Shadows of a Book . . .

[Eilonwy Solstice]

There was no sound . . . but something not of the house brought me out of my slumbering thoughts and back into my bedroom. Shadows swirled around the wrinkles of the bed sheets and covered the dressers and desktops, tendrils and fingers seeking out a pulse of life to kill. The darkness seemed to gather all the thicker in the night, gathering most thickly by the quilted cot laid perpendicularly to the foot of our bed, laying siege to the tiny nightlight plugged into the outlet a foot off the ground. I sat up in bed.

Ron? Hannah?

I was the only one in the bed, and the cot was empty. I pulled into a bathrobe and was securing the cloth belt around my waist when the dull, heavy feeling throbbed behind me. I licked my lips and turned around, unsure of what I would do if this proved to be an enemy. It was Doc Coltraine, slightly pudgy, balding, and with the entire left breast of his sports jacket smeared in dripping blood.

He spotted me and staggered forward, his mouth agape and his countenance pale. Take . . . this. Don’t let it fall into . . . her hands . . . He stumbled to his knees right in front of me, pulling away the stained lapel of his bloody jacket and reaching for an inner pocket. His hand withdrew a book too large to have come from his jacket and held it out to me. I took in my hands and immediately saw the words emblazoned on the front, Diary of Doctor Joshua Philip Coltraine.

I looked up, but he had vanished.

I felt a great deal of danger and urgency steal over my heart like a veil. There was a sliver of light signifying the outline of the doorway, and I readily made my way to it, hugging the battered journal to my chest. The halls were corridor-like and filtered through my senses like a fish eye lens, distorted, twisted . . . unreal. The shadows caressed and moved like tree branches in the wind, grasping for the skirt of my nightie and the cover of the book in my arms. I wandered through the nightlit halls, finding nothing but empty, blood-soaked rooms and closets full of skeletons. The shadows became angular and sharp-edged, whining for blood and death with the silence of a wasp tiptoeing on a windowsill. I flinched and held my scream in check when a shadowy limb branched out and scratched at my neck. Backpedaling frantically at the sight of the raggedly thin arm that was anchored to the web of shadows at the shoulder, it clawed at the air, waving frantically for a hold. My breath caught in my lungs; behind me, more arms sprang from the shadows, grabbing my hair, my neck, my shoulders and nightdress. I clutched the book and struggled against the sharp-nailed fingers trying to pry it from my grasp. They scratched and pulled, but somehow the distortion of the scene allowed me to pull free.

Like writhing plants weeping blood, cutting themselves with their own claw-like nails, the arms tried to grab me as my bare feet pounded silently on the hardwood floors, shadows hanging everywhere like bad laundry flung about and forgotten. There was a lull in the frenzied arms’ movements, cut and bleeding from their own attack, the lines of blood slowly oozing to the floor like a an unbroken line of saliva slowly trailing down to the ground, pausing an inch above the wood before distending . . . and slowly rising back up. I paused and slackened my frantic pace. I could feel the shadows sift around my feet, caressing my skin just as roughly as any unwashed shag carpet. An alcove presented the perfect spot to offer rest . . . or so I thought.

But the scene grated, twitching like a movie reel’s end. I couldn’t hear the gurgling, or the snuffling . . . but it was there and it seized my heart also seized my breath. Behind me, the fish lens showed the threshold of the room I had just . . . suddenly filled by a huge, lumbering frame. Thick shoulders pushed their way through the frame, scuffing and tearing the wooden beams out. The creature was massive, a hairless gorilla with crimson eyes and heavy jowls full of shark’s teeth. I knew what it was even before its huge, maggot-pale limbs lifted into the light and stationed themselves like moldy pillars in front of it. A gusting plume of steam heated the front of the creature’s chest as it breathed out its nose, outlining a triangular peak around the maggoty flesh with white, dissipating froth. It put out its gargantuan limbs in front of it and dragged itself forward . . . the altered depth worked in the creature’s favor this time. One swing of his limbs was like two . . . I tried swinging around and running away, but just at that moment, more bloodied arms grappled for me. I struggled, but there were too many of them. Arms rose from the ground and seized my feet, my legs, my skirt . . . dragging me to the floor.

Dozens of arms sank into the floor, slowly pulling me to my knees, to my back. Sharp-nailed hands held me bound, gripping my hair, my shoulders to the ground, my legs and hips. The huge abomination shuffled forward with impossible speed, warped by the conventions of the fish-eye distortions and made to appear vulgarly slow. I clutched the journal to my breast as tightly as unreality allowed, the arms scraped and tore at my hands and wrists, my fingers and neck . . . but I held on. The dull thud of the beast’s arms sent waves through the scene like water drops on a pond . . . seen, but unheard; felt, but not sensed. Even had I not been in the clutches of all the hands, the two bulky fists that crashed down at my side trapped me better than any cage could. The creature turned its head this way and that, heavy jowls trembling, a thick rope of drool hanging from the corner of its mouth and slowly lengthening. Two scrawny arms waved in the air above me, clones of those that help me prone to the ground. The rope of saliva stretched downward, scraping the air in front of me. My head was held in place by countless fingers, moving would be impossible.

