(align:"=><=")[|storyTitle>[''Apple-At-Cha:''
We Who Fight Monsters]]
(align:"=><=")[|storyAuthor>[ Douglas Wallace & John Q. Adams]]
|separator>[]
The night was filled with the sound of screaming, an unnerving and unavoidable sound that demands attention from all who dwell awake in the dark. And you are perfectly aware that this was the third time this week.
You wake up alone and in your bed. You live alone in a small apartment building, with only a couple other units in the building. It's a small apartment, consisting of just a few dingy rooms: a bedroom, a kitchen and dining area, a bathroom, and a living room. The bedroom is tiny, barely bigger than a closet, but you've decorated it to your tastes. You like it.
You roll over to the edge of the bed and glance at the clock. It’s three in the morning. Goddamn it. You lift yourself up, ignoring the chronic pain in your lower back and the aches in your joints. Your family doctor is always after you to see a rheumatologist, but you ain't driving an hour and half to see one. It takes a few moments to get yourself situated, but the screaming is starting to give you a headache. And you're out of aspirin.
When you first woke up, you worried it might be one of those predators, but you reckon that the screaming would have stopped if it was something that ate you. As you walk to the front door, you grab your satchel and metal bat, the tools you usually use to deal with small headaches like this.
As you blink away the sleep, you open the door to your apartment, and peer out. Luckily, you see what you’re looking for quickly. Unfortunately, you recognize it. You sigh in exasperation.
Its eyes are large, oval, and red. It has wings, clear and insectoid, tucked behind its back. It’s covered in small hairs upon its…skin? It, surprisingly, has huge muscles.
It’s fucking Mothman again, for the fifth damn time.
You thought you drove him out of your territory, but he just keeps coming back. You finally thought you came to an understanding with him a few months ago, but it must have fallen apart. Regardless, you’re ready to take him on. This is what you do.
1.{[[Scene 1<-Take a swing at him with the bat.]]}
2.{[[Scene 2<-Look in your satchel for another way to deal with him]]} {[[Scene 0<-Start Game]]}
<!--End Game-->
(set:$flyers to 0)(set:$Rflyers to false)(set:$Desksave to false)
<!--Investigation-->
(set:$pentagram to false)(set:$sOffice to false)(set:$sToolbox to false)(set:$trapdoor to false)(set:$Clue1 to false)
<!--Relations-->
(set:$mothman to "undecided")(set:$jattitude to "undecided") (set: $polite to 0)
<!--Random End-->
(set:$Cig to false)
(set: $gnome to 0)(set:$mothman to "enemy")(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Mothman will remember this.//]]
You prepare your bat and swing for the fences. But Mothman knows your metal stick hurts like hell and darts back. Mothman spreads his wings, going for intimidation, but he’s still holding back for a potential getaway. You’re a little off-balance. It’s been years since you played, and you didn’t have old knees like you do now.
You glance up, looking into those red eyes. This doesn’t really reveal anything. Insect eyes are not very expressive. You move forwards and prepare for a second swing, and Mothman prepares to dodge. You already anticipate this, so you move a closer than you otherwise would, and Mothman backs up, right into range for your second swing of the bat.
It crashes against Mothman, who drops to his knees. His wings collapse against his back. If he could speak, he'd be screaming bloody murder. You look down at him, and raise your bat once more.
“Get the fuck out of my territory! Scram! How many times before you learn your lesson?! Go on, git!” you shout.
Mothman looks towards your bat, and crouches. He does a high jump to leap into the air, and flies into the night. You stare at him, thinking what kind of asshole lines up for another go-around at three in the morning. You heave yourself back. You’re sweating and exhausted, you’re fine.
You find yourself wondering how long you’ll do this. You just want some peace and quiet, but everything seems bent on getting in your way all the time. One thing leading to another. And you aren’t getting any younger.
[[Next->Scene 3A]](set:$mothman to "ally")(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Mothman will remember this.//]]
You look through your satchel as Mothman draws closer. Surely you have something that will take him out. Some pepper spray or maybe a bug zapper. Your finger brush against something smooth and squishy. Mothman hears it and stops in his tracks.
You find yourself wondering what it is. You reach in and pull out a clear plastic bag, filled with nectar. Mothman stops as you look at him and the bag. Well, this is awkward. Your agreement with Mothman is that he’ll stop scaring the bejesus out of people, and you’ll give him a biweekly supply of nectar. But your Mama called you about some emergency with her cable company, and you got so mired in troubleshooting with her that you forgot to set up the drop.
“I apologize, and please know that this won’t happen again.” you say as you hand him the bag.
He takes the bag, tears a corner off and starts sipping the nectar. You are about to ask why he didn't come to your apartment first, but are interrupted by the number on the door. It was a metal nine, screwed to the door, but a loose screw made it appear to be a six, the number of your apartment.
“I see." You step out into the hall and shut the door behind you. You jerk a thumb at it. "There here's mine. See? It's still got them scratches you left on it last time."
Mothman nods after finishing the nectar. He then crouches and does a high jump into the air, spreading his wings and flying off into the night.
At least you weren’t so much an asshole to hit him with the bat, as you'd considered. You think to yourself that he actually looks a bit graceful flying off, almost like a superhero.
[[Next->Scene 3B]] You notice the screaming has stopped. You glance over at the unfortunate door, and walk over. It’s Jensen’s place. The door creaks open, and Jensen pokes out and speaks with a tear-stained face.
“Oh, thank God, it’s you. Who was it? I only saw a big man in the dark. Thank god my door was locked. That man nearly barged in, and tried to knock the door down. What happened?”
“Oh, it was just some weirdo wandering around, probably lost. He just mistook your apartment for his. Sometimes folks get too piss-drunk to find their way home. I took a couple swings at him -- with my fists of course -- and he ran off.”
Jensen smiles and relaxes. “Well, that’s a relief. Who knows what kind of people are wandering around at night?”
Smiling to yourself, you think of how right he is and how little people know it. Most people would probably freak out if they knew that you had just beat off a giant moth thing from someone’s front door.
You finish with some standard pleasantries, and then walk back to your apartment. Another night, another monster dealt with.
[[Next->Scene 4]]You notice the screaming has stopped. You glance over at the unfortunate door, and walk over. It’s Jensen’s place. The door creaks open, and Jensen pokes out and speaks with a tear-stained face.
“Oh, thank God, it’s you. Who was it? I only saw a big man in the dark. Thank the heavens my door was locked. That man nearly barged in, and tried to knock the door down. What happened?”
“Oh, it was just some weirdo wandering around, probably lost. He just mistook your apartment for his. Sometimes people get too piss-drunk to find their way home. I chatted him up and pointed him in the right direction. A tourist lost trying to get back to their motel, if you can believe it.”
Jensen smiles and relaxes. “Well, that’s a relief. Who knows what kind of people are wandering around at night?”
