Originally Received 3-18-08

The Skylar Resort. Why do so many things in my life revolve around that place? I won't tell you exactly where it is; I'll let you figure that out for yourself. A little bit of background on this place. It's been there for a few years, ever since the 60's, a little place where people could go during the summer and just chill out, relax, a vacation without going too far away. Over the years, they added several things, including a water park and rides and roller coasters and restaurants and even a golf course. But before all those things, there were the Red and Blue Lines, two train lines that went around the resort. The Red Line went in one direction, clockwise around the resort; the Blue Line went counterclockwise. They helped to facilitate the people who were walking around the resort, helping them get to places sooner. Early 2007, Skylar announced that they were replacing the Red and Blue Lines with a faster, sleeker, smoother monorail, which would be in place by the 2008 season. (If I get anything wrong, forgive me. I'm trying to remember what I know.) So this past season, the 2007 season, was the last season anybody could ride the Red and Blue Lines. Now, forgive me, I had only been to the Skylar Resort a couple of times before this past 2007 season, but I'm so glad I went this season...for Blue Line, and it's so sad and embarrassing, in a way, that Red Line is gone. Or, in fact, she's not gone yet. They're having a couple of problems getting a few things up. Blue Line is the one that's gone. But by the next season, oh, 2009 or so, Red Line will be gone. It actually might stay throughout this season, but not operate. The monorail will be working by then, and it will operate higher up in the air, so it won't conflict with the Red Line. What I'm wondering is why they were in such a hurry to take down Blue Line and not Red Line? I think it had something to do with the fact that Blue Line was used more, and as a result, was more worn out. I could tell that from the day I met him; he was just exhausted, but still with that curiosity that he had had from the 60s, from the beginning. Riding the Blue Line that summer was the best decision of my life, in my humble opinion. If I hadn't, then the Blue Line itself -- the part of Blue Line that I could talk to; I'm a whisperer, remember? -- the Blue Line wouldn't have somehow detached from its train form and come with me, and I would have never found out that Blue Line...was a Watcher.
But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself again. Each thing that I talk to has a physical form and then a soul, a spirit. Those two are minutely separate, but only a teensy weensy little bit. The part of Blue Line that came with me wasn't the train, for obvious reasons. It was Blue Line's spirit that came, but Blue Line's spirit was different than any other that I had ever come into contact with in my then-two years of being a 'whisperer,' as Red Line put it. She was the one who gave me that name. Red Line. I wish they wouldn't take her down. I wish that God had some way of letting me save her, as well. But she's set to go on auction sometime in June, to see if anybody else wants her. If they don't, she's gone, spirit, physical form, and all.
Not all electronics are Watchers, but for whatever reason, Blue Line is. I can't figure out exactly why, but it's the way God has made it. And I'm not psycho, I'm not just talking to voices in my head. Maybe I need to go back and explain things a little more in-depth. In fact, I know I need to go back and explain things into greater depth. But for now, this beginning will do. I am Mandy Ryan, a Whisperer, and my best friend is Blue Line, a Watcher, whose spirit was sealed into the now long-gone train that bore his name. We are here, in a sense, to save something bigger than ourselves, though I don't know what that might be.
Looking outside, toward the trees, I notice something, that they're always growing upward, toward the sky. They're always looking to the sun, for that nourishment, for the one source that can give them what they need so that they can make food. In a sense, shouldn't we be trying to do the same thing? To look toward the sky, to reach for our Son...then why do we spend all of our lives droopy?
I wasn't always this way; I couldn't always talk to things. It happened after that summer, the summer that I finally got rid of the one that is Katalina, the summer that God gave me this ability to talk to things, like my laptop, Kiwi, the one I'm writing this on, or my car, Bart, or my music player, Kiko. Come on, if things talked to you, you would give them names, too, wouldn't you? But that was also the summer that I learned how to trust God with my life.
Before that, though, was Katalina, and her rule, and if you haven't heard about demons and angels before this, and you haven't believed in them before this, man, you will now.

