Black Moth Society

[blackmothsociety]

Bismarck the Liar

It started like you would expect. They called me in, sat me down in a chair, and started asking me about it. “Did I know what was going to happen?” “Who else was involved?” I explained that it was just me. It's always, “just me”. That certainly didn’t calm them down. The one with the Blonde hair kept banging on the table, said he would “kick in my fucking head” if I didn’t tell them. But fuck them! I couldn't move my left arm for 2 days after that meeting. But it's been over a week and I am back to writing the journal for the doctor. I haven’t seen Bismarck since that night, but I know he’s still here. I can hear people talking about him. Sometimes I can feel his breath on the back of my neck...

[blackmothsociety]

taxi/letter/penny

His "For Hire" light had been turned off for the better part of an hour. He sat, cab still running, in an alleyway near Battery Park. The rain was coming down in angular sheets across the windsheild. The envelope in his hands, poc-marked where drops of water had landed as he ran with his mail. He was staring at the letter without actually reading it. He had read it at least a hundrred times already. Taped to the bottom of the page was the penny, her penny. The lucky penny. She had gotten it from her dad when she was a child. She said that it was magic. That was one of the cute little things that he loved about her. But it shouldn't be here with him, it should be with her. It was with her. It was with her when she was burried. He remembers that day. So many sad faces. So many people saying, "She was too young." or "She's in a better place now." The penny was hers, so why was it in this letter, and why did the letter say, "See you soon, lover."

[blackmothsociety]

"Um... I'm ready to go now.'

"Oh, sorry about that. Got lost in my head."

"Yeah, ok."

Nic eased the yellow, Crown Vic forward into traffic, and turned on the meter. They headed South towards Battery Park. He knew the address. Continued on with out saying a word.

[blackmothsociety]

Greenstone

The Doctor sat, his head in his hands. He took a deep breath and looked up. She was still where he had left her, splayed on the ground. Her head, unmoving, had been wedged under the base of the ostentatious fish tank he recently had installed. He felt it gave this room a bit of whimsy. Her lifeless body seemed to suck the whimsy out the air in front of him. This was never the plan. Not like this.

[blackmothsociety]

Absalom. He is with us.

[blackmothsociety]

[blackmothsociety]

Journal Entry: 1-d3

The last post was not written by myself. Bismarck has become. Bismarck is now of a Vital nature and aware. I was told to journal. I was told to write it down. This is what has come. I’ve sent a letter to inform them. IxI. They will know...

[blackmothsociety]

Bismarck Notitia Sanguinis

Johnnie Bismarck, known as "Yon", to his friends, was not a likely candidate for the role of Servitor to the Glitch. He was friendly and kind but utterly unremarkable in almost every other way. In school, his grades were only slightly above average at best and his Hand to Hand combat skills were middling at most. He seemed, ill-suited for what lie ahead. The Prime Archinaut however, deemed Yon qualified for other, more Esoteric reasons than his math scores. His bloodline held certain properties that were desirable to the Archinauts, and to their mission. With Rust Season about to begin, finding the correct Servitor was imperative. Yon wasn’t expected to excel in this position. Oh no, in fact he was expected die rather quickly. But he will be able to serve better in death than he could in life. The Glitch will be served…

[blackmothsociety]

He had reached the 42 hour mark. Using a combination of home-brew stimulants, loud music and vigorous exercise, he had been able to keep the Somnambulisms away. But a momentary lapse of concentration was all it took. A slight flutter of his eyelids; when they reopened, he had crossed over. He stood gazing upon the horrific grandeur of Lord Torpor’s keep. He knew then, that he would not survive.

[blackmothsociety]

As she arose, her skin radiating in a warming and sickly vibration. My vision blurred to nothing. I was gone.

[blackmothsociety]

Can I still feel? Have I woken up yet, or is this still a dream? Is he still behind me?

[blackmothsociety]

This was the first commandment.

The first thing he told me was to write down all of the things that came into my head. He said that no matter how insignificant they may seem at the time, I needed to write them down. So I started here... If he finds this...

I needed to get things down on the page. Paper works as well, if not better. Ink stains are more visceral than pixels. But either can summon something from below. It doesn’t matter what the medium is.