Of course, what happened outside the door was a bit weirder than helping a lost tourist.
You finish with some standard pleasantries, and then walk back to your apartment. Another night, another monster dealt with.
[[Next->Scene 4]] The dawn awakens the world, forming a beautiful scene over the small town you live in. Unfortunately, since you didn’t get up at dawn, you missed it.
You proceed to get up, struggling a bit with your balance and that same damn pain in your back. You aren’t as young as you used to be. But that's how it is. You get old, you get sick, you get dead. An ominous thought, if you’ve ever had one. You look over at the clock, and see it’s time to get started with your routine.
The routine is simple: wake up, get dressed, brush your teeth, and watch the local news. None of this has anything to do with monsters admittedly, but it’s something to do until you hear more. You walk out of your small bedroom and into a even smaller hallway, and then turn right into your bathroom. It is a sad affair, with a mirror, a sink, a toilet and a shower clustered together into a small rectangle with almost no floor space to walk.
You mosey on over to the mirror and stare yourself in the face, trying to ignore the wrinkles and the gray in your hair. Your eyes are (cycling-link: "blue", "brown", "green", "hazel", "gray","just fuckin' tired").
This is a fact that no one ever comments on, but then again, what can you expect? It’s not like there’s some kind of thing where people look at you and go “what beautiful eyes you have,” unless they’re trying to sweet-talk. Except the Big Bad Wolf, and you dealt with him last spring with a firework. Ain't no one telling him that he's got beautiful eyes no more.
You brush your teeth like you always do, an hour before breakfast so you don’t get that disgusting taste when you mix toothpaste and orange juice. You glance down at your fingernails and realize you should trim them, and proceed with picking up the fingernail clippers. While you clip your nails, you reflect on last night. //Why do I do this?//
The truth is, you're probably the person who both care if Mothman is rustling through the trash and terrorizing your neighbors //and// who can actually do something about it. And Mama always says that if you want something done, you should do it yourself.
Jensen is nice guy, but he's a scaredy-cat and not exactly up to the task of taking on an angry cryptid. Most of the complex hates being woken up as much as you do, but they're all retired pensioners and can't move around all that good anymore. 'Course, you joined their ranks a few years back, but it's not like there's anybody stepping up to take your place. And the apartment manager doesn’t give a shit, so long as rent gets paid. So you do what you can, for as long as you can.
You get up and shake off the dust. You walk back to your bedroom to pick out your clothes for the say. It ain't much, given you mostly wear the same clothes every day. It's just a simple (cycling-link: "polo shirt and slacks","yellow mumu","t-shirt and jeans","hoodie and sweatpants", "button-up and skirt").
Funny enough, you aren’t actually all that sure if anyone else knows about the monsters. No one ever talks about them. You’re pretty sure they do because you do, but it’s one of those things that isn’t fit for polite talk. Jensen’s the exception, being an outsider.
[[Next->Scene 4.2]]
Speaking of Jensen, you should probably swing by and check up him. As far as you can tell, he has no idea that West Virginia’s favorite cryptid was the one trying to bang down his door last night. Mothman isn't a threat so much as a nuisance, always bothering people and trying pass on omens and shit. Honestly, if you just shout at him, he tends to skedaddle, but it isn't Jensen's fault he didn't know and woke you up with his hollering.
He grew up in some big city or another, and nobody who didn't grow up in these backwoods really gets it. Admittedly, you probably would trade knowing about monsters for a house with a working furnace if you had the shot.
Jensen is a young man who moved in about a year ago. You aren't really sure //why// he'd want to move out here to Preston County, and not at least to Charleston, but it ain't exactly your business. Besides, you don't want him asking you questions back. The two of you aren't close, but no one else really talks to the kid. Which means he latched onto you as his best friend.
1.{[[Scene 5A<-You don’t like that he clings to you. It pisses you off.]]}
2.{[[Scene 5B<-You don’t like it, but you maintain a neighborly demeaner to avoid trouble.]]}
3.{[[Scene 5C<-You're actually pretty happy to have someone to help around.]]}(set:$jattitude to "irritated")
After selecting your clothes, you swing by the kitchenette and grab a bagel with cream cheese, eating as you exit your apartment. You march on up to Jensen’s door and knock politely.
Jensen opens the door, with a smile on his face and a string of nonsense. “What’s up? Thanks for clearing out that guy last night. It absolutely terrified me, this rando banging on my door in the middle of the night! I truly cannot express how-”
“Listen! It’s really nothing. You don’t have to roll out the red carpet for me,” you say, already feeling the return of last night's headache. Bad enough you had to wake up in the middle of the night.
Jensen doesn't take the hint. “Please! I just want to say how thankful I am. I mean, you’ve been there a lot for me since I moved here from D.C., and I don’t know how I can repay you-”
“Well, you can repay me by letting me get on with my day. I’m a bit exhausted from having to wake up in the middle of the night to deal with a drunk. If you’re fine, then I need to be on my way. I can’t always babysit you all the time.”
Jensen takes a step back, a little disturbed by your directness. You’ve never broken character this much before. Maybe you should have held back a bit and blown off this whole mess.
Before you can say anything, though, Jensen starts blabbing again. “Oh, uhm, I am truly sorry, and I’ll make this quick, so you can get going. I understand what you mean. It always feels like I’m screwing up and you’re bailing me out. I know I’m a screw-up, and I’m sorry I pushed it onto you.”
“Are you done?” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“Well, actually, there is something I would like to ask you to help me with. You see, I’m running a bingo night 50/50 at the Community Center in a week or so. I would like to ask, since you run that little dollar store in town if you would take some flyers to hand out. I know I have no right to ask this favor, but I’m trying to do something nice for the community, since I’m new here.”
1.{[[Refuse to do the errand.->Scene 7A]]}
2.{[[Accept the errand. You still aren't doing it, but you've already let the mask slip.->Scene 6A]]} (set:$jattitude to "annoyed")
After selecting your clothes you swing by the kitchenette and grab a bagel with cream cheese, eating as you exit your apartment.
You walk up to Jensen’s door and knock politely. Jensen opens the door with a smile on his face and quicklys thanks you. “It’s truly a miracle that you were able to get that drunk to leave me alone.”
You wave away his praise with your hands, albeit mildly flattered.
“It’s truly a miracle I didn’t take his place, with your screaming waking me up,” you say, half joking.
Jensen looks away, his smile turning a bit sheepish, “I truly am sorry about that. I just panicked, and I just moved here, so I don’t really feel comfortable yet. I can say that you have been a huge help.”
“Well, just be aware, that I don’t want to leap out of bed every night for some heroics. I need sleep too. You good for now?”
“I’m doing fine right now. I think that I’m starting to get people to like me around here. It’s been difficult living away from home.”
