Name: Macon Samuel Mitchell
Born
>Place: Baltimore, Maryland
>Date: Thursday, October 24, 1929 (“Black Thursday”)
Family
>Father: George Alvin Mitchell (DOB: August 14, 1905)
>Mother: Carla Diane (von Coln) Mitchell (DOB: September 5, 1904)

History (in the form of personal notes)
         This is bad. Very bad. I do not know how to explain it really, except that I am sane. And I should not be.
         Stop. Take a breath. Right, scratch that. I keep forgetting, I’m dead now, and have been for the last three months. And I should have been driven insane by now. But I’m not. I hope Ethan doesn’t find out; I don’t want him disappointed… he can get very paranoid at times. Hopefully I will finally go ’round the bend soon and not need to pretend anymore. On the positive side, some of the insight of the clan has seeped into me; I see the rotting core behind the glittering veneer that most people suffer from. I was hopeful at first when I noticed it happening at about week 10, but I’ve been told that it’s not insanity. I should start studying to better fake insanity…

Tuesday, October 8, 1957
         I thought I should start writing down the dates of my entries. I can’t remember how many days ago the last one was. I hate my swiss-cheese memory.
         In any case, I’ve managed to fool most into believing I’m insane; that’s a good thing. In other news, the Russians launched a machine of some kind into orbit. The age of outer space has truly begun; I don’t think people are going to be satisfied until they blow someone to pieces up there. It’s amazing how many kindred were affected by the wave of McCarthyism, and how many princes are still using those tactics. Sickening.

Thursday, May 5, 1960
         A new project! I’ve just been contracted to design an asylum for the city. I think this is the “deathday present” Ethan was talking about before. I have so many things I want to try! Secret passages, hidden traps (in the secret passages), and even embedded, concealed tools. Not so many of them that it will be obvious, but enough to seed dark legends about the place. I think they’ll be put in by the night crew! Ha ha! A vision come true!
         Speaking of visions, I had one a couple of weeks ago… about King Arthur getting stabbed with Excalibur, and Mordred being falsely accused by Sir Launcelot, the real killer. I’ve got a few theories on it, the most likely is that McCarthy is going to come back and be a patsy for some democrat who wants Jackie or the presidency for himself. Probably by presenting “proof” of JFK’s mob ties or Catholic mind control device.

Thursday, November 1, 1962
         It’s over. And we survived. The whole world breathes with a collective “Holy crap on a crucifix, that was close.” This is the first time in years that I have been really scared. Not even the Anarchs and the Camarilla were really going at it this past month. I had a lot of time to reflect on what is really important, and relive the events of my past life. For some reason I can’t get the last image of my parents out of my head.
         It’s July 22, ’52. I walk into the opened door of their house. Bloody footprints. Pool of blood around the corner. Bodies lying in blood. Ripped apart Cannot be identified. I blink; the sun has set. Police are asking me what happened. My parents are identified by their dental records. It is a closed-casket funeral. Days later, they catch the bastard. An inmate put in prison when he should have been put in an asylum. Life returns to normal two months later. The visions. That’s what reminded me of then.
         I remember now, I had a vision. A square dry cave, a hidden treasure, a forced lock, a sword shattered then re-forged. The iron treasure box shatters the sword after the sword forces the lock and tries to take the golden/pyrite prize. The sword re-forged is still brittle and crooked, and must be shattered again, almost breaking the iron box in the meantime and destroying the table on which the treasure box rests. The sword then re-forges itself once more, stronger than before. The table with the treasure box is now rebuilt. The prize is both pure gold and worthless ferrous pyrite. Very confusing.
         On a happier note, I seem to have made a fiend. Her name is Jenine, a Nosferatu (though she hides it well. One of my clanmates mentioned something about her being an Egyptian queen, but I think he’s just nuts… And I realize now that if I were actually nuts, I could probably understand it! Why do I have to be the one in the clan who is still sane? Why the hell am I so stubbornly fucking stable?!
         At least no one else knows it. Funny thing; I’ve been told my aura shows that I’m sane, but I still manage to convince others of my “insanity.”

