#epistolary fiction

[prokopetz]

I'd always kind of held out hope that Homestuck's popularity would help to revive interest in the epistolary novel as an art form, and while it did turn out to be very influential, practically none of what it's inspired has carried on its format. Right now I'm hoping the popularity of Dracula Daily might have the same effect!

[haveyoureadthishorrorbookpoll]

Have you read...

note: If you did not finish but feel you read enough to form an opinion, you may choose a ‘Yes’ option instead of 'Partly' (e.g., Yes, I didn’t like it). Similarly, if you’ve never heard of a book until now but formed an opinion from this post, you may wish to select a “no” option e.g., “No, but I want to.”

(...) [A] work of epistolary fiction and metafiction focusing on a fictional documentary film titled the Navidson Record, presented as a story within a story discussed in a handwritten monograph recovered by the primary narrator, Johnny Truant. The narrative makes heavy use of multiperspectivity as Truant's footnotes chronicle his efforts to transcribe the manuscript, which itself reveals the Navidson Record's supposed narrative through transcriptions and analysis depicting a story of a family who discovers a larger-on-the-inside labyrinth in their house.

submit a horror book!

[dem0nguy]

I love writing this stuff too much ya’ll.

Anyways here’s the second part <3

(Part one if you missed it :3)

This, is truly where things start to go downhill. Genuinely it doesn’t get any better from here. I sometimes catch myself wondering what a normal teenage experience would be like. Not one that involves supernatural paraphernalia.

I’m getting ahead of myself, I wrote this entry in two parts. One, I believe on my way to school. The second sometime after. That probably doesn’t matter too much anyways…

9/23/19 - Part 1

Ok so, I’m honestly not entirely sure how to start this off. But today was, scary? Odd? Supernatural? I don’t know. To this day, it’s a difficult topic to explain.

I woke up to my alarm; excitement and anxiety buzzing in my chest. It was finally the first day of middle school. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted this day to be over as soon as possible, or start as quickly as possible.

So I got up, then nearly fell back down again. I felt a strange weight on my head and back, as if someone had strapped bricks to me in my sleep. Must be the anxiety. I thought, because really, what else could it be? Hell (literally) if I know.

So sluggishly, I walked to my bathroom. (me and my twin share it, his bedroom is connected through a door on the opposite side.) Opening my door I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Subsequently, I do a double take.

I thought I was dreaming, because I mean, who just wakes up with demon horns, wings, and a tail?? Not any normal person… probably. Unfortunately, we’re not very normal.

I must’ve stood there for a while, confused, panicking. My constant internal monologue was, “this has to be a dream, this has to be a dream, this has to be—“

“Adammm!” Conner called, knocking frantically. “Something is very, very wrong!”

I open the door for him, we both startle.

My brother, blonde haired, brown eyed. Had a halo, angel wings, and a demon tail? I guess it wasn’t really my place to find that specific detail odd, all of this was odd.

“Adam,” his voice became hushed, “are we both having a freaky dream together or is this real?”

I hesitate, “I don’t know… I don’t think we’re dreaming?”

“Then what the hell is going on??”

I shrugged, I mean, how do you even respond to this situation? What do we do? That’s a good question past me…

“Something must have caused this,” I start, “So if we find that maybe we find answers?”

“Right, but WHAT IN THE WORLD COULD’VE CAUSED THIS” He whisper-yells.

“I don’t know!!” I whisper-yell in return. It could’ve been anything really. Maybe we were cursed in our sleep? Maybe we actually were dreaming. Maybe it was—

“The necklaces…” I mumble, barely audible.

“What?” Conner asks.

From my pocket, I pull out the necklace. Instead of the red and blue swirl it had initially, it was gray. And dull. I’d kept it on me for good luck, like my Uncle Sam suggested. But apparently, it did the opposite. Still haven’t forgiven him for that.

Conner, wide eyed, runs back into his room. Holding up the necklace lying on his nightstand, the same gray dull color as mine.

He stares at the necklace with irritation, before throwing it on the ground. “I knew it! I knew there was something up with these things! I have no idea what our Uncle was planning, but it was clearly something!!”

“Maybe he didn’t know this would happen—“

“How can you really say that Adam, we both know how suspicious he was acting.”

I couldn’t argue with him, it made sense. But I didn’t want to believe Uncle Sam would purposefully do this. Sure he was a little suspicious at times, and not the most friendly. But that doesn’t mean he did something like this! Oh Angels I was so fucking naïve…

“Listen, whether he did this intentionally or not he probably has answers.” Conner says, as if he read my mind. “So let’s go find him.”

I slowly nodded, “Ok, yeah. But is he even still here?”

Conner scoffs, as if I should know the answer to that. “Of course he’s still here, do you really think Dad would let him leave this early?”

I hesitate, “No, I guess not…”

“Great let’s go.” Conner grabs my arm, dragging me towards the door.

“Conner! Wait—“ I jerk my arm free from his grasp, “What if someone sees us?”

Conner rolls his eyes, “Adam, it’s early in the morning, who would see us?”

Before I can respond Conner grabs my arm again, “Exactly, let’s go.”

He managed to drag me out the door. It was dark in the hallway, so even if someone had been there, they wouldn’t have seen us. So I guess Conner was right…

We hastily made our way to the guest room, where Uncle Sam was staying. Conner threw open the door, slamming it behind him. Our Uncle jolts awake.

“What… who’s in here?” He mumbles, before turning on the lamp beside his bed. He squints at us for a moment, before putting on his glasses. “Oh, you two.”

“What did you do to us?!” Conner shouts, too loudly for how early it was.

“Calm down kiddo.” Uncle Sam hops off his bed, cracking his back. “It wasn’t entirely my fault.”

