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Vynik21

The Unnatural Journal of a Mad Scientist

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Charredskull    10

I would love to do something like that. I have to figure out how to do it, heh. It would be good to know for this and for my other writing.

Please let me know if you figure out how! This is such an amazing story I would like to be able to show my friends at school.

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GBmskm    0

Hello Vynik! I made an account just to reply to this thread and say your doing an EXTREMELY wonderful job and I love your work. It's way better than some of the other stuff I've read. :) More people should read this.....actually, in all honesty, I had no idea this site existed until I looked up the Don't Starve wiki because I found something weird, then got sidetracked with curiosity...and well the rest is history...the game is actually still playing in the background but I hung it up for awhile to read your story (I'll get back to it as soon as I finish typing xD). BTW, just a question, do you plan on making other works? Also, have you ever thought of posting this on other sites (like maybe Fanfiction.net)? I don't know how you feel about that, but I'm just asking and IMO, more people might see your wonderful works there than here (as people who go there actively search for fanfictions). Sorry if I'm asking too many questions (and for talking too much), and please keep this up and thank you! :D

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Vynik21    19

Finals, tests, projects, and work have come to a head and have tapered off for the time being. I apologize for not updating nearly as often as I would like! I am, honestly, shocked that this story has managed to maintain enough interest that I am not buried on page 10 of the forums! I know many of you have been supporting me and feeding kind words to me even though there has been a particular dearth of updates.

A quick little explanation of why I haven't been updating it as much: Finals, university, bleh. I've also been fashioning my other, non-fan fictiony work into a more professional presentation. I was thinking about putting a small collection of my other short stories or a book I wrote a year or so ago up on Amazon's Kindle service for giggles for a couple of bucks to see what would happen.

Also, GBmskm, I haven't actually checked out FanFiction.net or anything like that. This is my first experiment at fan fiction of any kind, and for some reason, the Don't Starve universe really lent itself to creativity in my mind.

Anyway, I don't want to keep bugging you guys with non-story related things, but I just wanted to say:

Thank you for everyone who has been reading, checking for updates, posting, and constantly keeping this in my mind so I don't forget about it in the din of uninteresting things.

Now, again, with time on my side, I'm (hopefully) going to start the regular updates again. Pushing out a smaller update to get my brain back on track with the story and I guarantee tomorrow will bring another update!

Day ? - #2 – Frogs

The air is biting cold, but there is no snow to be seen. Not yet, at least. As though I have done it a hundred times, I have gathered necessary supplies to see me through the night. I have berries at the very least.

I am writing underneath a particularly large tree, a single tree's canopy that covers me completely. The odd rain drop slips through, splashing on my journal, but it's fine. It's fine.

“Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.”

I was never a religious person, no. I find the whole idea behind religion fascinating and the analogies and metaphors hold a special place in my heart. I have never, however, been one that studies the Bible for any length of time or with any overwhelming purpose or intent.

As the rain splashes on my journal, I see them fall, every now and then, frogs from the sky. They croak as they scream towards the ground, only to land safely. I approached one and was assaulted most viciously. It was my mistake, of course, as I disregarded safety for curiosity, a mistake I do not plan on making again.

These frogs are extraordinary. They are violent and enormous, creatures of nightmares instead of swamps. Creatures of dreams instead of nature begin to swarm this land, familiar in its biology, but altogether different from the terrain of before. I feel different, awful. I feel like I have stepped into someone's home and I am not wanted.

To be fair to myself and my... host, I believe I overstayed my welcome a long time ago.

-Wilson

Entry #3 – New Lands

I am struggling to understand how to notate my journal entries. I had a clear time line, a clear... understanding of the linearity of time. Now, I don't know where I am. There is a miasma, a fog, that clouds my head... I cannot focus.

Interestingly enough, despite me finding it more difficult to maintain clarity here, I have found a staff that speaks to me as I wander. This land seems to push me forward, making it difficult to maintain a camp of any sort. As I stay still, the frogs fall, the miscreant creatures advance on my position and force me to move. It is a terrifying experience, magnified by my lack of a home.

The cold bites harder today. I feel as though I need to advance quickly, lest I freeze to death here. I do not know where I am. Until I do, however, I shall only measure journal entries by number, and not by day. I may include time, for future reference, if it is of particular significance.

The frogs approach. I must pack up my things and move onwards. The staff speaks to me and beckons me further. I can swear I see something abnormal in the distance.

