Information

Narrate has a minion!

Runner the Bookmark

Narrate
Legacy Name: Narrate

The

Nightmare Jollin
Owner:

Neverending

Age: 13 years, 5 months, 4 weeks

Born: November 6th, 2010

Adopted: 13 years, 5 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: November 6th, 2010

Statistics

Level: 18
Strength: 43
Defense: 43
Speed: 44
Health: 43
HP: 43/43
Intelligence: 168
Books Read: 168
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

NARRATE

Aren't we all in the book?

NARRATE was once upon a time a storyteller. He would read out his stories and it would seem so real. His emphasis on the story, the sorrow in his voice. Even those who would never appreciate a story would have been moved by him. Despite his talents, he felt he was missing something. He wanted to make his voice really make the characters really come out of their pages. After that, he began to study any and every possible way to make them real. He became obsessed leaving everything behind for it. Eventually he became legally insane, but that didn't stop him from his research. Through his trials, he did break out of the asylum. He's now traveling place to place, in complete madness.

I walked into the asylum hearing that my lifetime hero had been detained. I needed to know if it was true, so I came to walk the halls of the Lilian Hospital for the Insane. Despite being a hospital, its more like a jail or an asylum. I continued walking down the corridor, the lights flickering and the walls cracking. I could hear screaming too. I finally turned the last corner to find my friend's cell.

When I saw him, he was huddled in the corner holding a old, torn book. His eyes were probably wide and captivated just like any other time he had read a book. I put my hand on the bars and immediately he large ears jumped. He slowly stood up and turned to my direction. He had a smile on his face, but it didn't speak happiness. It spoke a very different story, one that should have never been written. He stared at me, but I refused to meet his gaze. I finally did after a couple of minutes and it frightened me. His eyes were wide and bloodshot red and his fur was messy and unwashed. He had his old monocle and top hat, but that was the only thing still the same.

This was not the man I knew. This man was twisted and obsessed. How could such a gentle man become so mad? He walked towards the bars and stuck his hand though. He wanted to shake hands. I moved a step back and turned away from him because I knew I couldn't trust him anymore. Finally, I heard a familiar phrase come from his mouth. It was something I said myself years ago.

"My, my. You just don't trust me anymore do you?"

That was when I felt the shock wave through my body. The one that told me 'that man you knew, is never going to be back again'.

Patient Name: Hector Jones - referred by friends as Narrate
Birthdate: October 28th 1950
Age: 30 years old
Gender: Male
Condition: Legally insane
Problems: Tries to make storybook characters real, traveling to extreme levels
Doctor: Jennifer Storms

Patient Notes:
August 18 1974: Came to ward three days ago. Mostly sits in his cell reading. Seems stable and actually quite friendly.
August 23 1974: Still reads most of the time, stopping usually to eat and sleep. Many papers and drawings of theories hung on the walls.
October 28 1974: Patient's birthday. To celebrate, I slipped him a new book to read. Thanked me greatly and spent rest of the week reading.
November 13 1974: Starting to develop strange behavior. Notes indicate trying to crate storybook characters. Cut off his paper supply. Up until now, has been quiet.
December 31st 1974: Patient receives nothing. Behavior is too extreme. Has begun to attack nearby people. He is conducting experiments it seems in his head and on the walls.
January 15th 1975: Patient has blown his cell to bits and escaped. Signs before indicted he was not going to show signs of improvement. What could have been so explosive in his cell? Police search has been launched.
March 1st 1975: Search has been called off. Police suspect he has died or has hidden himself too well. Too much money spent already. His cell has already been repaired. Notes found indicted his plans to escape (not on purpose though).
January 6st 1980: Patient will most likely not be found. We have lost hope. It has been five years since his escape.

Recorded Encounter With Hector Jones:
As written by long-time friend and now doctor Jennifer Storms

I sat there outside his cell for awhile. I needed to completely register on my mind that he was gone. I was crying and he did seem concerned, but he still didn't seem it at heart. Finally I asked him a question I needed answered.

"Narrate." I asked faint of heart.
"Yes?" He turned around, eyes still wide.
"What happened to you? Why did you do this? Why did you become... so insane?' My voice became choked the more I spoke.
"Even you have turned on me. Even still, I will tell you, but I wouldn't call myself insane. After all it is a mere title." His voice was not shaken as I would have expected it to be. It was completely stable. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a couple of minutes, he began his story.

"After we went our own ways Jennifer, I really only kept preoccupied with reading, and reading to others. I really couldn't find anything else to do. I'd just read day after day. I went through the motions and my abilities became chocked because of it. Less people would show to my readings because the gift I had is what they loved. Soon after, I stopped reading aloud.

From there, my days were bland and as boring as could be. I sat in my house only to read and only to occasionally write. I never went out. One day though, I read one very old book. The pages were broken and torn in every direction, but it was intact enough that I could read it. It talked of characters coming to life from the pages themselves. I couldn't help but to feel as this had to become real. I knew at the moment nothing could make this happen, but I believe now that I can do it. I went and studied every possible way. From black magic to futuristic robotics. I kept searching and searching and it has become my obsession. People may call me insane, but aren't we all? We all have our own insanities locked away in the back of our minds. I believe that mine has just popped out from what they have said." He stopped and looked directly at me. He dug into one of his torn pockets and handed me a book. I accepted it cautiously as he wasn't in a right state of mind. It could be a trap. Never the less, he did not try to pull me in or anything. I examined the book. It was one I owned years ago. It was the first book he had read to me.

"I want you to have this back. If I am truly insane as these people tell you, then I will probably never see you again. I know you love this book and so I think you should take it back. Take it back to remember your past, take it to remember me." When I heard him say such a thing, tears came to my eyes. I couldn't help myself. I wiped my tears away and put the book near my chest. I turned away from him and his cell.

"Thank you Narrate. I have to go now, but I promise you that I won't ever forget you. I don't promise that I will forgive you." I walked away then. I could hear him walking to someplace in his cell due to the echoing halls. I looked at the book again. It was a unmistakable title, after all it was the first one I read. The title? It was Winnie-the-Pooh. I'll miss the days of hearing him read to me, but I don't think they could ever come back now.