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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 23, 2007 18:35:16 GMT -1
August 16, 1995- War Journal My father’s name is Jack Knight and he’s stubborn as a mule. Thinking that because of how much information there is to learn about the Supernatural, I should keep a journal. Actually, he made me a journal. A basic one anyways. I’m supposed add as I learn. Rituals, biographies on each creature, weapons and all that crap. But he also lightened up the workload today and said I should write something like an intro to my hunting and then use it as a way to release any tension I have. I also think he wants me to give it to my future children who are apparently going to be hunters; otherwise they’d have no use for said journal. I really don’t want to grow up like him. Maybe its because I’m a “Stupid 16 year old who doesn’t know crap about her life” (his words not mine) but I don’t think I can do this forever. Who would want to? Hell, I didn’t even want to go on that first hunt. Call me a rebel or reluctant but there has to be more than just hunting. Granted, I’ve been built for it with years and years of hunters on my father’s side and unfortunately, with me, they got a girl but still. There has to be more than just black or white. Wound or kill. Life or death.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 25, 2007 0:26:23 GMT -1
August 22, 1995- War Journal “A werewolf (also lycanthrope or wolfman) in folklore and mythology is a person who shapeshifts into a wolf, either purposely, by using magic, or after being placed under a curse. Most modern hunters agree that a werewolf can be killed if shot by a silver bullet, although this was not a feature of folk legends . Werewolves are sometimes held to become vampires after death.” Sound great, don’t they? Well they’re not! They’re mean, vicious, lusting, butt faced miscreants that like to snarl and shed! I should know, I battled one today. I was with my father, through the woods of West Virginia and while we thought we were the predators, that thing was stalking us, waiting for its next meal. He had attacked my father first, going for the slashing of the throat before I grabbed my bow and staked that bastard with silver tipped arrows. Granted, it didn’t kill them since it needs silver to the heart but at least it got off of my father and attacked me instead. I’m not a rookie anymore; I know how to handle myself. Therefore, though it took a beating from both sides, the hunters came out victorious. However, now I'm covered from head to toe in mudd, am deprived of a good shower until we get to the next town. The end result: my hate for werewolves runs deep.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 26, 2007 17:30:33 GMT -1
August 27, 1995- War Journal Vegas. Thats where I want to go. My father is in jail, I have to bust him out by hijacking a criminal holding vehicle when it passes by his car that I'm sitting in right now while writing this entry. Vegas. It would be so much more simple. Hell, I've even had people say I could be a stripper since I look over 18. I'm only 16 years old but I want to leave. I want to get away from him. I wouldnt be able to leave him, though. Not only because he wouldnt let me, but because it would be too hard. He needs me just like I need him but... I desperately need to go. Even if its just for a little while. Just so I know I'm still alive and not just apart of my father or his expectations. Anyways, I exorcised a demon today. The second in the last month. I found that sort of odd.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 30, 2007 20:36:10 GMT -1
August 30, 1995- War Journal I had to practice the ritual Romanum yesterday. It wasn’t that bad. My uncle Mal says my Latin is getting pretty good when Dad tells him not to encourage me; that I can do better. Whatever. If it exorcises a demon, then what does it matter? I don’t care how the filthy bastard dies as long as it’s dead. After practicing that speech over and over again, Dad said I had to go visit a hunter friend of his, Jonathan Winchester, and ask him about some other ways to kill a demon. I had asked what those other ways were, but he wouldn’t speak of it. I told him I wouldn’t go though. That I knew if I left, when I came back, I wouldn’t find my father there. I’d find some dumbass coordinate army shit that led to the middle of the woods in Utah somewhere. He told me he wouldn’t go. Today, I found a post-it note on the fridge and coordinates written on them.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 30, 2007 20:54:23 GMT -1
September 2nd, 1995- War Journal Dad’s back. You know why? Cause I found him. I had to drag him out of a town that he supposedly went to just to talk to some hunter named… something Elkins. You know what I think? He’s full of shit. What does he need to speak to a hunter for? He didn’t, otherwise he would have told me. What does he need from this Elkins guy that he couldn’t tell me about? Anyways, our next hunt is a doppleganger apparent. Or a shapeshifter- we’re really not that sure until we get back to the house, grab some needed equipment and then head off to that town again. I don’t actually mind this one much. Granted, this bitch could look like anyone, but if it just needs a point blank silver shot into the heart, then I’m not worried.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 30, 2007 20:56:20 GMT -1
September 12th, 1995- War Journal Dad's gone, and I don’t know where he is. Actually, allow me to rephrase. Dad's gone, I don’t know where he is, nor do I care. If he can just leave without telling me, to go hunt God knows what this time, then I don’t have to look for him. Especially since he left me, in the middle of the night, in bed, when I was wounded. Who is he capable of that? He says he doesn’t care about finding the man who killed my mother, but he is so dedicated to killing those things, its like that’s how he finds himself. I fear that I will become the same as him. I've felt a rush when killing those creatures, and I don’t want to like that feeling, but I do. I don’t want to be a killer like him. A monster in the closet like children fear. And if this is what I become- my father, a monster- what will my fate be? Paths to Jail, death, murder? What will become of me?