Sunday, November 24, 1963
         I still can’t bring myself to believe it. It’s been two days now since I’ve heard the news, and I still can’t believe it. Someone shot the president. That Arthurian vision I had back three years ago all makes sense now. Oswald isn’t the killer; I know because he has Mordred’s face. And Ruby isn’t Launcelot either. I seem to remember now that his face looked like a photo I saw of Hoover… In any case, there’s nothing I can do about it now.
         Jenine has been comforting in these past two days; I doubt if she’s had her fangs for more than a decade; she seems to understand loss and confusion more than most. I have an inkling that she used to be physically beautiful before her Embrace. If she did, she’s taken it all in stride. Oh well, it’s nice to have a friend beyond my sire and few semi-stable clanmates.

Friday, December 13, 1963
         Another vision! Jenine and I were discussing the concept of Elysium today, and we came up with a great idea: a haven for all the Anarchs in the city! It will be underground, but away from the sewers (she says her clan likes their privacy; I can appreciate that). It will have sleeping rooms, passages (none secret; I want this to be based on trust between Anarchs), a council chamber for discussions, and some rec rooms for relaxing and wreck rooms for the young Brujah and Gangrel, and pretty much something for everyone, even the caitiff! It will, of course, have to be built over the course of many years so the Hopefully, the local Camarilla will not find out about this (part of the reason it will be built underground) so we can have a good base of operations where any Hunted Anarchs can be sheltered until they can be smuggled out.
         It’s going to be great working with Jenine; her knowledge of tunnels and subterranean refuges will be infinitely helpful as I have never designed anything more subterranean than a sub-basement.

Sunday, February 7, 1965
         I had a dream last night… almost a vision. It was about Star Trek but instead of the regular cast, it was Ethan and Harold landing the Galileo-7 on a large wedge of green cheese while Jenine and I watched form the Enterprise. But the Enterprise was round and blue. That’s the last time I feed on a geek who’s done nothing but eat pizza, drink Coke, and watch Star Trek for the last month…

Thursday, April 4, 1968
         Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated this evening shortly after his “Mountaintop” speech. He has always been a source of inspiration to the Anarch movement. I’m guessing it’s the same conspiracy that killed JFK. Who’s next, Bobby Kennedy?

Thursday, June 6, 1968
         It has happened again. Another Kennedy dead, another assassination, another vision, this one the night before. A prince was standing on a mountaintop when his enemy was placed before him. But strings that the prince could not see circled the base of the mountain to a shadowy figure who was holding a broken Excalibur. I was upset by this, because I knew that it was going to be Bobby. Jenine saw how troubled I was and stayed with me in the half-completed council chamber all day. If I was still alive I probably couldn’t have slept, but I am now a blood-sucking creature of the night. I end this entry with a quote:
          “Some men see things as they are and say why. I dream things that never were and say why not.” —Robert f. “Bobby” Kennedy, 1925-1968

Monday, July 29, 1969
         I was woken up by a vision during the daytime, actually an addition to a previous vision. As soon as Ethan and Harold landed on the cheese, a gate opened up and pure colours, sounds and emotions started flowing through towards the large blue spherical enterprise were Jenine and I were. I came down from my vision to find that Jenine, who had stayed the day, was waking up then, so I decided to turn on the television as I realized it was almost time to see if the astronauts made it or not. Happily, JFK’s dream finally came true; Conspiracy X couldn’t stop that.
          “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” What the hell does that mean? Maybe he meant “one small step for a man…” Whatever was meant, the message did come across: “Holy crap on a crucifix, they made it!” Jenine laughed when I said that.

Saturday, August 10, 1974
         Nixon resigned today, reaffirming my faith in democracy once more. It’s good to have a reminder every so often that Republican Conspiracy X is not as invulnerable and perfect as they’d like us top believe.
         And in other news, Ethan just left for a whirlwind tour of Europe so he can spread the Word of the Cause. Personally, I doubt he will be able to stir up enough passion to start the great movement, but who knows. Perhaps Nixon’s and RCX’s failure will boost morale just enough.

Wednesday, April 13, 1977
         Disaster has struck. Jenine has learned my secret. At first I didn’t want to do anything, but after she left for the morning, I realized that she’s a Nos, and the Nos are snitches. I trust her, but I wouldn’t put it past that domineering Kasov to put her up to trying to use my secret against me… I don’t know what to do. The only way I can make sure my secret won’t be tortured out of her is to silence her, and that is NOT an option. I’ll have to find some way to make her believe otherwise. No doubt any Forgetful Mind I use on her will be ripped apart by that thing. I can’t to anyone — especially Ethan, even if he were still here — for advice, since I’ll have to reveal my secret. I don’t know what to do…

