Doors

[Public, posted anonymously]
I'm looking for someone from the party the other evening. A rather lovely girl in a white dress, with dark hair. We shared a dance and a kiss. I said I would find her, and I am attempting to. If you're there, please do respond.

[Locked to Micah C]
It's quite possible you're not speaking to me, but I wanted to check on you after the affair the other evening.

[Locked to Elias M & Sherlock Holmes]
I'm to ask after the blood.

[Posted public from John W., the page contains nothing more than a partial hand-print in a dark red.]

[Within seconds of this.]

[Text to Simon C, Micah C]
Band terrible idea. Don't know what I was bloody thinking. Count me out.

[Texts to Noah B., three consecutively.]

As part of an attempt to keep Arthur from making me either insane or insane and gay, I am going to get drunk at home and text you all the essential knowledge of guy geekdom. Star Wars facts and quotes, mostly.

[Public.]

Resumes are so much easier when you're drunk and lying.

(Kit's handwriting is small, a good mixture of cursive and print. It's relatively nice and mostly legible.)

I wonder - who's out there? Whose words are those that appear, as if by magic, in the pages of this strange, old journal? I feel like Harry Potter, reading Tom Riddle's diary. I only hope that this thing isn't a horcrux. I don't have the patience to stamp out pieces of someone's soul.

So, the riddle of the voice in my head keeps growing stronger. I have to admit, I am a bit jealous of those who know just who they are dealing with.

So, this is what I know for sure from my dreams:

This person is female.

She lived (or her world? Still not clear on that one) is some time in the past when women wore horribly uncomfortable corsets, heavy dresses and they way they talk sounds just like my Meemaw's King James Bible.

She has a husband whom she both loves and hates who had her killed.

She has a redheaded daughter.

She distrust men, especially her father - and mine.

She looks like me, but has dark hair.

I am stumped. I tried googling it at work today, but there isn't really a term that I can search that isn't incredibly vague, and it's not like I can go ask our research librarian to help me find the possibly fictional woman who is possessing my dreams and making me crave roast duck and apples.

[Sloppy writing. Indication of being a little boozed up.]

Late night 5 dollar black jack at that casino near the hoover dam. let's do this. bus leaving in 10. play till dawn and then throw the winner into the lake.

I bloody hate daylight savings time. Not enough time in the day as it is and you have to go and bloody steal another hour from me.

There have to be other Skyrim players here. How many ingredients do you pick up/harvest/loot BEFORE you start feeling like a serial killer? Before Giant's Toe, or after Ice Wraith teeth?

[Post by Sherlock H.]

[Handwritten. Right after John's departure.]

Has anyone died yet?

[Molly H.]

Molly? [Obviously to no reply.]

[MH]

What did you find on the roof, Mycroft?

[Text to Irene A.]

Watch out for Richard Brook - SH

[Mid-morning. Ring.]

So I need a new job. I can deal cards but I got no experience doing anything else but retail.

I can file or something. Anything, at this point. My standards are low.

[Posted as Tiffani R]

Does anyone have any tips on how to drown out obnoxious twinkling? Especially the judgmental twinkling. It makes it very difficult to work.

[The number was taken from a passing banker on Baker Street, at random.]

[Same text to all parties. Irene A., at her original number. Mycroft H., at the number no one is supposed to know except someone he has cuppa with weekly. John W., expecting his number to be the same.]

Alive. - SH

[Locked to Simon C. and Noah B.]

Saturday, 3pm. Club owner agreed to give us some time to work together. Club's still closed, so we shall have the place to ourselves. Interested?

[Public]

I'm looking for recommendations for a good physical therapist.

[Locked to Elias M]
Elias? From the trolley? The artist?

[Call to Fulton Firm, LLC]
[Ring]

[Written in black ink, fairly neat letters but with no flourish at all. From John W.]

So these are my choices. Trapped in the brain of a girl that's too daft to realize I'm there, though at least I got her to go through the damn door. Or trapped in a city in a flat that is nothing but bad, and that I frankly can't afford any longer. Reenlisting is beginning to look better and better. Someone talk to me before the boredom drives me mad.

[Written quickly, without much thought.]

[Public]
Am I the only one who feels rather better about this entire mess after visiting that hotel? Now is the moment to insult me, for those of you in the audience who enjoy such things.

[Posted on the Las Vegas CraigsList]

Musician looking for local work

Newly arrived in Las Vegas, looking for anyone interested in hiring a pianist. Available for a variety of work, including accompaniment, parties, gigs, etc. I play a variety of styles, including jazz, classical, modern rock.

Please ring me at [702]555-7575

[Micah's handwriting is neat and narrow, cramped together with tall upstrokes]

Strange journals should really come in the mail with instructions included.