supposedly happened to a mother and her baby, and at night if you are quiet you can hear a baby crying or a woman calling for her child? Yeah, that one. It’s a great excuse to take your girlfriend out to a dark secluded location, get her all scared and have her jump in your lap. When she feels all safe and secure, the panties come right off, right? Scary places always landed me the choice ass back in the day. Know what I mean bro? Yeah well, I know what really happened, and I know the place where it occurred. You see, there’s this old bridge down in a valley that crosses a small river. It’s not far from here, If you want I can take you out there. Yeah, we can go tonight. The legend usually says a mother was rushing her sick baby to the hospital and ran her car off the bridge. The story also goes that ...

Phew! That was the last of the things that I've piled up. As you may guess it, I have moved out of the house. I gotten the hell outta dodge and I will never turn back. I've gotten all the things that I needed, left a not-so-farewell note behind for Momma, picked up Bushy to bring along with me and just left in the middle of the night. Well, I gotta have some form of company now, don't I? Bushy pretty much fits the bill. It wasn't easy to pack the printer, laptop and my clothes in one suitcase, but somehow I managed. Surprisingly. Guess where I am now? Bet you can't. Give up? I'm at Jan's place. Yes, that's right, I got the hell outta dodge and moved in to Jan's place. Or to be more specific, his attic. Only Jan and I know about this place. Not even his clueless rents know about this attic because it just so happen to be above Jan's room through a trapdoor on his ceiling directly above his bed, and he wasn't about to share this secret p...

I had an argument with Momma today. Why, you ask? What did she do this time, you ask? She totaled my research that's why! 2, 3 weeks of research down the toilet because she decided to go bonkers and tore up all my folders and whatever I had in them and threw them into the fireplace. I fucking told her not to ever, EVER, enter my room without my permission! I even forced her to sign an agreement on this! And what does she do? I turn my back for one moment to go out and buy myself some take-out for lunch and come back to see her ransacking my room, walking back and forth from my room to the fireplace and tearing up my folders and my research and pictures while sobbing like a fucking scorned 3-year-old. Fucking breach of contract, that's what! She was absolutely hysterical, screaming and crying like I just gave her a whoop in the ass or something (not that I'm not tempted to) and told me I shouldn't dabble into things that I have no understanding of. I tried t...

Sorry for not logging in on updates or anything. Been researching things like crazy, and something happened that made me gone into withdrawal for a while. Janphen's funeral was on the way last week. I was expected to attend, but I didn't. I couldn't face the fact that it could've been my fault that he was dead. That I didn't see the signs and allowed it to happen. I just stayed outside the church where the funeral services was done, hearing the preacher droning on and on about blessings and life after death and whatnot (I'm not a sucker for religion, really), and people delivering eulogies for him. Some of them were bullshit though, just a farce, because I've known Jan long enough to know that some of the things they said are totally not what I know about Jan. Or maybe it really is something I didn't know about Jan, the other side of him. He did, after all, became my friend not entirely by choice. Choice... I remember his words that day I vi...

Sorry for the late entry here, but I've been going through some really weird shit trying to investigate this odd Slenderman guy, and boy, do I have a freaky result up in hand. OK, so after I searched through the web about Slenderman, this is pretty much what I got: The Slender Man is a mythical creature completely created on the Internet which has grown beyond its Internet Urban Legend status to become the target of pictures, fictional stories and videos about "him". He's often depicted as a tall and thin silhouette, wearing black pants, a black suit with a white shirt, and a black necktie underneath. What is startling and creepy about this creature is that he is usually depicted with absolutely no visible face. Furthermore, he can stretch out or shortens his arms as well as he hides some kind of tentacles on his back. So basically some dude named Victor Surge got bored, decided to start up some fucking shit, goes to this forum website called Something Aw...

I have done a bit of looking up on this weird symbol that I found. I've spent all day and all night searching through the net to see if there is anything that would explain what that symbol is, since I dunno the name and I could only type the word "weird symbol" on the Search engine and sieve through a gajillion pictures to find the one I was looking for. Thank God I've got the patience to the point of inhuman when it comes to doing things that I really set my mind to it. Apparently, this symbol is called The Operator Symbol. Something that has to do with some sort of internet cult known as the "Slenderman Phenomena". Says in this website that The Operator Symbol can either be considered a sign for protection against this motherfucker or some sort of compulsion the victims of Slenderman tend to have after their encounter with that mo-fo. Is that it? Jan got involved in some Slender-watchamacallit shit and ended up becoming something out of the Tw...

