Dear diary,

It seems like ages since I last scribbled in this book. Things are a little muddled, but I feel ... better. Maybe at a later date I'll have to kill myself after all, but for the moment, I'll just see how it goes.

My figments continue to be a great source of entertainment to me. I haven't quite decided if it's a product of a stupid intake of drugs (quite likely, I'm very fond of the coke) or some other influence, but it's all terribly interesting. Nevertheless, I look forward to the day when it wears off and I can get back to my life (or death, whichever seems most bearable) - nothing is so interesting that I want to be away from Dark and the kids too long. I miss my little fluffmeisters

Random was at breakfast and that bothers me - I could have sworn ... he was dead. So was Vialle, come to think of it. I'm sort of used to dead people talking to me, but I'm not used to them having breakfast and wandering around in front of me. Maybe they didn't die at all and that was part of my delusion? Or maybe all this is a product of some other delusion brought on by something or other ... what the hell, it's too complicated, forget it.

My Dara figment came along and asked me to Trump Phoenix. I did so (apparently my figment Phoenix didn't know who he was, which is kind of funny). He went off with the Dara thing. There was something odd going down with Dworkin and Lorenzo too - my dreams get weirder all the time, but I don't claim to know what they're about. The Gerard figment is out at sea, apparently - it'll be interesting to see what my subconscious makes of the old bear.

My figment kids, along with all the other little figments, were planning on killing Julienne. I told them it wasn't a good idea, but evidently even figment children do not listen. It annoyed me. I'm glad they're probably not my kids, I'd hate to think that they'd make the same stupid mistakes I've made ... or that I think I've made ... or something.

Anyway, since Lorenzo had gone off with Dworkin, I asked Marcus if he wanted to practice his swordplay. His figment hasn't been practising much, even with a dozen guards to help him I kicked his butt. Very strange - I'd do anything to have as much of Benedict's attention as he has (figment or not). It's a terrible waste of an opportunity, the training he must be missing out on! Makes me misty eyed just to think about it ... we'd love it, wouldn't we steel? Yes, we would. I wonder where my figment Benedict is anyway?

So, um, I had a bath - never had a bath in an illusion before, or I don't think so anyway. I prefer baths with Dark. After that I went off to check on the kids and they were still plotting, so I decided to keep a closer eye on them. As it happens, Alan nicked Jasmine and took her off to that Julienne thing. I was quite angry about that. So was Lorenzo as it happens. Lorenzo keeps saying Alan wouldn't do it and he must have been mindfucked, but I remember my son telling me that Alan would do this ... or something like this - so I'm not so sure of Alan's innocence. Can't remember which Griffon told me ... I don't want to dwell on that.

Either way, I remember that Lorenzo's temper is no better than mine, figment or not, so I decided to keep my doubts to myself. We all went off to see if we could find them, I told Dark, just in case she is my wife. She didn't seem all that bothered, which sorta confirms that she isn't. Dark and Gerard haven't given any sign of caring about me at all lately, so I figure they can't be them, right? I remember being in what I thought was grandfather's house and wanting to die quite badly and all Gerard wanted to do was leave - my dad wouldn't do that to me, so it isn't real and I can't think what made me think it was real. Capish? See, it all makes perfect sense.

We went through a Trump of Lorenzo's to a black and white place. We split up, looking for a building that moves (yeah, right) and a Sphinx. I found the Sphinx and we ended up having quite a nice time, which is just as well, because I wasn't entirely confident I could have the big bugger, even a figmental Sphinx. I wonder if I'd die for real? Do I care? Not sure about that one.

Me and the Sphinx were hunting when the others caught up with me - bit of a bummer that, I'll have to go back there and hunt with it again, it was fun and if you can't have fun in your fantasies, where can you?

We're going to go to the Fount to find the wayward kids - which will give me something to do while I'm waiting for the figment Gerard to turn up. I wonder if he's going to beat on me as much as dad does? I wonder if I can outrun the figment? I don't think I'm prepared to take any crap from a figment, actually. I wonder if I really created Rosemary, or was that just a dream? It'll be interesting anyway.

