500 3

He follows me back into the house, uninvited and I solely wonder too much and I cut off the wire of thoughts as he just slowly venters in, the cats following us gladly and I wonder who even feeds them as we slowly make our way upstairs and we both hold our silence as nothing golden, but strained and old. Anxiety seems to be the flick of the lighter. We smoke indoors and I hope that doesn’t cause any ruckus as I look around before putting the kettle to boil. I presume he’s with me until I give his skin back. Jack eventually gets out of the kitchen and soon enough I start hearing him strum a few cords before I presume he starts tuning the guitar. Wanker got it out of the case. I just get back to see him with the 176, looking down as he starts strumming some cheerful melody and his lips move with the words, but he doesn’t dare to sing and I just blink, waiting for him to sing but as soon as I sit down he stands up to put the guitar back on the sofa and he goes to the kitchen. 

“I thought selkies sang more than played.” I shout at him, turning around. 

“Well, some selkies just sing for the beloved, asshole.”

“What if I sing, would you sing then?”

“Why the fuck would I care for your singing?” He snaps back, but I see him pour tea into both mugs and the he just heads back to the guitar and I find him looking at it, picking it up and then he looks back at me, but I can clearly see the interest really comes from the guitar. “It’s... a rare choice. How long d’you have it?”

I silently count in my head. 

“...About three years?” I try to count the months but he goes back to strumming, but his eyes don’t let go off me. I try to look away, but he’s still locked on me, just strumming and when I look back at him, he just smiles in some small victory. He gives the 176 back to me, as if he had taken it from my hands. 

“What made you buy it?” He stops for a while and as I hesitate before I start strumming myself and look around, wondering where could I even have any of the pedals or the small amp stashed anywhere, but I honestly have no idea where I had thrown anything and I can’t tear my eyes off his and at points he feels a bit uncomfortable. 

“You never had a Höfner, before, right?” Jack asks, as I keep strumming and in the end I keep my mouth shut as well, raising an eyebrow at him, but he just ignores my mock. He seems to be more interested in his own question and after a while I just shake my head. “What made you change then?”

I miss a string and then I just resume playing, as if nothing happened and he just stands, hands in pockets, watching me and I don’t dare to look into his dark eyes which seem far too captivating which seem to be drawing too many swirls in my own mind. I try to ignore him, but he’s still there. 

“I needed a new guitar.” I swallow and my mouth is dry and I’m guessing the tea should be fine by now and then I just look at him again. I could do a peace or a war offering rather. “I’ll tell, if you tell why won’t you sing.”

We’re both stung. Jack shakes his head and brings the tea from the kitchen and I watch him, fiddling with his fingers as he sets them on the living room table, biting his bottom lip and sighing. He seems to be gambling with his own self, as if trying to see if he would roll an uneven number which would indicate keeping silent. 

“You fall in love with the wrong people sometimes but the love remains for quite a while.” He hesitates. Then he just shrugs, sighing regardless of what the dice in his head tell him to. “There are some things we just don’t know. I don’t know how much you know about selkies. But our sins are not less forgiven than yours...”

He keeps his silence and then nods at the guitar and then I give it back to him and he just watches it for a while before Jack start playing again. 

“I still don’t know what my punishment is, I saw Meg even if I wasn’t supposed to for another seven years. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I just... would sing with her, we’d sing together. She taught me how to play guitar and one day... she just gave my skin back. I always thought she burnt it to keep me, but never did. One day we got into an arguement and I can’t even recall what I had said and then she just gave me the skin and... that was it.” He strums harder. “And then I held for about a year without seeing her and didn’t even go on land and I saw her. Next thing I know I’m swimming in the river. Do you collect sinners, then?”

I put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it, not sure how comfortable he would be if I had hugged him and he clutches the neck of the guitar too roughly that even I see it. I just shake my head and Jack smirks sadly. I wonder if he still wants to hear my own story, but he just hands me the guitar. 

“Woman as well, Jamie?” I blink. Sometimes I feel like my sexuality seems to be too in your face, but then I just shake my head and Jack remains confused for a second, before muttering an ‘oh’ and scratches his head. “Well... what happened?”

