Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ The Journal of One, Leon Orcot ❯ May 19, 1999 ( Chapter 10 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: CrossedScarsX 
Anime/Manga: Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Mystery / Psychological / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.09.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 482 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Mystery / Psychological / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.09.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 482 | Status: Completed
May 19, 1999
…
It's been two days since I got to Amsterdam. This is at least my fifth draft/attempt at updating this journal. I wanted to make it as detailed and accurate as I could.
I found someone who knows about the D's. That should make me happy, but I've never felt so lost. I'm more confused than when I first left L.A. two years ago.
I took the advice of some shopkeepers in the area and went to the Fo Guang Shan He Hua Temple. A nice Buddhist community center. They said that if anyone around here would remember a face, it'd be one of those monks. So I went. I mean, D all in with that mystical voodoo stuff...why not try a Buddhist Temple?
It was a nice, quiet place. They seems to be in the middle of some ritual when I entered. So I stayed in the back as quietly as possible until they were done. At some point, one of the robed guys approached me, and asked me name, in Dutch. I told him I was “Christian Arata” and I don't speak Dutch. He then continued in heavily accented English. He asked what I was looking for, and I explained to him that I was looking for someone, and I was told that I might find someone here who could help me. I showed him the Berlin photo. “He looks like that guy there. But I'm looking for his grandson. They look the same. Only he wears really traditional clothing.”
The man turned on his heel very suddenly and told me to follow him. He led me down a hall and into a small back room, where another, older man was praying. There was a stalk of incense burning. It made my eyes water. It wasn't as nice as the incense D used to burn. The younger monk said something Chinese that I wasn't able to grasp and the older man motioned for him to leave.
“You have questions,” was all he said. I wasn't sure if he was talking about Count D or if this was the beginning of some mystical talk he typically gave foreign visitors.
I introduced myself, again as “Christian” from Chicago, Illinois. Then he looked at me funny and asked me what my real name was. I was so surprised that I stuttered. Am I really that bad a liar? So, I bit the bullet, and told him my name was Leon Orcot.
“I prefer to speak to a person with no masks,” he said. (There's that word again, mask.) He asked me why I hid the truth from him. He was a weird little guy. He wasn't creepy, or anything. Actually, it felt very peaceful talking with him. But he was calm to the point of being unnerving. ..like, you know how when someone enters a room and the air sort of feels different? With this guy, I felt like I was alone, talking to a wall that answered back. Or maybe being in a temple was getting to me. I've always felt uneasy around religion. He asked what I was looking for.
“I'm looking for someone...but I don't think he wants me to find him.”
“Then why do you continue to chase him?” “I need to give him something.”
“Need?”
Ah. Yeah, I could see what he was getting at. I'd done some brushing up on Eastern Philosophy over the last couple of years.
“Ok, I want to give him something,” I told him. “It seemed important to him when he left.”
I pulled out Chris's crayon drawing and showed it to him. He smiled. “Material things are never as important as we tend to think they are.”
I he would say something like that. “Not this.”
“And yet, he left it behind?”
“Look...I know what you must--”
“--Think?” he smiled brightly. God, he reminded me of the Count. “I get that a lot.”
“Look,” I said, “Even if it's stupid...even if it goes against all your beliefs, about material possessions, and attachments to this world...I just want to know if you have seen this man.” I showed him the photo.
“So,” he said to me, “You are looking for Count D.”
“So you know who he is!” I nearly shouted. “Do you know where to find him?”
“No, I do not know where to find him. And I'm very certain that no one will ever be able to lead you to him.” He said it so matter-of-fact. “If he does not wish to be found, you will not find him.”
“I can't accept that.” I think I sounded more confident than I looked. “I'm going to find him.”
“Oh? And how long will you look?”
“As long as it takes.” The bastard was smirking. “Look, if you can't help me then don't waste my time.”