Dear Diary,

have you ever had a coke hangover? I feel like someone's shoved a toilet brush up my nose and had a good poke around. Maybe I should ease off ... looks like I'm going to be busy today anyway, so today would be a good day to take a break from my habit. On the up side, I can't smell Bley's room too much - or Bleys, come to that. Though my 'sixth sense' is telling me that anyone who sleeps in a room like that probably needs a bath. I'm not sure what's bothering my figments, some of them seem really unhappy.

Well, they're my figments, so I had better look after them, or I'll be all on my own in this fantasy and to be honest, it's lonely enough as it is. I miss my real dad, my wife, my kids, Benedict, lots of people - I want to go home, but I'm not sure how to. Oh well, there's always the happy powder to cheer me up when it gets me down.

Oh yeah - we found the kids that had wandered off. They were at the fount (it's gone all blue, a lot like the blue on mine and dad's colours). Bleys seemed odd then too, if I recall. I gave him some coke to cheer him up and I just might give him some more when he wakes up - make it easier to tip him into a bath, right?

ANYway - we found the kids and I got to drop a wall on Julienne, so I was happy with that. Someone said I was never happy unless I was destroying property ... I don't think that's entirely fair, but never mind. So we got Julienne, although I believe we've lost her again now. Jarok and Jasmine had collars on them and Lorenzo seemed hyper-keen to get them off. Couldn't see the harm in checking them out first, could have been dangerous to take them off straight away. 'Course I didn't think of that till we nearly had one off. Well, that side of things worked out alright so no harm done, figmentally or otherwise.

When we got back to Amber(ish) we did something or other - can't remember what. I remember I was in the middle of practising with Lorenzo (light stuff, we didn't want to knock ourselves out or anything) when, um, I remembered I was the acting Admiral of the Fleet. Whoopsie.

I finished up with Lorenzo pretty quick and went to make sure everything was okay at the docks. I signed a buncha shit and bribed the Dock-Master to sort of not mention my lengthy absence from duty. Actually, I can't remember for the life of me how long I have been derelict in my duties ... um, hopefully not long - I always try to do my job well, I can't think how I let Admiralty slip my mind. Well, it is figmental acting Admiralty, so that'd be why I suppose. Even so, it's shoddy - what's the matter with me?

Dark Desires is back ... or maybe she never left, or something. She looks pretty good, even in my dreams. I got the men to give her the once over anyway, dad always was real hard about that sort of thing. While they were at that, I went to see how I was doing. My moustache had mysteriously turned into a beard, and when I shaved and trimmed and hacked everything ship-shape, I discovered that my nose was all red and runny and - well, cokey.

At first I was worried, well, terrified actually -'cos my dad would have beaten me black and blue for being stoned on duty and lectured me for hours. But then I figured that the figmental Gerard was such an unobservant, fat, ignorant, uncaring, stupid, blind slob, I could probably get away with it. I decided nevertheless to stick with the spicy food ploy, just in case. Needen't have worried, I could have been twice as bloody stoned and he wouldn't have noticed (and I was pretty damn stoned). He was too busy exchanging ridiculous (and extremely funny) pet names with Rosemary, who we must have created figmentally at least. Anyway, the figment galoot didn't even look up while he went to the castle, even though I was just about dying from laughter.

I decided it was - and is - way too good an opportunity to pass up - figment or not, some things just have to be done. This is why I'll be putting a large bucket of leech-infested mud over Gerard's doorway before he wakes up. But I digress, I Trumped through to the courtyard to take the piss in person - just to prove my point rather radically that this was not my dad and therefore this was not reality. 'Course the figments don't believe me, but that's because they're figments - I might have convinced Lorenzo though ... he's not very happy either. I don't know what to do about that - Lorenzo was always hard to please ... mind you, so was everyone else.