-Wilson

Entry #4 – Developments

I recognize these pieces. Quickly, I have amassed a small fortune in trinkets with no readily apparent use. I have a … crank, it appears, as well as a curious box with a lever, or other rod, attached to one side. My temporary camp, truly ephemeral, keeps me warm for now.

I remember finding something like this crank in my old world. In my old world? In my waking world?

In my waking world.

Awake.

-Wilson

Entry #5 – Night Falls

This island is voracious, seeking to consume me and spit me out, my soul retained for some sort of dark sustenance. I will not give in to the island, I tell myself. I write, as proof of fortitude, as a promise, that I will not give into the island. I feel an anxiety that I have not felt in a long time. I feel the fear of impending death, of scrounging for resources, and it is... thrilling. It is thrilling and it is strange. It is horrible.

As I seek out twigs, grass, berries, and quickly scrounge the materials for a small fire, I feel as though something is not right. My last memory of waking up on this island is from before, specifically, falling in front of a large, ominous door. The door, a portal perhaps? Stream of consciousness writing is the key, I believe, as it awakens things inside, thoughts previously dismissed.

Why am I here? Where am I? Am I in the same world? This world, as little as I can see, is surrounded by water on all sides. The fearsome frogs frolic, no sign or signal of slowing. My mind is beginning to hurt.

-Wilson

Entry #6

I apologize. Significant time has passed since my last entry. It must have been... two days? No. One day? I cannot keep track of time in my mind. I need to keep track of it in my journal. Blast! This notation style is a failure a mere six entries into experimentation! How can I possibly conquer this land if I'm moving from camp to camp, pushed onward like a frightened bunny rabbit, moving towards a trap? How can I succeed without time? Without planning? Without technology?

I have become so dependent on my discoveries, why can I not make them again? Why can I not reinvent the wheel, so to speak, and put together two thoughts in this muddled mess of a mind? I created armors, backpacks, weapons, otherworldly devices, and I cannot remember a single ONE! I am furious!

WHY?!

-Wilson

Entry ?? - A Letter from a Friend

Do not be afraid.

I speak to you, as your mind reels and darkness beckons, I speak to you. You will read these words when you wake. You may find no solace in these words, black ink splotches speaking a tongue perhaps lost. I speak in the tongue of sanity, perhaps, or insanity? I speak in a tongue that is fit for your understanding, in any case. How you choose to interpret, to understand, is your choice, Wilson.

Why do you believe you are here? Ask yourself that question, please, and ponder deeply. Do not mull it over momentarily and then dismiss it like so many harebrained theories. Do not take my words lightly, Wilson. I cannot speak to you directly, as would be my wish, but I believe this should suffice.

I have grown a lot. I truly have, Wilson. You would be so proud of me; proud to see me again and know what I have been through. You would be so proud. I speak much older than I am, do I not? I speak as though I possess a semblance of understanding of the natures of comprehension and communication.

Although, as I print these words, or rather as I speak them into you, I feel my words lacking. I used to blame you. Partially, anyway, I blamed you for everything.

When I stared into the flames, I could think of nothing but you. I could not, for the life of me, understand why. I think I am beginning to understand.

I need you to realize something, Wilson. I need you to continue to have your faith in me, even though it is only a memory, and I need you to continue to survive.

Do not listen to Maxwell. He is but a Devil playing God in his own domain. He seeks to corrupt you with fear, absolute terror, but you must not let him. Your brain is much too strong for that.

Am I correct, Wilson? Your mind is unbreakable. However, even you understand the value of slipping every now and then. You must not give into terror, but you may need to... relax.

I speak at length, words generated through years of solitude. At least, I believe them to be years. It feels like an eternity, Wilson. I have been here for so long, surviving for so long, so afraid to die.

Make peace, Wilson.

Whatever happens, whatever your destiny, do not allow Maxwell to rule your existence with terror. Grit and bare your servitude or revolt, the choice is yours, but in the end, as for us all, it ends the same. Take that inevitability as some comfort, please. I do.

“Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”*

The Inferno is such a marvelous book. So much fire.

-W

Entry #7 – Death

I have only maintained myself for a short time in this... dream world. I have wondered, since I arrived in this plane, what should happen upon my death. Shall I ascend or rot away? Will I rot at my home or here, in this forsaken land, an unnatural nature eating me up from the inside?