You’re a bit taken aback by this. It seems that Jensen thinks you're a bit more intimate with each other than you actually are. You need to disengage from this conversation. “I’m happy for you. It’s good to see that you’re starting to get along with other folks, but it’s almost time to head on over to the store. I need to heat up the coffee and turn on the lights and do a million other tasks or my customers will start howling and hollering about how I’m never open on time. I'll let you go now.”
Jensen looks a bit embarrassed, but speaks up anyway, “Actually, I have a bit of a favor that I was hoping that you could maybe do. I’m hosting a 50/50 bingo night at the Community Center in a short bit, and I was hoping that you would be willing to drum up some support by handing out flyers to people at your dollar store. Would you do it?”
1.{[[Refuse to do the errand->Scene 7B]]}
2.{[[Accept the errand->Scene 6B]]} (set:$jattitude to "friendly")
After selecting your clothes you swing by the kitchenette and grab a bagel with cream cheese, eating as you exit your apartment.
You walk up to Jensen’s door and knock politely. Jensen opens the door, a smile on his face. “I cannot thank you enough for what you did last night. I apologize for how I’m always needing help. It’s just that, I’m a bit nervous, you know. It seems that you're the only person here that will give me help.”
You shake your head and reply, “Oh, it’s fine. In a couple of months you’ll find your feet, and you’ll be off to the races. Admittedly, I kinda prefer to sleep in, but it’s not your fault. So, is there anything else I can do for you?”
After waiting a polite amount of time, you start to turn away before Jensen rushes into his apartment and comes back with a stack of papers. “Wait! I actually do have a favor to ask. You see, because I’m hoping to help get people used to me, I decided to host a 50/50 Bingo Night at the Community Center in the next couple weeks or so. And since you run the dollar store downtown, I was hoping you would be willing to hand out flyers.”
“A 50/50 bingo night? Here?" It'll be popular, especially with the older folks, but you aren't so sure it's a good idea. You'd prefer to keep your neighbors //inside// at night. Quickly, you think up a lie. "I don’t know how that will go over in these parts. Most people like to keep to themselves around here."
“That’s why I think we should. It’ll be a fun night for the entire community. A nice big get-together where we all have fun and compete for prizes.”
“Hold there a minute. Competition is not strong enough for what goes on here. Trust me, with money on the line, most of the folks here would cut their neighbor’s throat. I’m a bit worried as to what they might do, especially some of them old ladies. They might seem sweet, but they're sharks.” You pause before asking, “Who’s the other half going to, if half is going to the winner?”
“I was going to donate the other half to the Community Center.”
“Ah!” You were wondering how Jensen got the reservation for the room.
“So will you pass around flyers for me?”
1.{[[Refuse to do the errand->Scene 7C]]}
2.{[[Accept the errand->Scene 6C]]} (set:$flyers to 0) (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Jensen will remember this.//]]
“Fine, I’ll take the papers, and bring them to the store with me this morning.”
Jensen is still taken aback by your outburst, but smiles awkwardly. You’re certain that he thinks your attitude earlier was just you being grumpy. //What an idiot.//
You’re happy that he’ll probably leave you alone for a while at least. You grab the papers, and walk out to the parking lot. You hop in your old beat-up pick-up truck, and drop the papers in the passenger seat.
Your store is a couple minutes south of here, with squat, rundown buildings on either side, built a decades ago when times weren't so lean. God, you yourself would have gone bankrupt if the //Franchise-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named// hadn’t proved to be a cryptid itself. That truly was the strangest night of your life, at least so far.
You pull into your parking lot, which has somewhat less potholes than the one at the library. The obnoxiously bright yellow sign greets you as you hop out with your stack of papers. You hustle up the steps to the door. Or at least, approximate a hustle. The joints don’t hurt this morning, but there’s no reason to push it.
You slip through the door, setting off the bell connected to it, and eye the trash can next to it. You promptly drop the flyers into it. You said you would take them to the store, but nothing about giving them out.
[[Next.->Scene 9]]
(set:$Rflyers to true)
(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Jensen will remember this.//]]
“I’m sorry, but I have a no-soliciting policy for my store, and I can’t make exceptions,” you lie. “It just wouldn’t be right to give you an unfair advantage over everyone else.”
Jensen’s face pales and his eyes widen in horror. You’re really starting to frighten him this time. “Oh, my God! I’m sorry for bothering you, I- I’ll just let you go now.”
Jensen quickly shuts the door after this apology. You would wish the kid would leave you alone, but he will eventually be back for some other weird encounter. Maybe he'll take a tire out on one of the potholes in the road. Or something else. He seems to have appointed you as his personal nanny, or even parent. Well, you see no reason to take care of someone else’s kid, especially since you made sure not to have your own. Why in the world would anyone move out here to bother you, you have no idea.
Your store is a couple minutes south of here, with squat, rundown buildings on either side, built a decades ago when times weren't so lean. God, you yourself would have gone bankrupt if the //Franchise-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named// hadn’t proved to be a cryptid itself. That truly was the strangest night of your life, at least so far.
You pull into your parking lot, which has somewhat less potholes than the one at the library. The obnoxiously bright yellow sign greets you as you hop out with your stack of papers. You hustle up the steps to the door. Or at least, approximate a hustle. The joints don’t hurt this morning, but there’s no reason to push it.
[[Next.->Scene 9]](set:$flyers to 12) (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Jensen will remember this.//]]
“Sure, I’ll take the papers, and bring them to the store with me this morning.”
Jensen is still agitated from putting so much onto you, but smiles awkwardly. You think that he's a good kid, deep down. Even if he irritates you sometimes. However, you’re happy that he'll probably leave you alone for a while.
You grab the papers, and walk out to the parking lot. You hop in your old beat-up pick-up truck, and drop the papers in the passenger seat.
Your store is a couple minutes south of here, with squat, rundown buildings on either side, built a decades ago when times weren't so lean. God, you yourself would have gone bankrupt if the //Franchise-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named// hadn’t proved to be a cryptid itself. That truly was the strangest night of your life, at least so far.
You pull into your parking lot, which has somewhat less potholes than the one at the library. The obnoxiously bright yellow sign greets you as you hop out with your stack of papers. You hustle up the steps to the door. Or at least, approximate a hustle. The joints don’t hurt this morning, but there’s no reason to push it.
You slip through the door, setting off the bell connected to it, and eye the end table by the door and trash can next to it. You don’t see the point of handing out the flyers (and people may get ideas about free advertising), but you think it might be rude to just throw them out.
1.{[[Pitch the flyers. What Jensen doesn't know won't hurt 'im.->Scene 8A]]}
2.{[[Put them on the table.->Scene 8B]]}(set:$Rflyers to true)
(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Jensen will remember this.//]]
“I’m sorry, but I have a no-soliciting policy for my store, and I can’t make exceptions,” you say. It would not be a good example if you gave an exception. Plus, you don’t want Jensen to come to you about more favors.