Weird thing happened - this bizarre woman came along and said I was her husband. She even kissed me! Lord, I can't remember the last time anyone but Dark did that ... *sigh*. Anyway, the crazy bitch changed her mind about me being her man about ten minutes later, which was a relief - my interest in women always was minimal (with one exception) and I'm not sure if the figment Dark is as insanely jealous as my wife tends to be. Which is rather unfair, really - she's the one that had the other love interest. Well, I think she did.

Anyway, Rachel, I think her name is - she's pretty damn good with a sword (or two). I had a ding-dong with her in the practise field with real weapons and being a bit vague at the time, there were a few moments when I thought she was going to take me. Lorenzo was watching my butt, but as it happens, I managed on my own. Silly to take chances like that. Trouble is, when you're stoned you don't care as much as you ought. She's a terribly bad loser, by the way - got mad as hell when I complimented her on her skill and took a swipe after all fighting was done. That's women for you.

Had dinner, weedled a morning practise out of my figment Benedict, who is more or less as I remember him - which sorta makes sense. If all these 'people' are from my head, Benedict would sorta represent the bits of me that are stable ... though I'd have thought he'd be smaller if that's the case.

I did try going to sleep, but Bleys kept me up with his poxy drunken yodelling. I was going to help him to bed, but his room really is horrid, so he got my bed last night and I got the floor. So, today the plan is this - get the servants to clean up Bleys room; practice with Benedict; position bucket; clean up Bleys and finally take Bleys out for a jaunt in Dark Desires for the day, I think - I'd like to know what's bothering him and I don't want to hang around too much after the bucket-thing. This is assuming the figment Gerard (better known as snookums) notices at all, of course. Which he might not. Bastard.

Dear Diary,

Um, this is going to be strange - bear with me, or what's left of me.

I, uh, what was I doing? I told the dead guy what Dworkin had said, well, most of it anyway - the stuff that seemed relevant. Went and practised with Benedict ... he can still whup my ass, even if he is a figment which I'm not quite so sure of anymore.

Breakfast was a drag. I was again roundly ignored by my family, including an unmuddied Gerard. I tried to splut him with a spoonful of chocolate stuff, thinking that perhaps this would break the weird spell and he'd, you know, at least look at me or something. Acknowledge my existence or something. I've given up on getting any help from that quarter, but it would be nice if he'd say hello or something.

Benedict stopped the splut with a plate and I asked him why. He wanted to know why I objected to Gerard being happy and that was sort of painful, but maybe because it was true to a degree. I don't want to hurt my family (figmentally or otherwise) and maybe I should just stay away from them while I'm so fucked up. I can't pinpoint exactly what's up with me, since I don't know how much of this is real, but something sure ain't right. I dream about things and maybe they happened and maybe they didn't. The dead have played a large part in my life. If indeed, I am alive. Who knows?

Benedict said I needed more practise, on the cliff edge. This seemed like a great idea, I knew he was angry with me and thought maybe it could solve a few problems.

We fought on the edge, the only way to do it with any satisfaction after all. It is always poetry to fight well and Benedict is the poet I respect above all others. The blade is the tool of the art and all art has a price if it is to be any good.

Since Dworkin had already commented on the death of my soul, which happened some time ago if I understand these things correctly (how else could the dead talk to me?) I asked Benedict to finish the job. I can think of no better way to die than at the blade of such a poet. Most death is so pointless and tragic, so meaningless and inartistic - I wanted a better end than that.

Benedict did knock me off the cliff, but there was a safety net and I found myself quite whole and alive. Benedict said there was a place I should go to - despite my disappointment I find it so very difficult to disagree with him and I bent to his will and followed.

This place I am now is where he has left me. It is a strange shadow full of rather ridiculous super-heroes. Benedict went into a telephone box and emerged 'Senseless Violence Man'.