I swallow painfully again. And I still see him in front of me, leaving as well, my longing being far too addressed towards him even if it’s been a while, but it gets worse and with war and I don’t even know where he is and the death toll doesn’t even update names. I don’t even know his fate, how it had unrolled upon the stars or if he’s still among us. I never considered asking anyone, but then I don’t like venturing, I do it only when asked and I myself don’t like venturing much, because if someone wants to talk, I’ll always feel it, so I’m guessing Brian never felt like talking if he were dead, that is. 

“Loved the wrong person, I guess.” I mutter, strumming a bit too quietly, my fingers shaking. 

“Why don’t you try women?”

“You don’t seem less miserable than I am.” I snarl. I look down at the strings, a bit too angry at the sudden turn of events that even if I wanted to speak of Brian, I’m not sure I would, but he still seems eager to listen, crossing his legs. 

“Try a thread down, just there.” He adds quietly and I just keep strumming until he pushes my fingers down and I just look back up at him.

“My heart is just as fucking broken as yours.” I feel myself boil up, but I play the part as suggested, but I feel like smashing it against his ignorant skull. 

“I’m cursed because I tried to see her.”

“It’s not much different for human, asshole, you get a boot thrown in your face.” I stand up to raid for the amp as he just watches me confused. I feel rage spiraling me down as I keep locking eyes with him and he doesn’t pick up the guitar. It just lays there and I just excuse myself, going to the bathroom and I wonder if longing like anger can escalate from one person to another. I lock the door and sit on the floor, regretting that I don’t have my cigarettes, that I can’t just light one and I look behind me to see an old window frame just discarded near the shower and the two mirrors above the sink along with the old shelves, which I wonder how long ago were they even hung.

I feel like shredding my skin, my own confusion circulating higher and higher as the pain in the back of my neck grows, as I feel the chain around my neck get lifted lightly and I close my eyes, the prayer leaving me as I feel the pain escalate and then I hear the banging on the door.

I quickly pray in my head, regretting that I have absolutely no Holy Water in the house, as I just feel anxiety seeming to rise, as I don’t open the door and neither does he say anything besides knocking. The silence holds the apartment in a firm grasp for a long while, before I hear him pick up the guitar and he sits next to the door, strumming and then I hear him sing. 

I open the door just to see him facing me and playing and then he looks down, but still continues singing. I feel my whole body freeze over as I just observe him, the new cut showing his face instead of the longer unkept hair and he looks back up at me that I feel my heart get stabbed. I grab the door frame as he continues singing softly, the words going through me as I just continue watching him, cross legged and he’s far too mesmerizing and as soon as the song ends he stands up and I grab his arm as he turns to face me.

All my questions gone.

He slowly gets my hand off his and heads towards the couch, sitting as he grabs the pack of cigarettes and lights one, as I feel some shapes from the corner of my eyes, but I ignore them as I just observe him, as he gets lost in his oblivious nostalgia which leaves deep traces on the skin, as he continues smoking. As soon as he’s done and stretches for another one, I just get myself over and I grab the box, heading outside, waiting for him to follow me as he catches up and I stretch him a cigarette. 

“Why can’t I smoke inside?” He asks softly and I just shrug, shake my head, feeling the pain progress to my back, as if injected, as if it would take over my body eventually. He would. I just smoke in silence, his song circulating in my head and I wondered if he had ever played it to Meg and how had she felt. I don’t hug him even if I need to be held, as the pain slowly starts going up, but I feel no presence besides the ones circulating, I feel nothing inside me, no one talks to me and I just press myself against the house wall. He’s like a poison, maybe he’s the poison inside and I wonder what speaks instead of me but then that’s always how some daft affection is and I ignore too many words in my head like attraction at first sight, but that’s how selkies lure don’t they? With looks and songs. And I’m just plain human to see that there’s nothing hidden up his sleeve besides some cardboard games. We both finish our cigarettes in silence afterwards, as we discard them on the first step, to pick up later, to remind to find an ashtray somewhere for no good reason.

