The complete online journal of Ted Vaaaak

Ted Vaaaak, reported dead in 2005, stunned the literary world last summer when he reappeared on egosalve website . Possibly forgetting he was dead, or maybe communicating with us from beyond, Ted Vaaak's diary ran for an enigmatic few months, before withering away in front of our very eyes.

No one was able to actually contact the shadowy creature during or after this brief explosion of activity, and ever since there has just been an eerie silence. What this means only the Gods can know.

The complete journal is reprinted below, along with a selection of the comments he left for various other people (all now dead).

May 11th, 2006, 2:20 PM


Earlier, Tristan Bumrape came round. I tried pretending I was out - the tears were burning my face - but he pushed his long mouth through the letterbox, deliberately and slowly enunciating the words: "Teeeeed. Teeeee-eeeeeeeeed."

I was already holding a broomhandle, and with that I set about the letterbox, striking and striking, until broomhandle were so much matchwood.

Breathing heavily, I waited as the twin clouds of dust and red mist on my eyes cleared. It was as though Tristan had never been there.

But then one of his long eyes was pressed against the skullery window. I was there in a flash, and a bottle of red wine vinegar was through the window even faster, and suddenly the shalves were awash with curved pieces of discoloured glass, like a frozen ocean suddenly shattered under the shriek of a god.

Again, there was no sign of Tristan. Fluid began seepage, and I listened to the voice amongst my heartbeats: I'M. STILL. HERE.



The whispers of spring are too long, I fear








May 11th, 2006, 2:23 PM

Murder in Munich

Possibly the most exciting moment of my life was when I was approached by Alan Turing to write his biography. Being a long term fan of Turing's works - especially "On Computable Numbers, with an Application to the Entscheidungsproblem and exploding Big Robots" - I was thrilled at the prospect. Unfortunately, soon after he died, and took my dreams with him. Alan Turing, I curse thee still! But I showed him, and wrote a series of fictional biographies, each more impressive than the last, showing how Turing had overcome his homosexuality and defeated Hitler so that he could marry Eva Braun.

Things were going well, but this would not last long.

In 1982, a shadowy figure appeared at my door, holding a copy of Murder in Munich in his terrifying bird claw. As he stepped into the light I realised it was none other than Alan Turing himself. "How?" I gurgled, backing away in fear. As I became trapped against the wall Alan started to laugh and laugh and laugh. "Ted, you big fool! All these years, and you did not know?".

"Know what?"

"Did not know about my faked death. About my withered claw. And about my time travel."

It was true. I did not. I felt betrayed. But there was worse to come...

"And those stories you wrote, to discredit me? You thought those your works, didn't you? Thought those were your masterful words selling by the millions. Hahahaha! Each night I would come and whisper in your ear while you slept, telling you the tales of my life. Andeach day you wrote them down, with more talent than a mathematician like me could ever muster. Ted, I salute you!"

And with that he was gone

May 11th, 2006, 2:28 PM

Anglo Amalgamated Pictures

Anglo Amalgamated Pictures
16 March 1963
Dear Ted,

Thanks for the latest script quick work as ever! However, we don't think that your submission is quite right for the new "Carry On" film, at least not without some revision. Some points we had problems with:

Your proposed title of "Carry on Fellating" will cause us trouble, I'm sure.

Similarly, the Kenny Williams character of "Kinky Bishop" will need to be toned down considerably.

Sorry, the 10-minute lysergic acid hallucination sequence is right out.

There's no way Barbara Windsor will agree to the scene in the cowshed. Well, probably not, anyway.

Rewrites to the usual address, please.

Yours, as ever,

Gerald Thomas.

PS. Give us a bell when you're next in town, I'm sure I owe you a couple. By the way, did anything come of your pitch to the Beeb? That science fiction thing with Bill H, wasn't it?