Thursday, April 14, 1977
         She came to me this evening, and she explained the whole thing. Kasov hasn’t found out yet, but will probably make her use it as a lever to try to get information out of me. She doesn’t want to, but he is her sire, and can kill her. He still doesn’t know that she’s an Anarch sympathiser. I’ll have to try the Forgetful Mind idea and hope for the best…

Friday, April 15, 1977
         She’s back tonight, and Kasov found out about the memory blocks. He ripped them apart and told her to be more careful… I HATE this! I don’t want to hurt her, but her fucking sire won’t let this go.
         I… I know what I have to do now. I hope I can do thins without hurting her too much. I am going to drive her insane. I know I can do this — I did it to that cabbie Harold wanted to recruit — but I don’t want to destroy her. I’m going to have to traumatise her so she represses the memories, then help her rebuild her self-esteem. I need to look like… her father! That’s it! He traumatised her before, and she still fears him. No, I’ll have to hire an actor to play the part of the bastard. I need to be there to chase him away and comfort her. We’re going to need to be in a secluded area where we can’t get help from other kindred. Alright, I have the plan outlined, not to put it into motion. And pray for forgiveness for what I am about to do to her…

Tuesday, April 19, 1977
         It is done. But I ever thought she would kill him. I should have seen it coming. She stayed with me that next evening. When we woke up, she couldn’t remember the past week. I offered to try to bring back her memories without thinking. Of course she accepted, but thankfully… “thankfully” indeed… she recoiled from what started surfacing and buried the memories on her own once more. I think I’ve done it, may God have mercy on my soul…
Monday, July 18, 1977
         Jenine seems to be doing well, and her sire has stopped trying to use her against me. She says that when she is Released, she’ll join the Cause. I hope she does, it would be so nice to have her on our side. There are already a few here who trust her enough to allow her into our gatherings, but of course insist that she leave when discussing anything important. As much as it pains me to shut her out, I have to agree. In any case, she seems to have put the Incident (as I call it now) behind her. I’ve realized something… I’m going to have to tell her about it. Not now, but one of theses days. And I fear that day.

Thursday, June 21, 1979
         I’ve found someone interesting. She’s a computer programmer newly hired here. She may be what I’m looking for in a childe. I’ll have to watch her closely. She seems stable enough to be a test of my blood. And she’ll be a good addition to the clan with her skills at computers. With what is going on now, I think they’ll be in every business within the next five years.

Friday, June 13, 1979
         Finally, it has happened! Jenine was officially released by her sire and her first act was to break away from the Camarilla and join with the Anarchs.

Friday, September 21, 1979
         I decided to ghoul her on the first day of fall as a symbol of… well, I knew it at the time. I’m disguising my vitæ as a “natural additive to ginseng tea.” Ginseng is supposed to give energy and intelligence, according to Jenine. In any case, I’m not telling Freya about kindred until I bring her across.

Monday, March 24, 1980
         It is a sad day today. Archbishop Oscar Romero, one of the icons of the Anarch ideals, was shot in the back while preparing a sermon. I’m pretty damn sure that it was a branch of RCX that did it. Romero was speaking out against the Republican-backed government for a while now. Another great mortal killed so silence him. It will never work, kill one man who speaks up, and three more take his place.

Tuesday, April 1, 1980
         Freya is now one of us. She’s taking it rather well, considering the big surprise. Now, all I need to do is watch her and see if my curse has actually been transmitted. If it has, I’ll have to teach her how to blend in and not get discovered. I sincerely hope that she does go insane though. It’s been hard to grow up living a lie; my only two comforts have been my designs and Jenine. Speaking of which, we are on the verge of completing the Haven. We just need to put the finishing touches on the escape tunnels (not marked on any surviving blueprint). Hopefully, all will go well.

Thursday, May 1, 1980
         And he looked upon what he hath wrought and said: “Now that ain’t half bad.” She is insane, and the curse is only limited to me. I’d breathe a sigh of relief if I could still breathe. Well, I guess I now have to start teaching her our ways.

