#epistorlary

Summary: Bellamy Blake is on his second tour when he emails the only person he can't stand aka the obnoxious Clarke Griffin just because he doesn't have a choice and has managed to push away everyone else from his life. What was a one-time thing turns to be a constant flow of emails.

Tags: AU-Modern setting, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Epistolary, soldier!bellamy, doctor!clarke

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hello Princess,

I know that I said you’re the last person I would ever turn to for help even if the apocalypse came, but don’t feel too smug about this email. The truth is-the apocalypse kind of did come, at least over here, in the form of the worst sand storm this place has seen in over ten years which resulted in us being cut off from the world for the past three days. All the computers had to be fixed and re-installed and it turned out the only email address left was yours.

So yes...I am turning to you. Again, don’t be too smug about it.

I just wanted to know how everyone is doing. Is my sister alright? Is she safe? Do you two have everything you need over there in that crappy apartment you currently reside in? Tell me if I need to send over money, I know my sister will refuse them, but you are smarter than that and I know rent is a pain in the ass.

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

@bjfinn @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun

Sept 9 2025 I hate to always start these entries with “HOLY SHIT” but that’s all I can think. I want out of here. Out of this town. Nothing makes sense and I’m scared.I made a mistake, BJ. I went back to the monolith. I know I shouldn’t have. You told me not to! I should have listened! But I thought maybe I could get more information. I wanted to check out something you mentioned: is not stone? And maybe those people left some clue or something behind. I felt like I was Nancy Drew or something! I took my gun, and felt like that would keep me safe enough. 

Ha. I mean, I was safe. Physically. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach, though. Okay, here’s what happened. I didn’t take Nitro back out. He’s sensible but not exactly fast. I wanted to be able to get the hell out of there if something went down. So I saddled up Mister, who is an off the track Thoroughbred, and we started out. The humming came and went. I’d hear it, then it would go away. Over and over. I kept checking to see if I was bleeding again, but I wasn’t. (I didn’t go to the doctor . . . sorry!) It wasn’t unbearable either, so it was easier to keep going. At the treeline, I left Mister tied and went to the stone. There was a new sound. A buzzing. And a smell.BJ, there was someone on top of the stone. I don’t mean standing. I mean . . . like, broken. The first word that came into my head was sacrificed. At first I thought it was an animal, because the buzzing was from all the flies around it and I could really see much. But then . . . but then . . . I saw a hand. A person was impaled on the top of it. At least one of the points of the stone were sticking through them. They were all flopped out—it was so bad. Blood had dripped down on the sides of the stone. Not all the way to the ground, but close in some places. I know this is going to be the grossest part of it, but I kept walking towards it. The blood had kind of gotten into some of the scratches and I wanted to see if I could read it. Spoiler: I couldn’t. But I took a picture of it on my phone:

I had to leave. The smell was too much and I was getting dizzy again. The buzzing from the flies and the humming kind of merged. When I got home, I took a closer look at the picture, I couldn’t read the words. You run a book store so you’re pretty well read, can you read them? To answer some of the questions you posed: I didn’t get a good look at the people that were there before. I didn’t see anyone’s face. And I guess I should’ve mentioned it the last time but they were  . . . naked. Embracing that thing naked. I don’t know what that means, except everything is bad so it has to be bad too. The ideas of doors . . . that kind of makes sense. What if there is a door that is so big it takes a long time to swing open, and that’s what’s this is? Something getting through the door??? OKAY I’M OFFICIALLY SCARED OUT OF MY MIND LOOK AT THIS: ₭Ⱨ₳Ɽ’ⱫɄⱠ Ø₥ⱤɆ₮Ⱨ ₭₳’₮Ⱨ₳₳Ɽ,

