Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

Unartistic Liberties

The Dark Place and the Dark Presence operated under such confusing rules. However, despite how confusing they were, there was a logic to them that those who were pulled into the lake could not fully understand. Well, save for perhaps Zane, but that was stretching not only the limits of his understanding, but also the definition of what Zane was, or at least the iteration of him that was currently trapped within the Oceanview Hotel. It would be like comparing Scratch to Alan, calling them the same person, though they were not, oh most certainly not, just as Mr. Scratch and Scratch were not the same person. Well, actually, scratch that analogy, they were, but not really. Mr. Scratch and Scratch were simultaneously two different people and the same person. The Dark Presence worked like that sometimes. It made no natural sense to those who were not born from the lake.

Which is why the rules of the Dark Place and the Dark Presence made such perfect sense to Scratch. Not that he had to think about it, of course. Being born from the depths of the lake, the rules were really more like nature to him, as natural as breathing. So, despite how he should be inside of Alan right now, it did not cross his mind that the fact he was operating as his own person, at least for the moment, all while living inside of Alan, was odd. It felt like it was natural to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Inside of Alan. Outside of Alan. Inside the writer’s room. Inside the jail cell next to those irritating Koskelas. Inside of Casey. Right outside of Alice’s apartment. 

He was everywhere he needed to be.

In this current moment, he was standing inside a facility, watching the FBC scientists all hard at work, trying to understand the power of Cauldron Lake. 

They’d never understand, of course. Not like he did. Not like Barbara had. Not like Alan soon would. Stupid people. All of them.

Scratch stayed in the shadows of the rooms. It wasn’t hard. Even with the facility’s lights on, parts of the building were surprisingly dark. Though, perhaps that could not be helped. After all, things never seemed quite bright enough in Bright Falls, and these idiots were right below the lake, the gateway to something ancient and wonderful and evil and beautiful.

Scratch wondered if they knew exactly what sort of thing they were attempting to tap into. Probably not. The FBC did have the tendency to peek behind curtains they really shouldn’t. There is no man behind this curtain, not in this world. Not this story. The wizard was real.

Scratch’s eyes watch as they bring a tray of food to a cell. Ah, he recognized the man inside. One of the Bookers. He believed his name was… Ed? Yes. Ed Booker. A failure of a playwright. Shame. He wasn’t too bad at it. He just needed a bit of a… Nudge in the right direction. 

Scratch watches as the man pushes up his glasses and swoops his dreads out of his face, not even acknowledging the food brought in before him. He’s busy writing, of course. Writing something about the Marmonts. They were trying to make the poor, oblivious man replicate Wake’s style. 

Scratch’s lips pull back into a snarl, barring his teeth like a rabid dog. Disgusting. It made him feel violent with the need to rip through the first thing he looked at. Unfortunately, he was still looking at Ed. Fortunately, at least for Ed, Scratch could not kill the man. He and Alan both needed the man alive, at least for the time being. Besides, his anger was more so directed at those ignorant bitches, Diana Marmont and Jules Marmont. Even inside the Dark Place, Scratch could feel something off… Something foreign. Something was trying to change the story from the outside and, luckily for both Scratch and Alan, failing to do so, or at least on Diana’s part. Jules, ever the attention-craving egomaniac riding on his wife’s coattails, had, miraculously, managed to actually cause some issues for the story he wanted Alan to write. Unlike Diana however, he had been using some painter they kidnapped from Hartman’s little clinic.