Friday, 7 December 2012

DECEMBER 7, 2012

Log from December 7th:

I've had an epiphany.
After that triumphant little blurb about how I completely massacred Russ - which still feels good, by the way - I went for a little walk. Who should I find?
Jack, and Razzie. Waiting for me, hands extended (metaphorically, in Razzie's case. You know, what with the whole being-a-dog-thing) inviting me to join them in taking the world. That's when I realised it.
I'm redefining what it means, to make this 'my year'.
I don't do well alone. Everyone knows that it's never quite as good, when it's just you and your hand. 'I' had Jack and Razzie because 'I' needed the company. So do I.
So, you know what I'm going to do instead?
I'm going to Scarlet-mark the entire fucking world.
I've never cared if a proxy serves another Fear. I've gone ahead and Marked them, anyway. That's how it should be.
There is a free-for-all on my Scarlet-marked. My proxies are your proxies, my loves. That's why they're whores, to begin with - whores ought to be shared.
I'm on your side.
We'll Mark the entire world.
And those who don't fit in...well.
I guess we'll all put them in the ground together.

Wednesday, 5 December 2012

DECEMBER 5, 2012

Log from December 5th:

It seems that the tech-savvy King of capitalisation forgot to take a peek at these logs before making those final few steps. He stepped out of hiding...and right into a group of Scarlet-marked, and my loving arms.
A Red Cap may not be capable of being killed...but they're very capable of being reabsorbed.
My Marked swarmed him, strung him up and slit his throat. His stomach. The veins along his arms and legs. Then, slowly but surely...the Red Cap seeped out, and into me. It left him an emptied shell...glassy-eyed and good and dead.
I win, jackass.

Tuesday, 4 December 2012

DECEMBER 4, 2012 (PM)

Log from December 4th (PM):


Nasty things are in the dark
It’s more fun if you follow.
Come and bear the Scarlet mark
We bite, we suck, we swallow.
Won’t know if you’re a Vessel,
But in bliss you still can wallow.
Our Mistress will be good to you –
That is, unless, you’re hollow.

Happy birthday to me.

DECEMBER 4, 2012 (AM)

Log from December 4th (AM):

My Priestess and I...we have a lot in common. I think that's what drew me to her, initially. It's why I kept coming back to her when I can't even fuck her.
I knew I'd need to be around, for this part.
Crept into her room - those naughty, naughty nurses didn't even bat an eye, they were too busy with their nosebleeds. Robin was lying there, tubes up her nose and an IV bag full of blood. Chest all encompasses in casts and bandages and stitches and god knows what else. It looked as though it had been cleaned in there obsessively - I'm going to assume someone employed an Oathbreaker and they had an OCD freak out.
She'd have been mended in a second, if I'd slipped inside.
Like fuck I was going to do that.
I tore through that cast like it was tissue paper. Her chest was utterly wrecked; I have no idea how many surgeries went into putting that mess together, but it's not like it matters now.
I finished the job, tore out her mangled heart, and drank the muscle dry.

Sunday, 2 December 2012

DECEMBER 2, 2012

Log from December 2nd:

the scarlet-marked are heading back to robin, holding a vigil outside the hospital - like shes already dead.
ive followed them, and im going to save her. if i get inside her, i can save her. like ive been saying all along.

Thursday, 29 November 2012

NOVEMBER 29, 2012

Log from November 29th:

Her Runner group is dead.
Whatever attacked them slaughtered them all, and if my Priestess weren't very used to losing the majority of her blood, she'd probably be dead, too. The thing nearly managed to carve her heart right out. Her chest is's just hanging open, bones all cracked, as if she was opened up like a gift box so something could go exploring in her chest cavity.
Her nose is leaking blood, too. Not much. I guess she doesn't have very much left.
I'm getting her to a hospital, now.

Wednesday, 28 November 2012

NOVEMBER 28, 2012

Log from November 28th:

So many Scarlet-marked have swarmed. The Runner group thought it was an attack, but I managed to convince them that I'm not among their ranks. I 'confessed' - told them I'm Running from the Red Cap, a reformed sexual deviant. Or, at least, one who got a taste of that lifestyle and ran scared. I lingered long enough to get a fistful of logs from my Mistress, all undated. Now that they're all asleep, I'll post them, here.
...Most of them, because some were just too upsetting for me to read, let alone write.


The re-fuelling last night has left me completely jazzed. I feel high enough to climb a mountain, jump off, and fly over the world, flipping off all the little sodomites who helped me get to where I am today. Not an offensive flipping-the-bird, I'd like that clarified - the kind that's an instruction. And, 'god' bless them, I know they'd do it too.