ɄⱠ’VⱤɆ₦ ĐØ₴Ⱨ ₥₳ⱫⱧɄⱤłł—

VØ₭Ⱨ’Ɽ₳, VØ₭Ⱨ’Ɽ₳,

₴Ⱨ₳ł’₮ⱧɄɄ₦ ₦₳Ɽ’VɆⱠ Ø₴₴

BJ, I DIDN’T WRITE THAT. I put this journal down to go get a drink and when I came back, it was there. What the actual fuck?!

intro, chap 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

@hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @bjfinn

Friday Feb 12th, 1993

Been thinking about my store being gone. I know nothing lasts forever, so it's not ... I mean, it's okay, I guess. It just makes me sad, you know? That nobody kept it going after I ... after whatever happens to me. I wonder when it closed? What happened to the books? Did anyone feel bad about it? Does anyone in the future remember me?

No, I don't really want to know – like you said, it might mess up the timeline. And besides, I don't think I could handle knowing. Knowing might stop me from doing what needs to be done. And I have enough of a problem with executive dysfunction as it is.

Maybe you're right – maybe I moved away after all this. Maybe in your time I'm a retired Broadway star ha ha!

Still no word from Tom – but at least I know he's not dead. Thank you for that. Sorry to hear that he's such a heavy drinker in the future – he always liked a tipple or two, but it was rare for him to go overboard like that.

Okay, on to your latest experience with the stone.

I've been doing some thinking, and I think you're right – we're only aware of it because we live here. Maybe visitors wouldn't necessarily notice because they wouldn't know it was anything unusual, right? Especially if they're focused on staying in their saddles!

The people you saw hugging the stone – were they locals? What did they look like? Were they dressed like regular people, or were they wearing robes or something, like some kind of cult? Anything you can remember could help, no matter how small. And whoever they are, I think you should keep your distance – they're probably nuts, and they could be dangerous.

I do think you're right that we need to stay away from the stone – it almost sounds radioactive, or something. And somehow, a swaying monolith sounds even more dangerous. As far as the inscriptions, I don't think we'd be able to read them – they might not be meant for us.

I want you to get checked out by a doctor right away – mention the bleeding to them, but obviously not the monolith. I need to know that you're gonna be alright.

As far as the dude in black, I'm still not convinced that he's bad – I'm pretty sure he helped me get out of the fog last time. He might not be able (allowed?) to actively help, but I think ... fuck, I don't know what to think. He puts me in mind of some figure from one mythology or another, but I'll be damned if I can remember more than that. I'll keep trying to figure that out – who knows, it might be important. Then there's his raven companions – ravens aren't usually seen as evil. They remind me of Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn ("Mind" and "Will"), but then this guy has three ravens. So I did some digging, and found a medieval Danish ballad called "The Valravn", about a knight that's transformed into a raven, and whose curse can only be broken by the blood of a little boy. Pretty gruesome, but it supports my idea that they're not working with the Terror. Of course, I could be waaay off the mark. So it's best, I think, to proceed with caution around this guy – at least until we know for sure.

I just hope we don't need to sacrifice a kid to stop this thing.

I can hear the humming all the time now – it's very faint, but it's there. Allison Grant (she comes in after school 3 days a week to help out) says she doesn't hear anything, though – so maybe it's only people who've had direct contact with either the fog or the monolith that can hear it.

Since Tom is still alive in 2025, that tells me that this thing uses illusion and mind manipulation – not really a surprise, since it seems to erase everyone's memory when it goes dormant or whatever, but it's still information, and any information is good to have.

I just got an idea ... let me check something.

Okay, so I did some research on the mythology of illusion, and I found something. The ancient Greeks had this idea that dreams passed through one of two gates, depending on whether the dream was true or false.

True dreams passed through the gate of horn, false dreams through the gate of ivory.

What if the monolith isn't marble or some other stone, but ivory? Or at least, something that might've been mistaken for ivory in ancient times?

If any of this is right, then we're dealing with a ... dream weaver, I guess you could call it. One that specializes in nightmares and terror. And how do you conquer a nightmare?

By waking up.