My mind drifts to thoughts of death, as the cold is horrible. It is a biting pain, almost unreal, nothing that I have experienced before. It takes all of my strength simply to write in this journal, but my tools are all broken. I have no wood to burn and I am surrounded by carnivorous frogs, spiders, and shadowy horrors that cry for my blood in the night.

My adventurous spirit is broken, I am ashamed to say. I wish for nothing but warmth, a shelter, my lab, my experiments, and what few people I can truly call friends.

Words escape me as my brain begins to slow... It is so cold. It is so utterly cold. I have never experienced a cold so brutal, so unforgiving.

I'm sorry, Willow. I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I should have... restrained myself. It was an unnatural feeling, horrible, perverse, and something that I should have never have given a second thought.

I am so afraid to die.

I do not want to die.

You say to not be afraid, ghost writer, but I know no other feeling at this moment. My fate, as I sit, breathing raggedly, shards of ice coalescing in my lungs, is to die here, in this Hell, surrounded by unfriendly creatures and impenetrable ice.

You quote Dante to me, writer. Now, as I fight unconsciousness, in great pain, I can think of another.

“Into eternal darkness, into fire and into ice.”

Images of Hell show infernos, unquenchable flames.

What would I, as a sane man, not give for that heat at this moment?

-Wilson

Day 152? 153? - Entry #1 – Dreams

I am in my clothes. I woke up in front of the door. I am alive.

It was a dream, after all, correct? It could be nothing else. This door is... nothing. It is nothing important. I do not know why it exists but it is not important. Goodbye, door. Goodbye. Your bad dreams will haunt me no longer.

Goodbye, door.

I remain in my familiar terrain, forests scorched by flame and the smell of burning corpses in the air. I am home.

Oh god, I am home.

-Wilson

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Vynik21    19

Finals, tests, projects, and work have come to a head and have tapered off for the time being. I apologize for not updating nearly as often as I would like! I am, honestly, shocked that this story has managed to maintain enough interest that I am not buried on page 10 of the forums! I know many of you have been supporting me and feeding kind words to me even though there has been a particular dearth of updates.

A quick little explanation of why I haven't been updating it as much: Finals, university, bleh. I've also been fashioning my other, non-fan fictiony work into a more professional presentation. I was thinking about putting a small collection of my other short stories or a book I wrote a year or so ago up on Amazon's Kindle service for giggles for a couple of bucks to see what would happen.

Also, GBmskm, I haven't actually checked out FanFiction.net or anything like that. This is my first experiment at fan fiction of any kind, and for some reason, the Don't Starve universe really lent itself to creativity in my mind.

Anyway, I don't want to keep bugging you guys with non-story related things, but I just wanted to say:

Thank you for everyone who has been reading, checking for updates, posting, and constantly keeping this in my mind so I don't forget about it in the din of uninteresting things.

Now, again, with time on my side, I'm (hopefully) going to start the regular updates again. Pushing out a smaller update to get my brain back on track with the story and I guarantee tomorrow will bring another update!

Day ? - #2 – Frogs

The air is biting cold, but there is no snow to be seen. Not yet, at least. As though I have done it a hundred times, I have gathered necessary supplies to see me through the night. I have berries at the very least.

I am writing underneath a particularly large tree, a single tree's canopy that covers me completely. The odd rain drop slips through, splashing on my journal, but it's fine. It's fine.

“Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.”

I was never a religious person, no. I find the whole idea behind religion fascinating and the analogies and metaphors hold a special place in my heart. I have never, however, been one that studies the Bible for any length of time or with any overwhelming purpose or intent.

As the rain splashes on my journal, I see them fall, every now and then, frogs from the sky. They croak as they scream towards the ground, only to land safely. I approached one and was assaulted most viciously. It was my mistake, of course, as I disregarded safety for curiosity, a mistake I do not plan on making again.

These frogs are extraordinary. They are violent and enormous, creatures of nightmares instead of swamps. Creatures of dreams instead of nature begin to swarm this land, familiar in its biology, but altogether different from the terrain of before. I feel different, awful. I feel like I have stepped into someone's home and I am not wanted.

To be fair to myself and my... host, I believe I overstayed my welcome a long time ago.

-Wilson

Entry #3 – New Lands

I am struggling to understand how to notate my journal entries. I had a clear time line, a clear... understanding of the linearity of time. Now, I don't know where I am. There is a miasma, a fog, that clouds my head... I cannot focus.

