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My name is Jake. I guess I really don’t know where to begin, where to start telling this story that I’d take as sign of my own slipping insanity if I didn’t have proof I was still very much in my right mind scattered all around this makeshift work area I’ve turned my bedroom into, and in my living room. Photocopies of journal pages, birth records, death records, news clippings, old books of urban legends, letters. printed web-pages.

I guess I’ll start with saying that I’m what some people might call a crackpot-in-training. I’ve always been fascinated with what humanity can’t explain. Ghosts, hauntings, monster sightings, urban legends, I could bury myself for hours in old books and websites about things some people would write off as insanity or old campfire stories gone wild.

As a result of this, 18 year-old me wound up with a degree in parapsychology that meant all of jack until now, five years later when I got into this mess, the mess I intend to detail in this journal of my own.

I figured I better do that at least that much to keep my thoughts in order. I guess I also figure that this book might just as much wind up being the next chapter in her story, the next step in her unfolding destiny just it’s the first step in mine.

I guess I should explain who “she” is, that seems like the next logical step now that I’ve opened this can of worms that i can’t exactly seal back up and forget about. I guess that would be the ultimate in a pointless endeavor, wouldn’t it? To stop here and keep rambling about myself to put off facing this mess and writing about it.

The thing is, though, I feel as though I should ease you, (you being the possible future owner of this book) into this mess slowly or you might dismiss me as crazy and write this off as some elaborate hoax intended to get another modern urban legend like the ones permeating the annals of the internet off the ground.
I could fully understand how anyone reading this might assume that, when you consider how so many of those stories born on random image boards and sub-reddits came from a shred of some far older legend, or the primal fear of what we can’t explain and were reborn for the new age. The story I’m about to tell you bled through into modern myth in it’s own little misrepresented and twisted form in much the same way.  

Come to think of it, I guess that often dangerous fear of the unexplained is why this story I’ve watched unfold across dreams and the dusty old pages of a young girl’s journal was so far buried, distorted, and rendered unrecognizable by time.

It would explain how a creature of the light, a potential hero has been so vilified in past and present pop-culture.

I guess much of that is something that I’ll explain later though, I should instead start with the first nightmare, the beginning of it all.  

I woke up to a cold draft and cursed my trashy apartment for the poor weather-sealing around the doors and windows that the landlord refused to fix. I thought nothing of it for the moment because this was a normal occurrence I generally had to live with in the colder months.

That feeling quickly faded as I remembered it was the middle of June and should have been a muggy summer night with only the most faint and pleasant cool breezes, not a near-freezing draft like it was still January after a harsh winter.

I also quickly noticed that I was laying on a hard floor, and not my marginally softer bed. Feeling around I concluded that it was hardwood, rough and unfinished like you might find in one of the out buildings scattered about a farm.

I couldn’t really make out my surroundings in the near pitch-black room with any amount of real certainty, but I willed myself up off the floor and began to feeling around anyway. As I stumbled into the nearest solid object I ran my hands over it’s dry and rough surface in an attempt to identify what I was leaning on.

A bail of hay, I knew at that point that I wasn’t to far off about my assumption of where. That was a nice piece of information to have, but it still didn’t explain HOW I got here and where this building was actually located. I could’ve been in the middle of Africa for all I knew because “in a barn somewhere” was a very vague and near-useless description of my location.

To make matters worse, the sound of the door creaking open broke the silence before I could further attempt to process any of this information (or rather, lack of information would be more apt). I quickly hopped over the makeshift wall of bails and crouched down, pressing my back up against the rough surface.

Not pleasant when you’re wearing nothing but a thing undershirt and boxer-shorts.

Hey, what do you expect me to sleep in? You’re lucky I was wearing clothes at all.  

As I sat there trying my best to remain silent, I could hear light footsteps making their way past me and towards the opposite corner of the structure. I decided to risk a peek over my cover as curiosity got the best of me. It certainly didn’t sound like the kind of hulking thug that I would picture abducting and dumping me here as I slept.


As my eyes adjusted to the light I could make out a figure in the corner with their back to me, now sitting on something I can assume was either yet another bail of hay or a crate. A figure whose face I couldn’t make out under a heavy brown cloak and hood. I could, however make out the familiar sound of ruffling paper and someone beginning to write, the tip of their chosen writing implement scraping against the paper


As I watched her movements closely, the sound of heavy footsteps broke the silence and I heard her almost whisper “Is that you, John?”

