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There’s myths to do with us and crossroads, right?   And they’re pretty much exact contradictions.  

Either it’s our favourite place to meet and hang out and plot evil because it’s this ambiguous unhallowed place between places, and travellers are easy prey.   Well, that last is true, but geez – there are more civilised and comfy places to plot evil, I can tell you.

Or it’s the place you bury a suspected vampire because, when they rise again, they’re not going to know which path to take and will be stuck there forever.   Apparently we have a really shitty sense of direction.   And are fucking indecisive.

All bullshit, of course.   Plus, it can’t be both an awesome idea for us to go there, and a dangerous eternal trap laid for us.   That’s just dumb.

Unless the crossroads are fucking metaphorical, of course.

My past has come back – well, to haunt me, or bite me, I guess – they’re both kind of appropriate.   Amelia wants to play.   She made the first move by sending in an inefficient ‘stalker’, who I caught, lost and then found again.   In pieces.   I thought she was testing the ground to begin with, but I now think he was – well, a calling card.   And a warning.   Because I’m pretty sure he was one of us, who was refusing to play the game Amelia’s way.

We’re meant to be meeting right now, she and me.   It’s why I’m writing here – not likely she’ll be reading it.   We’re meant to be meeting tonight, on the train track junction where she killed the last poor fucker.   And if I don’t go, she’s threatened to start playing with anyone else I’ve ever mentioned here.   Not that I care.   I mean – since when do I give a shit about people?   There’s always more – if they’re not one of us, they’re just dinner and dispensible.   Who gives a shit about Kane, or Jenna or Mitch?   I’ve thought about killing them all myself, at one time or another.   I fucking have, all right?   They’re nothing.   They’re nothing to me.   I’m not going to ‘save’ them by meeting Amelia.   Since when have you known me to be so fucking noble?   It’s not even a bloody factor,  okay?   Shut the fuck up.

So I shouldn’t go.   I know Amelia.   I know how she likes to play – we’ve gone in for sports together before.   But she’s been playing longer, and she doesn’t like to lose.   It’s a trap.   It’s a bloody trap.   I know it.

But – it’s Amelia.   And I could win the game this time, and take home the spoils, or spoil the game and take down Amelia, or win Amelia and spoil – everything else.  

I want those things.   I want all those things.   She knows it.

Fucking crossroads – paths to choose that are going to take me in completely different directions, and change the story of Jonathon forever.   And with us, ‘forever’ is not a metaphor.

And neither is the myth.   Fuck indecisiveness.   Jonathon’s made a choice.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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2 Comments

  1. The only individuals who expect you to be heroic are the ones who have drowned their minds in fiction that references glittering vampires. What is more noble than self-preservation, anyway?


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