<div class="floatright">(http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p121/Mab_faerie/Elliquiy/Fatal%20Frame%20RP/84ff483c-a05f-4f5c-86d1-6e055251a06e_zps5e4795f7.jpg)</div><br/><strong> John Nakajima<br/>Unknown location<br/>Inventory: Messenger bag, cellphone, strange journal, note pad, pens, pocket magnifying glass/reading lens, keyring.</strong><br/><hr/>After a frustratingly fitful five hours of sleep, John woke to an incongruously sunny, cheerful morning. Grumbling quietly to himself, he quickly showered and dressed before shuffling to the counter to heat water for his morning coffee. Once he had a few sips of the potent brew, admittedly stronger than most would consider potable, he was feeling human enough to start planning his course of action for the day. Fortunately most of his classes only required students be present for exams and lectures, which meant he could take his time at the library researching and crosschecking whatever he could find.<br/><br/>Exactly what he was looking for, he wasn't sure, but as he warily glanced over the rim of his mug at the seemingly normal journal on his desk, he had a feeling something would pop up... He had to suppress a shiver at the memory of the odd compound dream which had kept him from a proper night's sleep. Just who, or more probably what, had been there behind him?<br/><br/>Blinking in mild surprise at himself, John gave his head a slight shake. "<em>Nannen wa</em><sup>1</sup>... It was just a dream, I shouldn't let it get me distracted..." Finishing off his coffee, he sighed and set the mug in the sink. He wouldn't, no he couldn't, dismiss this all as a coincidence or simply a case of overworked nerves. If there was even the slightest chance of something spiritual, or otherwise supernatural going on, well... It would certainly make for an interesting story, at the very least.<br/><br/>After a quick shower and dressing, John pulled on a light jacket and, after a brief internal debate, placed the strange journal in his messenger bag without looking in it. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by seeing his own thoughts spelled out before his eyes, practically before he could sort through them himself. Putting that out of his mind for the moment, he grabbed his phone, keys, and a spare note pad, reassuringly mundane, and headed out for the library.<br/><hr/><br/>"Shouron wo moutahen nakatta<sup>2</sup>... Nrgh... The more I read, the more I'm convinced Takamine-Sensei was on to something... If only he hadn't gone to that mansion..." John scratched the back of his head in frustration at the lack of solid information contained within the stacks of books he had gathered into the private reading room and stacked about the table before himself, higher than the top of his head. All he needed was something to point the right way and he could figure out the next step forward, but aside from a small news article detailing his disappearance, it was almost as though Takamine had simply vanished altogether.<br/><br/>With a sigh, John stretched his arms overhead until he felt his spine give a satisfying pop, releasing some of the tension from staying hunched over for so long. With a glance he had to estimate there were at least two dozen books remaining in his "unread" pile, but he was starting to think that he might be approaching this from the wrong angle. He was looking for information on supernatural objects, so why wouldn't he try to make use of the very subject of his curiosity?  Deciding that made as much sense as just digging through more semi-related information, he pulled the strange journal from his bag and set it on the table, eyeing it warily for a moment as he re-convinced himself that opening it really was a good idea.<br/><br/>The page marker had definitely moved since last night, at least twenty pages more were jammed with his mixed writing, though it became much more crowded on the recent pages, reflecting the moderate sense of chaos he felt his thoughts were trying to form out of. Nothing terribly useful, as far as he could tell, just more unsettling self-writing notes. He was about to dismiss the idea as a waste of time when he turned the most recent page and found a scrap of yellowed paper folded up and pressed into the book.<br/><br/>It was a hand written note, very neatly written, the penmanship of a professional as far as he could tell...<br/><br/><em> The man is gradually more and more influenced by the legends. The work will be the story of this man, proceeding in parallel with the tales of the local lore. Records of the past discovered after an earthquake. The story gradually blurs the boundary between the present and the past...</em><br/><br/>Blinking in surprise, John set the scrap down beside the journal as quickly as if it were on fire.<em>This was written by Takamine-sensei, about his new work... But how?! Sonnai wa<sup>3</sup>...</em>The words appeared so quickly that he couldn't be sure whether he was thinking them or reading them first, and John suddenly felt the overwhelming surety of being watched return full-force. This time, however, he felt the temperature in the room drop just as quickly as his stomach, and rather than creep up on him silently, whatever was there was making a strange scraping, dragging sound as it approached the door to the reading room.<br/><br/>With every passing moment John felt the tension in his chest winding tighter and tighter. Just like before, he just knew that whatever was there had less than pleasant intentions, and he needed to do something about it... and this time he actually managed to get himself to move. As quickly as he could while keeping silent, he scooped up his notes and the journal and stuffed them into his bag, his eyes never leaving the door.<br/><br/>The dragging sound was replaced just outside the room by a slow, dull scratching along the door itself, as though long nails or something sharp were being run down the frame. Unable to completely crush his curiosity, John found himself edging silently to the door, one hand hesitantly raised to the handle, the other tightly gripping the shoulder strap of his bag. Just before his fingertips reached the door, the sounds stopped entirely, which unnerved him at least as much by itself, but of course at that moment the overhead lights flickered out as well.<br/><br/>Caught up again in the uneasy sense of indecision between his instincts and sense of investigative curiosity, John took a few steps back towards the table, pulling his phone from his pocket add he did, for what sparse light it could provide. He briefly considered the possibility that he had fallen asleep while reading again, but that theory was shattered when he felt something grab him around the ankle painfully tight.<em>"Shimotaa!</em><sup>4</sup>" Stumbling in fright, he jerked his foot away and spun to face his attacker, backing quickly against the door with his phone thrust out before himself like a protective talisman.<br/><br/>Peering out from under the table was a pair of dark eyes glittering sharply in the pale light. It appeared to be a young woman propped up on her elbows, one hand still outstretched towards him, as though beseeching him for help. "<em>Ashi... Watashi no ashi... doko desu ka?<sup>5</sup></em>" Her not-quite echoing words only confused him at first, and John was about to respond when the... entity brought her other hand forward with a scraping sound that raised the hair on the back of his neck. As she began dragging herself out from under the table, the source of the sound was revealed to be a large scythe, mottled with rust. If that wasn't enough to get John moving, seeing that she was missing more than her legs certainly was. Her torso ended just about where her hips should have been, in a ragged, gory mess.<br/><br/>Needing no more motivation, and certainly not wanting to test the dream theory further, John whipped around, threw open the door, and dashed through, slamming the door shut behind him. His heart was pounding so powerfully that he could feel his pulse in his hands as he held the door shut with all of his weight. Quickly glancing up and down the hall, hoping to see someone not menacing, he felt his heart pick up even more. He was not in the library hall, or anywhere on campus that he recognized. It looked like he was in an old fashioned, somewhat derelict mansion, the only light in the hall was coming faintly through the slit windows spread intermittently down the hall, and faintly there looked to be... Someone with a flashlight! Not bothering with subtlety, he called out, hoping to get an answer he could understand, "Oya! This... Dare ga?! Ningen ka?!<sup>6</sup>"<br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Translation</div><div class="spoiler_body"><sup>1.</sup>What the heck<br/><sup>2.</sup>I haven't gotten any answers<br/><sup>3.</sup>That can't be...<br/><sup>4.</sup>Shit!<br/><sup>5.</sup>Legs... My legs... Where are they?<br/><sup>6.</sup>Hey! This... Who's there?! Are you a person?!<br/></div></div>