In the Air Tonight

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I wish I could say there was some sort of reason, but really, it was just lethargy. I went over and over the research Lyron had given me, looking for those tidbits of information, and the rest of the time, I just enjoyed having a roof over my head.

Thanksgiving dinner was...awkward. Both Kenny and I were still engrossed with the research, but we still paused to eat the turkey that Lyron had generously bought. It was pretty good, even though I am not sure when she had time to cook it.

There is a diary in with the research. It had one of those old stamps in the front where you fill in your name; in the space was the name "Alicia Cook." It looked like the diary came from the early 20th century, probably during the First World War (Alicia makes reference to the fact that her father has gone off to fight in the "war against the Hun.")

She also makes references to something she calls "the Music of the Spheres." It's music only she can hear, music that influences her thoughts and what she says and does. She believes that it is the singing of angels and "their invisible influence helps me survive in this world."

Halfway through the diary, Alicia notices a gray patch of mold growing on her leg. Removing even part of it hurts, so she leaves it alone and it grows and grows.

This is the last entry:

i was wrong about the music. it was not my invisible angels singing to me. i think, instead, it was the devil himself and i gave into his temptations. his voice bombards me now. the grayness has spread across my chest and neck. it hurts to even touch it. 

the music sings to me now. it wants me to spread this infection. it wants me to walk from city to city and spread its influence, like typhoid mary. i have barely any resistance left. it can make me do whatever it wishes. 

tomorrow is guy fawkes night. our remaining family shall build a bonfire. and when it is as hot as the fires of hell itself, i shall perform my last rebellion against the devil and throw myself into the fire. i shall burn this infection and myself along with it. 

god forgive me, 

alicia cook

This corresponds to other instances of the Choir turning their victims into Carriers or "Grayskins."

I still wish I knew more, though. There is just this...foreboding in the air. Like we've rested for so long, something must happen. Something is bound to happen, no matter what.