My first reaction was one of unaccountable grief - I had hoped so much that he would be real and it was so out-of-character that I couldn't see how he could be anything other than a figment. Quite why this bothered me so much, I couldn't tell you. I tried to put aside my sorrow and enjoy a rare moment of truly free violence, as Benedict had told me that the shadows would come back to life and he seemed anxious that I enjoy the experience. It is difficult to ignore that sort of pain, however, and I said something I have never been able to say aloud before. I told him that I thought I was really screwed up and if he were real, I should be desperate enough at this point to ask for help, despite all pride. When I looked around, he was gone and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. Will I ever be able to say it again?

Irony. Don't you just love it?

After a couple of distractions from relatives, that I could have done without whilst in such deep thought, I went to a rooftop to think about the large spanner my uncle had thrown into the workings of my fantasy. I believe I was rather short with Lorenzo, which was uncalled for and warrants some sort of apology next time I see him.

I have come to the conclusion that, despite experience, better judgement and the safety of my dubious sanity, I think I believe Benedict. I know, I know, I'm really asking for a kick in the teeth this time. It's stupid, it flies in the face of everything I have learned over the last howeverlongit'sbeen. I couldn't take it if I was wrong again, it would destroy me. The trouble is, I have tried to fix my problems alone and half the time I can't remember what they are, let alone how one would go about mending it. I need time to consider this before I do anything ... actually I need a jumbo book of answers.

While on the roof I considered the possibility of jumping off and wondered if Steel would save me. It's a thought I've often wanted to know the answer to and after a little interaction with the local madmen and a lot of illicit substances, I thought that the worst that could happen would be a fairly messy death - which didn't bother me so much as to rule out the possibility and scrap the experiment.

I took a running leap off the top of the tallest city building and had an entertaining fall to the road, where I left as artistic an impression as I could manage. After what appeared to be a short period of unconsciousness, I found myself at the bottom of a five foot deep Astus-shaped hole. I was bruised and hurt a little, but otherwise fine. I couldn't decide if Steel had saved me, or the nature of the shadow.

Benedict returned while I was finishing up the Mundane Four. He had Marcus with him, unconscious - the car thief. I asked Benedict why he wanted me here, as he evidently did. I wanted to know what the point was - there is always a point to Benedict's actions.

He said he was trying to help. I resisted the impulse to hug him and said that it made a change, which really didn't get the full extent of my gratitude over at all, I'm afraid. I'm terribly bad at talking to people about feelings - unless I'm angry at them, it's easy if I'm angry.

He confirmed my suspicions that this was a place where I could not die on a permanent basis and I asked him again if he would do me the honour of running me through. This time he agreed. He said that he hadn't found anything here capable of killing permanently and I wonder if he's ever died here himself. It seems likely given what he said. I wonder what brought him here in the first place? Nothing good, one assumes. Though I suppose it would be impolite to question him on the matter.

He took me to a place with lots of rails for trains and lots of trains whizzing by very fast indeed. He said it would be more interesting to see how well I dodged than to just kill me outright. It was a good fight - educational. I defended all out while trying to avoid the trains and seeing if I could pick up any new attacks from the movement of Benedict's blade. I'm not sure if I could re-create any of the moves he used, they were fast and before much time passed my studies were brought to an end by a lightning thrust to my heart and two colliding trains (difficult to concentrate on trains when you've just received a mortal wound). I don't remember any pain from that particular death, just surprise. It hurt when I woke up though. This shadow must be wonderful for practising really dangerous things ... hmm - I wonder if he'll let me use it for that in future?

I sent for Marcus, who duly arrived. I am not wild with hope about his experience here. I'm not sure if he's in the mood to learn anything and I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind to be able to help anybody. On the other hand, Benedict may expect me to help and it would be a nice way to repay the debt to some extent.

I will talk to Marcus after he's had time to think a little - see how it goes. Though the fact that he cut off my head with so little reassurance, does nothing for my optimism on the matter. He says he thinks Benedict wants him to act more thoughtfully - I dubbed him 'Thoughtless Boy' and left him to it while I went about my own business, which is too private to share with him - particularly when he's in this sort of mood.