The line of drool shifted as the chin lowered . . . red eyes were revealed, two searing blots of match light burning away any courage I had gathered. I tried to speak, to yell, to struggle as its tiny right arm reached for the journal . . . but the pressure around me was building . . . I was sinking into a bottomless ocean . . . I couldn’t breathe . . . the red brands stared at me through the gathering darkness, scanning the labyrinths of my mind, searching for an opening, reaching for the book. But with consciousness came instinctive defenses . . .

“Wie! Wake up, you’re havin’ a nightmare!”
___

I woke with a start, a gust of air blowing into my lungs. Nothingness surrounded me. I was blind once again. My arms were folded tightly to my chest, but something was between them and me.

I gasped, releasing the squeeze hold I had on her poor wrist. “Hannah?”

I could feel the outline of a book pressing into my back as I sat up. “What’s this . . .?”

Doctor Coltraine’s journal.

[Holister]

Whoa there Seabiscuit....

The "Doc's" dead and buried. I've been to the funeral. His house burned down when lightning struck it. There was nothing left.

So how the Hell did you end up with "Doc's" diary?

And is this why you are in the hospital?

Dang it Wie......just get better soon...for Molly.

[Clarity]

_____Burned down by lightning? Was there a really big storm after we left or something?

[Kelly]

Yeah there was, and it was very localized...like just over "Doc's" house.

Open your eyes Benny....he was MURDERED. He house....it was arson.
I'm just the local beer peddler and even I can see that.

Somedays I swear you can be so damn thick headed Ben.

[Holister]

Damn it Kell....get off these boards. Your seriously starting to cheese me off now.

You know that I can drive down to Brokton for my drinks right?

[skeptic]

So.
She stole the journal.
Then burned down his house?
Hardcore.

[Ron Caliburn]

Really impressive sicne she was in my house, more than 500 miles away from the scene of the crime when it happened.

[skeptic]

You've never heard of teleportation?
My apologies. Although the OP didn't clarify.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

Thanks for the concern, everybody. I’m doing better . . . almost.

[Cameron Thorne]

Miss Solstice did no such thing. By even suggesting that which you have done "Skeptic" you have burned a dozen or so bridges here at the society before you even got yourself across them.

Enjoy the swim.

[skeptic]

Ooooooooooooooooooooookaaaaaaaay.

[GhostSpider]

I see that taking down that demon has improved your mood Thorne.

As for you Skeptic, be careful what you say. We're all pretty protective of Ellie, and she absolutely hates it .

[Kolya]

Miss Solstice did no such thing. By even suggesting that which you have done "Skeptic" you have burned a dozen or so bridges here at the society before you even got yourself across them.

Enjoy the swim.

That's precisely the kind of railroad thinking that drove kalle away from here.

I gotta be honest, it's really pissing me off, too.

I don't think she stole the journal. But that's not the point.

Thorne you don't speak for me. Not in this thread. Not in any other thread. Stop trying to.

This fucking Society is crumbling and it's people like Heather and skeptic that are exposing the fault lines that can't simply be covered up by shouting louder everything's just fine.

Explain something. Anything. Ask some fucking questions. Such as what the fuck is GhostSpider really?

Here's an easier one - I would think: what would Victor Lazlo do?

[GhostSpider]

Kalle left of her volition Kolya. No one forced her.

As for what I am-I'm a mystery, wrapped around a riddle, with a tale in the middle.

[skeptic]

Nobody forced her as in nobody had a gun to her head? Or nobody forced her as in nobody took her serious; instead, leveled baseless accusations of drama and stupidity against her? The "my way or the highway" mentality is very damaging. "If you're not for me, then you're against me." Does that sound rational to you?

The Lazlo Society is here to solve mysteries. If you're a mystery, then why aren't we, the Lazlo Society, trying to solve it?

[Eilonwy Solstice]

I have to agree with skeptic, guys. We can’t just leave questions unanswered, or at the least, unasked. And instead of thinking “stupid and dramatic” we ought to try, “busy and willing to help humanity.” We automatically assume everybody has read everything on the boards, and that is not the case. Some of us don’t have that time; some of us accept explanations on word only, while others don’t. Instead of saying, in essence, “It’s just that way,” why not add an “And here’s why,” showing evidence or reasonable, logical thinking?

Kolya said it best, guys: What would Victor Lazlo do? Something tells me he wouldn’t be willing to let Kalle go without explaining it to her as best he could; something we failed to do.

[Sir Typhis Black]

I agree also. We are a collective mind of knowledge and information. Why should we show patience and consideration to those seeking that knowledge and information.

We must not assume that everyone who posts here at Lazlo knows what it is we are discussing or explaining. We must take in account that while some of here at Lazlo are veterans, other like myself are fresh to these forums. So patience and understanding are very useful for those of the latter roster.