Jensen’s a bit taken back by this, but quickly responds, “Thank you. I didn’t realize that. I’ll try to find another way to get the word out there in the end.”
The door closes.
It’s a bit exhausting to keep helping him out. You wonder if this is what having kids is like. You wonder why he moved here, when he doesn’t know anyone around here. You wonder what his parents are doing, and wonder why they don’t help him out. The other day, you had to show him how to bake a cake properly. You sigh, and stop yourself. You’re not the old man yelling at clouds yet. You’ve spent too long hanging around Old Man Jakes, who says he can bully clouds into nice weather.
Your store is a couple minutes south of here, with squat, rundown buildings on either side, built a decades ago when times weren't so lean. God, you yourself would have gone bankrupt if the //Franchise-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named// hadn’t proved to be a cryptid itself. That truly was the strangest night of your life, at least so far.
You pull into your parking lot, which has somewhat less potholes than the one at the library. The obnoxiously bright yellow sign greets you as you hop out with your stack of papers. You hustle up the steps to the door. Or at least, approximate a hustle. The joints don’t hurt this morning, but there’s no reason to push it.
[[Next.->Scene 9]](set:$flyers to 12) (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Jensen will remember this.//]]
“Oh, sure. Why not? I’ll take the papers, and bring them to the store with me this morning.” You still aren't thrilled about people wandering about at night, but maybe Jensen is right. Maybe this will be good for folks. They'll certainly enjoy it.
Jensen seems to calm down, and even murmurs a brief acknowledgement of thanks to you as you leave. You’re certain that he's a good kid, deep down. Even if her annoys you sometimes. But you kind of like him anyway.
You grab the papers, and walk out to the parking lot. You hop in your old beat-up pick-up truck, and drop the papers in the passenger seat.
Your store is a couple minutes south of here, with squat, rundown buildings on either side, built a decades ago when times weren't so lean. God, you yourself would have gone bankrupt if the //Franchise-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named// hadn’t proved to be a cryptid itself. That truly was the strangest night of your life, at least so far.
You pull into your parking lot, which has somewhat less potholes than the one at the library. The obnoxiously bright yellow sign greets you as you hop out with your stack of papers. You hustle up the steps to the door. Or at least, approximate a hustle. The joints don’t hurt this morning, but there’s no reason to push it.
You slip through the door, setting off the bell connected to it, and eye the end table by the door and trash can next to it. You’re worried people may get ideas about free advertising in the future, but it might hurt the kid to just throw them out.
1.{[[Pitch the flyers. What Jensen doesn't know won't hurt 'im.->Scene 8A]]}
2.{[[Put them on the table.->Scene 8B]]}(set:$Rflyers to true)
(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//Jensen will remember this.//]]
“I’m sorry, but I have a no-soliciting policy for my store, and I can’t make exceptions. Old Man Jakes wouldn’t stop harassing me to promote his ‘weather-changing methods,’ so I had to ban it.”
Jensen's eyes go wide and his eyebrows raise. Maybe you’re scaring him off from talking to other people. “That was not what I expected. Well, I can’t ask you to make an exception for me.”
Jensen shuts the door after this with a puzzled expression.
You think you like the kid. Maybe there’s something about him. Maybe it's you in your old age, looking for something to do. Maybe you’ll actually tell people about the little get-together being thrown. Maybe Jensen will start to fit in around here more often than not. Maybe there will be something special about this.
Your store is a couple minutes south of here, with squat, rundown buildings on either side, built a decades ago when times weren't so lean. God, you yourself would have gone bankrupt if the //Franchise-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named// hadn’t proved to be a cryptid itself. That truly was the strangest night of your life, at least so far.
You pull into your parking lot, which has somewhat less potholes than the one at the library. The obnoxiously bright yellow sign greets you as you hop out with your stack of papers. You hustle up the steps to the door. Or at least, approximate a hustle. The joints don’t hurt this morning, but there’s no reason to push it.
[[Next.->Scene 9]]You sit down at your desk and look around your sore. There’s rows of shelves packed with various goods: groceries, household supplies, beauty products, books, and magazines. You have several racks of cigarettes, snuff, and chewing tobacco behind the desk. There’s bottles of alcohol beneath them.
Your countertop is fairly plain. And you don’t even have a POS system, just an old register. You bought it in the 1990s, a little over twenty years ago, and you have never made enough money to buy the new POS's when they came out. You did however manage to get the equipment to accept credit cards. It’s been rough, but most people don’t pay with anything but cash. The card reader's for tourists.
Today is a new day.
(if:$jattitude is "irritated")[(Set: $polite to -5)] (if:$jattitude is "friendly")[(Set: $polite to +5)]
(if: $polite is <0)[{[[End Chapter 1->Scene 10A]]}]
(else:)[{[[End Chapter 1->Scene 10B]]}](set:$flyers to 0) (set:$Desksave to true)
Unfortunately, your pragmatism wins out. The flyers are pitched into the trash. You don’t think you’ll need them. You like your neighbors staying where it's safe, anyway.
The kid may get upset, but you don’t want to get in the habit of advertising for people. You move to pitch them into the garbage, but... you change your mind in the end.
You toss them into a drawer by your desk.
[[Next.->Scene 9]]Why not? You set them up on a table by the door. People can take them if they want it, and it’s for the good of the community, right? You decide that you’ll deal with anyone who wants to complain. You’ll make excuses for why you might not be able to always advertise for others.
[[Next.->Scene 9]]<!--Admin-->
(enchant: ?page, (text-color:#1b1b1b))
You settle into your folding chair behind the counter and settle in for the day with a sigh. It will be a long, long day, just like every other day. Sometimes you flirt with the idea of hiring some of the local teens to take shifts for you, but while you get enough traffic to keep afloat, money's too tight for extra expenses. So, you pull out one of your well-worn paperback and read while you wait for the first customer of the day. Your old flip phone, ever loyal and steadfast, sits in your pocket with a few predownloaded games should you require additional entertainment during the workday.
The jingle of the bell breaks the silence and you glance up from your (cycling-link: "sci-fi novel","WW2 history book","raunchy romance","novel","...you aren't sure. Are you holding this upside down? God, you're bored."). Ah, just like clockwork, your first customer is here in uniform, a pair of aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. Officer Clark, a long-time veteran of the county police has served on the force for 35 years has been a regular customer for years and stops by for coffee. You greet him with friendly grin. "Hey, man!"
"Hey!" he booms, approaching your counter with a chuckle and leaning against it.
Clark had grown up alongside you, and you both had lots of memories together.
You and Clark had been pretty friendly growing up. Not the best of friends to be sure, but you were polite when you interacted with each other. You actually liked him somewhat, and he liked you. Very helpful, both for tips on finding monsters and for avoiding tickets.