May 11th, 2006, 2:30PM


I bought trous on Monday in Holloway, they had no changing room as there was a builder in it, I have no idea what size length my leg are (normally just 'R'), so I buy trous, they are too short, like those cut-off white trous that a chav would wear, so Tuesday I take them back and get long trous, there is still a builder in the changing room, I get home but the long trous are too long, and fold in half at my shin, making me look like I have goat leg, so Wednesday I take them to a bigger S & M in Covent Garden, they have EVEN LESS TROUS, just massive trous or tiny trous, I try on some trous anyway (have to walk through bra section to changing room), then throw away the tiny/long trous in disgust, so I go to Oxford Street, I cannot find the S & M, I phone Flan practically weeping, she tells me where it is, I enter, it is so big that I cannot find ANY trous, eventually I get to the trous section, there are so many pairs of trous that I almost weep again, but after many minutes of examination it appears that, once again, there are no types of trous but MASSIVE and tiny. I try on two pairs of trous. They do not fit. I go out and get two more pairs of trous. They do not fit. I headbutt the mirror. I go out and rifle through the trous, almost running up and down the aisles of trous in a panic. I find some trous that may fit, I try them on, they do not fit very well but they will have to do, in order to exchange the trous for the original giant trous I have to wander through an enormous maze of bras to the customer service segment, I think the gentleman understands the grief on my face. I get home and it is 8:30. I sit blankly for a while, looking at the trous. This morning I put on the trous, and say to my housemate "Are these trous OK?" and she says "They are too short".

Most of today I have been in a kind of 'trous-delirium', obsessed with other men's trous, and whether my trous are too short by comparison.

May 12th, 2006, 2:33 AM

The Unspoken Bond

excerpts from the forthcoming Doctor Who novel "The Unspoken Bond"

Davros was right. Right about everything. At first I doubted him, questioned him, abandoned him to ridicule and disgust, but slowly I came to realise his wisdom, his compassion. I overcame my inital revulsion, began to see the beauty in his mind.

But now he's gone. And I am all alone, with nothing but memories and regrets.

Sometimes I catch myself reaching out to touch the side of a car with my hand before I remember where I am, the feel of my flesh on metal a forbidden pleasure, a fleeting moment of desire followed by hours of loathing, of disgust.

If I knew where he had gone I would follow. The tears in my eyes would not hamper my progress.


"Davros, you must stop this at once!"

Davros just laughed. "Stop? No, now is when I start!"

With this, Davros leaned forward, further than anyone thought possible. And then, just as he was about to fall from his chair, he started to rise. Rise and rise, rotating, laughing. He span and span, faster and faster. Laughed and laughed, louder and louder.

"We must go, my dear", the doctor bellowed at Rose. "There is nothing we can do"

May 12th, 2006, 3:00 AM

The Man With A Thousand Mouths In His Neck

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She stood there like a daydream, or a fever, and I could not stop my eyes from staring.

Later on, we spoke, and it all seemed so easy, so perfect. She laughed and so did I. She smiled and I fell in love.

And then it happened. We were just leaving, stepping outside into the warm summer's night, when my scarf was caught in the door. I stepped forward, unrealising, uncaring, and my scarf was pulled clean away, and my neck was revealed.

And now it was her who stared at me. In horror. The thousand mouths in my neck bit and bit, licked their lips, screamed, howled in pain and hunger. She tried to run, but my arms held her close, pulled her in...

And they started to feed.

May 12th, 2006, 4:00PM

My wings hurt

"My wings hurt"

We were walking along the clifftop still, and we were tired. The sun was draining, the heat slowly wearing us down.

"My wings hurt", he repeated.

"What? What wings? You don't have any wings"

"My wings hurt"

We walked on. The grass was dieing, or already dead. Drop a cigarette here and the whole world would burst into flames.

"My wings hurt"

I remembered playing in a paddling pool in my garden as a child, the inside of it a bright orange, the outside a blue as pale as the sky above. I tried to remember the sound of my laughter, but could not.

"My wings hurt"

My fingers closed around his throat, squeezing hard. His tentacles flapped uselessly by his side, his tongue tried desperately to gain purchase on my face, rip off my skin, but I leaned back, just out of reach. I stared into his eyes, and he into mine.

"My wings hurt"

I threw his body over the side of the cliff, and walked on. I could feel the wings on my back begin to itch

May 12th, 2006, 4:10PM


The small child looked up, tried to smile. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"Please stop... Please..."

I could not. It would not be just. I hit him again.

"Here come Emlyn"

Emlyn? What was the boy talking about, now? Maybe I had hit him too hard, too often. I looked around anyway, but we were still alone, except for the birds. The field was beautiful today, all yellow, almost glowing. You could lose yourself in it forever, like walking across the surface of the sun. Like walking across the surface of the mind.

"What Emlyn want?"

