From the author of
"An Autobiography of Vincent Valentine"
Phoenix Down.
Phantom Wall Devils: A tale of Sephiroth
Part: Omikron
Dalet
"Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost." (Sandman, volume 10, Neil Gaiman.)
I've never been to Mideel. It's one of those places that I'd like to go to, though.
It's remote, it's small, and from what I hear, everyone is really weird. An eccentric weird. A me kind of weird.
I've learned to live with weird, if this experience has taught me anything.
I've been taking everything day by day. It's the only way.
I've still been living with my friend, Jon. Though, I'm sure that I've worn out my welcome.
I haven't gone to work in... I'm not sure how long. I know that I don't have a job anymore. I'm sure that I've been evicted from my apartment; I haven't paid rent in so long.
Whatever.
I've been compiling the Sephiroth tapes, and labeling them. There are over 13 of them, both sides filled.
I've been listening to them over and over during the days, and then typing them out in script form and been adding in my notes; thus what you are reading now, so not only is it the interview, but you get the joy of my comments.
So at least that whatever is left of me, because I don't know what is going to happen, there is a record. Boy, am I a true journalist.
I wonder where Jon is now.
Late in the afternoon, when he comes home, we watch TV together in silence; it has become a ritual.
Sometimes we smoke the fun tobacco together, but mostly, we don't talk.
He looks at me weird sometimes.
It has become an obsession, no, not an obsession- but a lifestyle- every night when Sephiroth comes through that hallway and talks, and talks, until the sun peaks, then I sleep.
I don't think I fear anymore, only accept. I realize that this is what I think that I am supposed to do with my life.
Except last night- get this- when Sephiroth finished talking- he again asked me to follow him down the hallway.
I didn't really say no, but I didn't really say yes.
He said in due time, but the story has to end somehow.
That means follow him through the hallway.
He told me to tell you to go through the hallway.
Fuck.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Anyway, when he finally left, and when I blinked, and the hallway was gone, I couldn't sleep.
It was sunrise.
I took off my shirt, and stood in front of the window in Jon's guest room where I have been sleeping.
There is a tree underneath the window.
I looked down.
There in the tree, was a pair of red, sad eyes, the same ones that I met when I took that walk so many weeks, maybe months, ago.
They were bright eyes, and with the bright eyes was a shadowy figure, that seemed to sway with the tree leaves and shadows.
I couldn't make out it's form, but it certainly was in the tree.
I believe that I saw it, I may be insane.
I believe a lot of things now.
"You... you STILL have been speaking to him, haven't you?" The red eyes spoke to me in a distant, inhuman, despairing voice that carried on the wind and into my ears.
I said, so, what is it to you if I have still been talking to him?
"He is no angel." Said the disconsolate voice.
I argued, I said that he certainly was an angel.
"No, no, he is a devil; a wicked angel, that is why you must stop speaking to him. Do not listen to his story. If you hear all of it, you will follow him down that dark hallway. Then, there is no going back."
I said, you should have heard me, I said, that he may be a devil, he may be a devil that once hung out in the Phantom Wall Room. He may be a Phantom Wall Devil, but that phantom hallway has nothing to do with me, I wouldn't follow him- I knew if I did- that would be the end of me- perhaps the end of you, too.
"I know him, and I have always known him... I knew him since he was a child. I knew his mother... his beautiful mother, Lucrecia."
I asked the red eyes the one question that I have always been wondering, then. How did he become an angel? He once seemed human. The man that he talks of- every night- the man that he was- seems like a different being that what he is now.
The red eyes closed, then, and it almost seemed that he shook his head.
"The hallway. He went down the hallway. He was born. He was born again. Sephiroth, and the one winged angel, are not the same- but they are. There is something deep in his being- his cells- his very essence- that was never human... and I know... what.
That.
Is.
Like."
Then, the red eyes vanished into the pale morning.
"An Autobiography of Vincent Valentine"
Phoenix Down.
Phantom Wall Devils: A tale of Sephiroth
Part: Omikron
Dalet
"Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost." (Sandman, volume 10, Neil Gaiman.)
I've never been to Mideel. It's one of those places that I'd like to go to, though.
It's remote, it's small, and from what I hear, everyone is really weird. An eccentric weird. A me kind of weird.
I've learned to live with weird, if this experience has taught me anything.
I've been taking everything day by day. It's the only way.
I've still been living with my friend, Jon. Though, I'm sure that I've worn out my welcome.
I haven't gone to work in... I'm not sure how long. I know that I don't have a job anymore. I'm sure that I've been evicted from my apartment; I haven't paid rent in so long.
Whatever.
I've been compiling the Sephiroth tapes, and labeling them. There are over 13 of them, both sides filled.
I've been listening to them over and over during the days, and then typing them out in script form and been adding in my notes; thus what you are reading now, so not only is it the interview, but you get the joy of my comments.
So at least that whatever is left of me, because I don't know what is going to happen, there is a record. Boy, am I a true journalist.
I wonder where Jon is now.
Late in the afternoon, when he comes home, we watch TV together in silence; it has become a ritual.
Sometimes we smoke the fun tobacco together, but mostly, we don't talk.
He looks at me weird sometimes.
It has become an obsession, no, not an obsession- but a lifestyle- every night when Sephiroth comes through that hallway and talks, and talks, until the sun peaks, then I sleep.
I don't think I fear anymore, only accept. I realize that this is what I think that I am supposed to do with my life.
Except last night- get this- when Sephiroth finished talking- he again asked me to follow him down the hallway.
I didn't really say no, but I didn't really say yes.
He said in due time, but the story has to end somehow.
That means follow him through the hallway.
He told me to tell you to go through the hallway.
Fuck.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Anyway, when he finally left, and when I blinked, and the hallway was gone, I couldn't sleep.
It was sunrise.
I took off my shirt, and stood in front of the window in Jon's guest room where I have been sleeping.
There is a tree underneath the window.
I looked down.
There in the tree, was a pair of red, sad eyes, the same ones that I met when I took that walk so many weeks, maybe months, ago.
They were bright eyes, and with the bright eyes was a shadowy figure, that seemed to sway with the tree leaves and shadows.
I couldn't make out it's form, but it certainly was in the tree.
I believe that I saw it, I may be insane.
I believe a lot of things now.
"You... you STILL have been speaking to him, haven't you?" The red eyes spoke to me in a distant, inhuman, despairing voice that carried on the wind and into my ears.
I said, so, what is it to you if I have still been talking to him?
"He is no angel." Said the disconsolate voice.
I argued, I said that he certainly was an angel.
"No, no, he is a devil; a wicked angel, that is why you must stop speaking to him. Do not listen to his story. If you hear all of it, you will follow him down that dark hallway. Then, there is no going back."
I said, you should have heard me, I said, that he may be a devil, he may be a devil that once hung out in the Phantom Wall Room. He may be a Phantom Wall Devil, but that phantom hallway has nothing to do with me, I wouldn't follow him- I knew if I did- that would be the end of me- perhaps the end of you, too.
"I know him, and I have always known him... I knew him since he was a child. I knew his mother... his beautiful mother, Lucrecia."
I asked the red eyes the one question that I have always been wondering, then. How did he become an angel? He once seemed human. The man that he talks of- every night- the man that he was- seems like a different being that what he is now.
The red eyes closed, then, and it almost seemed that he shook his head.
"The hallway. He went down the hallway. He was born. He was born again. Sephiroth, and the one winged angel, are not the same- but they are. There is something deep in his being- his cells- his very essence- that was never human... and I know... what.
That.
Is.
Like."
Then, the red eyes vanished into the pale morning.