Project: Stitchwork
Team: Martin Brandt - Silvina Rinaldi

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IN JUDGING

Joshua has learned in life paranoia is not a psychosis it's a survival skill as he tries to uncover the mysteries of his murders and how he is able to run away from death each time. Left only with convoluted memories and vague images of the spider limbed sisters who resurrected him, Joshua must act quickly to put the pieces together before his murderer strikes again.

3 Yes, on to round 2 - read comments!

JOSHUA

I am Joshua; at least that is what I tell myself when I look in the mirror. A constant ritual required to maintain my sanity. What choice was I left? Each time I look it could be a new face I see. I can't remember what I used to look like anymore. We are a collection of our experiences. What happens when I am left with experiences not my own? Am I not myself?

I could not tell you if I've done this before, my memories a jumble of sequences I struggle to arrange. Having to sort through your own life and every life you have become is truly a mind shattering experience. Déjà vu is a sick joke to me.

I am the sum of my parts and they are not my own. I doubt there is an original piece of myself left at this point. Sometimes I doubt my very soul is my own. There is truly only one thing I know is mine.

My murderer, it lurks in the shadows. Waiting to strike, to rip, and tear. Then my saviors, ladies, no something else, something lost like me. Cutting the corpse, gathering, stitching, tethering me down again.

I awake and struggle to find myself in this chaos of thoughts not my own. In this new body, I feel the stitch. In this new body I am Joshua, I must be. This time I have something more, power. Sometimes they leave me with abilities gathered from other dead. Though I have no idea what their intent is. Perhaps I am meant to turn and fight? Too many questions plague me each time I awake, the day before a blinding flash of sensation.

I feel like a rabbit, the hunter not far.

I run, at least I did. I hide, at least I did. I am scared, though not as much as I once was. I am scarred.

SEISHIN AKA VAIL

I live in a world visceral. What I feel with my flesh, what makes me bleed, this is real. I do not flounder in the spiritual nonsense of others. It may exist, but I deal in the real.

I was alone before I knew who I was. Somewhere my family was lost, torn from my young hands. They found me there and took me in. I may have lost my name, but I gained sisters, I gained a family and purpose. Here I began to understand the physical. This is the place I discovered the truth of the real.

I know of those who desire for an end, those who aspire to ascend onward in spirit. They call our world illusions of the flesh.

I rather like my flesh. I feel my heart, watch as my chest heaves with breath. I am alive here. From the flutter of butter flies, light headed desires to the rush, the clear call of rage. This is our world, this is my world.

Our world is physical and those who seek more are living in the illusion.

I found you there in the alley, lost among the refuse. A scattered man grounded to this world, tethered down by his scars. The bass bleeding from the club wall behind you gave rhythm to the moment. Here I found purpose with you.

This is your quest and I will help. You ask no questions as I see you still question yourself. We'll find your shadow among the darkness, in this world. We'll find your hunter; for I will help you become something more than the prey.

You may think, there for you are; I deal in the real, for I am real.

ECKELS

I've tracked you through the ages. From four legs to two, then back to four again. Always able to slip past my final grasp. Is it too much to ask? I only want your final breath.

I can no longer recall how or what it started this way. My hunt for you goes on eternal. Perhaps this is some ancient injustice, some principal of honor, a misunderstanding? Does it matter? I know what must be done.

I have taken you to the edge of life, watched as your soul drained from your body. Only then to have those witless Arachne whores intervene on your behalf. They sew you back up with the threads of lost destinies. Masking you in flesh not your own.

It matters not, in time I find your trail again. Your scent is always there, among all those new ones. I will find you. I will claim your final breath. The stitch will not save you forever.

SISTERS (KILIM)

We are sisters of the stitch, daughters of Arachne. It was she who stood to the gods, showed them the beauty of design. Her ability far excelled those of the gods themselves. For this they cursed her. In her loss though she found new power, she found balance.

The web she weaved holds your world. There are those who would tear, those who would attack the balance and beauty of the web's design. They crave something we could never understand, something we could never stand for.

Some among us have found those like you, those who must remain to keep the balance. In you we found purpose of a new kind. For this we left the web, our sisters.

With the ability of design and the stitch, we will keep you bound to your duty.

IN JUDGING

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