Oh, so this was intentional. What’s that… three points for Conner?

“Change us back!!” Conner shouts again, stomping up to Uncle Sam in a poor attempt to intimidate him.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. But,” he picks up two black bracelets from his nightstand. “These should help you for now.” He holds them out to Conner, who scoffs.

“I don’t trust you.”

Uncle Sam shrugs, “If you’d rather go out looking how you do, I won’t stop you. It isn’t my job to look after you.”

Me and Conner share a glance, one of concern. But it seems we agree on the same thing, as Conner speaks, “Never mind, give us the bracelets.”

Our Uncle hands them over. Conner walks back to me, handing me one. I study the bracelet for a moment, it’s black, and uneven. It looks as though it’s made of a kind of rock, like obsidian. I slide the bracelet over my wrist, on my end, it doesn’t feel like anything happened. But Conner looks at me with surprise.

“Adam, you’re… normal again?”

I raised an eyebrow, but as he slid the bracelet over his wrist, I realized what he was saying. The bracelets, some way or another, hid our supernatural appearances.

“Just keep the bracelets on and you’ll be fine.” Uncle Sam says, sitting back on his bed. “Now get out, please.”

“Aren’t you gonna give us answers?” I get the courage to ask.

Uncle Sam chuckles, “Nope, again, not my job.”

“You can’t just leave us with this! We need answers.” Conner backs me up. (I will forever be grateful for my twin.) Spoiler, forever didn’t last very long.

“I can just leave you with this, actually.”

Conner huffs, becoming visibly annoyed.

“But I can point you in the right direction.” Our Uncle continues, “Mr. G, you know him. Family friend?”

Me and Conner both nod.

“Yeah, he works at West-East Middle. You might even have him as your teacher. Go ask him about it. He’ll give you answers.”

“You sure?” I ask hesitantly. I didn’t interact with Mr. G often, but he came over for holidays and dinner. Uncle Sam seemed to have an aversion to him. But he seemed like a nice person otherwise.

“Yeah, now leave.”

I think me and my brother both realized we weren’t getting any more out of him. So we did as he said and left the room.

Boy, was today going to be interesting…

[marias-wonderland]

Post-SoTL letters (N.2)

Hello once again. My writing muse came back and gave me this play between Clarice and Hannibal. They mostly talk about music but they obviously mean more than what they write.

(dedicated to my beta reader, @isidoros69 , whose support enables me to write once every blue moon. Also, to my wonderful fandom people! @louisfriend-ironsulfide @lotus-ignis @black-mushroom, @eyaeya111, @liwodot, @ladylshardlakesworld, and to whoever is still around!)

Words: 1965

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear Clarice

The view from my window is bringing peace upon my soul, and the pinot grigio accompanied with the artichokes and bottarga salad is only complimenting the scenery. The clouds seem they have engulfed the sky, casting a leisurely but simultaneously melancholic essence of self-discovery. The wind gently shakes the trees and the flowers, the white petals of those flowers in harmony they dance in the wind, floating in the beauty of an invisible river. While gazing the eternal grey world in front of me, the notes of Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 27 No. 2 brought an inquiry to my mind. Do you enjoy listening to music, Clarice?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           With gratitude                                                                                                 Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Dear Dr. Lecter

It seems that in the end, you got what you wanted. There are no bars or cells for you anymore, neither restrictions nor rules. You are free to gaze upon the same sky as I am. Free to indulge in what your soul desires, however wicked or wrong it is, stifling does not suit your persona. The evening sounds pleasing, Doctor. You are the maven of the bon vivant way of acting after all. Given our different upbringing, our music tastes are going to appear completely dissimilar. Yes, I do enjoy some music tunes so I can wind off after a hard day of work (I would mention dancing at clubs but, something tells me they’re not your cup of tea). I’m not a person who pays too much attention to the artists, I listen to whatever feels good to me. Madonna and Whitney Houston being some of them, as well as Michael Jackson and Prince. Cyndi Lauper and David Bowie are also good. Generally speaking, if I like the tune, I will join in. Please don’t hold back on your knowledge about this, I’m certain your mind is like a living library of information. Perhaps you could suggest me composers I would enjoy.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 With Respect                                                                                                     Clarice M. Starling

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Clarice

It is of the human nature to seek out for our freedom, regardless of our wrongdoings. Always remember that deep down, even the most altruistic person hides a tinge of egoism. The instincts of survival are primordial, way before humans thought their laws could outlaw the wrath of nature. Never apologise for what you do not know. Only for what you had the chance to know but refused to. Our differences make us unique and seductive, temptation is of the greatest sins for a reason. I never expected the musical literacy of the orphanage to be of high character. Neither of course the cultural heritage you carry could ever lead you to such paths.

One should start small. Try listening to four seasons by Vivaldi. I recommend “autumn” for you. It is the most overlooked piece by the four of them, and yet it perfectly enhances and encapsulates the essence of chase, of hunting. Vivaldi himself had written poems for his compositions. Try reading the poems while listening to the pieces.

“The hunters, at the break of dawn, go to the hunt.

With horns, guns, and dogs they are off,

The beast flees, and they follow its trail”

May the hunt never end indeed

                                                                                                                                                                                                                        With gratitude                                                                                Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Ps. Have you ever looked at a person and wondered how their essence would be convened into music? Because I have. For you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Dr. Lecter

The element of surprise is always present when I’m talking to you. The moment I’m ready to drop the letter on the table, you come back with the most intriguing piece of flattery.

I bought the records you recommended. As for the poems, I had quite a time with the local libraries but all's well that ends well.

Autumn is a limbo between life and death, a bittersweet season, it's not death already but not life anymore.

