Sunday, April 29, 2012

Midwich Cuckoo's Nest

Do you know about the cuckoo bird? How many cuckoo birds, after laying their eggs, place them into other bird's nests, so that they raise them? They are called "brood parasites." After they hatch, they push all the other eggs out of the nest.

Vintery, mintery, cutery, corn,
Apple seed and apple thorn,
Wire, briar, limber lock,
Three geese in a flock.
One flew East,
One flew West,
And one flew over the cuckoo's nest.

I'm sorry I haven't been posting. Not since the incident. I've been in the hospital. My wound, where I had cut myself to feel inside, it hadn't closed like before. I almost bled out before the paramedics found me. Still, I was in the hospital for a while.

When the doctors say that the wound was self-inflicted, they made me talk to a shrink. I didn't tell him the real reason I cut myself, nor why I had so many scars, so he probably thought I was suicidal. He proscribed some drugs, but I don't need them.

"Hollow, might as well be dead." That's how Amy put it on my last post. And it's true. I can't feel their brightness anymore. I can't feel the air as they soar or the tingle of their electricity. I will never experience them again.

And I keep asking myself: why? The Carrier said something about a failed experiment. That the Bright Ones - the Convocation was cleaning up after a failed experiment. I thought about Nightjar and him becoming a Camper just to get away from the pain. But why kill Kestrel and Tern? Why leave me human?

And then it came to me: the Carrier said that they sought to eradicate "those who knew." Not those who knew the experiment. Those who "knew." 

Those who knew me.

I'm the experiment. A "failed" experiment. Not an experiment that failed, but an experiment in failure.

I failed at being a Nest. The Convocation left me. But they are still watching me. Seeing what I do. Seeing how long it will take before...what? I take my own life? Before I jump off a building just to experience that momentary feeling of flight again? Or do they want me to still serve them, to kill for them?

Screw them. I may be an experiment in failure, but I will not give them what they want. I'm not a cuckoo bird.

It's time to leave the hospital now.

It's time to go outside.

It's time to fly the coop.


Friday, March 9, 2012


i did something wrong, i know i did. thats why they left. i did something wrong.

what did i do? i did everything they told me to, i followed those people until i couldnt i tried i tried my hardest.

'sometimes your best just isnt good enough.' my mom used to say that. i would bring home a b or a c grade and she would lock me in my room until i studied. she would say 'you can do better. youre just lazy. lazy lazy lazy. lets see how lazy you can be without dinner.'

i killed her. is that why they are mad at me? she had a heart attack and i waited until she stopped breathing before calling 911. i watched her as she watched me just sitting there.

two weeks later, a nest approached me. they had seen what i had done. i didnt want to go to foster care and they said they could take me away. they could take me to a place where i would be free. where i could see what they saw, feel what they felt. the bright ones.

they were so bright when i went there. it hurt, but i focused on the light, on the lightning. and afterwards, i felt wonderful. i felt like i would never be alone again.

but now they are gone and i am empty. hollow.

they must be mad at me.

i must have done something wrong.

what did i do?

Bird Song

I think I get it now.

Well I didn't tell anyone, but a bird flew by.
Saw what I'd done. He set up a nest outside,
and he sang about what I'd become.
He sang so loud, sang so clear.
I was afraid all the neighbours would hear,
So I invited him in, just to reason with him.
I promised I wouldn't do it again.

But he sang louder and louder inside the house,
And now I couldn't get him out.
So I trapped him under a cardboard box,
stood on it to make him stop.
I picked up the bird and above the din I said,
"That's the last song you'll ever sing".
Held him down, broke his neck,
Taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget.

But in my dreams began to creep
that old familiar tweet tweet tweet.

I opened my mouth to scream and shout,
I waved my arms and flapped about.
But I couldn't scream and I couldn't shout,
couldn't scream and I couldn't shout.

I opened my mouth to scream and shout
waved my arms and flapped about
But I couldn't scream I couldn't shout,
The song was coming from my mouth.

From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth.

From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth.

From my mouth.
From my mouth.
From my mouth.
From my mouth.

From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth.

Please come back, little birdies. Please come back.

Thursday, March 8, 2012


They're gone. The Bright Ones.

I had been feeling sick all day. I could feel the birds in my body moving around. They made ripples in my stomach. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I took a butcher knife and I cut open my stomach wide and they all flew out. All of them. The sky was soon covered in black feathers.

I sank to my knees and felt the inside of my stomach. I could feel the calm winds of the Bleak Shore through the hole at the bottom. And then it closed. I pulled my bloody hand out of my stomach and wrapped my jacket around it to stop the bleeding.

I feel empty.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


I've been wandering the streets for the past few days. Just walking down alleyways, avoiding people. I don't have to eat much, not with the Bright Ones inside me. They ached to be let loose, but I decided it was too dangerous. I couldn't risk my unknown enemy seeing them and finding me. Not after what they did to Tern and Kestrel.

And then, today, I found a Carrier. You might better know them as a Grayskin, their skin covered in the fungal form of the Choir, driven mad by the constant battery of noises and voices.