He glances up at you, and you wait. He glances around the room, looking towards the four corners and the door in particular. He walks in a slow and careful manner towards the desk. His eyes are a bit glazed and bags are forming. Looks like he really needs that coffee today.
As he starts to take a deep breath, you start to make his usual order. As you’re pouring out the coffee, you hear the usual mess, almost word for word.
“There’s some weird shit going on in this town. Some real weird shit.”
Not the most prolific or particularly descriptive, but that’s your cue. Now, you give him the coffee and wait for him to unknowingly give you another headache to deal with. Officer Clark takes the coffee and hands you a couple dollar bills.
“Weird Satanic shit going down at this old cabin in the state park. Never seen anything like it. Some kind of animal sacrifice going on. I hate this. Who knows who it could be? Ol' Marley? Mrs. Barrows? Might be some of those //teens// from the local high school.”
“Mhm, sounds awful. Who could have done something like that?” Quite frankly, it was almost certainly none of them. Marley and Mrs. Barrows were weird but harmless. The teens weren’t Satanists. You weren’t entirely sure if some of the other critters were doing this, but cryptids weren’t your problem until they started to bang on people’s doors.
“So, where’s this happening?”
“Up at the hill at the edge of town. Hillview road, I believe. An old abandoned shed that’s one bad winter from caving in.”
[[Well, that gives you a place to start.->Scene 11]]
Hillview Road winds deep into the woods, snaking into the holler. The part that's actually paved gives way to gravel, then dirt. There's a busted up trailer at the end, and a faded plastic yard ornament lying in the deep grass. The weeds look to have consumed the property, and the old shed’s metal walls look to have bullet holes puncturing them. The screen door is just a metal frame and the door doesn’t seem to latch correctly swinging in the wind.
The place is terribly open. It amazes you that the scene isn’t even secure,. Of course, this place is so far out that you leave it for a week and no one would notice. Still, anybody could literally contaminate it. True, you’re about to, but since you’re the one who’s going to solve this case, you feel that you should have special privileges.
You park your old truck in a gravel lot next to the shed, and climb out of the truck. You managed to time the visit to when Clark is busy wandering around town, looking for clues that aren’t there. Clark probably won’t find anything, especially if what you believe to be happening is true. Even so, you put on some gloves to hide your fingerprints.
As you’re standing outside of your truck, you notice a forgotten pack of cigarettes. You don’t remember putting them there, but you pick them up to get a better look at them. They have an image of an eye surrounded by the text “Rude Awakenings Tobacco Company.” You have a lighter, and you haven’t entirely kicked the habit, but do you want to have one before you go in?
1.{[[Scene 11.2<-Take a break]]}
2.{[[Scene 12<-Don’t screw around]]} You settle into your folding chair behind the counter and settle in for the day with a sigh. It will be a long, long day, just like every other day. Sometimes you flirt with the idea of hiring some of the local teens to take shifts for you, but while you get enough traffic to keep afloat, money's too tight for extra expenses. So, you pull out one of your well-worn paperback and read while you wait for the first customer of the day. Your old flip phone, ever loyal and steadfast, sits in your pocket with a few predownloaded games should you require additional entertainment during the workday.
The jingle of the bell breaks the silence and you glance up from your (cycling-link: "sci-fi novel","WW2 history book","raunchy romance","novel","...you aren't sure. Are you holding this upside down? God, you're bored."). Ah, just like clockwork, your first customer is here in uniform, a pair of aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. Officer Clark, a long-time veteran of the county police has served on the force for 35 years has been a regular customer for years and stops by for coffee. You raise an eyebrow. "G'mornin'."
You'd always hated the idiot, not that he was bright enough to realize it. An arrogant bully, always ready to pick on the weakest. Well, you were not one to stand aside back back in high school, and well, that has led to him being a burr in your clothes ever since. Especially since he couldn’t solve a crime even if the criminal confessed. He still didn’t believe Harry Lorren of Snickerville burned down the old barn off Old Snickerville Road even after a confession.
With him being useless, you’ve had to swing by some of his crime scenes to find out what really happened. 'Course, since you can’t book some ol’ ghost or weird thing that the Game Department will swear is //not// a panther at the local police station, he doesn't have a clue how much you do for him. Not like he would be grateful if he did.
He glances up at you, and you wait. He glances around the room, looking towards the four corners and the door in particular. He walks in a slow and careful manner towards the desk. His eyes are a bit glazed and bags are forming. Looks like he really needs that coffee today.
As he starts to take a deep breath, you start to make his usual order. When you’re pouring out the coffee, you hear the usual mess, almost word for word.
“You know, it might do for people to remember who wears the badge in town here. Y’all around here seem to think I’m as useful as a bump on a log when nothing’s happening, but I tell you, something is happening in these parts. Something that’d chill your blood.”
He always gives some kind of speech like this when weirdness goes on. And now he’s looking at you, waiting for the participation prize for being the lawman. You say nothing.
He leans over the counter, a pair of dark sunglasses reflecting your expression. What an egoist.
“Weird Satanic shit going down at this old cabin in the state park. Never seen anything like it. Some kind of animal sacrifice going on. I hate this. Who knows who it could be? Ol' Marley? Mrs. Barrows? Might be some of those //teens// from the local high school. Who knows? Maybe it might be helpful to be on side with the big stick?”
//How pathetic.//
“Mhm, that sounds awful. Who could have done something like that?” Quite frankly, it was almost certainly none of the suspects on Clark’s list. Marley and Mrs. Barrows were weird but harmless. The teens weren’t Satanists. You weren’t entirely sure if some of the other critters were doing this, but cryptids weren’t your problem until they started to bang on people’s doors. But you don't want to start a fight.
Clark snorted, and got up. He paid for his coffee and left the store. Seeing him like that almost puts a smile on your face.
[[Well, that gives you a place to start.->Scene 11]](set:$Cig to true) (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-time:3s)[(text-color:#818380)[//The Cigarette's light seems strange, but that might just be you.//]]
You stare out at the woods. You start being consumed by a sense of anxiety as you blow smoke. It worsens as you inhale, the burning end of the cigarette being stoked by your breath flaring in time with the crushing sense of fear. You drop the cigarette.
You spend some time coughing, then calm yourself. Something still doesn’t feel right, but you manage to push it aside as you walk over to the door. You’re fine as you reach it
[[You’re ready for this.->Scene 12]](if: $Clue1 is false)[You open the screen door and push your way into the building. The door doesn’t appear to work right, so you don’t have to worry about it being locked. The door doesn't pull back into the doorway, hanging open in the wind.
You glance around the room. It has a cement floor and a pentagram made in cheap red paint in the center with a dead chicken on it. There’s an office or closet in the far corner to your right which has some terrible smells emanating from it. There’s a tool box that’s rusted and bent, but you think you can get it to open with enough force. There’s a trap door that appears perfectly normal in the far left corner.