“...as long as it takes.” he repeated. “I can tell, you are a stubborn man, Mr. Orcot. You said that you thought that the Count didn't want you to find him? Why is that drawing so important? Or maybe the drawing isn't the important thing?”
“It's the only excuse I have.” I don't know why I said that. I'd never thought about it that way before. An excuse.
“It seems to me, that you should figure out the reason, and not the excuse, before anything else. What is that phrase? Fools rush in?”
By now it was taking every ounce of patience I have not to strangle the guy. But I was good. I took a deep breath, a composed myself, and very calmly told him that if he could help me find the guy, then he could stop acting like an ass and tell me what little he knew. I said it nicer. But I thought the 'ass' part as hard as I could.
“You remind me of him.” I told him.
“I'll take that, as a compliment,” he replied. Irritating. “Do you know how rare a position you find yourself in, Mr. Orcot? Few people have had the honor of meeting one of the D's. I only know of them in legend.”
“I'm just looking for a clue. A rumor. Anything.”
He looked at me. I could tell that he was sizing me up. “I've heard stories from visiting monks of two D's...one very very young, and the other, an adult, traveling together. But that was almost a year ago.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.” Damn. “But, if I learn something, I can deliver a message for you.”
It wasn't much, but it was something. “Just tell him, I want to return what he left behind.”
“And where can I tell him to find you?”
“I'm sure he can find me as easily as he can avoid me.”
God. That's really whats bothering me right now. He doesn't want to be found. He could find me. I know he could find me. D has connections everywhere. I'm sure of it. But he won't let me find him.
The monk (he told me his name was Han-shan) offered me a place to sleep for the night. I accepted, to be polite. It wasn't much different than sleeping outside. I was still in my sleeping bag. But the roof over my head meant no worrying about the rain, and it was quieter...well, except for the humming sound that drifted through the air from the monks' meditations. I felt like I was trapped in a kung fu movie. It was still a nice change of pace. I didn't sleep too well. I was trying to write this journal. And I was still worrying about what Han had said: That I should figure out the reason, and not the excuse.
Sorry, but I can't wait around to find the answer. I'll figure it out as I go.
…
It's been two days since I got to Amsterdam. This is at least my fifth draft/attempt at updating this journal. I wanted to make it as detailed and accurate as I could.
I found someone who knows about the D's. That should make me happy, but I've never felt so lost. I'm more confused than when I first left L.A. two years ago.
I took the advice of some shopkeepers in the area and went to the Fo Guang Shan He Hua Temple. A nice Buddhist community center. They said that if anyone around here would remember a face, it'd be one of those monks. So I went. I mean, D all in with that mystical voodoo stuff...why not try a Buddhist Temple?
It was a nice, quiet place. They seems to be in the middle of some ritual when I entered. So I stayed in the back as quietly as possible until they were done. At some point, one of the robed guys approached me, and asked me name, in Dutch. I told him I was “Christian Arata” and I don't speak Dutch. He then continued in heavily accented English. He asked what I was looking for, and I explained to him that I was looking for someone, and I was told that I might find someone here who could help me. I showed him the Berlin photo. “He looks like that guy there. But I'm looking for his grandson. They look the same. Only he wears really traditional clothing.”
The man turned on his heel very suddenly and told me to follow him. He led me down a hall and into a small back room, where another, older man was praying. There was a stalk of incense burning. It made my eyes water. It wasn't as nice as the incense D used to burn. The younger monk said something Chinese that I wasn't able to grasp and the older man motioned for him to leave.
“You have questions,” was all he said. I wasn't sure if he was talking about Count D or if this was the beginning of some mystical talk he typically gave foreign visitors.
I introduced myself, again as “Christian” from Chicago, Illinois. Then he looked at me funny and asked me what my real name was. I was so surprised that I stuttered. Am I really that bad a liar? So, I bit the bullet, and told him my name was Leon Orcot.