The Choir hears things, though. It knows things. It could know who was after me.

The Carrier was huddled behind a dumpster, her body covered in layers of clothing, her face wrapped in bandages except for her eyes. I could see the skin around her eyes were covered in grey fungus.

Even though I had found a Carrier, it would tell me anything unless I forced it. Finally, carefully, I opened my mouth wide and let out two of the Bright Ones. They launched themselves into the air and grabbed the shoulders of the Carrier.

"What What What What What," she said, the Choir making her voice unnaturally echo. "What Do You Want? Want? Do You Want? What Do? You Want?"

The Bright Ones on her shoulder rubbed their beaks against her head, electricity sparking between them. "Something is killing Nests," I said. "Something killed all the Nests in my group. What did this? Who killed them? Who wars with the Convocation?"

"War War War War?" The Carrier laughed, the laughter echoing strangely off the sides of the alleyway. "There is no war. The birds merely eliminate a failed experiment. Experiment. Failed. Eliminate. They seek to eradicate those who knew. Knew. Eradicate. Who knew."

It couldn't be true. But why would the Choir lie?

I didn't know anything about any experiment. But perhaps Nightjar did. And because of what he did to himself, now we became targets.

I walked away from the Carrier as her laughter echoed in my ears.

Sunday, March 4, 2012


They're dead.

I went out for some air. Tern was still arguing about Nightjar, but we all knew something was wrong. None of us could get to the Bleak Shore. We were cut off. We didn't have any instructions from the Bright Ones - even the ones inside our bodies were silent.

So I went outside to get some fresh air. I walked around a bit, stuck in my own thoughts, still remembering what Nightjar said about the pain. I, too, felt some pain whenever I opened myself, but it seemed that his pain had been worse, much worse.

Then I came back to our safe house and I opened the door and I found them. Tern and Kestrel.

Their hands were tied behind their backs and they had plastic bags shoved over their faces. We still need to breath. They suffocated.

I heard the door behind me creak and I ran out of the house, I ran even as I heard the crack of bullets, even as I heard people running after me. I ran and didn't look back.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

I told them. They...didn't take it that well.

Tern still doesn't believe me, I'm afraid. He wants proof.

And Kestrel. Kestrel believed me. But then she asked me something. She asked me: "What now?"

And I don't know. Yesterday, something happened that scared me more than Nightjar's revelation: I tried to open a pathway to the Bleak Shore and nothing happened.

So what now?

Tuesday, February 21, 2012


I found Nightjar. Blood of the Bright Ones, I found him.

I knew it was foolish of me, but I didn't care. I went back to the old house, I looked at its burned remains. And that where I saw him. He was inside the burned out husk of a house, sitting on the soot-covered floor.

I went inside. "Nightjar? What happened? Where have you been?"

He didn't answer me. He had his eyes closed.

"Nightjar?" I crept closer to him.

Then he spoke: "It took me a while. To get up the courage. I didn't want to do it, but I had to. I had to do it, don't you see?"

"Do what?" I asked. "Are you...are you responsible for the attack?"

"No," he said. "But I suspect they were after me."


Without opening his eyes, he pulled out a syringe from his pocket. "Because of this." I knew what it was. Before he even said it, I knew what it was. "Ink."

"I took it," he said. "It hurt so much. Every time I let them out. I thought the hurt would go away, but it didn't. It always hurt. Do you know how long I have been hurting? You were lucky, you got to stay on the Shore. I was sent back here almost immediately. I've been hurting for years. I've stored up so much hurt I couldn't take it anymore."

"So you, what, want to become a Camper?"

"I don't want to be a Nest," he said. He opened his eyes and I could see the pain in his eyes. "But I knew I couldn't leave. Not without dying. Not without becoming empty. So the Ichor was my only choice. It'll keep me alive."

"But you won't be," I said. "Alive. You'll be part of it. Part of the Camper."

"But I won't hurt, will I?" Nightjar said. He closed his eyes again. "That's my obsession, it seems. My own pain. But soon it won't matter. I'll just go to a place with lots of people and drink more ink until the hurt stops. Until I stop." He smiled. "So go run along, little Cuckoo. Go back and tell everyone. I won't care at all."

So I turned and came back.

I don't know what to tell the others. I don't know what to do.

I just don't fucking know.

Sunday, February 12, 2012


We've just been waiting these past few weeks. Waiting for Nightjar to return from wherever he went, waiting for orders from the Bleak Shore, waiting for something else to happen, for the other shoe to drop.

None of that's happened yet, by the way. We're all worried about Nightjar, about how they (whoever "they" are) might have found him and killed him. Yes, we can be killed, it's just harder than normal. And with Nightjar missing, Tern's making us all stay inside and is barricading the doors and windows. We've been stuck inside here for two weeks.

But I don't want to wait any longer. I don't care if I'm going to die, I just want for be outside.

I want to see the sky again.

Monday, January 30, 2012

There Was An Attack

We were attacked. The house and all of us inside it. I don't know by whom, but it must have been by the followers of another one of the Personifications, right? (I call them Personifications, but I guess I should really started referring to them as Fears? Even though I don't really Fear the Bright Ones at all.)