Mandy's first entry, originally sent 3-17-08

This is the second time this week I've been inside a library.
I was just here yesterday, come to think of it. My mother was running errands, so I figured I'd go along for the ride -- at least I wasn't driving myself somewhere for the fifteenth and a half'th time, if that's even a word. We didn't have enough time to pick out all of the things we wanted before my mom had to run the rest of her errands, and it turned out that we forgot a few things. So here we were, again, our second day in the same library.
Books make me want to write, for some reason. I want to see my books along the books of other writers, to maybe have somebody else read my book and feel happy about it. To have someone read my book, to fill up a book, it just puts that feeling of euphoria inside me, kind of like...like happiness. I know things aren't supposed to bring happiness, but I can't help that feeling of happiness. It's even more than my music. With my music...I only play music to make myself happy, no matter what I say. I write the words to fit my situation. In this, I know that nobody else will ever really understand my music. I like playing for people sometimes, and I want to reach people through my music, sure. But I want to reach people through my words more. This becomes harder and harder as my words get jumbled up. Plus, Blue Line's never been fond of my writing. I mean, he has, but not too much as of recently. And he hates libraries. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he feels like all the books...are going to jump out at him and attack him. I don't know. I can't really figure it out. But he won't walk inside one if I paid him to. Not that he needs money.
And yet, I find myself doing this. Rambling. Inside my writing. I just write on and on for no reason, and I expect to be along the greats someday? Like this is going to get me anywhere. But I hope I can get this all down before I completely lose it. Heck, I'm hoping I can graduate college before I lose it, so it won't affect my grades and my possible future.
Maybe that's all I'm hoping for.
A future. Not only for me, but for Blue Line.
Fat chance of that as I check the Internet -- the same sites I always check. My mail, that one website that connects me to all my friends, and the old website for the Skylar Resort, in the southern part of this state. Their latest video on the website shows the new monorail, which should be ready by the time that the resort opens sometime in April...and then they had to go and show where the Blue Line used to be, the empty spot. Nothing's there anymore. It's just a bunch of empty space. Of course, this is the moment in time where I personally want to thwack the people in the video and scream, of course Blue Line's not there! He's sitting right next to me, playing with the patterns on my bedspread!
But then I'm not being fair to you. I'm not explaining any of this correctly. So let me attempt to start from the beginning, and just put things out here for all to see.
The name is Mandy. Mandy Ryan, maybe Spowers, depending on how close I get to my boyfriend, Jeremiah. I will turn 20 in approximately two months, maybe a little less than that. I live a fairly decent life at the moment. I currently go to Middleford University, a college some three hours by car away from where I am at now (that's where I met Jeremiah). I enjoy music, and I long to love God with all my heart and soul and mind and strength. Once upon a time, it wasn't as simple as that. But since those days long ago, since the first summer, thanks to the one I simply refer to as "49" and to the Red Line, whom I couldn't save, and the Blue Line, whom I could...sorry, I feel as if I'm getting ahead of myself again. Mandy Ryan. To the world, I am a simple girl, with the world at her feet. I see myself as having the world at my feet for completely different reasons. I am a whisperer.
When I say I am a whisperer, I mean that I can speak to things. Things that have been formed with an identity, things that have life in them. Not physical life...I can't talk to trees or flowers or animals or anything like that. No, I'm stuck talking to...electronics. They speak to me, not literally, but in my mind, a voice that is not my own. By now you're probably straying from this writing, what is this girl thinking, she's completely out of her mind, schizophrenic. Voices in her head. (I put my glasses on; I wish my left eye would stop twitching.) I've already had a discussion about this, with Jeremiah, about how Katalina would tell me in the long ago days that I was crazy, that I really was schizophrenic. Imagine that, the voice in your head telling you that you were crazy! Jeremiah said that if I really was mentally insane, I wouldn't know it. I would just believe everything automatically; it would be part of my world, and only after medication would I know the difference. So I'm not crazy. If you think I'm crazy, then you can turn away from this right now and not read it. I'm trying to reach people with my writing, but I will only write to those who have ears to hear. Don't expect me to be the perfect person writing this as if I'm a perfect character, a Mary Sue. I've got a bunch of flaws, but I feel like I need to put all of this down before either A: I forget it all or B: I completely lose myself.
So here I go -- blindly, the only way I know how.