It would appear that after my encounter with Benedict's blade and the trains, I have been named 'Senseless Violence Lad' - which suits well enough. Since my capacity for death and destruction is so great (intended or not), I embarked on the course of villain. There's no way I'm a hero and I'd like to encourage others to kill me so that I don't have to do it myself all the time.

During the day or night as it takes my fancy, I commit acts of senseless violence as befits my name and proclaim my status as a bringer of death, which is truth. After I have done, I execute myself (which takes care of the justice part) and lie in blissful oblivion until life calls me back. To date, I have done this several times via several methods, though I have yet to try them all. And all the while, I think upon the matter. Sometimes I wake up in tears, lord knows why ... I keep a gun handy for the times like that. If I'm quick, I can fire it through my temples and be out again before too much floods back. I'm normally in a better mood by the time I rise again.

Seppuku is the most painful method of suicide I have tried so far. It's slow and demands a great deal of concentration and willpower to complete without fault. Not having a companion to behead me once the manoeuvre is complete, it takes some minutes to die of the wound and the regeneration makes re-cutting horribly necessary. Perhaps I'll try it again with more success later if I can find a decent shadow to remove my head (a friend would be better, but who would I ask without imposing dreadfully?) - textbook seppuku would be a fine thing to achieve. I do not particularly want Marcus witnessing my multiple destruction - I have hazy flashbacks that leave me with the distinct impression that no good would come of him knowing the extent of my activities. I'm still angry with him on some level ... it will come to me why at some point and then there'll be trouble ...

I doubt if anyone else would understand this (Lorenzo would probably be horrified, throw a spastic fit and leap into full Jewish Mother mode). The joy of finally doing what I have so longed to do is indescribable.

While I realise this is a temporary state of affairs, I am wont to enjoy it while I can. The other day I unleashed a virus which has wiped out everybody, bar me; Marcus (who wants to live) and the local teenagers. I shot myself for it later, but now I'm back and they are all still gone - looks like I'm in for some quiet time.

The day before yesterday I spent most of my time wandering the corpse-littered streets, avoiding Marcus and trying to gain some clarity of thought about what the fuck it is I'm doing - decided to hang myself, which requires added weight if you want to break your neck by the way. Yesterday I decided to try not thinking at all (with some success) and rounded off the day by stuffing my fingers in the mains. Today - well, today I spent most of the time looking at the clouds and wondering how that carefree kid that spent most of his time aiming catapults at people, turned into me.

I believe I ought to slash my wrists or something - I'm sure an answer of some sort or another will come to me sooner or later and perhaps things will be clearer tomorrow. If this is a dream, it's a very odd one.

My dear uncle (maybe),

rather than put in my usual poor vocal showing, I thought I'd write - I make more sense that way. Then again, perhaps I delude myself.

This is a wonderful shadow. Thank you very much for letting me visit it. Thank you also for the practise, it was highly satisfying ... if you're ever bored and feel like a game of cat and mouse, you know where I am. Gee, we'd have the whole city to play it in ... kewl.

Regarding Marcus; I am not certain of your wishes in this matter and have no desire to make things worse. One wonders if dubbing him 'Thoughtless Boy' was a mistake - I believe he may have missed the point entirely. Is there anything you would like me to do, or would it be best if I stayed away from him? I'm hardly good company, it's true.

If you have the time, could you inform Gerard that I am resigning my commission in the fleet until such time as I am capable of executing my duties? Maybe you can make yourself heard, because I can't.

Figment or not, you have my gratitude, for what it's worth. I will make every effort to repay your consideration, but can make no promises - my mind resembles trampled macaroni at the moment and I am not sure of anything

If you have some fantastic solution to this conundrum, I'd be riveted to hear it. Is it all a huge plot? Is this a trick? Do I care? Should I?

Now I am rambling ... goodbye.

Astus

PS: How's Bleys?


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