EXCOLO

[Wednesday, September 17th (day 479)]
[The Sacred Whore, morning]

It takes too long to realize I'm not dreaming and I'm upright in the bed, sweaty sheet clinging to my legs and breath coming in ragged gasps, before the forest finally fades away. It's daytime now, I can see the light coming from under the door to the shop, I can feel the change in the air from when I fell asleep, and I'm home.

It was just a dream. I was just--

The floor shakes. I'm opening the back door, for the air and the light and some feeling other than being trapped in a tiny box filled with useless things and shadows on the wall, when the bricks start crumbling. The basement wall is crumbling. I can't see it, no, but I feel it just fine. I feel it coming...

No. No. I'm dreaming. Or I was. Or--

It's dark outside. The clock on the wall has it just after twelve and it's dark outside, and not a star in the sky. I slam the door closed, against the night and the trees that weren't there yesterday. The lock clicks into place and I'm not alone.

On the stairs. The first step and I can feel the wood under my own hands for a moment, before I grab hold of the door frame and shake my head and -- please, I'm dreaming -- push it away. There's nothing in the basement, I tell myself. (The second step.) Nothing, nothing at all, just bolts of cloth and boxes of things I should have gotten rid of ages ago and-- And--

The third step. The fourth step. The floor is shaking again, the floor or me and I can't really tell. It's behind the wall, I put it there myself, rolled tight in a thin metal tube, behind the wall and bricked up and forgotten like Fortunato's bones. A whiff of brick dust in the air and I'm dizzy.

The fifth step. The sixth. I run back to the door (the seventh and the eighth, closer now) but it's locked. I locked it. My fingers slip against the metal and the bolt doesn't budge. Splinters in my hands, streaks of blood against the wood. Crawling, slithering on the landing and it leaves a trail too, I know, but it's black in the dark and the paint on the wall blisters, cracks.

I turn to the door to the shop -- I can't -- and it's too late. Sink to the floor, eyes closed as the door opens and the silence pours in. But I won't, no, I won't look, silence and darkness and then hot breath on my neck as the shadow falls over me, I won't, please don't make me, I can't, you're not me!

Time passes. The door opens and closes again. I don't hear it. I'm alone and I don't hear anything at all.

[Closed]

[Saturday, June 19th (Day 384)]
[Early Evening, The Dormouse]

And the day started so well.  

We'd been busy enough to keep the boredom at bay, so that when I took my break for lunch it felt like a proper break, which is always fun.  I made a sandwich, smoked a bit, put aside a few books for Jane to borrow, and things were looking up.  

But then it rained not long after - I moved to the front porch, still just high enough to want to appreciate the cool breeze finally coming through - and things took a turn towards melancholy.

It seems like no time at all, doesn't it?

I manage to occupy myself the rest of the afternoon, nitpicking little things that just make matters worse, before I finally just close the shop and take a shower.  I wash my hair, I dab on a bit of cologne, I take care in choosing my clothes; still, it's not until I'm actually out the door that I let myself realize where I'm going.  And what I'm after.

A man can only put up with this sort of thing for so long.  

I knock on her door.

[Open to Wanda]

[Sunday, June 13th (Day 378)]
[Noon, The Sacred Whore]

Ah, boredom.  My old friend.

It's slow, even for a Sunday, and by the time I've finished with all the little tasks that must be done - sweeping, dusting, reordering the clothing racks, and tidying the displays - only a few hours have passed.  And there's nothing left to do.  It's times like these that having the two assistants is more a burden than a boon, and I actually toss Winnie a look when she moves past.  

I throw some money at them and send them away.  Buy something, go take a nap, I don't care, just go.

I'm minded to flip the sign to closed after that, as everyone else has the good sense not to be open on a Sunday, but I don't.  Anything could happen, anyone could show, anyone at all...  I keep the bedroom door open, to listen for the bell, as I move back to change.  It's humid today and I'm not dressed for it, I've suddenly realized.  And my other shirt was a little dirty, from the cleaning.  Yes.

In a moment, though, I'm back to sitting on the counter, glancing around the shop and near-to-tears with nothing to do.  It's ridiculous I know, but with three of us here all the time, and two so hard-pressed to be busy little worker bees, there doesn't seem enough activity to go around.  That's it, that's the rub - they are just bothersome, underfoot and annoying.    If a customer came in they'd both be sure to just run over, before I even had the chance to give a go.  Start a conversation.  Maybe have some lunch.  Socialize. 

Hmph.

And you think they could have left me a bit of alteration to do in the meantime, something, to break up all this waiting.  All this god-awful wanting (nagging) to go do something foolish.  Like I even need any more supplies.  

Though I wonder if the General Store is even open on Sundays.

[Open to Jane]
[Continued http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/446918.html]
[And there is sexy time...]

[Thursday, May 27th (Day 361)]
[Late afternoon, out and about in town]

The power went out a few minutes ago. It's one of the downsides of living in Excolo, though I can't complain over much. I've lived in much more primitive places, especially just after the downfall of everything pleasant and civilized.

It'll come back on soon enough and it's still light outside, but I decide to go out anyway. Things are getting a bit cramped in the shop, I haven't been out much since the little fiasco with Glass and Kate, and boredom has started to set in.

Boredom. The absolute bane of my existence.

There are a fair number of people out and about. I imagine they have places to go; far too many people spend so much of their lives between one place and the next. It's as though they've forgotten how to do a bit of nothing, now and again. Pity.

I opted for a light jacket, in red, more for the pop of color than the warmth. It's a nice day out, honestly, though a little overcast.

Of course, as soon as I've wandered about for a few minutes I realize there's absolutely nothing going on. Just my luck. It won't stop me from my stroll, though. I'll make a bit of excitement in this little town, if it comes to it.

[Open to anyone]