"There is no Emlyn. No Emlyn at all"

"Look out, Emlyn"

I hit him again, across the mouth. His lips broke against his teeth, and blood streamed out. He looked so much like me I could almost cry.

"Here Emlyn"

"You are only making things worse. This is no time for fear. No time for madness. This is as real as it gets, son. Don't you understand? Don't you understand anything?"

"Climb tree with Emlyn"

I grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him, watched the blood fly from his face in slow motion, the whole world slowing to a stop, yellow and red everywhere. And then a shadow fell across me, across everything. I turned. The field looked so drab in shadow, its magic gone.

Emlyn was here

May 13th, 2006, 11:30AM

The last one finishes 10th

13th May, 2006, 11:43 AM

The good, the bad, and the undead

"I am not dead yet", she said, but I knew the truth. We'd killed her the night before, filled her body up with wires and logic, switched her on. She had forgotten that, forgotten the acid I'd made her drink, forgotten our final kiss as her lips burnt away.

Her tongue was made from bone, now, and her throat from clay. Her veins were filled with our tears and her heart with our screams. Mandelbrot had been released into her mind, Sierpinski into her flesh. Her legs were paradoxes, her arms a forbidden music

I looked into her eyes and could see the decay. She flew away, towards the sun, my skull between her teeth. The fractals began to seep into my mind, into my eyes. The sun would never be the same again

17th May, 2006, 4:55 AM

I dreamt about sewing last night

I had to do lots of sewing

This beautiful indian lady was teaching me how to do it

"Use the thin black strand" she said, "it is the strongest there is"

There was a rack in front of me, with millions of strands of cotton dangling off it like so many tiny belts, but none were black

I looked and looked, getting more frantic by the minute, for I did not want to disappoint her

Eventually she looked at me, and I plucked a single hair from her head

And she smiled

2nd June, 2006, 1:10 AM

I found a pipe in the garden

I found a pipe in the garden. A wizarde pipe, about 14 inches long. I am not sure where it came from. I liked to imagine a passing crow had dropped it, but I suspect it was something much more mundane. Maybe a wandering child on its way back from the culling had thrown it away, no longer needing its powers. Maybe I had left it there, my mind unable to remember the event.

Or maybe it had always been there, unseen and alone. I picked it up, and began to smoke.

4th June, 2006, 12:52 AM

The Man With A Thousand Mouths In His Neck

(1959, first published in Appalling Stories magazine)

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She stood there like a daydream, or a fever, and I could not stop my eyes from staring.

Later on, we spoke, and it all seemed so easy, so perfect. She laughed and so did I. She smiled and I fell in love.

And then it happened. We were just leaving, stepping outside into the warm summer's night, when my scarf was caught in the door. I stepped forward, unrealising, uncaring, and my scarf was pulled clean away, and my neck was revealed.

And now it was her who stared at me. In horror. The thousand mouths in my neck bit and bit, licked their lips, screamed, howled in pain and hunger. She tried to run, but my arms held her close, pulled her in...

And they started to feed.

(Editor's note: For some reason, Ted deemed this story so important he posted it twice in a matter of weeks. No amount of research has been able to discover any reason why this story could be considered significant in any way)

5th June 2010, 9:59 AM (Editor's note: The year is either incorrect, or Ted's powers are growing)


it is a type of owl

22nd June, 2006, 6:12 AM

A thread of hair

Typically, I'd just finished my lunch
when he arrived at the front door.
"Hi," I said.
"Hullo," he replied, before making his way
past me and down the hall to the kitchen
at the rear of the house.
I found him standing with his back to the
window overlooking the garden. I pushed
the button on the kettle, my gaze never
leaving his.
He unzipped his pale blue jeans and put
a hand into the hole.
"Emlyn", his voice was a whisper.
"Emlyn is here."

27th August, 2006, 2:27PM

The Vaaak Hypothesis

It was on one of my many trips to the sanitorium that I formulated what is now known as the Vaaak Hypothesis. The Vaaak Hypothesis is most elegantly expressed in the following lines of poetry:

"If the stars are infinite/Why am I alone/If the universe is dead/Can anyone hear this koan"

Unfortunately, the Vaaak Hypothesis has a couple of fundamental problems which have yet to be resolved.

Foremost among these is the way in which, upon hearing the hypothesis, the blood vessels within the nose rupture and never naturally heal, causing severe bloodloss and often death. The only people who seem immune to this are those that enjoying rape. Nobody has yet put forward a credible suggestion of why this is.