“I prefer to speak to a person with no masks,” he said. (There's that word again, mask.) He asked me why I hid the truth from him. He was a weird little guy. He wasn't creepy, or anything. Actually, it felt very peaceful talking with him. But he was calm to the point of being unnerving. ..like, you know how when someone enters a room and the air sort of feels different? With this guy, I felt like I was alone, talking to a wall that answered back. Or maybe being in a temple was getting to me. I've always felt uneasy around religion. He asked what I was looking for.
“I'm looking for someone...but I don't think he wants me to find him.”
“Then why do you continue to chase him?” “I need to give him something.”
“Need?”
Ah. Yeah, I could see what he was getting at. I'd done some brushing up on Eastern Philosophy over the last couple of years.
“Ok, I want to give him something,” I told him. “It seemed important to him when he left.”
I pulled out Chris's crayon drawing and showed it to him. He smiled. “Material things are never as important as we tend to think they are.”
I he would say something like that. “Not this.”
“And yet, he left it behind?”
“Look...I know what you must--”
“--Think?” he smiled brightly. God, he reminded me of the Count. “I get that a lot.”
“Look,” I said, “Even if it's stupid...even if it goes against all your beliefs, about material possessions, and attachments to this world...I just want to know if you have seen this man.” I showed him the photo.
“So,” he said to me, “You are looking for Count D.”
“So you know who he is!” I nearly shouted. “Do you know where to find him?”
“No, I do not know where to find him. And I'm very certain that no one will ever be able to lead you to him.” He said it so matter-of-fact. “If he does not wish to be found, you will not find him.”
“I can't accept that.” I think I sounded more confident than I looked. “I'm going to find him.”
“Oh? And how long will you look?”
“As long as it takes.” The bastard was smirking. “Look, if you can't help me then don't waste my time.”
“...as long as it takes.” he repeated. “I can tell, you are a stubborn man, Mr. Orcot. You said that you thought that the Count didn't want you to find him? Why is that drawing so important? Or maybe the drawing isn't the important thing?”
“It's the only excuse I have.” I don't know why I said that. I'd never thought about it that way before. An excuse.
“It seems to me, that you should figure out the reason, and not the excuse, before anything else. What is that phrase? Fools rush in?”
By now it was taking every ounce of patience I have not to strangle the guy. But I was good. I took a deep breath, a composed myself, and very calmly told him that if he could help me find the guy, then he could stop acting like an ass and tell me what little he knew. I said it nicer. But I thought the 'ass' part as hard as I could.
“You remind me of him.” I told him.
“I'll take that, as a compliment,” he replied. Irritating. “Do you know how rare a position you find yourself in, Mr. Orcot? Few people have had the honor of meeting one of the D's. I only know of them in legend.”
“I'm just looking for a clue. A rumor. Anything.”
He looked at me. I could tell that he was sizing me up. “I've heard stories from visiting monks of two D's...one very very young, and the other, an adult, traveling together. But that was almost a year ago.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.” Damn. “But, if I learn something, I can deliver a message for you.”
It wasn't much, but it was something. “Just tell him, I want to return what he left behind.”
“And where can I tell him to find you?”
“I'm sure he can find me as easily as he can avoid me.”
God. That's really whats bothering me right now. He doesn't want to be found. He could find me. I know he could find me. D has connections everywhere. I'm sure of it. But he won't let me find him.
The monk (he told me his name was Han-shan) offered me a place to sleep for the night. I accepted, to be polite. It wasn't much different than sleeping outside. I was still in my sleeping bag. But the roof over my head meant no worrying about the rain, and it was quieter...well, except for the humming sound that drifted through the air from the monks' meditations. I felt like I was trapped in a kung fu movie. It was still a nice change of pace. I didn't sleep too well. I was trying to write this journal. And I was still worrying about what Han had said: That I should figure out the reason, and not the excuse.
Sorry, but I can't wait around to find the answer. I'll figure it out as I go.