Doing tasks only for them to be left incomplete, never being able to see the finish line.

But also you can sense the joy, the energy that the hunt is giving to both the hunter and the pray. The thrilling that ambuscades give to two communicating vessels.

But behind all that, one can still feel the merriment of summer and the cautiousness of winter. Perfect blend of seasons.

I listened to the rest of the season on my day off, with a glass of wine on my hand while gazing at the night sky. It was a tranquil evening.

You were right, autumn was my favourite. I hope you are going to recommend me more compositions. As for the hunt it will inevitably end, and we both know the results, Doctor.

“The exhausted beast tries to flee, but dies."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                             With respect

                                                                                        Clarice M. Starling

Ps. Your insightfulness never stops astonishing me. I hope you are going to expand your thoughts a bit further. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Clarice

The path to self-realization finds the impediment of our current mind. Only the conquest of it could lead you to your true self.

I had planned of discussing with you the significance of Mozart in the classicism wave but, a certain… a minor shift to my plans, brought to my attention the representative of Russian nationalism, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

Besides, Mozart’s compositions are characterized by a fervent sequence to rules, something which you can put aside if the moment demands for it. Tchaikovsky on the other hand favoured emotional progression, the catharsis of the soul, the joys, loves, and sorrows of the human heart with striking and poignant sincerity.

I believe you would enjoy some of his lesser known compositions. I suggest “Souvenir de Florence”. I listened to it very recently and the breadth of the sound is something which can captivate you.

As for my last thought, it is a tendency that most musicians share. Almost like a personal whim, translating internal emotions into notes and symphonies. The more joy something brings to us, the more music echoes to our ears.

I would be glad to share my speculations about you, but always in exchange. Quid pro quo Clarice.

So please tell me

How would my existence be translated into music, Clarice?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                       With gratitude

                                                                             Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Ps. We’ve chatted for so long and yet, I didn’t send my greetings to our old pal Jackie boy. Please dedicate to him Mozart’s “Requiem”, I’m certain his long lost soul is fit for it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Dear Dr. Lecter

Thanks to your suggestions, I’ve become a reappearing figure at my local antique shop and even managed to get the vinyls at a better price since “No young people nowadays care about the classics”.

You stand correct once again, I remained motionless throughout the course of the performance. This one I believe fits better to be listened at day, the crystal clear sky mirroring the composer’s will for life.

Regarding your last request, I am afraid that I can not come up with a satisfactory answer for your criteria. I am able to describe people’s actions with words and explain their reasoning behind that but, music was always an uncharted territory for me.

If you could be kind enough to help me on that one, I would appreciate it.

                                                                                                  With respect                                                                                                     Clarice M. Starling

Ps. I’m aware you know of Bella’s deteriorating health but, it is him who takes the toll for both of them. It is almost painful to watch. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Dear Clarice

You were doing so fine, following the lead and completing the tasks you were given.

Now the agent came tête-à-tête with an actual challenge and requires the assistance of someone more au courant.

It is clear I’ve asked you to act beyond your training.

Very well, follow my lead and in your next letter try to live up to your name.

When you come to my mind, a plethora of notes burst into my mind, rampant and joyous, sorrowful and cynical.

A feeling of recurring sadness and despair. Occasional, fleeting moments of upbeat melodies feel more like episodes of painfully self-aware mania among a constant bedrock of fear, and pain. A sense of loss that always revives when I listen to it again.

The expression of a broken rage, a lost love, a forgotten memory, a dead rose somehow flourishing, coming all together in a sick melancholy and expression of reasonable insanity.

Reminiscent of the monotony of our daily lives and how little of a choice we have in it, yet can't help being upbeat to an extent with hope.

I find it quite intriguing, the different emotions each of us convey through these majestic chimes. As for me, I sense harmony and merriment.

Words convey understanding that music fails to describe, but music conveys emotion words cannot express.

However it is due to the emotions it releases that our simplistic human minds cannot comprehend nor explain, a conundrum of melancholous, yet peaceful feelings that no music nowadays can do the liberty of replicating.

This is how I see you. Trying to grasp the sinister world around you, but are you ready to feel the icy fingers of terror stroke your heart?

                                                                                                With gratitude

                                                                                      Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

Ps. Try closing your eyes and focus on how you would translate each emotion you feel into humming. How does anger sound to you? Quick and loud or rapid and silent? Follow this advice and then you will be able to answer me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Dr. Lecter

Thank you for your insight and leading. It took me some time and a lot of concentration to find an answer worthy enough of writing down but, I’m confident this is it.

When you come to my mind, this mixture of brilliant eloquence and inhuman cruelty deluges it.

The music starts with melancholy. Dark, with hints of sweetness underlying a tone of despair. Intensity rises. Grief makes way for anger, insanity and a welcoming of death's tender embrace. Life has become hell.

Music is now fast. The grasp on reality porous and thin, like butter scraped over too much bread. The light tries to resist, but what little control remains is slipping, struggling to fight back.

 The darkness, emboldened by the chaos, responds in kind, eager to stamp out the last embers of hope.

The darkness has taken root now. The host no longer resists the parasite's will. But within the darkness, there’s a new purpose. The devil might have changed his appearance but he cannot betray his nature.

He plays furiously, boundless now he roams free. His muster unrelenting, devouring. In his wake, only one thing remains… the purest representation of humanity's dualism. The eternal conflict for humanity's soul.

The end is bittersweet, like the aftermath of the self-casted war between spirit and mind with casualties being the human soul.

On the whole, I would say that it is the manifestation of a dance not with someone else but with yourself, you are dancing with your shadow, with your ego, and that makes it special.

