nineteen | who am i [50% droned]

[strike_you_out]

At home

[Slugger opens his bedroom door, walks down to the kitchen, takes a seat at the breakfast table, and awaits his morning waffles and orange juice. Just like every morning.

 

Just like every morning...

 

He begins to breathe a little faster.]

 

At home; front steps
[The front steps are littered in pages and pages of notes. Surrounded by the papers, Slugger sits busily filling another page from front to back in quickly scrawled, progressively sloppy handwriting. Once finished he tears it out, throws it aside and begins to fill a new page. His hands tremble slightly.]

[  (written in Japanese)

My name is Shounen Bat.

I am from Musashino, Tokyo in Japan.

I am a monster.

I free the ones who are cornered.

My name is Shounen Bat.

I do not live here. Mayfield is not my home. Musashino is my home.

I am not a human.

I free the ones who are cornered.

Musashino was my home.

My name is Shounen Bat.

I am a monster.

I was never born in Mayfield.

I was never born

(written in English)

I am not from America.

I have been trapped here for 10 months.

This is not my home.

My name is Lil' Slugger.

This is not my home.

I was a monster.

This is not my home.

I free the ones who are cornered.

I AM a monster.

I was born in Mayfield.

My name is Lil' Slugger.

I am thirteen.

This is not my home.

I am Slugger N-

My mother's name is S-

this is not my home.

susan is my mother

i like baseball

i am trapped here

i free the cornered ones

my name is slugger

i have lived in mayfield for thirteen years

i am a monster

i am a monster

this is not real

my father's name is edward

this is not real

luke and i played baseball

i live at 726 anderson lane

i am a paperboy

my name is slugger nigma

this is not real

i won't forget

don't believe it

it's not real

i free the ones who are cornered

don't forget

the ones who are cornered

it's not real

my name is slugger nigma

i am trapped

one who is cornered

is me

this is not real

this is not real

this is not real

this is not this is not this is

i am not real      ]

 

 

Night; fireworks display

[Here with family or possibly wandering alone, Slugger stares blankly into the sky holding his bat close. Every so often, he reaches beneath his ball cap for a folded piece of paper, reads it, and puts it back.]

Comments

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

Sorry, Mom, I didn't mean--

[Fuck, he did it again. Slugger closes his eyes for a short moment, recovering from the lapse. Her worried expression isn't helping matters so he tries to speak calmly.]

Please, tell me your surname.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Our surname...

[Susan speaks carefully.]

...is Nigma. My maiden name is Sto Helit, which is, in my opinion, much more suitable, but it wouldn't do not to take your father's.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Wrong, though she still seems to recall pieces of truth.]

Where are you from?

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

...Here, of course.

[There was a slight pause before her response.]

I actually don't seem to know anyone who wasn't born in Mayfield, oddly.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Slugger releases Susan's wrist and is instantly gone from his chair. Paper, he needs paper. And something to write with. Now. Before he forgets again. In just a moment, he reappears at the table and, shoving aside his plate, begins to write furiously on a sheet of paper...]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Slugger? Slugger, what are you -- Now don't be so -- Slugger!

[She'll eventually end up looking over his shoulder while he writes. What was he doing?]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[It isn't long before his hand pauses. His next question for her is a bit more tricky.]

Who is Bill Door?

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

That's --

... [There is a pause.]

The nice elderly man we have tea with so often. Isn't it? Bill Door.....

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[He twists in his seat to look at up her.]

...Is Death. Your grandfather.

[His eyes roll up and to the side as if he's debating the certainty of his own words.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

My grandfather is dead?

[What? What is this conversation?]

No, he's not. I just spoke with -- ... Oh! Oh, no, how stupid of me. Of course. I call him by a... a nickname so often, I forgot. No, Bill Door is my grandfather's name. You're quite right.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Oh, for-- He'll just turn around and continue writing it out for her in words. When finished, he will hand her a note which reads:

'You are Susan Sto Helit. Your home is Mayf- the Discworld. You hate holidays and you always wear flowers black. Bill Door is your grandfather. His real name is Death. Do not forget!' ]


Keep that.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[Susan will, naturally, read the note immediately. Her frown deepens.]

Slugger, Death isn't a name. It's something that happens. ...But how did you know where it was that I thought I'd visited?

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Slugger has once again picked up his fork and is eagerly helping himself to red and blue scrambled eggs and pancakes, when he realizes she's asked him a question.]

...Where?

[Oh dear, he's talking with his mouth full again, tsk tsk.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Swallow before you speak.

[Susan absentmindedly reminds him while folding the piece of paper.]

The Discworld. It was a park, wasn't it? Yes, a park about medieval times - with castles and... that sort of thing.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Swallowing, he looks up at her.]

Did it have skeletons?

[It's only after he's said it that he realizes what an odd question it was.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Of course not.

...Well. Not plural, anyway.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

Mom, where was the Discworld? Was it in Ohio?

[Slugger eagerly awaits her response as he continues to wolf down his breakfast.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Ohio? No, it was... somewhere with a lot of hills. Why Ohio?

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

Hills...?

[He abruptly sets both hand on the table on either side of his plate.]

I thought it was flat. Yes, like a disc. The Discworld is a separate world shaped like a disc.

It's your world.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Don't be silly; we don't mean it has no terrain when we say it's flat, we mean there's an edge and you'll fall ov --

...