*last post*

It looks like DanneR (real name Warrenna Dennison) won’t be posting anymore to this blog. But if you’d like to follow her life, check out

http://thecureforthecurse.com

and you may find what you’re looking for.

See you on the other side.

Uncle PJ

*email from DanneR*

Hello Partiers,

I received an email from DanneR today:

Uncle PJ,

Thanks for your concern, and for all your help with my blog. I’ve moved again. I’m now 1000 miles away from my old life, both from the house I called home, and from the girl I called DanneR.
My parents finally told me the truth, but only because I saw something that unraveled all the lies. Reading my blog shows me where I got my lying techniques. UNR34? What a whopper that was. The thing about my parents’ lies is that each one contains 90% truth.
I – and they – really are addicted to something, it just isn’t a hallucinogenic drug. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out myself.
Of course there aren’t many windows in our houses.
Of course they don’t go out in the sun much.
Of course Dad had a night job.
Of course Mom loves rainy days.
Of course we’ve never been to a real doctor or hospital.
Of course I’ve never come near a church of any kind.
Of course we’ve moved so many times.
We’re addicted to something a lot more common than UNR34, but a whole lot worse. It was in my visions, and now I know it was in the Last Resort.
It’s blood. Living, human blood.
My parents are infected with a vampire curse, but Z keeps their symptoms in check. They don’t hurt people. They’re not evil. Unless you count all the lying. But then that would make me evil too. Maybe I am.
What devastates me the most about all this is that Mom and Dad were infected before I was conceived. They knew I’d be cursed from the start, but they let me be born anyway. My ‘infection’ isn’t nearly as bad as theirs, but they still damned me before I took my first breath. Why would they do such a thing?
Maybe they really are evil.

Anyway, I’m guessing that if you know my parents, then you knew the truth about us. I know you never lied to me, and I also know that you never told me the truth. But I’m not mad at you. I suspect my parents would’ve ‘punished’ you if you told me anything before they did.
I won’t be continuing the blog. DanneR is long gone, and her words were written from behind so many veils of lies that it’s pointless to continue. Maybe someday I’ll start another blog. But it won’t be soon.

I do have a favor to ask, though. Please tell my friends Deni, Mel and Corbett that I’m all right, that my parents are in trouble with the law and that I’ll try to visit them someday. I miss the crew, but they can’t ever know where I am or why I left. It would mean a lot to me if you did this.
Now I’ve got to go. I can’t promise that I’ll stay in touch. I’ve got a lot to think about these days.

Renna

(one more post to follow)

lost

I don’t know where I am. The ground is rocky and dry, and brown mountains line the horizon. I can’t see any houses, or roads, or fences, or any other sign of civilization. We’ve spent two days in this trailer, waiting for what dad calls our ‘contact’ to get us to some place called ‘Bascomville.' There’s a gas generator here and a dozen tanks filled with fuel. Countless bottles of water and canned food. Like a bomb shelter whose only real protection is being in the middle of nowhere.
We’re traveling at night, but I keep falling asleep. Each time I wake up it feels a little warmer outside, so we must be going south.
Every time I close my eyes I hope that sleep will somehow spring me from this nightmare.
Something is terribly wrong with mom. I saw the changes happen right in front of me. I keep seeing that red in her eyes, like ripe cherries. It keeps showing up it in my reflection.
But I must’ve imagined it. There’s no way all this can be real. My parents must be lying to me. Probably because they think I can’t handle the truth.
Mom’s been awake about four hours in the last week. She tells me not to worry, that Z will protect us. But how can you get protection from yourself?
I have to go. If dad wakes up to find me using his laptop and SATphone he’ll change all his passwords again.

*anybody heard from DanneR?*

Hello again DanneR Party,

If anyone has heard from DanneR I ask that you please, PLEASE let me know. Her family did not show at our arranged rendezvous, and all prior phone numbers have been changed.
I’m very worried. DanneR has a condition that can be dangerous both to herself and to anyone around her. I can help her, but only if I know where she is. I can be reached at 604-678-5811.

Thanks for your help,
Uncle PJ

PS If you see DanneR InRealLife do NOT approach her. Call or Email me immediately with last known whereabouts and I will make sure she is taken care of.

*note from Uncle PJ*

Hello DanneR Partiers,

This is Uncle PJ, the web guy. I just wanted to let all of you know that I got word today that DanneR and her family had to suddenly move from their prior location. I don’t know the details, but I will be meeting up with them later on this weekend. I will let you know then if DanneR is planning to continue her blog.

Thanks for reading,
Uncle PJ

better

Wow, do I feel better. It’s like that balance beam has been replaced by a wide, rolling prairie and the winds are calm.
I apologized to Deni & Mel for acting so strangely. They were cool about it – “we all have our rough patches” – but they wish I’d share with them what was going on. Real friends tell each other things. I told them that I had a bad reaction to some ‘behavioral medicine’, and implied that my parents were fighting.
I wonder if I’ll ever stop lying. But I just can’t tell my friends that I’m dependent on an illegal/illicit drug and will be for the rest of my life. Not that they’d rat me or my parents out. I just don’t think they’d believe me. And I’d rather actually be a liar than be thought one.
I didn’t see Corbett today, but he’s got a hug coming his way when I do. One of these days I’ll get up the courage to call him.
So I’m on this UNR34 for the rest of my life. But it won’t be so bad. I only need it every once in a while now, and Aunt T@mmi3 will show me how she makes her mixtures. She says she’s got enough of it to last me about 50 years.
I can never go to a doctor, but I’ve got Aunt T@mmi3, and when she gets too old she’ll pass on her knowledge to another friend of the family. I can’t have kids, of course, but I knew that already.
I do wonder what having all that UNR34 in my system for so many years has done to me, though. Maybe it’s where my paintings come from. And maybe my dreams are all memories of the trips I’ve taken.
Who knows?
I wish my parents would trust me a little more, stop trying to protect me from everything. If they’d just told me the truth I wouldn’t have gone through all this. Maybe this episode has taught them something.
But I doubt it.

DanneR

Song Stuck In My Head: “Trust”, by Megadeth

revelations

Wow, where to begin? I guess with school, which was another struggle to stay awake and not get paralyzed with fear whenever anyone mentioned the future. I really hoped Corbett would show again, but no luck.
When Mom and I get to the house, Dad’s awake, and Aunt T@mmi3 and Uncle V are there. “DanneR,” Dad said, “it’s time you knew the truth.”
Yes, they’d heard everything on the tape, but they don’t think I did any of it. I tell them that I know I did, I remember things like those initials in the boys bathroom, that spray- painted P in the ceiling.
But my dad said he remembered the P from the open house last year. That room was where my Geography teacher was, and the ceiling tile was moved for some kind of maintenance, and he’d seen that P and made a bad joke about if this is the P room, he sure didn’t want to see what was in the BM room.
And one day Uncle V picked me up from school because I was sick; he used the boy’s bathroom, then asked me if I knew anybody with the initials MLG, because he liked their work. Somehow MLG had managed to carve his (her?) initials into solid concrete.
So I’d never seen the P or the MLG, but I’d been told about both of them.
So I was confused, but Aunt T@mmi3 started to explain. The Last Resort contains a powerful – and illegal – hallucinogen called UNR34; and on those two days I was a little sleep-deprived, and that was enough to get me to do some tripping. In that hypnosis session with Uncle V I reported what I’d hallucinated. I later remembered it during that chanting in the basement.
Apparently people are mostly zombies while they’re tripping on UNR34, and that’s probably all I did during the trip: just kinda space out and drool a little. We’ll never know why I decided to climb that shelf in the library, but Aunt T@mmi3 thinks it was because I was cold, and I thought it might be warmer up there. She thinks Clint didn’t see me touching myself. I was shivering and rubbing my skin to get warm.
This UNR34 dredges up stuff from the darkest parts of your subconscious and practically brings that stuff to life. In my case I saw myself doing these wild, bizarre things that a cavewoman might do. My family didn’t tell me because if I didn’t remember what I hallucinated, then I wouldn’t be disturbed by how strange I thought I was acting. They just wanted to get me to move on; they didn’t count on me remembering it on my own.
So why the hell was I given a powerful hallucinogen?
Because I’ve needed the UNR34 all my life. It’s the best treatment they’ve found for my illness.
Apparently I have an extremely rare disorder in my blood, something about white blood cells being unpredictably aggressive toward regular stuff in my body. The doctors in a major city in the eastern United States that rhymes with ‘Floston’ knew that UNR34, besides making people trip profoundly, happened to do a decent job on getting my whiteys to behave. But the doctors didn’t see regular doses of UNR34 as an acceptable treatment – they said they didn’t want me to spend my life tripping off and on. So they convinced my parents to let them try some experimental drugs on me.
And I nearly died in the process. Spent three weeks in a coma when I was 2.
This apparently made my already distrustful parents swear off doctors forever. But the only drug they knew that could help me was a controlled substance.
So they stole a crapload from a pharmacy and left town. They’ve been managing my dosage of UNR34 with Aunt T@mmi3’s help all my life. Apparently Aunt T@mmi3 is brilliant, because I don’t need much anymore. And while I used to trip a lot as a kid, I’d just zombie out for a while and I never remembered what I saw when I tripped. This latest episode happened because Aunt T@mmi3’s dose of UNR34 was a little too strong. She apologized over and over to me, said she’d give me some sleep-aids that I’ll take for two weeks after my next dose of The Last Resort, and that should hopefully keep me from tripping.
Well, this certainly does explain the doctor thing.
Apparently UNR34 will show up in any urine or blood sample I give because my body is teeming with it. To anybody looking in it looks like my parents are feeding me acid pretty regularly. And it explains why Dad has always been dodgy about police. For all he knows, he and mom are still wanted in a major eastern city that rhymes with ‘Floston.’
What I don’t get is the secrecy. Why not just tell me so I could be prepared for any tripping?
They said they wanted me to live as normal a life as possible, to at least think that I was just like everybody else. I guess I can understand that.
My brain is swimming with thoughts, but I gotta go. I guess the most important thing is that it looks like I didn’t actually do those freaky things. But I’m dependent on a controlled substance, and it looks like I will be for the rest of my life.

DanneR

there's nothing to be done

I’m walking on a balance beam. Below me is a fall so great that I can’t see the bottom. And a fierce wind is blowing.
I kept crying at school today, which seemed to distract both the other kids and my teachers. Everybody kept asking me if I wanted to talk about it. I always answered with “There’s nothing to be done.”
I didn’t do anything bizarre or hurt any friends. Though I nearly decked Deni in English. It took me half a second to remember that I’d asked her to pinch me whenever I looked like I was drifting to sleep. I wonder what I would have done if she hadn’t pinched me.
This beam I’m walking down, I’m not sure where it’s going. It might end in a big pot of boiling oil for all I know. I’ve got to keep my eyes on my feet, because I know I don’t want to fall.
Corbett found me waiting outside again. But he wasn’t cutesy. Maybe Mel told him how weird I’ve been acting. He didn’t ask me if I wanted to talk about it. He just sat next to me on the sidewalk and offered me his headphones.
This incredible song was playing. It didn’t have any singing, but it still sounded so wonderfully, stunningly sad…
Before I knew it I was asking Corbett if he’d ever done anything that he’d never thought he was truly capable of doing.
He nodded. Then he lit a cigarette and said,

“Finding out what you’re truly capable of makes every good thing you do that much more meaningful. It makes every moment that you resist temptation a significant victory, because you know exactly what you can do if you ever relent.
“But if you’ve got a decent soul, that bad thing, that mistake you made that led to your self-discovery, it’ll haunt you. And it doesn’t seem to ever go away.”

He didn’t tell me what he’d done, and he didn’t ask what I’d done. He just gave me his cell number and told me I could call him if I ever wanted to talk.
It was just 5 minutes, but it was like the wind stopped blowing and that balance beam became a sidewalk. For a while, anyway. I don’t think I can call him, though. I might accidentally tell him the freakish things I did. And then he’d never want to speak to me again.
That makes me sadder than I’ve ever felt before.

Song Forever Stuck In My Head: Fragments of Memories, Yasunori Mitsuda

siren

I just screamed at my parents for a while, saying I remembered the blacked-out time and that I’m certain I’m going crazy and I should be committed. They said I was being irrational, but if I insisted, they’d have me talk to a therapist. I said fine. When I convince this shrink that I’m crazy they’ll have to put me away. I don’t get to see him until Wednesday. I hope I don’t hurt my friends before then.
Yes, they’re making me go to school. They said being around other people will take my mind off things.
It’s on their heads if I freak out and hurt someone.
Who am I kidding. Of course it’s on my head. I’m the one living in this body. I just need to keep control of myself.

the most wonderful thing that's ever happened

I can’t sleep. I keep having dreams like this:

I run inside our house from being out in the sun, and I feel like I need a shower and I turn on the faucet and I step under the streams and it’s all over me and I’m really excited and I wash my hair with it and my knees are weak and I’m squirming in a puddle of thick filmy blood and it’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened.

Can vampires survive in the daylight? Everything I’ve read says they can’t. Except ‘Blade’, but he was only half. And he was a muscular black man. I’m a skinny white chick. Besides, I know that vampires don’t exist.
Psychopaths do, though.

I am rudderless at sea, just drifting where the waves will take me.
With my black sands cupped in my hands.
If I made coffee from my sand, how would the drink taste? Like cyanide? Sour milk? Flat cola?
If I made Adrian drink the coffee from my black sands, what would happen?
Would he become like me? Thrilled to see someone’s life spilling onto his hands?
Or would he puke his guts out, set fire to his tongue and scrape the enamel off his teeth?
Or would he start to bleed?

and then they will dissolve

My glass has cracked, and my black sands have spilled out before me.
It wasn’t the sexual nature of the episodes. Everybody has the hormones and the parts for that.
It was the blood. It is the blood. The bleeding cut over that boy’s eyebrow. Adrian’s bloody tissues all over my hands. They set me off.
They revealed my true nature. One that delights in the pain of others.
I am standing at the bottom of a well, and the rain is slowly pushing the level past my knees. I’m holding my black sands above my head. But they will be mud soon. And then they will dissolve.
And still my parents do nothing. Maybe they’re fooling themselves, pretending it’s just a phase, that it’ll go away like a fad. Like when I wanted to be a tap-dancer when I was nine.
Or maybe they do know, they’ve always known. I’m the reason we don’t see regular doctors, why we’ve moved so much. They’re just waiting for the one destructive act to put me away forever. After all, I haven’t really hurt anyone yet.
Eaten a trashcan’s worth of bloody tissue, yes.
Touched myself on top of a bookcase in the school library, yes.
But hurt someone, no.
Maybe I need to hurt myself to get their attention.
I wonder if I have the courage for that.

epiphany

It’s all true. The visions showed me what I really did, and who what I really am.
I snuck into the boys room, and the initials MLG were carved into the wall above the trash can. I moved the ceiling tile in that empty classroom and saw the orange spray-painted P. Just like in my vision.
I have new respect for Z. And new contempt for myself.
I’m a freak. I’m a monster. I should be locked up before I kill someone.
How many other times have I done this kind of freaky thing?
I can’t escape the feeling that this is who I really am. Beneath my boring, ordinary surface is the real freakish me. A pervert.
Clint and I really would make a good couple.
That last thought alone makes me want to scream until my lungs explode.

the difference between nightmare and memory

What I just had was both.
I chanted for a while (‘I want to remember’) and then my mind wandered. I had visions of what happened in that time that I can’t remember.
I did some freakish things. Disturbing, perverted things. The visions connect the dots, but in such a messed-up way that I get really scared just thinking about it. No way am I typing them here.
Maybe those visions were just my imagination. But I have a way to check. I saw things at the school in the vision, parts of the school I’ve never seen before. I’ve got details branded into my memory.I’ll go to school tomorrow, and those details won’t be there, and I’ll just chalk it up to a bad trip or something. And I’ll never go down to the basement again.

waiting

Mom is tired. I bet she’s going to bed soon, and then I’ll have my chance.
School took forever, and I think I was really bitchy to my friends. I told them my parents were fighting. At least I know one thing about myself: I’m a liar.
But really, what would I say? “There’s parts of two days that I don’t remember, but at the end of one I had blood all over my hands and at the end of the other it looks like I was masturbating on top of a bookshelf. So I’m a little on edge.”
I just heard Mom’s door close. Now’s my chance.

more bits. more questions

I poked around that girl’s restroom. When I was in the stall where I woke up, I had a new memory: flushing the toilet over and over again. But when I try to think about why I was flushing, like what was in the bowl, it gets really fuzzy. And that place below my heart throbs like a hammered finger.
I went into the library – lucky for me Clint wasn’t there – and I went to that shelf. My heart pounds, and I start breathing heavily, and when I touch the shelf, I get a vision:
A boy with dark hair, older than me but still high school age, holding a red cloth to his eyebrow. Blood is spilling down his cheek, down his neck in little streams. The eyebrow is swelling, and he’s got a swollen lower lip. I didn’t recognize the face.
I saw the vision, and that place below my heart throbbed like a stubbed toe.
I spent a couple hours going through my old yearbooks, but I didn’t see that face. So who the hell is that boy? And did he really inspire me to sneak to the library, climb a ten-foot bookshelf and start Jilling up there?
That’s CRAZY! I would never, ever do that in public! All my experimenting – and believe me, it’s been tame and infrequent - has been done at home, behind locked doors.
Maybe it’s not as innocent as that. Maybe I hurt that boy, and couldn’t contain the ecstasy I felt from the act.
Maybe I killed him and stashed the body somewhere. Then climbed that shelf to celebrate.
No, that’s even CRAZIER! I could never do that, not even to Clint!
But the fact remains that I don’t know what I did on either of those days, and my parents don’t want me to know.
I wish I had somebody to talk to about this. I’m afraid I’m spiraling, digging down deeper from delusion to delusion, and nobody’s at the surface to throw down a rope.
Talking to the ether is comforting, but the ether doesn’t provide many answers. Just nonjudgmental silence.
…I just thought of someone I could ask. I should’ve put it together when that place below my heart kept hurting.
I can try to talk to Z.
Not that I really believe in Z. But there’s some connection between my memories and that feeling I got from the Cleansing, so maybe something will come to mind if I meditate down there. I don’t know what else to do.
…Crap, Mom’s down there chanting. It could be hours. I’ll have to try tomorrow.

DanneR

confused

I’m in a daze. Everything’s out of focus, and people’s voices are flat. It’s like I’m haunting my own body.
Another shock today in Painting. I was sitting there, thinking about that website I found last night, and Adrian nudges me. He says I look really intense, like after he came out of the bathroom when he had that bloody nose. Like I was trying to crack a safe, or hear the termites in the walls.
I say no, I didn’t see you when you came out. I went into the girl’s room.
He says no, you were standing right there, with that same look on your face. He says I told him that I felt queasy but that I wanted to make sure he felt okay. He says I said I’d be back in just a minute, but then he never saw me again.
This does not jive with what Uncle V told me I said under hypnosis.
? What the hell? Adrian has no reason to lie to me about a little detail like that.
So that means Uncle V lied to me about what I said under hypnosis. I know he recorded our conversation, and this evening I asked Mom if I could hear the tape.
She said Uncle V has it, but I really shouldn’t worry about the past. There’s nothing anyone can do to change it, she said. She didn’t change her attitude when I told her that some details aren’t matching. She said Adrian must be mistaken, or I’m remembering wrong. That happens with memories, she says. In any case, I should forget about it and move on.
I didn’t tell her about Clint.
There’s no way I’m going to get that tape. And even if I could track down Uncle V, I bet he would sing the same song that Mom did.
Are they really lying to me? Why would they do that? More so-called ‘protecting’ me from the world?
Or maybe I did something awful and my parents are just trying to cover it up.
I’ve got to find out what really happened during those two days at school. I’ve got to know what I’m capable of. But how?
Maybe I’ll remember something if I return to the scenes. I haven’t been back to that girl’s room on the other side of the school yet. And I haven’t seen that library shelf up close.
I’ll do it tomorrow.

oh my god

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=jack+and+jill

Is that what I was doing up on that shelf? Clint obviously thinks so.
Why does he think so? Is he just a delusional creep? Or was I really…
I’ve got to find out, but I don’t know how.
What kind of person does that stuff in a public place?
Am I that kind of person?