Momma is knocking at my door again. I tell her to go away and leave me alone. Fuck, can't I even mourn for my best friend in peace? I heard that some of Jan's relatives from another town are going to come down to proceed with the funeral services, that is, after the boys in blue are done autopsying him and his rents and reporting it to whoever was in charge of handling Jan's case. The boys in blue came yesterday to question me again, and I just told them what I knew, what I saw and what Jan and I have been through for the past few days before he started acting like shit to me. They asked me if I knew he had any troubles or was depressed or was on medication. I told them I knew none of the sort. I told them he was perfectly fine, and we even had sex after we went to watch some R-rated movies. Momma didn't look surprised that I told them I lost my virginity to Jan. She had expected we were a couple. It's not like that. It's just casual sex. We're f...

God, I can't believe...I can't believe this is happening. Jan...Jan is dead... I guess I should start from the top. God, my hands are shaking just typing this damn post. The day before I made that last post, I decided to put my foot down and investigate once and for all what the hell was going on with Janphen and his little recluse phase. I decided to go forth after giving Bushy his nightly feedings. As I walked down to his home, so many questions were spinning in my mind. What happened to us? What happened to him? Why is he behaving this way? What could possibly have caused such a drastic change in him? What did he mean by me knowing where, who or WHAT Pops is? Does he know something about Pops that I don't? And where the hell are his parents? They should at least be around worrying about their son being like a fuckin' hermit crab at home and call in the shrink or the exorcist or whatever, not going MIA all of a sudden! So there I was, in front of Jan's ...

Holy crap... HolycrapholycrapholycrapholycrapholyCRAP... Jan is dead. Jan is fucking dead. I'm not kidding! I'M NOT KIDDING!! Jan is DEAD!!

Jan hasn't answered my calls. Again. He hasn't answered my texts either. Again. He's not even online. Again! He's not even answering his doorbell and his parents are just frickin' not there all the time. AGAIN!! What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?! You were fine all the way ever since I met you in junior high! Now all of a sudden you're like behaving like some sort of weirdo from the frickin' Twilight Zone or something!! Why don't you answer my calls?? Reply my text?? Go online?? Get the fuck up and answer the door?? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??!!

I did it. I went to school and told the principal that I'm quitting. I know, I said I was going to call them, but I think it would be better that I told him in person. It's gonna make the experience so much better. When I went to the principal's office, though it kinda reminds me of the last time I went in there for something I have done (particularly the one where Jan wasn't around), he was enjoying his lousy decaf coffee and eating Dunkin' Donuts like all fatass principal who enjoys to just laze around inside rather than getting involved outside where the student welfare actually mattered. Principal: Ah, Ms. Anderson. I was about to call your home to ask of your whereabouts, since you have been absent from school more than the grace period time of absence Me: Flowery words, Mr. P, but I'm here to tell you, I quit school Principal: Oh? On what grounds? Me: On the grounds that I don't like it and I don't really give a shit about schooling Principal: Well...

Nothing special today happened. Other than the fact that Jan ignored my calls and text and had not gotten online when I tried to contact him through MSN. And when I came to his home, his folks didn't seem to be home to answer the door and he didn't seem to want to answer either. I know he's at home. He's got his own car and it's parked in the partially opened garage. But he didn't answer the door and didn't seem to have left his room either. I wanted to climb up and peek in but that would make me look like a fucking criminal trying to break and enter. I did see lights from his computer flicker for a while, but that's it. He showed no signs of movement whatsoever. I didn't go to school either. In fact, while typing this, I'm trying to construct what to write in my letter of school resignation. Ah, fuck it. I'll just call the school and tell them I don't wanna have anything shit to do with them and I'm quitting. Momma is not gonna like ...

