{ You were foolish to think that she was. She's gone. Divorced. DEAD. } [ The old woman is suddenly beside him again as if she had always been there. Always been at his side, guiding him. Helping him write. Why wouldn't she have been there from the start? ] { It's your fault that she's gone. Dead. All she wanted to do was help you write. You got her killed. }
[ As Alan falls to his knees, the old woman reaches over. A gentle but freezing cold hand rests on top of his head. ] { Oh, hush. You forgot. Cauldron Lake is a special place. Here, you have the power to change things. } [ The old woman's hand turns to be outstretched to help him up. ] { I will tell you what to do. You can write her back. The story will come true and all will be well again. }
[ The woman helps Alan to the desk where the typewriter sits. She gently eases him down, hand on the shoulder. She seems to care to some degree that Alan has lost his beloved wife. Even seems set on helping him bring her back. Then, she pauses. Eyes dart straight to the hallway. No one seems to be standing there, but there is. Her face contorts into something monstrous before rushing at the door screaming "YOU!"
The cabin falls dark.
The only illumination from a small desk lamp that allows enough room to see the direct area of the desk. The pages. The typewriter. Beyond the twin windows is something like vast dark ocean. Specs of light can be seen. Echoes of things beyond his reach at the surface. Sometimes, the heavy breathing of a diving suit can be heard.
Yet, one day in that week he had lost, something stands out in the never ending dark ocean. It's far from twinkling lights. Almost like a geometric light pattern that seems to spiral like a sea shell. It floats above the cabin like a star that could point him home.
Barbara Jagger is strict. An editor that that hates any additions to her notes she's given him. It has to be perfect to bring back his wife! No sight seeing, no looking out the windows longingly. All that matters is the work.
Regardless of the sweet things that Jagger whispers in his ear, that pattern remains in the "sky." Sometimes the breathing from the diving suit is louder and a light shines. The pattern becomes more visible until it dims once more. On the day that he decides to look at that pattern, a gentle knock comes at the door to the attic room he has been stuck in.
A bright light comes from under the door.
A voice he didn't recognize then but may now know comes muffled from the other side. ]
no subject
[ As Alan falls to his knees, the old woman reaches over. A gentle but freezing cold hand rests on top of his head. ] { Oh, hush. You forgot. Cauldron Lake is a special place. Here, you have the power to change things. } [ The old woman's hand turns to be outstretched to help him up. ] { I will tell you what to do. You can write her back. The story will come true and all will be well again. }
[ The woman helps Alan to the desk where the typewriter sits. She gently eases him down, hand on the shoulder. She seems to care to some degree that Alan has lost his beloved wife. Even seems set on helping him bring her back. Then, she pauses. Eyes dart straight to the hallway. No one seems to be standing there, but there is. Her face contorts into something monstrous before rushing at the door screaming "YOU!"
The cabin falls dark.
The only illumination from a small desk lamp that allows enough room to see the direct area of the desk. The pages. The typewriter. Beyond the twin windows is something like vast dark ocean. Specs of light can be seen. Echoes of things beyond his reach at the surface. Sometimes, the heavy breathing of a diving suit can be heard.
Yet, one day in that week he had lost, something stands out in the never ending dark ocean. It's far from twinkling lights. Almost like a geometric light pattern that seems to spiral like a sea shell. It floats above the cabin like a star that could point him home.
Barbara Jagger is strict. An editor that that hates any additions to her notes she's given him. It has to be perfect to bring back his wife! No sight seeing, no looking out the windows longingly. All that matters is the work.
Regardless of the sweet things that Jagger whispers in his ear, that pattern remains in the "sky." Sometimes the breathing from the diving suit is louder and a light shines. The pattern becomes more visible until it dims once more. On the day that he decides to look at that pattern, a gentle knock comes at the door to the attic room he has been stuck in.
A bright light comes from under the door.
A voice he didn't recognize then but may now know comes muffled from the other side. ]
｟ Alan? Alan Wake? ｠