My name is matthew, and I am known as a man who dose not exist. Of course I exist, I must as a writer exist. However, as an expert on the occult, several artifacts have crossed my desk over several years, working for a part of the local university. I also maintain the acquaintance of several individuals, who’s contributions made them pivotal, in the month s that followed.
My only real association is with the systems of a local collage, in the center of our city. It took me quite some time to reach sanctuary, or to see it as a survivable compromise, of my gracious host, who plays one part confessor, and one part editor for the underground publisher of my literary contribution. They are the stag, of the situation, meeting and greeting the celebrities, that pass through the central part of our city. To describe any one person as wolfish by comparison, is not giving the wolf enough of a chance. At any rate though, there personality keeps me on the right track, and they also to there credit, keep things family friendly. It is a remarkable quality, that helps to uncover the love at the heart of the cold city.
The social scene, has seen its share of gangsters over the years. I wisely bow out of these more competitive ranks of company men, authoring noteations, descriptions, and scenarios, with the clever idea, of one day piecing together all these parts of the descriptive truth, as I see it. With many novels I undertook, I began writing with this in mind, just getting words down on the type set machine, I had been awarded for breaking the curse of writers block. I was not told how things where working in my city, instead I was assured that the best minds where working to my credit, regardless of if I ever set pen to paper.
There are seasons where fantastically famous stars come into the city center, and there onterage, or company, leaves behind a certain level of personality, expectation, and even radio personality. I really wanted to tap into some of that modern myth, as a way to connect with a golden era of American politics. The 50s gangster, is about as perfect for that, as it gets. Full of L.A. shear, and lingerie sunsets. These are the curtains that frame my only window on an America, that we should all understand as the force behind the modern america. When they talk about class, or the american dream, or making America great, this is likely what they are talking about.
There is one single event, that leads us through that window into the past, but it’s a familiar world of dark twisting vistas, and heavily misted viewpoints. You have to put yourself, into someone else’s shoes, for a minute, to understand the Hollywood stars. Some of those corners, are the only safe place where identity, is not questioned. The anonymity of normal life, is catered to, for personalities, that are otherwise held up to scrutiny. It is not fair, even I realise, that the modern reflection of every day life, is cultivated beauty. Society associated money, with beauty, and all that virtue costs, in our modern time. The city secrets, are about that. Speak-easy became private chamber, and tours became common paths, until the story is just normal people stepping into the shoes of Hollywood stars for a romantic getaway. Sure, she might only be her for a day, but what a day.
Somewhere in all of this are some of the most haunted locations, and they could really only be haunted by people living. Lights, smoke and mirrors, and stage magic. Where these performances take place, actors hone the craft, into a exceptional talent. I thought I was done with it, after the millennium, and that there where no other subjects my research couldn’t have enlightened. Once again, I was proofed wrong at the very critical moment, when needed most. While there are some few colorful moments for most students, before anyone sets up there own company, young people are edgy, and know they take a great picture, so there involved in all the dirt. At the very moment, that spirit I challenged appeared, and was likely about to either save me or ring my neck, I’m not sure which it was. I tried to explain my pail writers complexion, and bloodshot eyes, from remaining up till dawn on station, for about ten years. I could figure out a lot, but the fatal flaw, was the basic perception that all these agents where somehow upgradeable, into an elite spy personality. I looked at the puzzle piece, and I am not sure why. Why working on that book, a book of ghosts, a collection of ghost stories. A guilded gold edged collective work, into which I absently had folded my letters. I had planned to review this at a later time, and take the change in my pocket, for a cup of hot coffee, then I planned to jot down the few notes and begin work on the next part of my book. Maybe adding from my files, or filling in description I worked out before the millennium.
Basically, I was up all night, available every night, and at all hours of the longest nights of the year. I knew my work was experemental, people might not identify with the long nights I put in, they sometimes found me exhausted to the point, that they made famous mention of how far I pushed my physical limit. Still, the best help money could buy, couldn’t produce a total cure for writers block, so I stare anyway.
They left behind a puzzle piece, a key, or something. My keys where in my pocket, that quick anyway. It’s not like I was keeping track of anyone else who’s path would have led them to a corporate board room. That is what people expected, of someone like us, but our stars as corporate mages, are just a Street-lamp lit a little brighter, for our time. So, in that light, it sort of all makes sense. The phantom disappears, in plain sight. In a closed off room with no obvious doors windows, or other ways in or out.
Illusions of some magic trick, maybe, but the puzzle piece is left there, and that is very real.
I recognize the look, the marking from one of the masks, but masks of this type, are usually sold in two parts; not one. It means accomplished fame, or somehow challenging the paradigm. Immediately, something came to mind about that mask, it was one of the most traditionally successful masks of all history. I think ritual, is a fair description, to begin to explain the situation a bit better. The phantom of our time, is already an impossible individual. To even exist, you have my sympathy, but at the time, they are in no way a match, for the powers behind Hollywood. Once these rights and records of proofs, resurrection, and summoning come to the forefront of pop culture, the result is very like other times in history. This includes a sort of record, of the phantom, having connections to other eras. I might really examine the movement of musical information with any of these, but it is not the phantom in question. It is the apprentice, or the individual who was empowered by the phantom mask, and that could be anyone; even you the reader. Not that I would engage you in such a test of wills, quite the contrary, the world was previously on the brink of the greatest war of all history, and the phantom played a largely secret role in that. I believe that you could have yourself examined each previous phantom, and the future phantoms (from the point of view of the past), and well understood how grim a future example was.
A prophesy recorded in the respective style, that I had fore-mentioned. This particular mask kept altering its image, like a reflection in a pool of water, never quite sure if it is the color you think it is, or if a shadow, or if it appeared wraithlike, or even ethereal. It sort of tends to describe the world events, by illustrating the relative state of the human soul. Selecting the relevant parts of historical garments, they had represented as the ‘unbroken’ tradition of phantoms. Even if there are only about six on display. These are not the official oracle, by any means, and are more of a rebellious instruction toward connections based within there moment in time. What I mean, is that the impossible life deemed responsible for this, was one part instruction, one part musical movement, and one part garment. If an original phantom existed, it did so, within the restriction of these rules. The agreements also being, that resurrection exists within a state of being, that is essentially a phantom. I am not sure that I have described this well enough, to be completely understood. The goal of a phantom is, to observe these garments, and record any changes that are witnessed. Because they indicate a way, to remotely observe the states of time. Ionic time sort of looming shadows, and survivable furthering Corinthian, design that is inclusive of the very systems, that designed the original phantom powers. The phantom observes changes in its own mask.
At one time I believed that the basic masking would be a useable base design, that had been left untapped, or somehow overlooked. The reason was not one phantom, but because of millions. This is the sort of association that the phantoms described, as a movement. I hope that this is helpful, to describe the state of a life, that was returned from the kingdom of death. The phantom, had planned for these leaps in time, and powerfully, represented a western lord at others, they included designs and equipment ahead of there invention, and even more incredibly these designs are not halted by there death.