Almost inveigling the gazer into taking a place to the dance                                                                                            With respect

                                                                                      Clarice M. Starling

Ps. I can not help myself but picture waltzes whenever I’m listening to my vinyls. Have you ever taken part in this type of dance, Doctor? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Clarice

I must congratulate you for your quick learning, your rapid adaptation to your environment truly will help you survive.

If you ever knew me in my personal life, you would know I never turn down an invitation to dance.

I wholeheartedly enjoyed our conversation but I am afraid I have to put it to an end for now, for I am going on a trip. One should always exercise their body as well their mind. It would also be my pleasure to teach you how to waltz.

It would be the perfect body exercise for the both of us.

                                                                                              With gratitude

                                                                                  Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Artist

The epistolary work I found myself working on this morning... someone writing about Savvie Marcoset and her, uh, misunderstood genius. 

See if you can find all the places where our writer thinks he’s being subtle. Jax belongs to @comfy-whumpee

The Motherfucking Gallaghers masterlist

-

The art vs. the artist: Separating Savannah Marcoset’s music from her misdeeds

By: Elliott Monroe Williams

 -

The problems caused by our modern obsession with “canceling” imperfect people are multiplying every day, touching every single aspect of our lives. Whether it’s a new scandal involving a professional athlete, celebrities like James Corden or Matt Damon, or even someone who simply said the wrong thing in a public place where their mistake was recorded and shared across the world, it seems like every day brings another person who “deserves” to be “canceled”.

What does it mean to be “canceled”? The MacMillan dictionary defines canceling, the verb, as withdrawing support from or ceasing to engage with a celebrity or public figure whose views you dislike. 

 It’s one thing to make a choice not to provide further opportunities for a platform or profit to someone whose views or actions you abhor. I support such a choice wholeheartedly and have made similar decisions myself. But does someone’s distasteful action or viewpoint mean you can’t enjoy their creations if you already loved them? Can you still read your favorite books if the author turns out to have repugnant views they simply won’t stop shouting to anyone who will listen? Can you watch the Tour de France during a doping scandal? Can you love a book written in the 19th century after discovering that the author of the book was abusive to his family?

In the case of classical music, is there any truly brilliant composer who wouldn’t be “canceled” if they were alive today? 

Does enjoying their compositions mean signing off on their crimes?

From Beethoven through Guesaldo, composers have always behaved badly

They often say instability and genius walk hand-in-hand, and many of our most beloved historical composers were criminals in their own day. Ludwig van Beethoven was famously once arrested for and charged with prowling and vagrancy after walking the chilly streets with no hat, no coat, and no form of identification. He peered through the windows of Viennese citizens’ homes until the constable was called, and a local musician had to identify him.

Johann Sebstian Bach spent a month in jail for terminating a contract with an employer. Pietro Mascagni was arrested for embezzlement (although he was later acquitted of any crime) and was an enthusiastic supporter of dictator Benito Mussolini. While legal, you could argue that such open support for the authoritarian leader would likely lead to being “canceled” today.

Should a man who supported such a dictatorial government in his own time be held as someone whose music must be shunned even today, decades after his death?

Carlo Guesaldo, whose eerie madrigal compositions offered modernist sound centuries ahead of its time, was even known to have murdered his philandering wife and her lover, and potentially also his father-in-law, although this is likely a later embellishment. While he was never charged with the crime, he nonetheless did not deny it.

These men were brilliant individuals with eccentric personal lives. Does the decision to commit a crime mean we cannot enjoy their work without approving of every action they’ve undertaken? What if we speak not of an historical composer, but a modern woman whose crimes have made her a household name?

What about Savannah Marcoset?

A brilliant violinist convicted of serious crimes

 Savannah Marcoset is arguably the most famous classical performer and composer worldwide, but it is unfortunately not for her music. She is currently serving a sentence of life without parole after being convicted of a series of crimes, including multiple counts of false imprisonment in the first degree, a variety of assault convictions, and also for obstruction of justice and attempting to intimidate a witness and jury tampering. 

Already well-known as a childhood prodigy at her chosen instrument, the violin, Ms. Marcoset moved into releasing recordings of her own original compositions at the tender age of fifteen. By twenty, she was selling out venues like Carnegie Hall. Classical music aficionados declared her the second coming of Elliott Gould, a new eccentric genius who kept to herself off the stage but shone like a diamond under the lights, with her violin in her hand.

Shortly after finishing her undergraduate degree at the prestigious Juilliard School, she lost her beloved parents in a tragic, still unsolved aviation incident. In the chaos of her grief, she forgot to eat, to sleep, and even to pursue the music that had given her life such meaning before. Her uncle, in an effort to help her regain stability, provided her with an individual who would clean the home, keep her safe, and ensure she had someone to talk to through the worst of her grief. 

To her shock and dismay, the man provided to her as an employee and servant turned out to be illegally purchased through a recently-uncovered human trafficking network in the UK. 

By all accounts and by Ms. Marcoset’s admittance at her first trial, Jackson Gallagher - the man who had been abducted, sold into modern slavery, and ended up Savannah Marcoset’s unwitting servant - spent more than a year in her employ before the situation was discovered when he was able to pass a message on to his father when Ms. Marcoset took him to the UK to visit.

Gallagher was freed and sent back home shortly after, and Ms. Marcoset spent years in prison after conviction. She was granted parole on the condition that she remain under virtual house arrest, only able to leave for performances, recording sessions, and other professional matters. She also was forced to wear an ankle monitor so that her location could be tracked at all times.

