Doors

[Public]
[As Alexander M.]

Chloe?

[Locked to Chloe and Dolores individually]

Have you somewhere safe to stay?

[Locked to Logan]

Tell me that you are staying out of this strange weather.

[Locked to Nicholas]

In the continuing saga of yes there may be a ghost or no, it is simply a product of an old house, the candles refuse to go out.

[Locked to Neil D]

I would have words with you, sir.

[Public]

Charming weather, Las Vegas. Had I known that we were going to be plunged into the 1930's, I would have hired a swing band and made a fête of it.

I find this all very difficult to believe, but the other option is a complete mental breakdown on my part.

Is there a Jack Crawford here? Hannibal Lecter?

[After some watching and reading (with difficulty; what are these letters?). The penmanship is terrible. She has read many letters, but only ever written them before with sticks in dirt. This ink and quill are new and unwieldy. Ink splatters, as she has not yet mastered volume, and letters appear slowly, painstakingly.]

I am searching for the creator of these enchanted books.

[As Hannibal L.]

[No words, only the drawing of this building.]

[Alexander M]

You want to know anything, you come to me direct, you understand? They don't know anything, Lo doesn't know a damn thing. That sly, sneaking around thing trying to run her down you're doing right now is sick.

[Dolores C]

Think anyone would miss him if he actually died and stayed dead?

[Preston R]

I need to apologize.

[Neil D]

[ETA: after this

You know a Chloe M?

[Public]

Carnival. How old do you need to be to enjoy that coming to town?

What is one supposed to do with these mysterious gifts, exactly?

[Group lock to Alexander & Dolores]

I've decided that I'm quite done with weakness in people.

Alexander, if I do attend this party that you're intent upon throwing, I shall be going alone.

There are some days where it would be entirely too easy to let things get me down.

But I realised something. When people say hurtful things, when they try to blame you for everything that is wrong in their lives, they are only looking for someone to hate. And hatred takes up a lot of energy, energy that would better be spent on laughing and loving and enjoying life.

So I can either spend my energy on people that don't like me or I can spend my energy on the people that really matter, on the things that matter. One's a better use of my time than the other, I think.

[Locked to Chloe M.]

I talked to our parents. Our sister is supposedly in Britain, receiving treatment for a psychiatric disorder at an unknown location because the dear fucking American won't tell them where.

[Locked to Nicholas S.]

The light in my kitchen turns on every morning at five minutes past daybreak. Wishful thinking or something more?

[Public]

I seem to have adopted two kittens. They were playing behind the house the other day and brought inside, but seem to believe that this is now their home. I've inquired of the neighbors, but no one has lost any and since I am not depriving any soul of their playful pets, I'm of a mind to let them stay.

[Locked to Chloe M, Alexander M]
I would say I thought I'd mistaken you both here, but there's no mistaking Murphys, is there?

[Call to Gabe R]
[To the emergency number, which she's wrangled from Queen Mum Murphy. Ring.]

[Note left on the counter for Addy G]
I think we ought to remove the silver. Shall we find an escaped convict to give it to?

[Group Lock]

I've a message to deliver to you, but you'll have to pardon me if it's not precisely what was said.

Your sister says that she will not be home for some time. She fears she may become homicidal if given the opportunity, and as she wants to keep both of us out of jail, she will behave and let me have my much needed time through the door.

If you need her, I'm sorry. But I will be happy to collect any messages for her.

Yours truly

Hatter

[Phone call to Chloe M.]

[On the ride home.]

Ring, ring.

[Public]

Eloise.

[And then, after a moment's consideration, locked so that Eloise might not see it.]

If any of you might have news of my sister, Eloise, I would be grateful for it.

( Delivered to Eloise Murphy at Tomes )

[ ... ]

This is all a lot disconcerting.

I'll put aside the questions that I'm sure have really obvious answers and just ask how the hell I'm supposed to deal with being a figment of someone else's imagination. I don't need this

[Phone call to Chloe M.]

Ring, ring.

[Public]

I think that after my derelict damsel is made into a proper home again, I should like to have a party. A costume party, strange book. It could wait until Halloween, when most are in the mood to go gallivanting to heart's content, and it may take that long to breathe life back into her.

It bears consideration.

[After reading the journals for a number of days, seeing the varied responses and gauging his own first entry. The handwriting is tall and narrow with a heavy line in black ink.]

How long did it take for everyone to be assured that all of this wasn't simply something they were imagining or hallucinating?

[There's a pattern of lines and boxes, idle doodling as he thinks.]

It's strange writing to a piece of parchment and expecting a response. I keep pinching myself, but nothing's happened.

[As Alexander T.]

I have purchased a decrepit and dismal old house on a parcel of land, surrounded by trees that resemble skeletal fingers rather than any gloriously leafy wood. There is no sight nor smell of any swamp, nor steady drone of nibbling insects or bellowing bull frogs and I could likely hear the wind pass through the cracked slats of my shutters. Or, and more likely still, the hushed whispers of the tourists in this city as they hurry past my home.

I love my hulking beast of a home, with all her aged bones.

And then I was gifted with this journal. A fine gift, yet everyone I know insists that they did not send it to me. Very well. I will find out eventually. Until tomorrow, goodnight and adieu, journal. I have a sister to call.