As weird as all this appears, you can’t investigate for too long. Clark might be awhile out on his trip, but the road here is a thirty minute drive with only one lane. And Clark might be careless with a crime scene, but he’s all too willing to drop the hammer down on anybody that takes advantage of it. And it’d be mighty suspicious if you had to work your cars around each other on the road. It’d be better if you just investigated a couple things and then high-tailed it out of here.]
The office might have something left behind in it, the tool box might have some instruments, and the pentagram might give clues to the ritual. And though it appears normal, that trapdoor seems, well, odd.
1. (if:$pentagram is false) [{[[IS1<-Investigate the Pentagram]]}] (else:)[//nothing else//]
2. (if:$sToolbox is false)[{[[IS2<-Investigate the Toolbox]]}] (else:)[//nothing else//]
3. (if: $sOffice is False)[{[[IS3<-Investigate the Office]]}] (else:)[//nothing else//]
4. (if: $trapdoor is false)[{[[IS4<-Investigate the Trapdoor]]}] (else:)[//nothing else//](set:$pentagram to true)(Set:$Clue1 to true)
You wander towards the center of the room. Here, there is a poorly painted pentagram with a dead chicken sitting on it. You almost feel bad for it. Poor thing never imagined that to be used in an evil magic ritual was to be its fate.
The pentagram was painted with some of the cheapest paint imaginable. In fact, it might just be store-bought watercolor, not even actual house paint. The watercolor doesn’t appear well on cement, being made for more absorbent materials. Might not even have shown up on dirt or concrete.
You pull out a camera and take photos of it, using a flashlight for lighting. You make sure to take shots from several angles. The photos were decent, though you wish they could be a bit more artistically done.
You get up and look at the time to see where you are.
(unless: $sOffice is true or $sToolbox is true or $trapdoor is true)[
You seem to have time for some more exploring. Might be able to get another clue in before you have to leave. What do you look at?
{[[Scene 12<-Go Back]]}]
(else:)
[You don’t have any more time. You have to leave.
{[[Scene 13<-Go Home]]}]You're a bit startled by what you saw. This is big. It's probably something that Clark can’t handle. It might be something you can't handle.
You hop into your truck, turn your headlights on, and drive back towards town. The ride passes in silence. As you turn left towards town off Hillview road. You sigh a breath of relief. You're back on the main road that cuts through town.
As you carefully drive down towards town, you pass Clark driving back towards the shed. Once he’s there he’ll collect anything of use, and the evidence will have fallen into the black hole of the evidence locker. At least not the ones you took with you.
True, it might be wrong to plunder a crime scene, but you think that Clark couldn’t handle this case by himself. He wouldn't know where to look. And whoever is doing this, you need to stop them. Folks here like it peaceful, and while there may be a few oddballs and crazies, even they don’t deserve to be preyed upon by the ...whatevers.
However, you need to decide where you want to focus your efforts. Today showed there's many ways to skin a cat, and you need to formulate a plan. You don't have time to do everything. There are two places that might have the info you need to learn more about what you found: the university and the library.
The university’s chock full of experts, and they might know some of the more arcane or esoteric things, things you might not be able to find yourself. One of them might even be able to teach about what exactly this hooligan might be trying to do. A threat you know is something you can handle.
The library also has some useful information. You’ll have direct access to the sources, you’ll be able to take what you want home with you, and you won’t have any nosy professors or doctors wondering where you got this stuff. It might be a bit more difficult to find the stuff, but the value of privacy can’t be overstated.
You now find yourself on the other side of town. As you turn down the road towards home, a card flies across the dashboard, you glance at it before looking back at the road, but that glance tells you everything.
You completely forgot about it. You can’t go researching tomorrow. You promised to spend the day with the old Widow and her cousin Ron out at their old place. Mrs. Barrows can’t drive too well, so you occasionally head out there to spend a day with her so she doesn't get lonely.
It’s a difficult decision, but you need to go. Whatever the weirdo staying at the shed is doing, you’re pretty certain it’s not going to be coming around anytime soon. And you can't forget your promises.
You’re heading out there tomorrow.
[[Next -> Scene 14]](set:$sToolbox to true)(set: $Clue1 to True)
You wander towards the edge of the room towards a rusty toolbox. The top of it is bent, as if something had hit it pretty hard. Because of it, you’re stuck forcing the box open. You curse under your breath for the several minutes that it takes you to get it open. It’s mostly full of old tools; they look to have been made back in the day, but they’re too heavy to take with you.
However, there’s actually a couple of objects here not often found in a tool box. A strange ritual knife, some small raggedy dolls, and cotton balls glued to toothpick crosses. Deciding that these might be ritual artifacts, you scoop them into a bag and head out.
Honestly, what kind of person creates their tools from elementary school art projects? It doesn’t matter, these artifacts are clues as to what they were doing. And that’s what’s important.
You get up and look at the time to see where you are.
(unless: $pentagram is true or $sOffice is true or $trapdoor is true)[
You seem to have time for some more exploring. Might be able to get another clue in before you have to leave. What do you look at?
{[[Scene 12<-Go Back]]}]
(else:)
[You don’t have any more time. You have to leave.
{[[Scene 13<-Go Home]]}](set:$sOffice to true)(set: $Clue1 to True)
You wander towards the office. It might be the closet area. Regardless, it absolutely reeks. You step inside to see several shelves of pickles, a jar with a collection of human bones, and a diagram of the human body with arcane symbols sketched over it. You take the sketch.
You turn the sketch over to look at the back. There appears to be a mathematical table and a chart showing the rate of decay of … something. A section of the chart, near zero, is circled in a black pen. You fold up the sketch and slip it into your bag.
This is a bit weird, but it definitely looks like it has information on what went on here, and what the culprit plans on doing next. You think you have a few ideas, but you might want to follow them up later.
You get up and look at the time to see where you are.
(unless: $pentagram is true or $sToolbox is true or $trapdoor is true)[
You seem to have time for some more exploring. Might be able to get another clue in before you have to leave. What do you look at?
{[[Scene 12<-Go Back]]}]
(else:)
[You don’t have any more time. You have to leave.
{[[Scene 13<-Go Home]]}](set:$trapdoor to true)(Set:$Clue1 to true)
You wander towards the trap door. It’s a bit stuck, but a few pulls open a way into the basement. This is definitely weird. Why would such a terrible little shed like this have a basement? You enter it, unsure of what you will find.
(if:$Cig is false)[
The basement has a ladder leading into it, the door not being big enough to fit a staircase in, and as you go down it, you are astonished to find a finished and furnished room. It appears to be a library with shelves built into the wall. There’s a fireplace, unlit, at the other end of the room. A lounge chair sits next to it, facing the ladder. A small baby doll, made of plastic and cloth, sits on the chair, looking at you.