Interestingly enough, despite me finding it more difficult to maintain clarity here, I have found a staff that speaks to me as I wander. This land seems to push me forward, making it difficult to maintain a camp of any sort. As I stay still, the frogs fall, the miscreant creatures advance on my position and force me to move. It is a terrifying experience, magnified by my lack of a home.

The cold bites harder today. I feel as though I need to advance quickly, lest I freeze to death here. I do not know where I am. Until I do, however, I shall only measure journal entries by number, and not by day. I may include time, for future reference, if it is of particular significance.

The frogs approach. I must pack up my things and move onwards. The staff speaks to me and beckons me further. I can swear I see something abnormal in the distance.

-Wilson

Entry #4 – Developments

I recognize these pieces. Quickly, I have amassed a small fortune in trinkets with no readily apparent use. I have a … crank, it appears, as well as a curious box with a lever, or other rod, attached to one side. My temporary camp, truly ephemeral, keeps me warm for now.

I remember finding something like this crank in my old world. In my old world? In my waking world?

In my waking world.

Awake.

-Wilson

Entry #5 – Night Falls

This island is voracious, seeking to consume me and spit me out, my soul retained for some sort of dark sustenance. I will not give in to the island, I tell myself. I write, as proof of fortitude, as a promise, that I will not give into the island. I feel an anxiety that I have not felt in a long time. I feel the fear of impending death, of scrounging for resources, and it is... thrilling. It is thrilling and it is strange. It is horrible.

As I seek out twigs, grass, berries, and quickly scrounge the materials for a small fire, I feel as though something is not right. My last memory of waking up on this island is from before, specifically, falling in front of a large, ominous door. The door, a portal perhaps? Stream of consciousness writing is the key, I believe, as it awakens things inside, thoughts previously dismissed.

Why am I here? Where am I? Am I in the same world? This world, as little as I can see, is surrounded by water on all sides. The fearsome frogs frolic, no sign or signal of slowing. My mind is beginning to hurt.

-Wilson

Entry #6

I apologize. Significant time has passed since my last entry. It must have been... two days? No. One day? I cannot keep track of time in my mind. I need to keep track of it in my journal. Blast! This notation style is a failure a mere six entries into experimentation! How can I possibly conquer this land if I'm moving from camp to camp, pushed onward like a frightened bunny rabbit, moving towards a trap? How can I succeed without time? Without planning? Without technology?

I have become so dependent on my discoveries, why can I not make them again? Why can I not reinvent the wheel, so to speak, and put together two thoughts in this muddled mess of a mind? I created armors, backpacks, weapons, otherworldly devices, and I cannot remember a single ONE! I am furious!

WHY?!

-Wilson

Entry ?? - A Letter from a Friend

Do not be afraid.

I speak to you, as your mind reels and darkness beckons, I speak to you. You will read these words when you wake. You may find no solace in these words, black ink splotches speaking a tongue perhaps lost. I speak in the tongue of sanity, perhaps, or insanity? I speak in a tongue that is fit for your understanding, in any case. How you choose to interpret, to understand, is your choice, Wilson.

Why do you believe you are here? Ask yourself that question, please, and ponder deeply. Do not mull it over momentarily and then dismiss it like so many harebrained theories. Do not take my words lightly, Wilson. I cannot speak to you directly, as would be my wish, but I believe this should suffice.

I have grown a lot. I truly have, Wilson. You would be so proud of me; proud to see me again and know what I have been through. You would be so proud. I speak much older than I am, do I not? I speak as though I possess a semblance of understanding of the natures of comprehension and communication.

Although, as I print these words, or rather as I speak them into you, I feel my words lacking. I used to blame you. Partially, anyway, I blamed you for everything.

When I stared into the flames, I could think of nothing but you. I could not, for the life of me, understand why. I think I am beginning to understand.

I need you to realize something, Wilson. I need you to continue to have your faith in me, even though it is only a memory, and I need you to continue to survive.

Do not listen to Maxwell. He is but a Devil playing God in his own domain. He seeks to corrupt you with fear, absolute terror, but you must not let him. Your brain is much too strong for that.

Am I correct, Wilson? Your mind is unbreakable. However, even you understand the value of slipping every now and then. You must not give into terror, but you may need to... relax.

I speak at length, words generated through years of solitude. At least, I believe them to be years. It feels like an eternity, Wilson. I have been here for so long, surviving for so long, so afraid to die.

Make peace, Wilson.