Ms. Marcoset never left her home except for the short trips for performances that she approved with her parole officer. Journalists and reporters came to her home to interview her, and none saw any sign of anything amiss. And yet, shortly after her release, Jackson Gallagher disappeared from his father’s apartment. Declared missing and eventually presumed deceased, Gallagher would only resurface years later, showing up on his father’s front step with two small children and a story. 

Savannah Marcoset, it turned out, had been hiding what she called her ‘husband’ and their eventual children together in her family’s home all along.

She was eventually tried and convicted of her crimes, and will never again see the outside of prison walls. She attempted to publish a memoir, whose release was canceled after intervention by Jackson Gallagher’s legal representation, Collins McKay of McKay, Kline, and Benson. McKay successfully argued it would cause emotional harm to her two children, the project was canceled, and Ms. Marcoset’s memoir languishes in a safety deposit box in an undisclosed bank. Ms. Marcoset continues to grant interviews, however, and has recently recorded and released a new album, which will be released in February, titled Permanent Pause. 

With the news of her new album, interest in her story has been renewed. Many classical music fans are calling for a boycott of her work, while others make the point that the proceeds will go entirely to a trust that will profit not Marcoset herself, but her two children by Gallagher.

Can we appreciate good music from bad people?

If misdeeds must be eternally punished, even as the person might grow and change with time, this insists that someone is never better than the one time they were at their worst. Do we judge Beethoven by his slovenly housekeeping or even his way of looking into the homes of others while wandering the streets?

Do we cease to listen to Mozart because of his propensity for arrogance and a sometimes less than pleasant demeanor? Do we turn away from Guesaldo’s genius when learning of his single act of double-homicide?

No, we do not. 

We acknowledge unfortunate realities, of course, but even so we equally acknowledge the great men and women of music as part and parcel of their time and place. Noblemen in a time when nobility lived above the common law applied to others, composers during the days when what we call classical music was what everyone revered and flocked to see. Celebrities of their time who acted within the more lax boundaries of their day.

I would argue Savannah Marcoset, in some ways, is the same.

Sure, she is a modern musician, but she was raised by a family whose criminality only recently came to light, and continues to insist that she was unaware of her parents’ true occupations until after their deaths. For someone who grew up in a household in which servants were, by and large, unpaid and had been with the family for generations, is it so strange that her sense of what counts as ‘freedom’ was so wildly out of touch?

Of course, I don’t excuse her crimes, and the law has duly punished her for them. She will never see the outside of prison walls, and is only given a single hour each day to exercise outdoors. Jackson Gallagher has successfully ensured she has no legal rights to her two children whatsoever and will likely never see them again. While she is allowed visitation, her visitors must be approved by the prison warden. Beyond her interactions with guards and staff, she lives an utterly solitary life. 

She even admitted in a recent interview with a journalist in People Magazine that she doesn’t even know what her children look like, and worries often about them, with no chance to settle maternal worries, as Gallagher has resettled back in the UK. 

In many ways, she has been returned to those early days after the loss of her parents, when she lived in a great big building entirely alone, with only her music for comfort.

Some of her greatest work was written while she was in the midst of the crimes she was convicted of. Firecracker, which she herself called ‘a story of falling in love’, was written even while she held Gallagher as a captive within her home. She acknowledged, after conviction, that the idea for the title had been his, a childhood nickname he hoped would gain the attention of the family still searching for him. Its follow-up, Five Stones Thrown (the title is another name for a game called jacks, and Marcoset has admitted it was a sort of personal joke), is perhaps the greatest album of her career. A woman at the top of her industry, channeling her pain, uncertainty, and fear into music the likes of which we haven’t seen in decades if not centuries.

Deciding whether or not Ms. Marcoset’s work has redeeming value shouldn’t be a decision on whether or not she is a good person. Clearly, she has committed heinous crimes she is rightfully being punished for. I don’t support her music because of what she has done, but in spite of it. I don’t believe good music should be subjected to the whims of human misdeeds, but valued far beyond the silly little lives we lead.

In short, separate art and artist, but know who profits off the sales

In the case of Savannah Marcoset, I would never buy another album of hers if I thought she would make a cent off the sale. She is a woman who committed heinous, violent crimes against a man who could not escape her. 

But I also know she won’t make a cent. 

I take comfort in the fact that all proceeds of sales of her work from the day of her conviction have been moved into a trust that her two children will be able to access once they reach the age of 25.

That said, I know how difficult it is to hear music the same way once you know what was happening during the time it was composed. Firecracker and Five Stones Thrown are albums that tell a story of an all-consuming love, both the good and the bad, but it was a love lived as horror for the other person forced into the story. Gallagher still lives with the physical, tangible results of that horror even today as he parents the children he shares with Ms. Marcoset.

Still, the music is divine, and such perfect melodies should not be lost to our shifting sense of right and wrong. We shouldn’t “cancel” music because the composer is imperfect. It is imperative to separate art from artist, because very few of us have lived pristine lives, and those who create art - musicians, artists, actors, and others - are far from likely to be perfect themselves.

Bad people often make exceptional art.

Every time I purchase a new album by Savannah Marcoset, I do so knowing that she won’t see a dime. Jackson Gallagher and his two children as a result of the crimes she committed against him will. 

In that way, it’s them I support by separating art from artist, and not Ms. Marcoset at all.

-

Elliott Monroe Williams lives in New York City with his girlfriend Bree, his dog Fuzzles, and an ill-tempered iguana named Joe. He has written for the New York Times, NPR, and a variety of online publications focused on classical music. 

You can find his other writing on Savannah Marcoset in the archives on his personal website, elliottmwilliams.com. 

Editor’s Note: Jackson Gallagher did not respond to repeated requests for comment on this piece prior to publication.