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Post by Raquel Knight on Jan 31, 2007 15:32:00 GMT -1
September 12th, 1995- War Journal My father died today.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Feb 11, 2007 2:46:32 GMT -1
September 20th, 1995- War Journal Its been a while since I've even picked up a pen to this journal to write on you. However, pages are stained with my tears since I've been reading it over and over again, just to feel my father's words again. I'm broken. I dont know what to do without my father. Continue hunting? Arm myself? Do I even get out of bed in the morning? I know I've claimed to dislike and even hate my father but living without him is so much worse.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Feb 11, 2007 2:55:02 GMT -1
September 23, 1995- War Journal Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hatred leads to power. Power leads to victory. Let your anger flow through you. Your hate will make you strong. True power is only achieved through testing the limits of one's anger, passing through unscathed. Rage channeled through anger is unstoppable. My father first wrote that on a napkin when talking to his own father (another hunter in the Knight line) in a diner after copying his words. He then gave it to me and I'm copying his father -my grandfather's word- into this journal. I am afraid. I am angry. I do hate. I have power. I will be victorious. I am unstoppable. I will get my revenge on something that I hate so much to be victorious but do to that, I have to do something else first. I have to kill that son of a bitch pervert who killed my mother. I have to know that after destroying my family, he can't destroy another family and I know my father doesn't want this. He wouldn't want me to be some killer. Well I think thats crap. He wanted to kill Henry Fine. He just wasn't strong enough. I am strong enough.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Feb 11, 2007 21:52:50 GMT -1
September 30th, 1995- War Journal It’s done. Henry Fine seizes to exist and it’s because of me. I went into that bar that my father had written down in this journal, saying where he resided (which was followed by a lot of words forbidding me to go near that bar blah blah blah) and I approached him. Yes, I am a 16-year-old girl but did he know that? No, I think he was too wasted to even realize I was a minor and couldn’t enter a bar. Though, this bar wasn’t really one that was too keen on keeping minors out. Anyways, I took him back to the hotel room I had been staying and I made him think that this was his lucky day. Like he was in for the ride of his life. Little did he know, the ride quickly ended with a bang. Cause of death for Henry Fine: Bullet to the head. So now I’m in my dad’s truck, blood still stained on my shirt, writing this to you and ironically enough, listening to Urge Overkill’s “Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon” Funny thing is, that despite I know I’ve taken a life, I feel like my anger has been released yet nothing has changed. That hole that was there from missing my mother just got bigger when I realized that no matter what; I can’t bring my father back now. No matter how many evil things I kill, human or supernatural, nothing will change. But that’s all I know. How to be a killer.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Feb 28, 2007 18:25:32 GMT -1
October 3rd, 1995- War Journal Back in my home town of San Antonio, Texas. Why? Because of my uncle. He doesnt know about Fine's murder yet and I'd be setting my self up for murder if I did tell him. Sure, he's a hunter and was in the army but killing people? Not his style. same as my father. Either way, he wanted us to get together so we can wallow in our pain I guess. I guess there should be something to hunt.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Feb 28, 2007 18:28:59 GMT -1
October 6th, 1995- War Journal Well, that was pleasent. Mal found out from a few sources in the system (buddies from the force) that my DNA and my gun at the scene of a crime. I was kicked out of Mal's house in about 9 seconds flat.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Mar 1, 2007 1:37:07 GMT -1
October 7th, 1995- War Journal Gone hunting again. This time, vampires. Typically held to be the re-animated corpses of human beings and said to subsist on human and/or animal blood (hematophagy), often having unnatural powers, heightened bodily functions, and/or the ability to physically transform. Some cultures have myths of non-human vampires, such as demons or animals like bats, dogs, and spiders. Vampires are often described as having a variety of additional powers and character traits, extremely variable in different traditions, and are a frequent subject of folklore, cinema, and contemporary fiction.
Vampirism is the practice of drinking blood from a person/animal. Vampires are said to mainly bite the victim's neck, extracting the blood from a main artery. In folklore and popular culture, the term generally refers to a belief that one can gain supernatural powers by drinking human blood. The historical practice of vampirism can generally be considered a more specific and less commonly occurring form of cannibalism. The consumption of another's blood (and/or flesh) has been used as a tactic of psychological warfare intended to terrorize the enemy, and it can be used to reflect various spiritual beliefs.
In zoology, the term vampirism is used to refer to leeches, mosquitos, mistletoe, vampire bats, and other organisms that prey upon the bodily fluids of other creatures. This term also applies to mythic animals of the same nature, including the chupacabra.Strange thing was that when I went to hunt down this nest, alone, I came out with a friend. Friends, actually. When battling one of those blood suckers, I already felt its teeth on my skin and I just felt like it was the end. I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. Thank God for some outside help or “guardian angel” at the time to me. Another pair of hutners who followed me, had staked that vamp in the heart. Granted, we didn’t have time to introduce ourselves, since after the younger male helped me up, we sprung back to action, we did share a few words. Afterwards, when covered in blood, I found out their names. Johnathan and Dean Winchester. However, John has some trusting issues. We had conversed over putting the weapons back and John had a thurmus full of coffee, but he wouldn’t even let me tag along to their hotel for a shower. Dean on the other hand… I wont even get into him and his “positive attrobutes.”
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Post by Raquel Knight on Mar 1, 2007 2:10:30 GMT -1
October 9th, 1995- War Journal The sex god has landed… I am now here with the Winchesters. Took a lot of work too. I had bumped into John again in the town they were staying at, and played my little sob story. He was it was only temperary though. There is even a younger son, Sam, or Sammy as I hear Dean call him. However, he seems less eager to learn about the supernatural. But then again, its possible that Dean is just eager to impress me. He is a flirt- or at least comes off that way to me. Probably not interested; just bored. And even if he was interested, that’s a no. Never will it happen. I already know. I’ll stay a few months and then leave. John is nice ethough. I didn’t expect him to put a roof over my head, train me then leave me out of a hunt at the same time.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Mar 1, 2007 2:11:00 GMT -1
October 11th, 1995- War Journal Only second day with John, and he is treating me like a child.
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