You sit there in complete confusion, wondering what exactly is going on here. The room, the books, the doll, all of it are out of place in this run-down old shack. While awaiting comprehension, a book suddenly falls off of the shelf. You walk over and pick it up.
The book appears to be a book of spells. It says so on the cover. It's also the only book here with no dust on it. As if it had been cleaned off recently. The culprit may have used it, but you can’t be sure. You’ll begin to look at it later. For now you want to get going. You put it into the bag and scurry back up the ladder.]
(else:)[
You start coughing from the dust blowing up at you. As you look around, you take inventory of the room. The basement has a ladder leading into it, the door not being big enough to fit a staircase in, and as you go down it, you are astonished to find a finished and furnished room. It appears to be a library with shelves built into the wall. There’s a fireplace, unlit, at the other end of the room. A lounge chair sits next to it, facing the ladder. A small baby doll, made of plastic and cloth, sits on the chair, looking at you.
As your cough stops, you are suddenly hit by a strange feeling. You need to get out of here. A suppressing force, powerful, is emanating through the room. You notice the source. It’s the doll
The doll looks at you. Its eyes are closed. Its hair appears It speaks to you
"The book, the book, look in the book!"
Suddenly, a book launches off the shelf towards you. You look at the book. The book appears to be a book of spells, oddly enough. It says so on the cover. It's also the only book here with no dust on it. As if it had been cleaned off recently. The culprit may have used it, but you can’t be sure. You’ll begin to look at it later.
]
You get up and look at the time to see where you are.
(unless: $sOffice is true or $sToolbox is true or $pentagram is true)[
You seem to have time for some more exploring. Might be able to get another clue in before you have to leave. What do you look at?
{[[Scene 12<-Go Back]]}
]
(else:)
[You don’t have any more time. You have to leave.
{[[Scene 13<-Go Home]]}
]//What's in your pockets?//
You are currently carrying:
{(if:$flyers>0)[
$flyers bingo flyers,]
(if:$Cig)[{
half a pack of "Rude Awakening" cigarettes},]
(if:$pentagram)[{
photos of a pentagram on Hillview Road,}]
(if:$sToolbox)[{
a bag of assorted dollar-store ritual artifacts,}]
(if:$sOffice)[{
an arcane sketch,}]
(if:$trapdoor)[{
a book of magic,}]
}Your truck bumps and rattles across the windy road to Esther Barrows’ house, a small single-story house in the middle of the hills. Ever since Mr. Barrows passed away, their kids have been insisting that she move, at least into town, but she still holds out. Her husband built the house years ago to be their home, and she refuses to call anywhere else that. At least Ron, her cousin, is out there to keep her company.
As you come up upon the house, you slow down, hit a sharp turn in the gravel lot outside the house and pull up to it. You get out of the truck and stare out at the house. It’s a faded pastel blue with white trimming. There’s a cute doormat with one of those “Home, sweet home,” messages exed out with black paint. A gnome statue sits by it.
You stop and think about the last time you visited Mrs. Barrows. (if: $polite is -5) [You didn’t have much fun, and you wound up speaking with Ron the whole time. Not a bad conversation, but … he’s Ron. He just looks like a Ron.] (if: $polite is 0) [You found Mrs. Barrows absolutely pleasant company. Her cousin was … just Ron.] (If: $polite is +5) [You had a fantastic time when you last saw Esther, an enjoyable experience overall. Her cousin was … just Ron.]
You walk over to the house. (If: $Cig is true) [Something seems to watch you from the woods, something unnatural. You walk a bit faster to the door.] You check your shoes for any mud, then knock on the door. You hear footsteps, and the door opens inward.
[[Next -> Scene 15]]Ron stares up at you. He looks like a Ron. He lets you in and wraps his arm around you in a hug.
“Great to see you! I always enjoy your visits. You know I love Esther, but sometimes talking to the same person every day, well, it drives a man crazy.”
A voice sounds from the kitchen.
“Come in, wipe your feet on the mat, and sit down. I’ve got tea and biscuits for you. And Ron, if there’s anybody being driven crazy here, it’s me.”
You look towards the kitchen, and see an elderly lady holding a tray with three cups of tea and a sugar jar. As she walks over to the living room table, you take the tray from her and set it on the table. She quietly thanks you before looking over at Ron.
“The biscuits are still in the kitchen. Why don’t you and fetch them why I get our guest here settled?”
Ron hurries off to the kitchen, and you and Mrs. Barrows settle down in the living room. A few moments later, he comes back with a plate full of biscuits and butter. As the three of you sit together, eating biscuits and drinking tea, you start chatting.
What do you talk about?
1. [[The weather -> Scene 16A]]
2. [[Gossip -> Scene 16B]]
3. [[Town -> Scene 16C]]“So, what do you guys think about the weather we’ve been having recently?”
Esther sighs, and Ron looks up. Ron waits a few seconds, swallowing his mouthful of biscuit and a quick sip of tea, before talking.
“Same as it ever was. You might as well flip a coin on whether it’ll be a fine day or not. Thank God it’s summer again. Some people can’t stand the heat, but I’ll say anybody’s mind would be changed if they ever had to drive these roads in wintertime. I pray to God every time I have to brave those roads. The county barely plows them, unless we get real bad weather. We’re the only ones who still live out here, and it’s been that way for a long time.”
Esther interrupts, “I know Ron, you hate driving out here, but I can’t live anywhere else. This is my home. My children grew up here. Their heights are on the door jambs. It's not my fault that no one lives out here. It’s that creepy lot down the road. The one with the fireplace and nothing else.”
“What do you mean?” You usually don’t drive further down the road, so you aren’t sure what they’re talking about.
Esther glances over at you. “Ever since we- My husband and I first moved here, there has been an old lot down the road. There used to be a house there, but now it seems that all that's left is an old fireplace. My husband used to say an old hunter lived there, but once he disappeared, no one would go anywhere near the place.”
You nod. Mysterious disappearance, those you knew. Best leave it alone. Nothing good came of prying into matters not your business.
You think on this as you swallow your biscuit, and the party sits in a light moment of silence. The biscuits are very good. Not as good as when they were homemade, but the years take their toll and making them from scratch takes too much effort now.
Ron gets up and quickly apologises, “Sorry, I’m headed outside for a smoke.”
Esther waves this away and looks over at you, “If you want to step out, I won’t blame you, but I got a quick favor to ask you if you want to stay in.”
1. [[Go out -> Scene 17A]]
2. [[Stay in -> Scene 17B]][(set:$polite to it +5)]
“So, some strange stuff is going around town, from what I’ve seen.”
Esther and Ron glance up at you. They always like to hear gossip from town, and since few visit them, you might be their only source. She might be a bit weird at times, but you’ve never seen her on less than her best behavior.