It was a young women, I would have to guess late teens by the youthful sound of her voice. I assumed the heavy footsteps were male and that it wasn’t the person she was expecting when there was no answer back. I was unfortunately right.

Her hood still shrouded her face from view as she glanced over her shoulder and bolted to her feet as the sight of whoever had entered the room with her, letting something heavy drop to the floor with a dull thud. She must have been writing in some sort of book “No, it’s you! Leave me alone!” she cried at the figure. She must have been familiar with him to have such a horrified reaction to his presence. She’d had to have known something that made her deathly afraid of him.

I followed her apparent gaze to a tall, dark figure in what appeared to be a long, flowing coat. His voice chilled me to the bone as he spoke. It was cold as death and yet still somehow held a certain fire and venom that sounded as if took a certain joy in her fear.  

“You’ve been quite a thorn in the side of my master, you and that meddlesome hunter that seems to have taken a fancy to you.” My breath caught in my throat as he withdrew something from his coat and my eye was drawn to the unmistakable gleam of steel.

I couldn’t make out much of his face, but I could almost picture the smile creeping across it as he idly ran his fingers along the edge of the blade. “That reminds me, kid. He was indisposed and couldn’t make it tonight, so I figured I’d be a gentleman and keep you company in his stead”

At this point that I didn’t even know who this guy was, but he had a certain “aura” about him, a presence in the room that even had me just as scared of him as she was. It was almost as if the The Devil himself had entered the room.

I watched in shock as she whimpered and did the only she could do and backed away further, drawing her hands closer to her face in some desperate attempt to shield herself and barely choked out the words “No, he can’t be. He can’t be dead.”

The figure merely stepped forward, closing the distance between them and giving a chuckle as his answer. In what i assumed to be either a trick of the light or my own imagination I saw a gleam of red from his eyes, a subtle glow of deep and bright red in his irises reflected against the whites of his sclera.

Her back was now against the wall as he stopped at an arms length. I could hear her almost panting, each breath slow and shaking with fear as she fought back the urge to sob. I tried to will myself to move and do something, to do anything to stop him and save her from whatever horrible fate he obviously had planned, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen with a cold fear that weighed me down like iron shackles and chains.



Before I knew what was happening he struck in one fluid movement and I could see the crimson stains on his blade as he hand stopped. I watched in horror as she grabbed her throat and slid to the ground, choking and gagging for air.  

Once she stopped moving he kicked her square in the ribs, she didn’t respond with anything other than the crack of bone. Satisfied that she was dead, he tossed his weapon aside and leaned down to her level. He reached out and grabbed her face in one hand, looking into her eyes. I hear him give a quiet laugh as studied her still obscured face.

I felt my stomach churn as he spoke. “Beautiful, if she isn’t our kind. it’s a shame that she had to be disposed is such a hurry before I could enjoy her company’

I turned away as he threw the body over his shoulder, still in shock from the violent murder I had just witnessed and the implication of her killers words. Words spoken in a voice that concealed the evil of his actions by treated them as no different than throwing a damaged painting, regret befitting a broken piece of art and not a life taken in it’s youth.  

It was the heavy wooden door slamming shut that jarred me to reality and punctuated the fact that I was now alone with my thoughts. I let my head fall back against the rough hay and mentally kicked myself for just watching something so horrible happen and not even attempting to intervene. I was no more than 10, maybe 20 feet from them, and still just watched her die like it was a scene in a horror movie.


After wallowing in my own self-pity for what felt like ages, I decided that sitting there sulking was of no use to me OR her and forced myself to climb over bail of hay that had once been my personal barricade and shield from the scene in front of me.

As I made my way to where she had be sitting, my foot bumped into something cold, hard, and wet. I swallowed and looked down, knowing exactly what it was.

The weapon at feet was just as intimidating as it’s wielder. It’s blade still glistened with blood as a grim reminder of the roll it had played and the life it had ended. I had to will myself to look away from it and keep moving before I seized up again, I had find out what was going on and who that woman was. I figured I owed her that much, to at least know what she died for and I thought the book she had been writing in might hold those answers.

It didn’t take me long to find it on the ground a few feet from where I stood. I hesitated as I leaned down and wrapped my hands around it’s spine. I ran my fingers over it’s leather cover and stared into the deep black it had been stained as I stood and brought it closer to my face. It was obviously something of fine craftsmanship and not a cheap notebook, and likely a gift.


