Everyone wishes they could change the past.

Monday, 16 May 2011

We have journeyed so long... and yet,

Why recall? To never forget your path.Despite my mentions of a "former friend" which need to be followed up on, I shall not begin that tale immediately. I am still, of course, pondering which bits of it require telling, and why. Some parts of it need no telling, whereas others demand it.

Instead, I shall just note this. Yesterday, I found myself compelled to note the following in my notebook.

18:42 - Whisperer. Wandering around the streets. I do not think it is following me.
I, of course, fled the scene immediately. It doesn't matter that I did not think that it was following me - all that matters is that it was in the city. Whatever it was doing, if it became bored of wandering, it's victim would survive only by it's grace. But this is not a tale about the Whisperer at present.

In any case, the second section of my tale. After leaving (fleeing) home and it's flickering shadows, the runaway - for it is no longer right to call it a child - was soon made aware of the very harsh practicalities of everyday life. Firstly: money, and the lack thereof. As a minor, the runaway could not hold a job in the United Kingdom. Furthermore, she did not have any formal qualifications as such, so getting a job was quite out of the question. Secondly, travel. Given that my funds were limited, the runaway could certainly not use buses or taxis. So, it was walking on foot or risking the train occasionally.

And so on, and so on. Those called "runners" are lucky that they tend to be college-aged, as they call it in America. That's old enough to own a car, get a job and those myriad other things. The runaway had no such benefits, however, and resorted to things which I still find useful to this very day. Pickpocketing, lockpicking, trickery. The trinity of things one needs to survive when one cannot work, has no home and cannot get a job.

In any case, the runaway soon developed these skills -- there was little choice. A small amount (days) of jail-time was required in the teaching, but the runaway managed to stay out of there for any great amount of time. In my wanderings of the length of the country in search of a new home, I met Daniel, and things changed.

I shall leave the story there for now. I have things to ponder.


  1. The Whisperer? As in the Whisperer in the Dark?

    Yes, reading all these "Slenderblogs," I'm amazed to see how many runners actual survive well on the streets. Considering the plight of actual homeless people and what they go through, you would consider people who were not only homeless but had to keep traveling to be, well, worse off.

    And it is curious how a lot of these runners/bloggers are twentysomethings.

  2. The Whisperer is the Whisperer is the Whisperer.

    The most reasonable definition for this is, of course, that many of them are actually fictitious tales and to be disregarded. However, it is difficult to know which are lies and which are truth. It is wrong to disregard the plight of the few due to the mockery of the weak.

    Nevertheless, it is frustrating to think that those in true danger are being ignored because of some idiotic child who thinks laughing at the misfortune of others is a good deed.