Secondly is the way that the majority of people see nothing in the hypothesis at all, instead only percieving a short nonsensical verse. This is likely to be caused by a defect in the brain that inhibits higher brain functions, and may also be related to dyslexia and autism. From studies it appears that perhaps as many as 98.7% of the population of Earth cannot appreciate the hypothesis, let alone begin to fully understand it.

Finally, here are some of the comments Ted Vaaaak left for other users on myspace

May 11, 2006 6:12 PM

And it was then that I realised that the beach contained no sand at all. Instead it was covered in a fine layer of tiny little stones, each barely larger than a speck of dust. It was as if great forces had ground these rocks down over the ages, and left them here to die

I cried a single tear, that night, as I broke her neck. She never even opened her eyes


May 11, 2006 6:16 PM

"How can you have eyes", they said, "when you don't even have a face?"

I just shook my head and laughed into my claw, astounded by their ignorance. It would be like asking them how they had a mind when they didn't even have a skull.

I ate well that night


May 11, 2006 6:36 PM

We exploded the bomb in the garage, as a test. It worked perfectly, quickly replacing every oxygen atom within five feet with a winged slug. They swarmed forward, overpowering us all, slowly feeding on our skin

The nobel prize would be ours now, without a doubt


May 12 2006 8:00PM

I looked into the robot's eyes, and they were filled with honey. I am not sure why. Maybe it was used as a lubricant, or a filter. Its ears contained a million grains of rice, floating in miniature black hole.

Its heart was made of ice


May 12, 2006 8:30 PM

I put my lips to his ear. "Clack", I whispered. He turned and looked at me, astonished, confused.


He flinched away from my cry, stumbled backwards towards the door.

"Claaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack, my love", and he was gone


May 13, 2006 11:56 PM

I discovered today that you can set your own eyes on fire

It did not help my recovery


May 15, 2006 10:41 AM

We were lucky. Our infection just caused our arms to turn into feathers. It was the others we felt sorry for. Tranter's head became a map, Emlyn's eyes turned to smoke. My mother's brain was replaced by wasps.

And poor Terald's anus was replaced by a super massive blackhole. There was no escape, now


May 15, 2006 6:33 PM

I removed the lash from my eye, and held it to the light, examined it for clues. There were none. I flicked it to the floor and continued on my way.

It was the first hair of any kind I had ever seen. I was frightened, a little. At least I knew they were here now. Knew they were ready to choke the world in hair.

I started to prepare


May 15, 2006 9:53 PM

Imagine if you had a clock inside of your head and would die if the hands stopped turning. One day the battery might stop and you would have to take the top of your head off and keep the handles going around by pushing them with your fingers.


Jun 4, 2006 12:34 AM

Inevitably I began to think of pens not as mere writing implements but instead as a kind of metaphor for the tragedies of life. They start out so clean and fresh, filled with ink and ready for anything, but leave them outside for a while without a hat and they wither and die, their ink drying in their veins like so much calcified blood.

I adjust my tie, and move on


Jun 4, 2006 12:36 AM

I live in an igloo made of sand. Now it's started to melt and I don't know what to do


Jun 4, 2006 4:28 PM

I realised slowly that I had become lost in a maze of cobbled streets and repeated road names. I find it quite astonishing that Coventry could have so many streets all named Road Close. I circle for hours, but see no evidence of human life. It is as if the entire town has left on holiday, desperate to escape their mundane lives.

I wonder if they will ever find their centres...


Jun 4, 2006 4:38 PM

I stink of turps today. I have been decorating the bathroom. I could not stop the paint from forming into drips when I painted the door. I now have a sad looking door

And the bathtub is filled with holes


Jun 5 2006 6:20PM

There is no such thing as penis, I discovered later. It is just an illusion, used to hide the terrifying truth

Before I came my penis turned red


Jun 5, 2006 6:34 PM

I tried to fly into the sun last night, but it was no longer there


Jun 19, 2006 11:50 PM

If you look at the floor long enough you can begin to see every atom, and how much they hate us all


Jun 21, 2006 5:22 PM

There are some things which should never even be attempted. Resurrecting Jesus, for example, or writing a novel without using any of the decent letters.

Yesterday I tried to eat the sun, and now my lips are sore


Jul 20, 2006 9:12 PM

I saw a mountain on fire today