-

@eatyourdamnpears @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlin-always-writing @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @iaminamoodymoodtoday @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @thefancydoughnut @mylifeisonthebookshelf @whumpinggrounds

[rhianna]

Dracula by Bram Stoker

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/345

For Fun:  See “Dracula Daily”   https://rhianna.tumblr.com/post/716552630199091200/today-on-tumblr-dracula

Author

Stoker, Bram, 1847-1912

TitleDracula

Credits  Updated: 2022-04-27

Credits   Updated: 2022-07-16

Credits  Updated: 2022-09-05

Credits  Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

Language  English

LoC Class

PR: Language and Literatures: English literature

Subject

Horror tales

Subject

Epistolary fiction

Subject

Gothic fiction

Subject

Vampires -- Fiction

Subject

Dracula, Count (Fictitious character) -- Fiction

Subject

Transylvania (Romania) -- Fiction

Subject

Whitby (England) -- Fiction

Category   Text

EBook-No.345

Release Date   Oct 1, 1995

Copyright Status  Public domain in the USA.

[lcatala]

Paratopos #28

Preliminary report on investigation of Paratopos #28, authored by ███████████ for ██████. Authorized personnel only. Document not to be altered or removed from ███████████. Copies and note-taking prohibited.

---

Background:

██/██/████: group of teenagers from ████████████ disappeared while exploring local woodland. Search parties organized. Resulted only in number of search volunteers going missing too.

Professional reinforcement brought in. Discovered entrance of concrete tunnel on side of hill at coordinates ██████████ ██████████, not on local maps. Witnesses described tunnel as "unnaturally" dark. Flashlights unable to get past entrance. Several people attempted to explore. Disappeared from view few meters in, ceased to respond to radio. None returned.

Over possibility of toxic gas leak or similar hazard, authorities had surrounding area evacuated and contacted ████████████████████. █████████████ was able to intercept file and pass it on to us.

Team sent to investigate. Location subsequently categorized as Paratopos #28.

---

Observations:

Seemingly man-made concrete tunnel with square opening, 2.5 meters/8.2 feet across, 2 meters/6.5 feet vertically, running straight into hill. No path leads to tunnel, area mostly covered in trees and shrubs. Access difficult.

Strong shifting electromagnetic field radiating from tunnel. 5 meters/16 feet from entrance, magnetic compasses become erratic, start pointing toward Paratopos #28 instead of north pole.

No other anomaly detectable near entrance of tunnel. Air, flora and soil samples all normal. Insect life unperturbed.

Confirmed earlier eyewitness testimonies of impenetrable darkness rendering inside of tunnel unobservable. Any light ray entering tunnel dims quickly, vanishes couple of meters in. No difference with powerful artificial lighting. No difference depending on time of day or weather situation.

Occultation phenomenon, or related one, also affects sound. No sound heard coming out of tunnel. No audible impact when throwing objects into occultation zone.

Initial speculation of ideal black-body combined with extremely efficient noise-cancellation, perhaps meant as advanced cloaking device, falsified when occultation discovered to affect only direct biological observers.

No occultation when looking at Paratopos #28 thru recording device, analog or digital, on any kind of light spectrum, or even at reflection of entrance in mirror. Sounds from tunnel can be captured with microphone and then heard as playback, either live or from recording. Might also be possible to directly hear echos of sounds coming from tunnel, but surrounding geography not conductive to experiment. Could be confirmed with parabolic reflector.

No measurable effect can be linked to phenomenon. All readings from entrance normal apart from electromagnetic activity. Possibility of induced illusion. Unseen device affecting human brains directly to erase perception of inside of Paratopos #28. Exact mechanism unclear. No maximal perimeter observed. Occultation persists as long as tunnel in direct line of sight. Source lighting inside tunnel can't be seen directly, but objects outside tunnel in path of light appear illuminated.

ECGs performed on site indicate slightly decreased activity in parietal, temporal and occipital regions of subjects looking directly at Paratopos #28. PET and fMRI required for more reliable data.

Observation thru equipment revealed bare concrete tunnel. No discernible sections. 50 meters/55 yards in length. Ground flat and mostly clean near entrance. Covered with increasing amount of concrete fragments further in. Unclear origin. No visible damage on ceiling except at far end, where partial collapse has occurred and hidden most of exit from view.

Partially visible exit shows daylight and plant life similar to entrance side. Trying to access tunnel from other side proved impossible. Hill no more than 6 meters/20 feet high at peak, but much larger than tunnel is long. Theoretical position of exit in impossible location.

Speculation that exit actually underground room made to look like outside ruled out by exploratory digging. Excavating soil where exit should be revealed only more soil. Trench reached 20 meters/22 yards into expected location of tunnel without encountering anything.

Possible explanations include induced hallucination also affecting recording equipment (cf. Paratopos #23), stable wormhole (cf. Paratopos #17), or altered physical geometry (cf. Paratopos #6, #11 and #13). Digging halted due to potential risk of wormhole collapse (see Paratopos #17 Disaster, file ████████).

Exploration technically challenging. Frequency and intensity of electromagnetic field rise quickly deeper into tunnel. Significant interference with radio-transmission. Radio-guided robots become unresponsive inside occultation zone. Robots linked by cable to control-station perform better. However, past 22 meters/24 yards, frequency of magnetic field becomes high enough to induce currents and fry unshielded electronics.

Robots designed for exploration of radioactive environment able to progress up to 43 meters/47 yards into tunnel before dying. Further shielding theoretically possible, but would hit significant diminishing return on weight and necessary weak points (control and power cable, recording equipment).