I carefully opened the book and ran my fingers over the almost cloth-like paper and felt it’s rough-texture beneath my fingertips. Although it was dark, the pages seemed subtly illuminated as if I was meant to read them, to see the story they told. I could make out text written in an unpracticed hand on the first page.


“With all my love, to my Daughter. I hope this journal serves you well to record memories that will last a lifetime.”


My heart sunk, and despite not even knowing this woman's name or anything else about her I felt a deep sorrow. I could almost feel the tears welling-up in my eyes as the cold emptiness the ageing structure around me finally set in. The darkness around me was sombre and quiet, almost as if the night itself mourned for her as I willed myself to hold back the tears and continue reading.

I turned my eyes to next page, noticing a name written in a much neater and more feminine hand.

“Mary Worth”

No, I didn’t miswrite that name and I’m sure you can put two and two together and know that name as well I do.  

Before I could flip the page I felt a strong, cold hand grab my shoulder and jolted awake before I could turn around.

I sat there in bed, drenched in a cold sweat as I tried to process all the information from what I now knew had been a dream. I could hazard a guess about Mary that I think we all know was correct, but who was John? Who, or what was the man that killed her and what did he mean when he called John a hunter? He said it like it was something significant.

The most chilling question in my mind was the final one to surface. Who was his “master”? What kind of monster could order around a cold-blooded beast like that and have his full allegiance? He was obviously little more than an animal hiding behind a human visage and sly words
I glanced at the clock by my bed, 6:30AM. I might as well get up and get dressed. I certainly didn’t feel like sleeping after that.
Nightmare Chapter One (Re-Write)
Yes, I know. Crappy formatting. The text editor here is garbage that tends to lose paragraph indents when I paste stuff from GDocs.
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Seriously though, I actually remembered to upload something here, even if it was a one-shot fanfic.
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Listening to: I Stand Alone from Quest for Camelot
  • Reading: An X-Files Novel Called Ground Zero
  • Watching: The X-Files.
  • Playing: Half-Life 2 (PC)
  • Eating: Nothing ATM
  • Drinking: Iced Tea
A gentle rain falls like tears onto the fresh dirt as a orange-furred hand traces the name  etched into the stone. Her hand wanders over every letter and over the familiar logo of two intertwined tails that had become a fixture in her life over the last 70-odd years.

They say that a mother should never outlive her children, that no parent should ever have to endure that pain, but It’s a feeling I’ve become all too familiar with and something that never gets any easier.  

That’s why even though I knew this day would come like it it always does, I can’t believe you’re really gone. I knew from the minute I found you, just a crying baby abandoned in a forgotten cabin on the edge of the woodlands that I would someday watch you drift away just like all the others I’ve raised, while I was destined to keep on living.

Of course, I’m barren just like all of my kind, but that did not matter before and and didn’t matter with you. You were my son, even if not by blood and nothing could ever change that or make me regret one minute of the time I spent by your side.

I watched you grow, and watched your natural gift as an engineer bloom. Even from a young age you were brilliant and had a way with machines of all shapes and sizes. I still remember you tearing down and reassembling every appliance in the house in your pursuit of knowledge and curiosity to know how everything worked.  

I also remember your other unique gift well, your twin tails. I almost panicked when you were young and somehow figured out you could use them to fly. You kind of floated around the house for weeks and regularly almost gave me heart-attacks until you got bored and started making a little less use of that ability.  

I did my best to protect you from those that always seemed to find pleasure in bullying you and I was your shoulder to cry on when they had teased you or broke your inventions. I remember too many nights when it was all I could to do calm you down as you shook in my arms. They called you mutant, freak, and all manner of other names so vile that it was all I could do keep from losing my temper and putting the fear of God into them myself when you told me.

I tried to keep reminding you not to be ashamed of how you were born, no matter what they said. I reminded you that these gifts were something for you be proud of and that they were all just ignorant of that. Reassuring you that you weren’t alone, that you had me and that someday you’d find people that understood and make friends.

It was something I understood all too well, and I remember the night I had to finally explain my gift to you.

I had… There was a fight and though I survived I was severely wounded and barely managed to crawl home and through the door before collapsing in the middle of the floor, and succumbing to my wounds. I had lost so much blood that they couldn’t heal before the shock to my system stopped my heart. From a biological standpoint I was dead and you returned home before I could re-awaken and clean myself up.