However, on the opposite side of the coin. Trust and loyalty to the society and those amongst its roster should also be employed. By everyone. Sure there are those here as of recent who are under the assumption they are skeptics. I like to think of them as believers who have yet to see the truth.

We should not launch attacks against our fellow members. It only causes us to squabble amongst ourselves, reducing the quality of Victor Lazlo's legacy to that of back alley riff raff. We should not cut Lady Decency to the quick and leave her to bleed out in prostitue alley. We should cooperate, and learn from each othes similiarities and our differences, without the slander, suspicion, or speculation, lest we be no better than The Salem Witch Hunts.

Thank you and G'Day.

[Cameron Thorne]

All arguements aside from those of lesser minds and to get this topic back on track, Miss Solstice, what became of this diary?

[Kolya]

So let me get this straight.

If I ignore it, it doesn't exist?

[Holister]

Oh for Heaven's sake...Koyla yoke it back just a tad...

But Thorne has a good question there Wie...what happened to the journal..
Wait...on second thought...don't post that info here. You have my private e-mail addy, just send any repsonse there.

[Kolya]

Sorry Holister. But my lesser mind doesn't allow me to ignore problems.

[Holister]

Its called Poster Block....its a wonderful new addition. Just click it and "Hey...problem solved." You have more important things to do K-Man than to slag it out with gits here on the boards.

[Kolya]

Its called Poster Block....its a wonderful new addition. Just click it and "Hey...problem solved." You have more important things to do K-Man than to slag it out with gits here on the boards.

You're absolutely right I have more important things to do that slag it out. I'm hoping it doesn't go to that, although it looks like it is. If it turns into a slagfest, then I'll just walk. Ignorance, willful or unintentional, is not a solution I find acceptable. So there is inevitable change coming very soon; the nature of that change determines whether or not I feel I can continue to contribute to Lazlo's tradition through his society or as a solo project.

[Holister]

Hum...Tough choice.

On your own you can pretty much do as you want and not have to worry about stepping on toes or "paying the price" for crossing swords without permission.

However...Lazlo does have a great dental plan...

[Sasha]

The Society can collectively choose to return to the ways and traditions of Victor Lazlo or it can collectively choose to allow one or two loud mouths to dominate and alienate people that have something to offer. I've seen Heather mention it several times on these very boards and when she came to Russia she talked about it in person. What are we doing here? Are we true to Victor Lazlo's vision? If we're not, do we have a good reason for that?

I don't care how beautiful your teeth are if your breathe smells like shit.

[skeptic]

The Society can collectively choose to return to the ways and traditions of Victor Lazlo or it can collectively choose to allow one or two loud mouths to dominate and alienate people that have something to offer. I've seen Heather mention it several times on these very boards and when she came to Russia she talked about it in person. What are we doing here? Are we true to Victor Lazlo's vision? If we're not, do we have a good reason for that?

I don't care how beautiful your teeth are if your breathe smells like shit.

I certainly didn't intend to beat the hornet's nest when I defended kalle.
Not that I regret defending fairness and rational thought, of course.
It does seem that some degree of serious introspection is in order.
And that's one of the funniest quips I've ever read. Sure hope I get to use it one fine day.

[Holister]

The Society can collectively choose to return to the ways and traditions of Victor Lazlo or it can collectively choose to allow one or two loud mouths to dominate and alienate people that have something to offer. I've seen Heather mention it several times on these very boards and when she came to Russia she talked about it in person. What are we doing here? Are we true to Victor Lazlo's vision? If we're not, do we have a good reason for that?

I don't care how beautiful your teeth are if your breathe smells like shit.

Whoa there Seabiscuit....being a little openly hostile there just a tad don't ya' think Sasha..

[Sasha]

I don't think I'm being hostile whatsoever.

All I'm saying is one of two paths will be chosen.

And that good teeth sometimes isn't enough

[GhostSpider]

You know, its nice to see you Russians grouping together and watching after your own, but lets not forget that Kalle left on her own whim. Also, I do believe it was she who started with the threats and insults. Yet you seem to be saying that we forced her away. Admittedly Razor and Thorne could have been more diplomatic, but everyone else remained calm and tried to explain the situation to her.

So Ellie, have you took a look at that Diary yet?

[Ron Caliburn]

The Lazlo Society ahs a 3 pronged purpose, with no specific priority.

1) Investigate the unexplained.

2) Educate the public on the unexplained.

3) Protect the public from monsters and such until such time as the public has the resources to properly defend themselves.

Some of us are best suited to one of those tasks more than others. Me I'm pretty good at number 3, so so with number 2 and helpless at number 1.

Why do I sense I just unwittingly made a toilet joke?

Perhaps a lot of the folks who specialize in option 3 are very vocal here, but then again I figure it's a pretty assertive person who regularly crawls through sewers searching for a monster that could rip his head off just so he can make sure that the kids can go out trick or treating safely this year.

Now, in regards to GS, I'll say I'm doing my best to make sure number 3 is taken care of. I won't say anything else on this except that some of you should get to work on number 1 on his case so we don't have to worry about needing number 3.