All samples from robots normal. No contaminant, toxin, pathogen or other hazard detected at significant levels. Temperature, pressure and humidity all normal. Wall samples ordinary concrete with no special property. Walls themselves self-healing. Sample sites undetectable after 36 hours. Concrete debris within tunnel fused to each other and to ground. Process similar to cold welding. Successfully replicated experimentally within tunnel.

Direct recordings of shifting frequencies of magnetic field showed highly erratic patterns. Later demonstrated by higher-dimensional analysis to be governed by two strange attractors with riddled basins. Significance unknown. Far enough into tunnel, field produces ionizing radiations. Measurements indicate lethal amount of exposure to humans within hours at 36 meters/39 yards, within minutes at 41 meters/45 yards. Recovered samples only mildly radioactive.

Light and weather pattern on exit side not always consistent with entrance side. Ambient light on exit side dims then brightens on 38 hour cycle. Never fully reaches full night obscurity level. Lowest point similar to sunset, but noticeable purple tinge. Unpredictable EMPs can occur during this phase, damaging equipment beyond normally safe distance. No precipitation or wind observed at any point. Plant life static. No growth, weathering or shifting observable on time-lapse recordings.

Attempts at acquiring plant samples from exit side using mechanical telescopic arm containing no electrical part. ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████ Nature of these plants remains speculative pending successful acquisition of sample. Almost certainly not what they seem to be.

Tests using animal subjects conducted. Outside of tunnel, animals sensitive to occultation phenomenon same way humans are. Other tested senses similarly obliterated by tunnel. Professionally trained detector dogs unable to locate target objects placed few meters within tunnel. Animals placed inside tunnel appear to suffer no perceptual impairment over sight, sound or other senses. Can perceive things both inside and outside tunnel without assistance.

Mentally, animals in tunnel sluggish and passive. Still responding to stimuli but not taking any initiative. Trained animals respond to commands, but with lowered ability to follow complex instructions. Tendency to mindlessly pursue current task. Effect scales linearly with complexity of nervous system. Simpler animals less affected. Arthropods show only subtle amounts of diminished mental capacity. Cnidarians show none that can be significantly measured.

Animals back from tunnel return to prior state. No sign of psychological disturbance. No sign of physical harm. No later development of ailment out of statistical ordinary. Exception for animals pushed far enough into tunnel. Show usual symptoms of acute radiation poisoning.

Human tests conducted. Human test subjects equipped with radiation-shielding suits and tethered to outside for additional safety. Humans entering tunnel display same mental sluggishness and diminished initiative as animals. Become highly suggestible. Mindlessly execute commands given to them that don't involve direct personal harm. Speech becomes erratic on discourse-consistency level. Subjects prompted to talk about particular topic will forget said topic after three or four sentences. Go only by associative reasoning with previous sentence. Sometimes switch mid sentence to entirely different idea. Speech generally devoid of metaphor and abstraction. Attempt to communicate with test subjects using metaphors, similes, allusions or other rhetorical effects result in literal interpretation. Answer to questions often incoherent, only tenuously connected to subject of inquiry. Speech devoid of affect, empathy. Emotions almost entirely absent. Temporal reasoning highly diminished. All sentences in simple present tense. No distinction between states, processes and events.

Spatial and temporal reasoning also impaired in task execution. Generally unable to execute complex task requiring more than two steps, unless given instructions at each step. Particularly poor performance on tasks requiring precision and intentionality, or outside normal training. Routine tasks and reflex actions unaltered, possibly enhanced. Poor proprioception. Individuals respond well to commands to move specific body parts, but great difficulty if asked to describe own movements and position.

Maximum safe distance within tunnel 25 meters/27 yards. Individuals beyond no longer consistently respond to commands. Have tendency to spontaneously walk toward other end of tunnel. Need to be forcibly pulled back with tether.

Individuals back from tunnel report memory loss about entire stay within Paratopos #28. Not loss-of-time experience similar to sleeping or general anesthesia. More akin to blanking out when driving car. Individuals aware on some level of passed time. Unable to give precise estimate. Aware that they were wakeful participants in series of events. But lack perceptual recollection of said events.

█████████████ advanced hypothesis of Paratopos #28 as qualia antagonist. If confirmed, would be strong evidence in favor of panpsychism, idea that consciousness is inherent property of matter, rather than emergent property of complex nervous systems.

No trace of missing persons. Presumed dead. Recovery of bodies highly unlikely.

---

Risk assessment and containment policy:

No apparent danger of short term contamination. Paratopos #28 extremely stable and self-contained. Magnetic field active within very tight perimeter. No detectable expansion or contraction during entire period of investigation. No unusual activity outside of EMPs during "sunset" phase. Self-healing capabilities make infiltration and/or dispersal of material unlikely.

Longer term risk hard to assess. Underlying mechanisms not understood. Possible conditions of change unknown. Hard-to-monitor exit with unknown location leaves open possibility of hazardous material or entities spilling thru with no prior warning.

Recommend addition of sealable reinforced gate over entrance, to keep locked outside of testing periods. Build secure facility directly around entrance.

Recommend exclusion zone at least 2km/1.2 miles in radius around Paratopos #28, with extensive 24/7 monitoring. Facilities built on site should be properly concealed.

---

Information containment:

Back official version of toxic gas leak and long-term contamination of site.

Discredit alternative theories in public eyes by supplying select influential conspiracy theorists with poor quality forgeries of leaked documents linking site to aliens, secret government testing facility, giant race, satanism, Hollywood elites, hollow Earth, flat Earth, etc.

Covertly expose intruders to non-lethal dose of ██████████████████ before sending to military hospital and make press statements about recklessness, dangers to public health, etc.