So apparently, being Numbed after puberty doesn't cancel out aforementioned puberty. So, it is actually possible to be one of the Children of the Cold and Scarlet-marked, simultaneously. You just risk some serious frostbite.
The more you know!


I'm getting increasingly conflicted over this Great Game business. I mean, taking out other Fears sounds like fun, but I'm seeing a lot of merit to some of these guys. EAT is one kinky bitch, for example. Seriously, we just bond. Also, with the popularity surge for zombies, even the decaying Dying Man shards are managing to get some fucked-up action.
I mean, do I ever want to see that again? God, no. Not just because of the corpse factor... It was like if I'd walked in on Jack, doing the horizontal tango. I practically raised him, you know? In his never-aging, forever-a-child kind of way.
At least it's boosting my decision to refrain from taking any of these suckers out, myself. I'll get my Marked on killing other proxies, once they've dealt with Russ. He still pisses me off, so I figure why the hell not kill him?
In the meantime, I'll just throw more orgies. Seems to be the answer to most things.


It's actually hilarious. Not even I understand my motives, anymore.


Got to give 'myself' a bit of credit. At least 'I' had a plan, before. I don't really want to keep following that plan just out of fuck-you principle, but seriously, what am I supposed to do now?
I'm losing direction. Getting introspective, and shit. That's how I know things are really wrong, because [REDACTED]. I ought to be focusing on that, because I think I'm giving the poor guy a complex. Not fair to him, since he's doing a perfectly decent job down there.
I think it's high time I headed back to my Priestess. No word about whether or not Russ got to her, and I'm sure I would've heard something,, I might as well. Maybe that'll give me some of my focus back.


While I'm thrilled that the conclusion my Mistress seems to have reached is that she'll return to me...the other logs given to me were all, essentially, pornography. Telling the world about the acts of depravity she has been indulging in, to get strong again.
It makes my heart ache.

Sunday, 25 November 2012

NOVEMBER 25, 2012

Log from November 25th:

I'm deeply sorry for not giving regular progress reports. I've been so busy Running that it's difficult to snatch a moment to myself, and it's been difficult enough diverting suspicion within the group.
Before I get much further ahead of myself, I'll give a progress report on what I've been doing, all month...
Since I took off in October, I've been infrequently stumbling on bouquets, seeing grey and hearing these occasional piercing shrieks that leave me deaf for days afterwards, sensing things in the shadows watching, waking up with a pressure on my chest just in time to watch something dart away...and I'm always cold - colder than I ought to be, even in winter. That last one, though...despite that my hands are always numb, I don't feel like it's a danger. Sometimes, I see black-eyed children peering at me from around corners, only for them to dart away giggling. Also - the nightmares are horrific.Terrifyingly nauseating images, things I can't even describe. There are nights where I don't sleep at all, now.
Sometimes I would cut my arms open and bleed on the ground, hoping my Mistress will be drawn to me. She never appears. Worse, it seemed my tribute goes to another Vessel - they seem to be everywhere, lately, and avoiding Ruby Tuesday was probably the most difficult thing I've ever had to do.
Then, recently, I found myself in the company of two others - also Runners. Neither of them were particularly talkative, and highly untrustworthy, but something about my frantic state must have earned their sympathy. We all met in this hostel, one that offers discounted board for people on the run from Fears. I, personally, found it welcoming; I could sense a presence like my Mistress's, there, and I can only guess that was why I wasn't turned away in suspicion. Before we left, two more joined us, and we were back on the road heading South. I think they plan on jumping the border into Mexico...there's something funny about that.
We all pointedly refuse to get to know each other, but I feel almost bonded to them. There's a kind, without trusting. We all know we can depend on one another to watch, and to fight.
I think I've hidden what I am well enough. At the very least, no one has accused me of being a proxy. I suspect they think I'm being hounded by the Black Dog, and truthfully, I wonder that myself. I've glimpsed my Mistress's dog every so often, tailing me, dragging that bag of flesh.
I can't imagine what they'll do to me if they find out I'm not only Marked, but a Vessel, too.

Monday, 19 November 2012

NOVEMBER 19, 2012

Log from November 19th:

Sometimes they are shadow;
Sometimes, just a voice.
Always, they’re meticulous
And they leave you no choice.

You don’t fit to their order
Don’t dare to disobey.
The torture can always get worse
So it’s best that you play.

Friday, 9 November 2012

NOVEMBER 9, 2012

Log from November 9th

I have been touched, but it does not care.
It is all around us, but also nowhere.
The silence unmakes us, there’s nowhere to go.
The Quiet claims all; the wise of us know.

