Talks

Well, I guess Albert's talking to me now. We had a chat and, well, he's staying. For now, at least.

The unconscious guy's name is Matthias, by the way. He woke up earlier today and we talked a bit. He had a similar 'haunted' look, like others I've seen, though his looked less haunted and more...I don't know. Uncomfortable.

Ivory talked to me some more, though still about medical stuff. She's off buying some cream to give to Matthias -- he's got a nasty rash on his side. I wanted to ask him how he got it, but held off - a lot of runners really value their privacy and I didn't want to scare him into leaving.

Anyway, I guess things have somewhat settled down since the revelation. I still got some cold shoulders from our remaining guests, but that's too be expected.

A Little Trust

“Yet man will never be perfect until he learns to create and destroy; he does know how to destroy, and that is half the battle.”

I was wondering why it felt like people were suddenly being cold, and the guests were leaving in a hurry. I'd heard some stuff that made me shudder, then I read the blog, and now everything is a little clearer.

I've never really questioned the way Sal's run things. I just do the work I've been given, and I get a roof over my head in return. But with a Dying Man piece around, I'm now not so sure. I've never had a run in myself, but all the stories I've heard about people encountering a Shard of Lazarus have never been good, or had happy endings for that matter. It may be keeping the Misery Makers away at the moment, but some of the stories I've heard about them make me worry. Some of our guests who have passed through here have been hunted by Dying Men before. They're all similar, yet all so different. Some of them are smart, some are mad, and some are almost human. But all are dangerous, and sometimes it's only because they've been seeking other shards to become whole again. Their endless pilgrimage of madness, built on the death of others.

I know that sometimes it's necessary to use evil to fight off evil. Sometimes, making deals with devils is the only way to get by. But it's still evil, never the less. What are their servants after all, if not people dealing their lives away for what may only be one more day of life. Whilst it might have warded off Ruby Tuesday for now, who's to say someone, or something, won't come our way seeking it out?

I guess I should trust Sal's judgement on this one. That man has proved his character after all. But something about this just makes me spooked. Not to mention the only real guest we've had recently is the unconscious stranger. It seems word travels fast these days.

Guess I Should Also Introduce Myself...

“Now I'd like someone to tell me there is no drama in real life!”

Seeing as the others have done an intro, I guess I should too. I've never really done this before, so bear with me. The name's Albert, if you hadn't already worked that out. Though I guess calling me Al is fine too. What is a name anyway, if not a pack of lies and secrets created by man?

So what do I actually do? How did I get here? It's a long story, that doesn't really need telling. I've been at the hostel a bit over 2 years now. At least I think it’s been that long. I came across it one day on my travels. I call them travels, but it was mostly running my heels off, and finding the place out of the blue. I can't remember the exact details of how I ended up here. I found the place, and stuck about to help others begin to help themselves. That's the gist of it.

I do some of the odd jobs about the hostel to pay my way. Fix the wires; mend the pipes; guard the place if needed. Mostly the sort of stuff that needs doing, but nobody ever gets around to. I'm normally a night owl as well, keeping an eye on the people lodging here. My paranoid justification in doing so is just to make sure they're not sided with any of the Misery-Makers. They tend to stalk the night, and use it to their advantage. Mostly though, I just lend an ear to those that can't sleep, and listen to the stories they tell. Some times they ask me to remember their tales, and tell them to others. So I do. I remember for them, in case they ever forget.

It helps to distract me, and reminds me to live in the now, rather than the past. It fuels my reason for living, and reminds me why I'm still alive. That's all I have to say really.