Today something else freaky happened. I was staying home as usual, contemplating whether I should just give going to school alone another shot when there was loud banging at the front door. I didn't bother answering it, coz I know Momma would do it, since she's usually the early bird for work, but when there was suddenly yelling involved, I knew something was up. No one yells at Momma but me. That was the rule in this house. My rule anyway, but still. Anywho I went down to investigate, and I saw that it was Mrs. Crumps, the next door neighbour who "owns" the White Witch. The moment she saw me showing up, her voice seemed to have gotten an octave higher as she pointed that stupid nail-polished finger at me. Mrs. Crumps: You! I know it's you! You did it, didn't you?! ADMIT IT!!! Me: I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, bitch! And get that fucking finger of yours off my face before I hack it off with a chainsaw! Momma: Language, George! Me: She ...

Sorry for the missed day. Technically it should be considered Day 5, but since I was at Janphen's and this really freaky shit happened, I had to collect myself to get my head together before I could write this down. Besides, who's counting, right? Anywho, that night after my blog entry, I made my way to Janphen's place to check him out and see if he's OK. Didn't go with the best of my clothes, but then again, Jan's folks, despite their grimaces, never really comment much about it. They better not be. If they know what's good for them. I asked for Jan, and they said he had been down with something they couldn't really explain, and had been cooped in his room since he came home from Home Ecs. That's when I remember I did notice something a little off when I was his partner in that class, but he kept saying it's just a stomach flu or something. I went to his room and let myself in, and there he was lying in bed, his back facing me. I sat down and sh...

Janphen still hasn't showed up to pick me up to school today, so here goes another day without school. Momma just yelled at me for not going to school again. I told her to fuck off. I told her if she loved school so much, she should just go herself and take over my place. She just said "Shit" and left me at that. Good riddance. Why is she always on my case is beyond me. Well, actually she's always on my case, but these few days it was more than usual. If it weren't for the fact that I'm still a minor and can't really hold my own until I actually get a job to survive, I would've moved out of my home and hit the road already. Dammit, she may be my Momma and all, but dammit, I hate her. And God knows she hates me too. I just know it in my gut instincts ever since the first time I heard her blaming me for being who I am and blaming me for Pops' disappearance. I think maybe tonight I'll go visit Janphen to see why didn't he show up today and yes...

Janphen didn't come to pick me up to walk with me to school today, so I guess I'm not going to school either. He's probably the only reason why I would put up going to school. Seriously, what is exactly even the point of going to school? I mean, you only learn half of what's out there in the real world, and 90% of the time, the things you learn in school doesn't even apply shit in the real world. So why bother? Momma said if I keep this up, I'll end up working for some good-for-nothing department store as a cashier or a waitress at some dragster cafe earning peanuts. Well, EXCUSE ME for not having high expectations like you, Momma. What I wanna do with my life is none of your beeswax anyways. Didn't you hate me for being a girl in the first place? Why are you so damn concerned about my welfare anyway? Since when do you give a shit? Though I should've said this to her face. I'd love to see her looking like I just told her I was pregnant or something. ...

Well, can't believe I'm back, and actually playing along with this. What more can I say about myself? Hmm... Well, from what I heard from conversations between Momma and her family friends, I was pretty much born in a good old fashioned home birth. Pops almost missed the birth, but then again in the old days, men weren't allowed to be in the same room with the women during birth anyways, which pretty much made it redundant to show up anyhow. Must've been a pretty crappy birth coz from the looks of it, the midwife who delivered me wasn't too experienced. She made Momma punch me out (no literal pun intended) too hard that it somehow severed some of the arteries in her womb, thus the near-death experience with blood loss. Momma had to be rushed to the hospital in the dead of night to be saved, and I was pretty much the one that pulled through the most. Pops left when I was one month old. Never really knew the reason why. He just left a note saying that he won't be ...

Depression is a bitch. And apparently my friend Janphen told me that writing on a blog like some sort of diary might help. Not that I want to. But I'm doing this just to make him happy. So...what am I supposed to write? About myself? Maybe. Alright, here's the facts: 1. I'm female, though people tend to think I'm male, but that's fine. Gender consciousness was never really my thing. 2. The name's George. Yes, that IS my actual name. Not short for Georgina or Georgiana or whatever. Just George. Father wanted a boy, came out a girl, Mother ended up almost died of blood loss after birth and had to remove her entire womanhood, and thus no more sibs for me. Guess that's why Pops left. 3. Not at a legal age to smoke or drink, but who gives a fuck, right? You only live once. 4. Go to a crappy middle-class school with a bunch of doodads for friends and only have one true friend, which is Janphen. He's all I need. 5. Aside from movies and arcades, I stay in my ro...