Saturday, January 14, 2012


Unfortunately for all those curious about the circumstances surrounding my last post, I am afraid that I am as lost as the rest of you.

I suspect Aqualung’s involvement, naturally. I can hear the shrieking which indicates his presence even now. Well, to be perfectly honest, I cannot hear anything. The “noise” which his presence creates is nothing of the kind. It is quite impossible to describe, in truth; English does have its limits as a language, after all.

This also raises the issue of what memories, precisely, were taken from me. Was it just the memory of the previous night? Or was it something more? If so, how much more? Have I forgotten something vital? How can I make certain that anything is missing at all? And who is the “someone else” mentioned in my last post? There is no one here now save for myself and Aqualung.

Questions which, for now, shall have to go unanswered, as much as I hate to leave such a mystery unsolved.

I do, however, have a little bit of a lead. Even for one such as myself, an old man who has hardly made use of computers prior to starting this online repository, it does not take much effort to work out what, precisely, the rhyme in my last post is.

It is a series of lines from a song: “The Guild of Mute Assassins”, by a modern rock band by the name of “Clutch”. The full lyrics are:

Organ, organ, organ grinder’s henchmen shaking their coins in time
Guild of Mute Assassins will convene at a quarter to nine
Behind the courthouse, atop a scaffold, stands a man with a bag for a face
“You will not have learned until I return to give my executioner the chase”

The swinging of its censers, the silence of its members
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins
From the places in between that are so seldom seen
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins

Widow in the furrow with thimbles hasn’t seen her face in years
Kneels into a puddle’s reflection to find it is just as she’s feared
And in the garden, the Archangel, sword above his head
“You will not return until you have learned what you have forfeited”


Baby on a threshold with silver, breath rises from its lips
Beam of yellow light from a doorway and the figure of a silhouette
And in the cradle a wood stiletto rattles like a barrel of bones
Another journeyman, with passion, silently recites the oath

It obviously means something to someone. Perhaps it meant something to me, last night. But I have never heard this song before in my life, and was unaware of its existence until I searched for it online this morning, when I awoke in my and found my computer displaying that post.

Given my current situation, it is likely that the “Archangel” referred to in the song’s second verse is the same Archangel which so many of us are running from. If this is the case, then the executioner in the first verse is likely another entity in the same vein, though which it might be is anyone’s guess, as is what their two messages mean.

I believe that I shall end this ramble here, however. I am sure that the rest of the questions which I should like to know the answers to are the same ones which you are asking yourselves, and I can shed no more light on them here. Listing them would just be banal and pointless.

I am three-quarters of the way through translating the next document. I shall have it for you soon.


  1. Oh hey you're still alive. That's mildly disappointing.

    1. So sorry to have to crush your dreams of being witness to an old man's death. I mean, it is not as though old folks die every day. I really must apologize for robbing you of such a special opportunity.