[mbharestuff]

the goncharov game?

i am on the verge of writing a short story (in the form of a longform piece of game journalism with quotes, interview excerpts, etc.) about the Japanese Konami-developed mid-1980s Goncharov video game for the MSX computer series that never was and i am NOT JOKING

please encourage me to make this bad decision thank you

[mccoppinscrapyard]

Read in 2022 (4/?)

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

❝ Yes, Celie, she say. Everything want to be loved. Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets, trying to be loved. ❞

[prokopetz]

It's often been proposed that diary-style epistolary fiction is the historical literary equivalent of the "found footage" film, but I've gotta believe that pretending your story that you wrote is merely your translation of an historical document that you uncovered is at least in the same ballpark.

[randombrainworm]

Being destroyed by epistolary novels times and times again (since today we have a day off from Dracula I started to re-read "This is how you lose the time war". No, I'm not okay.)

[dem0nguy]

The council (me, myself, and I) have decided, I shall post about my way-too-elaborate OC lore!

I’ll likely share this through story snippets, spurts of lore, art, or whatever else comes to me. Regardless, I hope you enjoy something I’ve been crafting for many years in the back of my mind.

Now let me introduce you to a story called:

A Good Demon

Listen, part of me still doesn’t understand everything that’s happened to me over the past couple years. But these journal entries, those that I wrote while it was happening. May be the only accurate recount I can give you.

So much has changed over the years, I’ve lost and gained. I’ve gone from a naïve little boy to a kid who knows too much for his age.

So let my younger self tell you our story:

9/22/19

It’s My Birthday! Wahooo!!!!

Man I’ve been psyched for weeks! I’m turning twelve, and tomorrow I start 6th grade! It’s kinda crazy honestly. I’m not sure if I should be excited, or terrified.

But well, that’s what this journal is for. Writing down my thoughts and worries. As much as I will use it for that, I also wanna be able to look back when I’m older! It’ll be cool to see what future me thinks of present me (I hope future me is doing well!) He’s not, but the notion is nice.

I got a whole bunch of presents today! First off, I got this journal. Which seemed like a lame present at first (especially in comparison to my twin brother’s remote controlled car) but I’m learning to like it. I think… The journal is a marble red-black pattern, with a gold engraving on the front of my name “Adam”.

I also got a bunch of chocolate (my favorite candy!), as well as action figures from my favorite TV show, a few new books, a couple letters with money, and an odd red and blue crystal necklace. Irrelevant as it may be, chocolate is still my favorite candy.

The necklace was a gift from my Uncle Sam. He’s a very, err, interesting guy? I don’t know, he’s very closed off, and doesn’t seem very fond of anything really. But my dad (his twin brother. Isn’t it crazy there are two pairs of twins in this family??) Likes having him around.

My twin, Conner, got a similar necklace. Though it was a little more blue than red. Uncle Sam was very hesitant when giving them to us, almost as though he didn’t want to. It made me wonder if my dad had made him buy these for us.

I’m not ungrateful for his gift. Just, skeptical. He told us to keep the necklaces close by all day and night, that they’re a sign of good luck. Should’ve been more skeptical…

I’m not exactly gonna give up potential good luck. I’ll definitely need it for tomorrow. I’m absolutely terrified that I’m gonna get lost in the big concrete building that is “middle school.” I’ll have more than one teacher a year now, how will I remember them all?? What if I forget and walk into the wrong classroom? God that would be so embarrassing. All the looks from the other students trained on me, I can almost hear their snickering and laughing in my ears!

Even worse, what if I’m stuck in a class with no one I know? What if all my friends and my brother are on completely different sides of the building? What if there’s an emergency?? What would I do? Funny how this was my greatest fear when I was twelve.

I don’t think I can answer any of those questions, just thinking about them shakes me to the core. But, it is nice to write down on paper. Somehow the words are less scary when you can see them.

Hey, maybe this good luck charm will help me after all.

Little did I know it would make my life living hell.

(Part twoooooo :D)

[fiction-quotes]

I can't understand how people can use words so casually. They talk without thinking: they open their mouths and the words run out like water from a tap. I used to be like that once. Now I've learnt that words are precious, dangerous things.

  —  Take My Word For It (John Marsden)

[kingsbridgelibraryteens]

Middle School Monday: TBH, This Is SO Awkward: A Novel in Text by Lisa Greenwald

Cecily, Prianka, and Gabby (also known as CPG4Eva) have been best friends for many years. Now that they’re starting middle school, they’re navigating through big issues like organizing the Valentine’s Day dance and getting ready for their first boy-girl party. Their plans don’t include Victoria, the new girl in school, and this leads to lots of hurt feelings and miscommunication. 

This story is told through a series of text and paper messages, so readers will see the drama unfold through conversations that are sometimes private and sometimes share too much with the wrong people. This story is filled with lots of friend drama, lots of communication problems, and a bunch of girls who aren’t exactly mean, but they aren’t exactly nice.

Give this book to older kids and younger teens who are interested in novels about school,  friendships, and the difference between online and real life relationships.

[pers-books]

Hey, Dracula fans, did you know you can get the entire novel emailed to you in real time as it happens?

Bram Stoker’s Dracula is an epistolary novel - it’s made up of letters, diaries, telegrams, newspaper clippings - and every part of it has a date. The whole story happens between May 3 and November 10. So: Dracula Daily will post a newsletter each day that something happens to the characters, in the same timeline that it happens to them.

Now you can read the book via email, in small digestible chunks - as it happens to the characters.

Sign up at the site link above to participate!

[captainnaustralia]

Epistolary fiction is something that can actually be so powerful & moving, but what I'm writing is mixed media & includes a Group Chat(TM) so jammed in between interview transcripts, soul crushing letters from the warfront in 1915, and informative emails, we end up with shit like this: