A Faint Coffin of Scents - Accounts (1-20)

[Warning : Parts of some transcripts might be unfaithful, propably more so as the few last accounts are reached. Source has been judged highly unpredictable and tends to embellish the grammar and phrasing. Witnesses have been judged unreliable, doubtful at best.]

Account 1

I felt like a tourist drowned during a trip to his own body. Before even reaching the airport.
My head hurt like tangerines pressed. So tight.
Some... pressure... maintained me under the surface of a... wave. Sound wave, I... think.
That's when I saw it. It was me, but a flesh version of me. The real me, but with the appearance of meat. I felt like a reflexion. A projecti-i-i-i-i-i-i-

[The repetition of i's here is believed to have been caused by a brief earthquake. Other sources of information seem to point in that direction. Dashes added by Rewrite. In the file, Source doesn't make any comment on the i's he typed.]

-on of myself. Like the sense I had always seen in myself was a construction of light through a prism.
Then, I fell.
The carpet was soft and evaporating quickly under my hot skull. It was so hot.

[Pause. "Ink refill.", notifies Source. He also adds that the typewriter runs out of ink more and more frequently. He states that he believes it to be a manifestation of, to a̲v̲o̲i̲d paraphrasing him, "the bad tobacco brand in the air".]

Then, I heard the mirror crack, but in reverse. Like a reconstruction of something. I later realized that it was my cup breaking into pieces against the flooring.

NOTES on Account 1
__

- Why is the previous account referenced as "account 1" while it's clearly n̲o̲t̲ the first one?

(Later added : the numbering for the entirety of the accounts makes no sense. Is it voluntary? Did Source number the accounts, or were they labeled by Rewrite?)

- Who is Source?
- Why not ensuring the witnesses' traceability? Their names aren't written down anywhere, nor is any additional information about them.

_____L. Waker_____

Account 2

My hand was broadcasting my thoughts. Through the lines, carefully mapped, but flying away into the air. The air felt dense with words, like a strangling gas curling around the throat.

I felt a snake of fuel make fruits flourish at the back of the car, and then I knew I was trapped.

[Here Source says that he asked the witness to repeat his last word. He wasn't sure the witness hadn't said "tracked". The witness eluded the question.]

The driver, he coughed a yellow gum. It stretched all over the dashboard.
He struggled against something.
I couldn't say what, sir.

[Source notes that the man has started to quiver at that point. He decided to stop the interview.]

[Between Account 2 and Account 3, Source has slipped a note. Here is a transcript of the said note :]

"The keys of my typewriter are starting to become greasy. It's mildly disturbing. Yesterday evening, I spent at least fifty minutes observing the fan performing its duty, without even realizing it. It took the sound of a motorcycle to awaken me from my trance-like state."

Account 3

SOURCE : Please begin. I will interrupt you only if I feel like I need clarification. I won't try to influence you in any way. You are free to tell it the way you wish to.

WITNESS : There is no good way to tell it. I will lie to you, a lot. I don't want to, of course, but it's not relatable.

SOURCE : The way you wish to tell it.

WITNESS : Right. (there, he whispers) Wrong.

SOURCE : Sir?

WITNESS : ...

SOURCE : Please, take your time.

(There he stops talking for at least another 2̲0̲ minutes, before saying.)

WITNESS : I was walking my dog. (he hesitates) And I felt like it was my dog walking me. I knew the feel of leather around my throat, the leash so close. I was bathed in its scent, and I didn't like it.

[Account stops here. Continued on page _ _ _ ]

NOTES on account 3
__

The rest of the account is not on page _ _ _ . I haven't been able to find it yet, if it exists. On page _ _ _ is the end of a sentence, totally unrelated to account 3, but linked to account 102.

The end of the sentence : "because you can't ever stop scratching.".

_____L. Waker_____

Additional NOTES on account 3
__

The text :
" Account stops here. Continued on page _ _ _ "
seems like a self-contradicting statement.

_____L. Waker_____

[Here, we find another note by Source , transcripted by Rewrite :]

"
'And the gray sunflower poised against the sunrise,
Crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog
and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye -
[...]
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
my soul, I loved you then!'
, A. Ginsberg - 'Sunflower Sutra'

"

NOTE on the previous note by Source
__

The exact quote is in fact :
'And the gray sunflower poised against the suns̲e̲t̲,
Crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog
and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye -
[...]
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
my soul, I loved you then!'

_____L. Waker_____

Account 4

I was listening to the radio. Suddenly, it was sound waves turning into tsunami mouths, gaping, rabid with foam.

I hid under the kitchen table, holding the cat close to my chest, until it dug into it, the feline thing burying itself inside my chest, out of fear, the waves roaming all over me.

I caught my hat, don't know why, my fingers just happened to waltz around and took the fedora. It felt sticky. The cat meowed a hollow sound that turned into one, little salty wave. I breathed deep, inhaling cat hair and coughed violently.

I remember calling for my wife and the sound of my voice turning into a yellow, dark hurricane.

Fists tightened around the brim of the fedora, I crawled and curled up and thought I would die, my cat being choked inside my chest.

Then, a marine air was engulfed into my lungs and I surfaced, the cat running away.
It was over, I understood.

Account 5

Devouring ideas that whisper, like vinegar licking at old wounds.
It was a part of me that didn't want to stay still and it rose, it jumped and started running towards me.
The taxi driver smiled at me and my fingers tightened around the black leather, trying to find a safe place away from the mirrors.
I found it and was back.

Account 6

W. : It was night.
The damn thing kept nagging at me.

S. : The damn thing?

W. : Night. It kept invading my life. Every single day, there would be night at the corner of...

Account 7

It was measuring me.
The dark rabbit of thoughts leaping out of my ears, I swear to God.
It was clinging to my arm, horribly, but painlessly. On the contrary, like a rabid painkiller biting everywhere with its long nails.

I called for help, and it was gone in a second.

Account 8

Government and stuff, all the thing of the system, system for systematic nagging of the honest citizen, sir, except honest only means easily tricked now. But that. That thing was different, but so... Ah.
It wasn't like '65, aliens and stuff and here I'm not saying it couldn't have been, not saying that, sir, but it had something more. Not saying, but, with all the light and stuff, sir...