It happened last week. I really had been neglecting my writing duties, because I was still unsure of why I was following a Camper. He had already progressed to his ninth stage and, well, I didn't want to follow him anymore. He was...well, he was acting like a normal person. If I didn't notice the sheen of water on his hair or the slightly vacant expression in his eyes, I would never assume he was anything other than normal.

But I digress. (I do that a lot I guess.) Last week, I wanted to ask Nightjar again about following the Camper, but he wasn't home. Then, then there was a knock on the door. Tern opened it and he was hit immediately. By what? A flaming arrow. A flaming fucking arrow.

Right after, the front window burst open and several Molotov cocktails were thrown in. The house started to burn. Tern was lying limp on the ground, but I grabbed him anyway and pulled him away, back up the stairs. I probably wasn't thinking right, because I didn't pull out the arrow right away and let the Bright Ones out of Tern's body. Eventually, I got up to my bedroom and I threw open the window and looked outside.

There were men surrounding the house, men with flaming torches, like something out of Frankenstein. They could have been Campers, they could have been Puppets, I don't know. They looked like men. I finally tore the arrow out of Tern's body and some of the smaller Bright Ones flew out. I flipped open my pocketknife and made the hole wider and more of them came out. They started flying and attacking the men outside.

I unbuttoned my shirt and cut open my stomach as well. I usually like to open a smaller wound, but there wasn't time for the Bright Ones to come out slowly. They had to come out fast. I won't lie, it was painful. But soon the sky was covered by Them. They blotted out the stars themselves.

I went back to Tern and tried to determine if he was still alive. He was barely breathing. Then I went around looking for the others. Nightjar had been out, doing I don't know what, but Kestrel had been in the kitchen when the attack happened. I found her at the back porch. An arrow had gotten lucky and hit her in the eye, but she was still alive.

We're all still alive, but I don't know for how much longer. The Bright Ones killed all the men attacking us, so there was no one left to question. We left the house to burn to the ground and moved on to our backup location.

This was a coordinated attack. Is this why I was following the Camper? Are we at war with the Ichor?

I've been helping Tern and Kestrel recuperate. Kestrel will either have to wear an eyepatch or sunglasses whenever she's in public, though she says that she can see fine. The Bright Ones can lend her their eyesight.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now. Continued with following my targets? Does it make any difference?

Saturday, January 14, 2012


We had guests in the house today. Two more Nests that were passing through on their way to do a job. Nightjar introduced them to all of us as the Mother and the Child - but I'm going to call them Ms. Harrier and Young Hawk.

I didn't really get a chance to talk to them. I doubt, actually, they talked to anyone. Young Hawk had a creepy grin on his face, though. Finally, they left to go do whatever assignment the Bright Ones had given them and I was glad to see them go.

But that left me with my other dilemma: the Camper I was observing. I asked for Kestrel's opinion, but she said not to push Nightjar, to just do the assignment without complaint. I suppose I can do that. I don't really have much of a choice - he's our leader. He can give me assignments just as the Bright Ones do.

I just wonder if this assignment is from the Bright Ones or from him personally.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

There Is Another

So apparently there's another Nest with a blog out there. I have not met this "Faceless Bastard" and I do not wish to. For one thing, the colors on his blog make my eyes bleed. For another, I know that psychos have there roles as vessels for the Bright Ones, but I was always uneasy around them. They never seemed to be in it for the knowledge or the joy -- they just liked to kill.

I don't like to kill. I mean, I've done it before. It was necessary. But I felt sick. This was before the Bright Ones inhabited me. Before I was a Nest.

Anyway. Back to business. I'm still observing my three targets. Someone finally found Target Three, the Camper, and took them to a hospital. They are going through the Camper stages right now - probably around the third or fourth stage, I'm not sure.

I tried asking Nightjar why I'm observing a Camper, but he just told me to keep watching. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Monday, January 2, 2012


So, uh, happy New Year. Sorry I haven't posted. I've been busy watching my three targets.

Target One still seems fine, although I think it's just a facade. I caught him looking at birds outside one day, just staring at them. He might have been trying to see which ones were the Bright Ones, I'm not sure. He didn't look scared, however. Perhaps he is a Candidate?

Target Two has gradually gotten more paranoid. She is avoiding birds at all costs, going out of her way, changing her route to work, et cetera. It is obvious she knows that the Bright Ones are following her. Does she know why?

And, well, the last one, the one Nightjar gave me on Christmas:

Target Three has not moved. At all. He is sitting motionless on his couch, not doing anything. I would think he is dead, except I can see his chest slightly rising and falling with his breathing. But he has not moved since Christmas. At first I thought that something was just wrong with him. But now I know:

Target Three is a first-stage Camper.

Why? Why is Nightjar tasking me with spying on a Camper? I'm pretty sure the Ichor already knows about us. It knows a lot of things. But he didn't task me to view a full-stage Camper, but a first-stage one. One that has no knowledge yet. Why?