Whatever happens, whatever your destiny, do not allow Maxwell to rule your existence with terror. Grit and bare your servitude or revolt, the choice is yours, but in the end, as for us all, it ends the same. Take that inevitability as some comfort, please. I do.

“Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”*

The Inferno is such a marvelous book. So much fire.

-W

Entry #7 – Death

I have only maintained myself for a short time in this... dream world. I have wondered, since I arrived in this plane, what should happen upon my death. Shall I ascend or rot away? Will I rot at my home or here, in this forsaken land, an unnatural nature eating me up from the inside?

My mind drifts to thoughts of death, as the cold is horrible. It is a biting pain, almost unreal, nothing that I have experienced before. It takes all of my strength simply to write in this journal, but my tools are all broken. I have no wood to burn and I am surrounded by carnivorous frogs, spiders, and shadowy horrors that cry for my blood in the night.

My adventurous spirit is broken, I am ashamed to say. I wish for nothing but warmth, a shelter, my lab, my experiments, and what few people I can truly call friends.

Words escape me as my brain begins to slow... It is so cold. It is so utterly cold. I have never experienced a cold so brutal, so unforgiving.

I'm sorry, Willow. I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I should have... restrained myself. It was an unnatural feeling, horrible, perverse, and something that I should have never have given a second thought.

I am so afraid to die.

I do not want to die.

You say to not be afraid, ghost writer, but I know no other feeling at this moment. My fate, as I sit, breathing raggedly, shards of ice coalescing in my lungs, is to die here, in this Hell, surrounded by unfriendly creatures and impenetrable ice.

You quote Dante to me, writer. Now, as I fight unconsciousness, in great pain, I can think of another.

“Into eternal darkness, into fire and into ice.”

Images of Hell show infernos, unquenchable flames.

What would I, as a sane man, not give for that heat at this moment?

-Wilson

Day 152? 153? - Entry #1 – Dreams

I am in my clothes. I woke up in front of the door. I am alive.

It was a dream, after all, correct? It could be nothing else. This door is... nothing. It is nothing important. I do not know why it exists but it is not important. Goodbye, door. Goodbye. Your bad dreams will haunt me no longer.

Goodbye, door.

I remain in my familiar terrain, forests scorched by flame and the smell of burning corpses in the air. I am home.

Oh god, I am home.

-Wilson

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Syd    233

I'm glad you're continuing with this story. It's definitely the best Don't Starve fanfiction I've read yet.I eagerly await future updates. :)

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Syd    233

I'm glad you're continuing with this story. It's definitely the best Don't Starve fanfiction I've read yet.I eagerly await future updates. :)

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the1SAR    13

Ah, it's good to see another part uploaded... Poor Wilson didn't do so well in A Cold Reception... but at least he didn't really die. I'll be looking forward to what happens to him next.

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the1SAR    13

Ah, it's good to see another part uploaded... Poor Wilson didn't do so well in A Cold Reception... but at least he didn't really die. I'll be looking forward to what happens to him next.

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GBmskm    0
Finals, tests, projects, and work have come to a head and have tapered off for the time being. I apologize for not updating nearly as often as I would like! I am, honestly, shocked that this story has managed to maintain enough interest that I am not buried on page 10 of the forums! I know many of you have been supporting me and feeding kind words to me even though there has been a particular dearth of updates.

A quick little explanation of why I haven't been updating it as much: Finals, university, bleh. I've also been fashioning my other, non-fan fictiony work into a more professional presentation. I was thinking about putting a small collection of my other short stories or a book I wrote a year or so ago up on Amazon's Kindle service for giggles for a couple of bucks to see what would happen.

Also, GBmskm, I haven't actually checked out FanFiction.net or anything like that. This is my first experiment at fan fiction of any kind, and for some reason, the Don't Starve universe really lent itself to creativity in my mind.

Anyway, I don't want to keep bugging you guys with non-story related things, but I just wanted to say:

Thank you for everyone who has been reading, checking for updates, posting, and constantly keeping this in my mind so I don't forget about it in the din of uninteresting things.

Now, again, with time on my side, I'm (hopefully) going to start the regular updates again. Pushing out a smaller update to get my brain back on track with the story and I guarantee tomorrow will bring another update!