You must have found me that way, not breathing and looking like a bloody mess. The first thing I remember as I came to was you on the floor next to me, curled up against me and begging me to wake up. My first thought was how scarred and upset you must have been, and I cursed myself for letting you find me like this and that this was how you hand to find out.

You must’ve heard me start to breathe because I remember you calling for me,

“M-mom?”

You clung to my side as I forced myself to sit up and took a deep breath. I gently put my around you, pulled you closer.

“Miles, it’s okay.”

“Y-you wouldn’t wake up, and you’re hurt, there’s blood everywhere. You weren’t even breathing. I-I thought.” He stopped there, once again breaking down in a fit of sobs.

At that point I noticed the red staining your fur, it must have happened when you curled up next to me. How could I have been so stupid?

I tried my best to calm you down and show you that I was okay, “Honey, I’m fine. I know this looks bad but I’m I promise that I’m okay.”

“Mom, t-there’s blood everywhere and you look like you’ve been cut.”

“Miles, I need you open your eyes and look at me for a minute, okay?”

You flinched through the tears as you looked up. I guess even if I was fully conscious and alert, I wasn’t a pretty sight and it must have been hard for you to see me like that.

“See honey, I’m fine. There’s not even a scratch.” I gently pulled aside the fabric of my shirt where a wound had once been across my stomach, and where a good deal of the blood likely came from. The white of my stomach fur was still caked with drying blood, but the cut had obviously healed. You reached over, unsure and I nodded. I could feel you relax as you felt the spot for yourself and realized that I was telling the truth.

You were still shaken up, but you seemed calmer, “If you’re not hurt, where did the blood come from and why weren’t you moving?”

I explained it all. I told you all about immortals and our healing factor. I told you how some immortals are bad and that the good guys like me sometimes have to fight them to protect people. I even explained how I was over a thousand years old and how we keep it a secret to protect ourselves and those around us.

You listened intently and I smiled when your eyes started to light-up, in your eyes it must have been like your mom was some super-hero like the ones in your comics. I was just relieved to see you smiling, despite the fact we both looked like something from a crime-scene.

We both managed to get cleaned up (you, with my help) and managed to find an old rug to cover up the stain on the carpet until it could be replaced. I remember you curling up next to me on the couch until you passed out, you must have still been worried despite everything being sorted out.

Things weren’t always a mess though, I remember when Sonic came along and I was thrilled that you had started to make friends, and started to grow into a hero. As much as he could get on my nerves, I think I considered him a son just as much you considered him a brother. God, I imagine I’d never hear the end of it if he was here to hear me say that but it’s truth.

I still remember the day I first spoke to him and told him that I’d strangle him if anything happened to you, but I think he knew I was just happy you made a friend and was just being a mother.

Not long after that Knuckles came along and despite butting heads, he became a member of the team and just as loyal a friend to both of you as you were to each other. I think I shocked him the first we met and I spoke to him the old language, something he didn’t expect from an outsider because it was considered dead to everyone but his bloodline. I had to cover that for the time being with a claim that I had spent time studying ancient languages in university. He believed it, to my shock.

I still remember the day I let both of them in on my secret. There had been an accident and they both thought I was dead, and went looking for you out of worry when you disappeared for a few hours. I guess they assumed the shock made you wonder off. Of course, you had come to meet me on Angel Island so we could plan what to do next.  had asked you meet at the shrine because I knew they might turn up there and it was time to tell them. They found us talking around nightfall and Sonic’s reaction was not expected, but understandable.

“SWEET MOBIUS, IT’S A GHOST” He had already climbed one of the pillars that surrounded the central altar, Knuckles had just fainted the minute he saw me.

You had convinced Sonic that I WASN’T any sort of walking undead or vengeful spirit by the time Knuckles had come to, but explanations had to wait because he promptly saw me and fainted again.  
It was a fun time.

You made other friends like Amy and Cream, the later of which become your wife years much later on.. Can’t say I was surprised by that as much I was surprised that Sonic finally fell for Amy.

I think I spent most of your wedding day alternating between crying and jumping with joy because you had come so far and were finally finding happiness of some kind. I do apologize if it was embarrassing having me and your then-future mother-in-law clinging to each other and crying in the front row. That always happens to me at weddings.

The years flew by after that until you and her had your first child, who of course called me Aunt Mel until she was old enough to understand that I was her grandma. Her brother followed. You did a little better Sonic, who managed to forget Amy when rushing to the hospital the day he became a father. I still never thought that was actually possibly until he proved me wrong, and I told all about how in over a millennium of living I had never seen someone actually do that.    