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

OCTOBER 31, 2012

Log from October 31st:

I know you read this, and I don't care if you know.
I've become a Runner again. I'm Running from the Fears stalking from the shadows, and from you.
After receiving a bouquet on my doorstep - gardenias, azaleas, peonies, jonquil, red hyacinth and carnations (of course, red), amaryllis, sprigs of coriander, narcissus, and a single bachelor button - it was clearly time to go. I'm so close to being killed, or worse.
Unless she comes back to me...I'll be Running my entire life. I'm slowly coming to terms.
I'm the magnet, now. The Fear magnet. The rape magnet. The next Vessel.
If the Red Cap is inside me, the Mistress and I... I don't even know what that means, for her and I.

Monday, 29 October 2012

OCTOBER 29, 2012

Log from October 29th:

It’s staring
It’s judging
This obsessive spy
It’s glaring
Condemned me to die.

bedtime stories are better when red read to me

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

OCTOBER 23, 2012

Log from October 23rd:

I found this. I was packing things up again, and I found it written on the same paper as before. My notepad itself is gone. She must have taken it with her.

October 20:

I've decided not to fight it anymore. It's always inside me...watching me, waiting for me to be weak, and I just... I just can't. I can't bear it. I'm not strong enough to be 'in control'. It's so far beyond my control that I can't even remember my own name. I know it's not 'Red'.
I've been 'Red' forever. At least, that's how it feels.
So...I'll be Red.
...Somehow I just know this will come back to bite me in the ass.

Monday, 22 October 2012

OCTOBER 22, 2012

Log from October 22nd:

She left me. This morning.
I think I may be in shock. I haven't stopped crying, yet.
Please. I'm begging you.
Come back to me.

Sunday, 21 October 2012

OCTOBER 21, 2012 (PM)

Log from October 21st (PM):

My god. You really want her so bad? For fuck's sake. Go ahead and take her.
Re-evaluating the situation...she's just not worth starving myself.

OCTOBER 21, 2012

Log from October 21st:

i dont have much time and i can barely work this website. thank you, to the 1 scarlet-marked who was still loyal enough to me to log on and give me access to this blog.
just commenting isn't cutting it anymore. i keep failing to really get your attention little robin. so i decided.
i know your in new york. you give everything away, its not hard to track you down. your so careful - well not careful enough. im coming to you, and if i drag along these marked with me, so be it. together we can take them, you just need the red cap inside you too.
and i'll get inside you, once i'm there.
thats a promise.

Tuesday, 16 October 2012

OCTOBER 16, 2012

Log from October 16th:


I’ve broken my Hippocratic Oath;
My punishment is disease.
Dirty, infected with every ill,
Cut sickness out of me, please.
Lock me away in a sterile room
Will somebody find me a cure?
Can’t cope with this sickness anymore
So murder me, just to be sure.

Sunday, 14 October 2012

OCTOBER 14, 2012

Log from October 14:

I found this, written on a notepad on my desk.

October 13:

I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like there's always something lurking under the surface, inside me. It's like...nausea? I mean, I think? I can't actually tell. I've never been sick, that I can recall.
Being sick is a human thing, and...I'm not human, exactly, I'm the Red Cap.
Not just a Red Cap, either. Somehow, I just know. I am the Red Cap. It's been inside me for years. I can't even guess as to how long...
I feel...unclean.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

OCTOBER 9, 2012

Log from October 9th:

This is a personal message, from me to any of the Scarlet-marked who may read this.
Please stop what you're doing and pay tribute. She's weak. Your dedication to serve is noble, and no one understands the need to do as she says better than I, but please.
She's hardly herself, anymore.

Saturday, 6 October 2012

OCTOBER 6, 2012

Log from October 6th:

The Mistress claims today is her birthday, "she thinks." She isn't positive. She says that the lack of certainty is beginning to make her ill; she's in a constant state of hunger and weakness that no amount of food or rest can soothe. I know exactly what she needs, but she won't allow me to give it to her. I offer to bleed for her, and she declines; she says the nosebleed is enough.
Perhaps it honestly would be enough, were she not starving herself. Every Scarlet-marked in the United States seems to be hunting Russ. I don't know how I feel about that.
On the one hand, her jealousy is a sign of how deeply she cares. On the other hand, her obsession is leading to this...self-harm.
...She doesn't even remember that she's jealous.