And thanks to you for uploading! I love reading fanfiction, but it's rare to see one of great quality! Don't worry about not uploading that often, I'm just happy you upload at all. Life is such a busy thing, and by the time you reach university, free time is almost non-existent. I understand that, so I hope you do well in your finals. (speaking of that, I should start reviewing for my university entrance tests in a couple months >-< ) I'm interested in that book your talking about as well. I can't buy it while I'm still under my parents care (they don't like buying internet stuff), but I can when I'm in university, so keep us updated if you ever plan on going through with it. Thank you again! :D

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Vynik21    19

Boy, my brain starts to work and gears start turning around four in the morning. I was tempted to write the whole thing tonight, but I felt like after a couple hours, it would have turned into nonsensical rambling (more so than it already is!). Anyway, I hope you guys are still enjoying it.

Day 154 – #1 – A Promise

Something pulls me towards the door, the location of my death, and I cannot identify its source. It felt so real, the cold, the animals, the pain... Yet, I am fine. I am awake and I am alive. From everything I have seen in this place, I believe it would be naive of me to dismiss everything as a dream or some illusion. However, I do not know what else it could possibly be. A plague of frogs covering the land? Heaven and Hell?

Surely, my imagination is simply running wild. Of course, that was what I thought when I first arrived.

I promise I will investigate the door further, but for now, I must find food.

-Wilson

Day 154 - #2 – Early Afternoon

Rabbit is delicious. I did not realize how hungry I had become! I feel much more focused, much better about myself. Ah, yes, Wilson! You were the victim of a remarkably visceral and vivid dream, certainly. What else could it be?

My time here has been... supernatural, of course, but am I to expect that a portal to another realm could possibly be a naturally occurring phenomenon here? That is, certainly, preposterous.

Certainly.

-Wilson

Day 154 - #3 – Mid Afternoon

As I eat and stare at this door, a black lining highlighting it against the trees behind it, the juices from freshly cooked rabbit drip from my mouth. I am savoring every bite. There is just something magical about this place, something wonderfully prehistoric, natural, ferocious. It's bringing out all manner of feelings in me and in my blossoming subconscious!

Such a vivid dream, my God. The feeling of freezing to death in this frozen waste, all my work gone, blown away, as ashes in the wind. All of my accomplishments would disappear in an instant.

It is absolutely preposterous that I could have even entertained such a ridiculous thought!

I am certain to read these entries in the future and laugh. It will be a source of great amusement as I am sitting around my campfire, preparing for another day's fortification.

-Wilson

Day 154 - #4 – Late Afternoon

All of my work would be gone in an instant. Death is the final reckoning and what would I have to show for it? When I shuffle off this mortal coil, would my inventions be recognized? Would I be noted for being an absolutely brilliant, ahead of his time, magnificent person of science? No. My colleagues, no doubt volleying for affection from some stupid old man with more money than sense, would use my research, my ideas, and profit.

That is what would happen. My sacrifices would not be recorded, would they? My journal would not be found and the scientific discovery of a century, a millennium? Of all time? It would fall to the wayside, a ghost of knowledge that no one but myself would be able to see.

My death. A brief confluence of mistakes and suddenly my world is done, over, finished, and I am gone. Is that what you would like me to understand, door? You speak to me, an obelisk, and you speak to me about death?!

You do not deserve to be in my PRESENCE! I am beyond death. My time on this island... death is no longer a concern, do you understand? I have harnessed death, ridden him into submission, and used him to trample my foes.

I am Wilson. Do not test me.

-Wilson

Day 154 - #5 – Dusk

I have smashed you with rocks, stabbed with my spear until the tip split against your unbreakable wood, and turned to fire. All failed. You're very clearly here to stay.

Who am I fighting against? Who are you, door? What are you? Why did you show me this? Why did you show me my own death? Why did you make me experience it, in such great detail, as I froze, as my lungs filled with bitter cold? Why did you force me to witness this?! To FEEL this? To fear this?

You exist dangerously. You have shown me my own death and I am coming to grips with that. I am afraid, yes, but soon I will not be.

When I am no longer afraid, then you shall be. I am speaking to you, door, or to whomever it may concern.

-Wilson

Day 154 - #6 – Night

Fine.

You're right. I cannot fight it, can I? I believe a little bird always told me that I could never fight the inevitable. It is inevitable, isn't it? Death? Whether it be from this or from... something else. Whether I freeze to death in a surreal wasteland or die of old age, it all comes down to it, does it not?

I propose a deal and the terms are quite simple. You do not lead me back. You do not let me return to the location of my death and I will... I will...

