peckenpaugh | (no subject)

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If you got one of those memory rocks and don't mind sharing what you saw it seems to a lot of us like it'd be helpful to have em all in the same place. So consider this that place. Share your stories if you've got one, friends.

We're trying to piece together a whole ass story here and it seems like we've got a whole lotta half asses.

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2016. i am mr. zahidi, in the library.

there's a scream. my vision goes dark, i pass out and fall to the floor. my student wakes me up. "mr. zahidi, there's an eyeball in the library," she says as i start to come to. "i'm aware," i say dismissively, pulling myself off the floor.

i look up. there's an eyeball in the library. but i get the feeling that there's something strange about it, aside from it being an eyeball that is also in the library.

"did it attack you?" the student asks.

"of course not." the details of the library go a bit fuzzy. i'm focused on the unblinking eye. "wait here, danielle, i'm going to go investigate."

i slowly go up the spiral staircase to get a closer look and notice the eyeball's pupils are dilating and constricting. it's morse code.

i go back down the stairs to fetch a book on morse code, but details are fuzzy again and the passage of time doesn't feel real.

i have the book on morse code and a notebook. i bring them back up the stairs to sit on the floor in front of the eye.

"i'm sorry, eyeball, do you think you could go a little slower? no? can you even hear me? -- oh, okay."

i observe the eye and reference my book, writing down each letter.

THE SEAM PULLS. HE IS COMING. HE BURNS. SEE HIM TO S

and, suddenly, the memory cuts off.

end scene.

If I still had my phone I'd insist on recording a dramatic reenactment of this.

thank you, thank you.

OH that reminds me, i have the recording on my phone. i can pull it up on my laptop if anyone wants to see it. all the important parts are distorted, though.

okay okay okay. so i'm al falco and i'm OLD. like, shouldn't you be dead old? and i'm reading and showing pocket this book, "knowing the unknowable," and i say something like, "it's knowledge. some stuff grows more powerful when you talk about them or believe in them." and pocket is like, do we stop him by knowing him?? and i'm so old and tired i can't even with her anymore and i just cut to the chase and say, "NO, the complete OPPOSITE. we have to look AWAY." and then i convince pocket that everyone needs to forget.

also, pocket was not in party mode. she was quiet and nervous and like regretful and hopeful?

but yeah, that was mine!

Who knows, maybe there's something we missed in that long tunnel of nothingness, maybe we just wanna see how fucking fine we look, can't hurt to check it out.

And you know what they say about halves of asses. Thank you.

My stone involved Mr. Swint. Somewhat important to note that Pocket gave this memory back herself, the night of the fire at his shop. I'm not sure if he got the memory before or after, so that's, you know, just about as weird as everything else.

I saw a family picture above a hearth. There were cauldrons, and a woman was crying. (I think this was Marilynne Qualls), and a teenage boy was trying to comfort her (Lionel?). Then it cut to Caleb Qualls talking to Mr. Swint in the shop. I'd heard their conversation, before, in the Wildgulch springs when Kermit Creekmore tried to kill me. Mr. Swint said "You don't have to do this, Caleb." And he said that someone had to! And Mr. Swint told him that Paw Paw wasn't his responsibility. To think of Marilynne (who's Mr. Swint's sister, turns out.) And Mr. Qualls answered, "What about PECKENPAUGH," like that's more important than his wife.

He looked [...] resolved.
And then it cut out, that's all I saw.

oh I got trullinger

do you think you can make it show you the memory again I don't remember all of mine

Who the fuck told our party bug to listen to a man

I'm Ms. Dorkins and I'm sad that I have to have this kid named Tristan Ashley who is gross, ungrateful, and can't read. Least that's how I see it.

I'm arguing with Tristan Ashley about cleaning his Wildgulch dorm room and in the mess, along with some socks he's been making love to, I find some old papers with handwritten notes on them from [...] February of 1989.

Tristan Ashley says he found them in an old book, which is funny because he can't read.

The notes say something like:

BUG CLUB

G + G research: KNOWLEDGE = ??? = DEFEAT (Tink's idea?)
M + Z Paw Paw Patrol
Earthquakes?
Fritzy portkey in the library
BoNE involvement???

And there was also a business card that said: Burton Bland and 'Embrace Infinity: Ask Me How!'

Anyway, real nice of Pocket to take that memory from Mrs. Dorkins. I wouldn't want to remember that if I were her.

Hmm. Maybe Mr. Qualls just really likes his job.

What can you remember, my dude? Know where it was? Or when?

let alone one with such bland nips

So if we can just figure out what the ??? is then we're obviously set.

If I wrote Tristan Ashley you think he or his sock girlfriend would still have those notes.

Or sent a howler since he can't read.