“Longing is the worst.” I say as he turns around to catch my eye and I honestly meant Meg for him, but it came out as something else, so he just looks back ahead as we know nothing like the sign above the corridor states. All we know is that anxiety will ride us and paint the feelings we are too scared to let us win over. And we need to understand when the longing progresses what will its remains be. But he doesn’t stay on the topic.

“Have you met the Devil?” He asks me and I just tense up, holding the smoke in my mouth as he just watches me. He’s just a human, well, slightly, just like anyone else and this is the question which some ask, how much have I ventured, how much have I felt and who exactly I have met. I look outside, at least he’s not asking at vulnerable hours, so I decide to suffice his curiosity. 

“Yeah.” Jack’s eyes widen, but I shrug. “At least I think. I don’t know, it’s not like... when it happens you ponder, was it the Unspeakable or not, you know? Neither do you want to venture too much, which-”

I chew on the cigarette, not taking it out to speak, as I inhale and exhale fast for his reply to be given. 

“Is funny considering that I do thrash and venture too many times for money. I can do that and I’ve done enough of that. I’m not too good, at least I think, I can’t fucking summon whoever you want. Your relative died, tell me where you felt them or usually they sink around the said person anyway and that’s it. I talk to them, they talk to the said relative. End of story, sometimes things go wrong, sometimes I get spirits to talk to me. Sometimes...” I pause. “It was an ouija board. It was how I realized that I even have the gift of talking. I always think it was because my channel got yanked open.”

Jack just stares at me, apparently my ouija board ventures are much more interesting than him sliding out of a seal skin and pretty much swimming around in a river apparently. 

“It was back when I was... 14 or so. Basically it was everyone’s idea to fucking check out an ouija board and well, things went wrong.” I pause. “Or right, I don’t know. Basically, I was just standing besides there, watching and before I could hear things, I would hear spirits, noises, but nothing too fascinating, I guess and then the board started spelling out things in Latin, as we presumed but nothing too much-”

I inhale faster this time as well. 

“And frankly I just started laughing because none of us knew Latin, it was stupid of me.” I throw out the cigarette and I watch it sadly burn it’s last tips away in the distance. “So I was like why don’t we ask it to speak English and then...”

I point to the back of my neck.

“I felt something grab me and start tracing my neck and... something attached to me. It wasn’t too long, it was a sudden rush of everything, all emotions firing and thankfully I had read that well, you just ask for it to leave and that’s when... I saw whatever that was.” I pause. I shouldn’t really be speaking of this. “...It doesn’t happen right in front of you, that’s when my channel was yanked open and all of a sudden it’s as if you see for the first time, all the shadows moving around, all the figures and he was in front of me and everyone was just watching me as I had seen whoever that was.”

I look at him. I’m sure he wants a description.

“Don’t forget that he’s a shapeshifter, takes any form.” I smirk. “He had taken the form of a guy I would end up dating years later and back then he just seemed like any bloke really, watching me for a while and he started talking to me before someone told me not to take any offering, but everyone was observing and they were fading in my vision. I think I was too young so nothing he offered seemed of much value, but you always wonder what does happen if you accept? But supposedly you only get offered once, then you’re tipped over and you don’t get to give your soul over to him. It’s as daily and as extraordinary as anything and of course, people obsess. I don’t know, but it matches the description, doesn’t it?”

I lower my voice. I had my own fascination, my own movements and attraction coming as if I were traveling around the letters of the ouija board. 

“Shapeshifter, offering a deal. Matches it, doesn’t it?” I breathe out and it’s getting too cold that our breath gets drawn in the air around us. I don’t feel like talking much about it, my whole body aching from all the memories. “Then after a meet everything just goes berserk for a while, don’t touch ouija boards and it takes days for you to fully heal.”

I close the topic as Jack just holds his silence, as if I had been touched by the Devil.

“So... would that have been a gift from him then?” He speaks out. I just shrug. 

“But I felt presences before, just that... nothing like that ever happened. I did meet him again after that. I had a client and he appeared in front of her, in the same form and she had seen him. He would tell me to let her do her choice, thankfully she declined and he just smirked at me, telling me that open channels and so far yanked out are easy for him since I’m always talking to his side.” 

