Azazel:Deadwater:9/14/25
We have secured an apartment in the only apartment building in town. It is right next door to the Cathedral, so that’s convenient, we’ll have some surveillance capabilities. Miriam’s family is well known throughout town so this was no easy task. There was no real convenient lie. We went with roommates, which is reasonable, but apparently not reasonable enough and we have already received a few neighbors inquiring about the young girl’s “health.” I’m harpooned, but I’m not into innocents. And she very much still is, despite her parentage. She has much to learn of this world and this life. Teaching and protecting her are my infernal assignments. And my eternal missions.
The apartment building, by the way, is called The Crusades and was built by a former priest of the cathedral (not a true cathedral, but for some reason still gets to be called one) to house visiting pilgrims. Yes, there is a relic here. A mummified goat hoof said to be that of the satyr that St. Anthony of Egypt encountered during his time in the desert.
It is said that St. A ran across a satyr and the satyr asked if he’d intercede with God on his people’s behalf. They wanted God’s love but were monsters and thus could not receive it.
Bullshit. Your boy is a satyr and our kind are not wired for groveling and sniveling, especially not to any half-starved anti-socialite who can’t stand anyone’s company but their own and passes it off as devotion. If a satyr had met that tattered old hobbler in the desert, he’d have spent a lovely afternoon sucking marrow from his faux holy bones.
St. A and the satyr each went on their way that day. But it is said that the satyr later found him starving in the desert and spit roasted himself so the monk could eat. St. A ate naught but bread and only God could accept such a sacrifice, so the beast was left to rot, baking in the desert sun. All St. A kept was the poor satyr’s front right hoof, which is allegedly on display in the cathedral.
But it isn’t because that story is a lie. Most stories are.
Someday I’ll give that hoof a proper burial.
Miriam:Deadwater:9/14/25
Doesn’t really feel like fall yet, still too hot. Az and I got an apartment and I feel like the townsfolk think he’s molesting me. Or I’ve lost my mind since my mom died and am entering a wild phase. Not that I care. They’ve been spreading rumors about me since I was born because I don’t look anything like mom or Ted. I’m calling him Ted now because he doesn’t deserve my respect. That’s what I decided last night when I walked from the Inn to the beach in the dark. I sat on driftwood and listened to the black water crashing on the beach. Three foxes came and sat next to me for a little while and I told them my problems. They didn’t speak or any weird folktale shit, but I think I could feel their cunning lapping at my skin and diffusing into me.
Respect those who respect you. All others are edible. It’s an interesting ethos. I’m vegetarian, but my fire will devour the disrespectful edible…
The Cathedral gives me nightmares. I can’t put them into words. They’re like rumbling and spitting tied up under rubble and wild dances with drums and fires of blood. There’s a ringing and something always flashes right before I hear a scream. Then I wake up. Now that we live next door to it, I guess they’ll get worse. I should probably tell Az, but I don’t know how to explain it to him.
Tomorrow I have to look for a job. Az says we have to appear normal.
Wishful thinking…
August:Heaven:A Cell
Four white walls. My writing paper and ink were taken away after I used the ink to graffiti the walls. It was a vast improvement, even with my limited artistic skills. It’s been two days, they say. The guard flits around sometimes, just a shadow. A shadow of my former self, perhaps. Which former self? I tried to drain energy from it, but it doesn’t have much. I tried to punch it and only punched the wall.
A silent taunting shadow. It has eyes though, they burn like sapphires in its head. They burn like time and death and the deep blue sea. I wish I could return to that cold deep. My body buffeted by the waves, surrendered, torn apart, devoured. I was cradled then, rocked as though a babe. I was loved and I was used. And now I am, kept. Managed. Only the shadow knows me.
Only the shadow sees.