I don't KNOW! What do you want from me? I will do whatever you want, just do not lead me there again.

Death takes a toll on the mind, door. I am speaking to you through my journal. No, I am speaking. That is an important distinction. I am speaking. And writing?

It's almost involuntary now. As I speak, I write and as I write, I speak the words that appear. Do you want my journal? You promise to deliver me from death, to never make me experience that pain again, and I shall give you my journal. It is the only thing I have worth anything.

My journal and my memories. That is it. I swear. Please?

-Wilson

Day 154 - #7 – Deep Night

I don't know. Maybe... maybe if I finish it now, if I give up, you will spare me. No, you won't, but you cannot make me die. I can choose how I would like to die. I can drive this spear through my own throat and that is it! Over and done with, your already blood-soaked ground sprinkled with another drop or two of essence, and I never have to experience that helplessness again.

I am a hobby physician, after all, and I'm certain I could kill myself easily and effectively. There are many ways for a man to end his own life. Many, many, many, many, many ways.

I could slit my throat, poison myself, hang myself from one of these ubiquitous evergreen monstrosities... There are so many possibilities, door.

Do you hear me, Maxwell? Would that make you happy or would you slam your inky black fists into your throne of fire? Would you be furious that I stole this opportunity from you?

I can still die.

-Wilson

Day 155 - #1 – Breaking Morning

I do not know how the entries appeared but... There are entries that fill spots in my memory. Blackness. That's all there is, still, unfortunately. But words in my journal that I can swear I did not write have given me guidance... somewhat.

You said it so succinctly! You are the most beautiful and will always be the most beautiful! I am proud of you. I am so proud of you. I cannot say that I understand how this land works, but if there is an opportunity of communication, then I welcome it with open arms!

Willow, I am so sorry. I should never have left you like that but I was so ashamed. Harboring... carnal feelings for someone like you, someone so young and...

I am sorry. I thought, perhaps, distance would be the best medicine for both of us. You would sprout, Willow, and you would find someone wonderful to spend your time with instead of wasting away with a socially inept man of science.

I am brilliant. You were brilliant. Perhaps you still are? I am not perfect, I know.

“Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”*

This door showed me something I was not ready to see. I do not believe anyone is ready to experience their own death.

You are right. It is an inevitability. Death is stalking us all, even one as young as yourself, as young as Abigail. I am no exception.

I don't understand the rules of this door. I don't understand your rules, Maxwell.

I will continue. I will try the door again, okay? Okay.

Okay.

-Wilson

A Cold Reception - #?

Do not be afraid.

I am sorry, Wilson. I wish I could be more help but I can only do so much from where I am. Thank you. I am glad you can hear me. I was worried! Wendy was worried too.

Please, look for us. All of us. We're here, okay? Please look for us. You have gotten so far.

Just remember that Maxwell is afraid of you, okay? He is not your God. He is a Devil playing God in a place that he does not own. I'm sorry, you should find that out on your own.

Be careful and do not be afraid, Wilson.

-Willow

A Cold Reception - #1

I can feel the familiar rain dripping down, splashing on my journal.

I can see the frogs in the distance, carefully guarding their small patches of land, slowly moving and pushing me onwards.

I can see where I died.

I remember nothing of my inventions, of my technological adaptations, but I am not discouraged. I can do this.

I see one more thing, and it will be the last thing I shall record in my journal for today.

I see Maxwell in the distance, a winter coat wrapped around his cadaverous form, watching me closely. If I squint, I could swear that he's smiling.

-Wilson

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Peculiar    225

Just caught up with your story! And man I wish I checked it out sooner! I love the way you are incorporating all the characters. Wilson's and Maxwell's interactions always keep me on edge, and I love how deep you write! The dark entries are probably my favorites. You have a real gift of story telling my friend! Thank you for your hard work! Expect a new lurker in this thread that will check back often~ =D

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QueenOfCrows    14

I made this account to simply say PLEASE continue writing. It's possibly the best fanfiction I've ever read. If you don't see this through to the end I will cry! Also a question: How old are Wilson and Willow in your story? I'm not sure if I should feel sympathetic or creeped out about the nature of their relationship.

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SharpNomo    79

This is some good stuff! Keep up the good work, I can hardly wait! I love the vivid descriptions and beautiful story portrayed in your writing.

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Rana    10

I absolutely love this. You really have a way with words; I feel like I'm there, witnessing the events. Can't wait to hear more of your creative mind!

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