Spencer

When Cam died, he left me half his bank account, a plot of land outside of Austin, his car, his laptop, and two notebooks. One of them is  his, and I haven't quite had the heart to really look through it yet. The other is Spencer's notebook. It's really more a collection of files stuck together in a vague notebook shape, but the terminology doesn't matter.

To be completely honest, I hadn't so much as glanced through the pages past the first one, with the letter to Cam. As I mentioned yesterday, I've been letting myself wallow. I hadn't looked. Spencer kept talking to me, kept telling me stories, and I was putting it off because I didn't want to face the fact that this was what Cam...

Right. Enough of the touchy feely. I started reading Tuesday. There's not a whole lot in terms of volume, but everything here has wider implications that have to be measured against what he's shared with me. I've been prepping this post since I started, since he wants me to share it with everyone.

The contents of the notebook can be split into three sections.

The typewritten pages
The handwritten pages
The random bits

The typewritten pages are old and worn, burnt and smudged and wrinkled. They're journal entries from his life. The six of them range across the better part of a decade and tell a rough story of Spencer's life after he left the slendercult he grew up in. From them, as well as the stories he's told me, I have an outline of his story, though of course some bits are still sketchy. I checked with him, and he's given me the okay to put up what I know.

That story he put up a while back is true. He grew up in a slendercult, without friends or even a name. Slendy was in his head from early on, and he thought that was what life was supposed to be, up until he actually saw Slendy. He was about to hit his fifteenth birthday, where he would be given a title and work for Slendershit.  Instead, he ran. Straight into the desert, of all things. There wasn't much of anywhere else to go, apparently.
Odds are high that he would've gotten himself killed there and then if he hadn't found Matt. Matt was older, and had run away before. He'd stayed long enough to pick up a few tricks, and so when Slendershit found them in the desert, Matt used the Path to get them out. They traveled together for a while until Slenderp caught up to them again. Matt got Spencer to NYC via the path but didn't make it out himself.
The first journal entry was written, so far as I can tell, on his 16th birthday.  I'm not sure exactly what did such damage to it, but it's still mostly legible and reads... well, rather like you'd expect under the circumstances
After that is the second entry, written about three years later. He'd been wandering all around the country. He talks about being in pretty bad shape, but still sounds pretty stable.
Sometime after that, Writer showed up. I'm not entirely sure if Writer was the one who found him or if they just partnered Spence with him, but they worked together for Slendershit. Spence was Teller, and he tricked people into loops(or labyrinths, as a lot of us know them), and Writer went in afterward.
For a while Spence was fooled into being reasonably happy with this, as the third entry shows(though I have a suspicion that it was written by Teller and not Spence at all...).
Somewhere along the line, as seen in the fourth entry, he figured out the truth and set his mind to running. He was more worried about Writer. The only thing in this world Writer loved was Spence, and he didn't seem he'd take kindly to his partner walking away. He didn't, he shoved Spence into a stove. But the worst was yet to come.
A group of proxies ambushed Spence and did... something.
He doesn't remember exactly how he got out, but he did, albeit... changed. More on that later. Right afterward, he writes the fifth entry. He's alive, more or less, and thrilled to be free, and this entry ends with him spotting an old friend. I know from both his stories and the sixth entry that that friend is Lori, also known as Doc, one of the RtS crew. They started the delivery service you're hopefully all familiar with, and that's what he's been doing up till now.

Next, the Handwritten Section.

Spence wrote out his Page Theory, which is very interesting and which I'm going to devote another post to soon. It deserves it's own space. Expect it in a day or two.

Lastly, the other stuff.

A couple notes from Doc, part of a medical report and a microscope picture, with some information about Spence's unusual condition. I'm kind of completely uneducated in the subject of biology, but it looks like bacteria don't grow in his blood?
Didn't exactly need the report for this, but he's also running cold. Really cold.

Also, three clipped sections from what appears to be a novel or a short story. Don't know which one, maybe one of you lot will. Pretty self explanatory.

Last and most worrying, two things that weren't even a part of the actual notebook, but showed up in my suitcase with my files sometime within the past week or so. A key with a note attached and a piece of paper with an altered version of one of Shakespeare's sonnets scribbled onto it crazylike.
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
In the loops thou art lovely and more temperate
Rough winds keep destroying mature buds of may
And Master's lease has all too short a date'
also, at the very bottom, past the word 'tell' repeated many a time, is 'tell me days of heaven shines'

They were both in a brown paper sack tucked in with the rest of the things. They are from Writer. I don't know when he got into my stuff and put this there-I've been ignoring the files as much as possible, so beyond saying it wasn't there when I packed the suitcase I'm honestly not sure.
But the key worries me the most.
It's mine. MY key.
The first key I had to our apartment. We changed the locks a while back, but I'd kept it.
Once I offered it to Spence as payment for a job. He didn't take it. I hadn't noticed it was gone. Until it showed up in my fucking suitcase with a note from Writer.
'Elaine. This is yours. Thank you for bringing our St(X)ryteller home'
Cute. Real fucking cute. Writer, if you go near Spence I'll gut you myself. Consider this your warning, you sick fuck.


In any case, the Page Theory section will be up soon. I should head out now-looks like Shrody's found someone she recognizes...