-

I'm slowly trying to finish off the next chapter of No. 1 Party Anthem but I haven't had the time, so hopefully I'll have it done tomorrow! :O So yeah, in the meantime I pretty much nearly posted all the things which had the latest update, I've got a handful of To Miles, Threesome, Waiting To Greet You and etc chapters for instance. And 500 of course. I've got quite a few chapters written for 500 and I really love the story and the setting of making it awfully dystopic is something I guess am proud of and deeply enjoy. 

I can't recall if I've mentioned it, but well, if you own a house it's better to have cats as they tend to chase whomever away and when we lived in the house which I describe the story and setting in, there were cats as well:) 

I actually wondered which guitar of Jamie's should I give and decided to actually give him his current 176 since I believe I mostly talk about the Fender Jaguar he had in Scarfo (*cough*andsomeoneelsenowhas*cough*). 

I love their love/hate relationship as I don't have many of those and yeah.

But I still talk about the Jaguar, who am I kidding xD

Originally I was planning to make Jack speak of Meg later, but hey, Jamie happened xD But I really have to hold my tongue regarding Meg at this point, not to spoil. I do plan a lot in my head and many plots run in my mind at the same time:3 Basically, I'm trying to follow the selkie mythology besides one thing, but that's well I won't talk about the plot twists, shall I? xD

I guess following the discussion of topics which I take and use, I've done Alex in No.1 Party Anthem and Jack under the whole "no homo, I'm straight kind of" thinking cap, so that's my way to explore that topic, since I've had full on denial myself and it's a fucking nightmare and then I just went, fuck, ok, that was very gay of me and all was done xD As funny as it is Jack's whole "no homo" was after I was given a frankly awfully written fanfic by a friend to laugh on which had Jack denying and I was like, shit, I haven't done that in a while, the theme was different, I just kind of want to mention what got me thinking :) 

The house had many different small things which I've not only used in 500, but like in To Miles the attic Alison drags Alex into was used as well, so for here I had used the window frames in the bathroom xD

The chain lifting and neck back was something I had experienced so very often I take things I've read but a lot is things I've experienced. 

I did have the thought that it was stupid of me not to have Holy Water with me, because when I was growing up, before I moved, we'd always have some. So yeah, I should get Holy Water at some point, but it's impossible to find an Orthodox church these days when I am, because there's barely any in Sweden. I dunno, I just really follow many things, I follow traditions but like I was taught, the interpretations are wrong and the church is for everyone who wants it, so that's how I go with life. Kind of an idealistic way if you say, because frankly and honestly church really fucks us over, many religions do, because everything is taken wrongly. 

The Jack/Meg was of course with them singing a reference to The White Stripes because well, they are one of the best bands which have ever been on this Earth. 

I gave Jamie a lot of things I've seen, so shapes is one of them. I've always managed to see them even when I don't have my door open, really. They seep through, some are stronger and so on. 

I think Jack's question was more than obvious, because well, Jamie had ventured a lot. I tried not to give much thought on my own encounter even if many things point than to more than obvious, so I had given Jamie my hesitation, because well, you don't always get the answer in your face. It's much more complex than that. 

I never played with ouija boards, holy fuck, I've had enough encounters, I have no desire to summon and obviously, please don't, it's really really hard if something goes wrong or attaches to you. I guess if you're interested in stuff like that, go check out my story '-' which I think more than clearly tells my thoughts on it and experiences as well. 500 continues the line of thought only in a more fictional, how I expect things would've gone or if I was a medium, really. 

Don't fucking dare to laugh at the spirit, don't. Don't and don't. 

Fucked up situations happens due to stupidity, trust me. Don't venture. Go read on someone else fucking up online and living to tell the tale, trust me. 

It's really odd, it was odd afterwards, because then I realized that I could open and close my door, I started feeling everything far more sensitive, so over the years in general it gets easier to feel, but it was still driven to very sensitive after my encounter, so I had given that to Jamie as well, here.

I think the shapeshifting is well, yeah, sticks out, the whole thing sticks out. And yeah, I think I speak of it quite clear with Jamie here.

I hope you had enjoyed it and yeah, there's more to come, so please please tell me fi you enjoy it so far :O and if you're excited as I am xD

Thank you! Feel free to ask any questions:)

<3

Jamie