Tuesday, 25 September 2012

SEPTEMBER 25, 2012

Log from September 25th:

I made a terrible mistake. The Mistress is...beyond furious, with me.
She is keeping a closer eye on me - perhaps that's the best thing to come of this. I know she won't leave... I only regret that I have that kind of insurance through such means.
However...she's sent so many Marked after Russ that I fear her hunger is neglected. She has regressed to that weaker state. I know for certain, now, that when she's like this, it's as though her memory is wiped clean. She can't recall what's been going; it's all a fuzzy haze.
She asks for Jack, and for Razzie. She asks what's been happening. She eats and sleeps, as I do.

Monday, 24 September 2012

SEPTEMBER 24, 2012

Log from September 24th:

soemtimes red got viscous
and tore people open like how Razzie would
that was for fun but not bcause she was angry
red is angry now

I don’t think that there’s a way of escaping
Can’t tell what’s louder; the whispers or scraping
And the wound that he put in my chest is just gaping
But at least I’m not raving mad.

Even as I run, there’s this voice in my ear
That’s kept me from rest for more than a year
Suddenly, the beast has made it so clear
The world knows me as a Maenad.

Saturday, 22 September 2012

SEPTEMBER 22, 2012

Log from September 22nd:

You know what I love?
Well, a lot of things.
You know what I don't love, aside from stop signs (seriously, how dare they make 'red' mean 'stop'. I mean, have they met me?) and poorly-written porn? People trying to take my things.
This morning, my Priestess is quiet, and you know what they say; communication is the key to any relationship. Seeing as I don't 'do relationships' I went the sneaky route instead. Turns out she's packed up most of her things and she's been perusing comments left by a particular fuck-bag who, if I'm not mistaken, is talking pretty big for a guy on the run.
Also happened to notice that someone among my Scarlet-marked ranks gave him an account on this site. What the actual fuck, guys. Was I not perfectly clear about the loathing?
In any case, I've actually gotten pissed to the point of directing all of my Marked your way, Russ. I'm sure you're reading this, and I can only hope that in the time it takes to make it through this latest log, they've hunted you down and slit you open sideways.

Friday, 21 September 2012

SEPTEMBER 21, 2012

Log from September 21st:

My Mistress's presence has led to a lot of give and take. She gives me her protection, and in turn, I give her all I have in me to give. The only thing is...sometimes - very rarely - she has these lapses. She becomes disoriented, confused...she acts almost drunk. The first time, she nearly slipped away back into the Empty City. I panicked and begged her to stay, so she did...but she seemed so...weak.
She goes on about strange things, but the part that worries me is how she addresses herself. She'll refer to the Red Cap like it's something else entirely. It's as if she doesn't know who she is. The dog gets antsy, while she's in that state - growling, getting hostile. At one point, it even attacked her. She slaughtered him, and left a pile of rotting flesh where the canine used to be.
Just thinking back on it gives me nightmares. I swear that pile of skin looked familiar. Maybe that's just my mind playing tricks on me, but even so... I'm not exactly sad to see the dog go.
After she killed him, she became herself again. Still, periodically, there are...lapses. Times when she stops being my Mistress, and becomes... 'Red'. Before, there was no telling one from the other, but...
Have I gone mad? Is it only my perception that's changed?
The only certain thing is that I don't feel safe with her, when she isn't strong.

Saturday, 15 September 2012

SEPTEMBER 15, 2012

Log from September 15th:

So I've been a little power-high these last few days. Or weeks. It's all been one big rush of good-feelings, so it's hard to tell by this point. Anyway - I've been doing my thing as king of the world and, in the process, maybe got a little neglectful. My Priestess has lost so much blood from being in my presence that she needed a quick trip to the ER.
On the plus side, just walking in there clued me in to how many naughty nurses went professional. That hospital's not so white and shiny anymore...

Thursday, 6 September 2012


Log from September 6th:

My poor little harlot's been worn right the fuck out. I guess a life on the run doesn't suit her so well. She's essentially spent the last few days recuperating... Which is to say, sleeping. I'll give her a little bit of a grace period to get back on her feet after the shaky 'oh god what the fuck please, Mistress, hold me and make it better' wears off. Then, c'mon, she really ought to be praising me and whatnot.
When someone saves you, sex ought to be involved. It's Damsel 101. Why the hell isn't my damsel getting to the sex-part? Not with me, obviously - no touching of the nice things for fear of wrecking them - but we've passed some perfectly decent lesbians and she hasn't so much as given them a good ogle.
Maybe her fixation with me is starting to get in the way of our relationship. I'm thinking marriage counselling.

Tuesday, 4 September 2012


Log from September 4th:

i miss Red
and i miss Razzie
no puppies in the Court

A tale older than time, much like Beauty and the Beast
Their rings forged in rage, vows not spoken by a priest
Rip yourself asunder before strife can do it first
Fear split in two will put the violent at their worst.