Thursday, June 22, 1982
         That vision came back to me tonight, and I understand it. My mind is the treasure box, the gold/pyrite is my sanity; worthless to me, but worth a lot to anyone who wants something from me. The sword is Jenine’s mind, and I have to break it again to help her out. I’m going to have to tell her the truth. If I read the vision right, she won’t kill me, just beat the crap out of me. The one thing I fear the most is that the vision says nothing about after we both heal. I hope to God she won’t continue hating me, but I have to be prepared for if she does. I have to do this. I respect her too much not to. I can almost hear Chopin’s Funeral March playing…

Monday, December 27, 1982
         I finally woke up from Torpor this evening. Freya told me that I had been so severely beaten that she could barely recognise me. All my bones had been crushed and my lower jaw and tongue had been torn out. I remember some of the beating. The first thing Jenine did was become quiet. I urged her to do something, say something, let me know how she was feeling. She complied.
         First, she revealed her true form to me. As horrified as I was, I did my best not to let it show through. I apologized and asking forgiveness, saying that I deserved whatever I got. That I cared for her no matter what. That seemed only to enrage her more, and she picked me up by the head and flung me across the room, slamming me into the stone wall. It went predictably after that, with me offering no resistance.
         When I regained consciousness, Freya mentioned that Jenine had dropped my mangled corpse off to her saying “I no longer have any business with… that.” Such hatred can only mean she cared for me as much as I for her. I hope I can repair what we had.

Friday, January 1, 1983
         I have finally managed to find Jenine, and it seems that she’s decided to cut off all communication. Her voice could freeze the Sahara. In any case, we are immortal beings, so that gives us some time to work things out. Here’s hoping for the best.

Friday, October 31, 1983
         Finally, I managed to wear her down. I’ve been quietly reminding her that I still care, and that I won’t give up. I think I finally got through to her with my costume. The sword and the treasure box may have a future together after all. Hmm… that sounds like a good title for a book: The Sword and the Treasure Box. I’ll file that away for later.

Friday, March 15, 1985
         I think Jenine and I are back again. She seems to trust me like she once did. And she has remembered my secret, and sworn to keep it, no matter what. Now that she isn’t controlled by her sire I feel that I can trust her with it, perhaps more than anyone else I know. Things are finally returning back to normal.

Saturday, November 22, 1986
         And the great Ethan has returned. 23 years to the day that King Arthur was betrayed and slain. He brings word of the Continent and little souvenirs for us all. He seems to be surprised by how quickly I’ve embraced. Well, the times, they are a changin’.

July 1, 1989
         Communist China has just proved once more that they are as bad as the RCX, and as fearful. They saw students walking, and they sent in the military, complete with tanks. It seems that the Age of Autocracy is coming to an end. It should be over in the next four to six decades.

Wednesday, April 19, 1995
         I was just thinking on an idea for a new building for Anarchs, the last one being left behind in Baltimore in Jenine’s capable hands, when I heard the news. Kapow. A building in Oklahoma had just been destroyed by a bomb. I’m all for bringing down the Bureautocracy, but that’s not the way to do it. Whoever set that bomb better have been strapped to it. Otherwise, the American people will tear him apart.
         Oh, yes, also I forgot to bring this journal up to date. That will be rectified now. Ethan, Freya and I have moved to New Hampshire since our business collapsed (economically, that is). I asked Jenine to come along with us, but she declined, saying that here place was in Baltimore. Hopefully she will change her mind one of these nights. It would be good to talk to her face-to-face again. We do still write, in code of course. She gave me a code book, which lists the codes that she uses so I can read her letters.

Sunday, August 28, 1999
         It’s… weird. All Malkavians went sane for a week. ALL of them. For that week, it suddenly wasn’t so important to hide my sanity. I was free. Then it came crashing back down again. I no longer could control minds; instead, I could push buttons, cause minor schizophrenia, and even see the patterns around us. I agree with the others of my clan; Something Big is happening.

Tuesday, November 30, 1999
         Wow. All I can say is… wow. We Malkavians, can now sonar each other. I can tell who is and who isn’t a Malkavian. And who is insane. I’m glad it works with both blood and insanity, otherwise I’d have been found out for sure. It’s… weird. Good, but weird. I have to tell this to Jenine in my next letter.
         Wow…

Tuesday, July 4, 2000
         Just heard a good song today, Absolutely. Reminds me a lot of Jenine. Coincidentally, a letter arrived from her as she sent it. They just survived an attack there from… things. They looked like large black elder Gangrel, she said; she also told me that the Haven was destroyed by them, but the escape tunnels helped most get out alive. I’m just glad that she’s safe.

Saturday, May 24, 2003
         Ethan told us that there’s a very tyrannical prince in a place called “Saint John.” It’s in Canada, and cross-border transportation has already been arranged. Maybe when we get there I can finally convince Jenine to come on over. If not, no big deal. We have time.

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