I watched them grow as I did you. I saw them through school and college, and then finally through their own weddings and the birth of their children, your grandchildren and I’ll never regret that I could be there to see it.

Time isn’t always kind though, I watched you and your friends grow older the whole time and watched…

I watched time and time again as the moment I fear most about my relationships with mortals came, and every single one was called home, one by one.

I-I just. I know this is how it has to happen, that’s how it always happens, but I always feel so helpless. I would’ve protected you from anything, but with all my strength and all my skills with a blade, it was the one thing I couldn’t protect you from that took you from me. The one enemy I couldn’t fight and will never be able to.

I guess that is my price to pay for being immortal. I held you in my arms as a baby, not long after you entered this world and breathed your first and I held you again as time finally took you and you breathed your last. The fact I was able to be there for you until the end is one of the few solaces I have, that you didn’t have to die alone.

You went last, and so I can take another in the hope that wherever you are, your friends were waiting for you and welcomed you home. I know the man you considered a brother went nearly ten years before and your wife went five. I know how much you missed them both dearly and now you’ll all be re-united. As much as it hurt me to see you go and as much as I damn myself, a part of me of me knows that you had nothing to fear from being called home.
I don’t remember everything from the first time I crossed over and was sent back, but I remember I was in a place that I did not fear and I remember it was a kind voice that told me it wasn’t my time and it belonged to someone that hadn’t forsaken me, but instead had granted me a gift and intended that I have a purpose. I remember telling you that and describing the glimpse of paradise I saw as you began to fade and grew scarred.

In that moment you we’re a child that needed his mother, just as you we’re when you came into this world.  

I just want to know that even now with me heart breaking, I don’t regret any of it and I’d live every second with you again, even if it meant suffering this pain again.  

Goodbye, Miles, and know that I will always love you. You may be a hero to Mobius, but to me you’ll always be my son.
A Mother's Goodbye
I just wound up this weird head-cannon crossing over Sonic and Highlander where Tails' adoptive mom was Immortal and I had to get his admittedly said idea on paper and do something with it, it was also good practice as writing emotional scenes. 
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Seriously though, I actually remembered to upload something here, even if it was a one-shot fanfic.
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Listening to: I Stand Alone from Quest for Camelot
  • Reading: An X-Files Novel Called Ground Zero
  • Watching: The X-Files.
  • Playing: Half-Life 2 (PC)
  • Eating: Nothing ATM
  • Drinking: Iced Tea

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shobonimaster
Chris Snook
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
clubs I'm in
:iconsonic-team-fan-club::iconsonic-humor-club::iconsally-acorn-fans::icontails-freaks-club::iconrouge-the-bat-fans::iconsupersonicultimate::icontailsfanclub::iconrougethebat-fan-club:

Current Residence: Iowa, USA
Favourite genre of music: Country
Favourite photographer: Robert Kenneth
Favourite style of art: some anime, cartoon, and anthro
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Ipod Touch 16GB
Shell of choice: 12Gauge(works great on zombies)
Wallpaper of choice: VgCats
Skin of choice: depends
Favourite cartoon character: Sally Acorn, Bunnie Rabbot, Rouge, Vector, Espio, Charmy, Lupe, Sonic, T-bone, Razor, Callie
Personal Quote: Theres morally wrong, and then theres "I don't have bail money" wrong
Interests

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:iconbrodogz:
BroDogz Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2014
Thx for the fav!

I appreciate it La la la la
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shobonimaster Featured By Owner Dec 22, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
No prob
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ProSonicIncorporated Featured By Owner Dec 14, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
:iconpinkiepieportal1plz::iconfluttershyblushplz::iconsoniccoolplz::iconbigfav1plz::iconbigfav2plz::iconbigfav3plz::iconbigfav4plz::iconcoolsonicplz::iconrainbow-dashplz::iconpinkiepieportal2plz:
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shobonimaster Featured By Owner Dec 14, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
No prob.
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BigMac1212 Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Happy birthday!  :cake:
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shobonimaster Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks:)
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Sapphire-Ashesx Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014
Happy birthday!
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shobonimaster Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks:)
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Sapphire-Ashesx Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014
You're welcome. How'd it go?
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:iconshobonimaster:
shobonimaster Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Got a new PSP and a couple T-Shirts
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