“It’s that old shed off Hillview road. Sounds like some strange folk have been squatting up there. Doing who knows what. I’ve heard there’s even a police investigation.”
Esther spat at the ground at the mention of police. (if: $jattitude is "irritated") [You are a bit put off by how much Esther hates Clark,] (Else:) [You can’t help but nod in agreement]
Ron shakes his head. “Don’t see why he would waste his time with that. Even if he could find a way out of a paper bag, he’ll never crack the case. Probably just some teenagers screwing around after dark. Of course, I wouldn’t be hanging around that shed after dark, even as a teenager.”
“By the way, who even owns that shed? I’ve never known,” you say.
Ron said, “Nobody. The county records are in too bad shape to determine who owned it originally, and it’s been abandoned for so long, nobody remembers who owned it. So, I assume the county owns it now.”
You nod. Mysterious locations, those you knew. Best leave it alone. Nothing good came of prying into matters not your business.
You think on this as you swallow your biscuit, and the party sits in a light moment of silence. The biscuits are very good. Not as good as when they were homemade, but the years take their toll and making them from scratch takes too much effort now.
Ron gets up and quickly apologises, “Sorry, I’m headed outside for a smoke.”
Esther waves this away and looks over at you, “If you want to step out, I won’t blame you, but I got a quick favor to ask you if you want to stay in.”
[[Go outside -> Scene 17A]]
[[Stay in -> Scene 17B]]
“So, town is utterly as boring as it usually is. Folks doing what they do every week. Not much else to say.”
Mrs. Barrows looks over at Ron. “See, there’s no point in moving! We’re bored out here, and we’d be just as bored in town.”
Ron just shakes his head.
She continues. “I am not moving from this house until the Lord Himself comes to take me away. This house is special to me. I will not sell it for any reason.”
Ron glances over at you, but you don’t have a horse in this race. You let sleeping dogs lie as you sip tea and eat biscuits.
You sit for an hour or so, chatting about town, its people, and any event of import. You find that you’re enjoying yourself.
In a pause from the conversation, Ron gets up and quickly apologises to you and Mrs. Barrows. “Sorry, I’m headed outside for a smoke.” He begins to walk out the door.
Esther waves this away and looks over at you, “If you want to step out, I won’t blame you, but I got a quick favor to ask you if you want to stay in.”
1. [[Go out -> Scene 17A]]
2. [[Stay in -> Scene 17B]]You walk out onto the porch. You look over at Ron. He looks like a Ron. You glance down at the gnome.
“So, which of you are into garden gnomes?”
“What?”
“Well, there’s a gnome there. On the porch,”
Ron glances down at the gnome. “How did that get there?”
You blink in confusion. Is he saying the gnome just showed up and he didn’t notice? You don’t even ask.
He interrupts your thoughts. “So what do you think about the woods?”
“They’re alright.”
“I hate ‘em. I’ve always got the feeling that something is staring out at me from beyond the tree line. Like something is watching me, and it’s just biding its time, waiting to kill me.”
You continue staring at him. You feel like asking him what the actual fuck he is talking about. Then you consider that he’s just Ron.
“That’s why I always ask Esther if we can move into town But it’s stupid. It’s just a stupid feeling, and I can’t ask her to pack up and leave the house just because I get the heebie jeebies looking at those woods.”
You are increasingly sure that this is a venting, so you just nod along.
He shakes his head. And looks out at the woods. He’s staring.
You say, “You know, I can take a walk around the woods if you want.”
“That would actually be pretty nice.”
That actually made you a bit nervous.
[[Head out -> Scene 18A]]You decide to stay in with Mrs. Barrows and wait for Ron to come back in. She sips her drink and looks up at you.
“You see, I need a favor from you. I have a hunting rifle, although the most I’ve used it for is shooting at some animals that get too close to the house. I let Ron use it a few days ago, but I’m worried he forgot to unload it. Can you help me get the door open? I think it’s jammed.”
She leads you over to a room off in the corner away from the living room. You see boxes of stuff piled around in the corner of this room is a gun safe. It looks old and poorly maintained. You glance over at Mrs. Barrows with a hint of reproach.
“You know, you really need to get a new one. This one looks like it’s falling apart. And why wouldn’t Ron unload it? He knows how to handle a gun.”
Mrs. Barrows glances up at you sheepishly, “I know. It’s just a bit expensive, and I don’t mean to speak ill of Ron. I just want to be sure.”
You pull at the door, but it takes a few yanks and a jimmying with the door to get it unstuck. Mrs. Barrows pulls out the gun, and checks it. It’s unloaded. She quietly curses herself. She glances up at you.
“Do you want to head outside? Take a walk, maybe?”
You graciously accept her request and leave her alone. You walk out the door, notice Ron sitting on the porch, and head out into the woods. You want wait for her to get over her embarassment.
[[Next -> Scene 18B]]You have no idea what Ron was talking about.
You are having a perfectly normal walk through the woods. You walk along an old hiking trail, a dirt path with stones scattered across it and roots threaded through it. Unruly grass and weeds cover the forest floor, broken by the occasional shrub, with oak and maple trees forming a canopy of greenery overhead, broken by the blue sky and the shining sun. You can hear birds chirping their songs as they flutter through the air.
You mosey down the path, deciding to soak in the scenery, the uneven path a bit harder on the feet then you remember in your youth. You glance around, wondering if there are any animals when you notice a deer in the bushes. Oddly enough, you can only see the head. The deer turns its gaze at you.
“What are you doing here?”
For a second, you stop. Did you just say something? But it didn’t sound like your voice.
“You’re not supposed to be here. You are not pure. The land is not yet ready.”
It’s the fucking deer talking to you. Suddenly, it rises from the ground. It’s not a deer. As it stands up, you see that it’s something with the body of a naked man and the head of a deer, like some kind of Minotaur-like creature. You think back to all of the strange and weird creatures you have heard about, encountered, or fought. You have no idea what the fuck it is.
The deer walks towards you, its animal eyes betraying no sign of pity or compassion. It looks young and muscular. It is almost certainly stronger than you.
“I must purge you. This land will be free from the filth and pollution you bring. I must end you and bathe in your blood as both hunter and hunted. I will be anointed by this act and gain great favor from the land.” Its voice is monotonous and dead.
[[Run -> Scene 19A]]You are having a perfectly normal walk through the woods. You walk along an old hiking trail, a dirt path with stones scattered across it and roots threaded through it. Unruly grass and weeds cover the forest floor, broken by the occasional shrub, with oak and maple trees forming a canopy of greenery overhead, broken by the blue sky and the shining sun. You can hear birds chirping their songs as they flutter through the air.
You mozy down the path, deciding to soak in the scenery, the uneven path a bit harder on the feet then you remember in your youth. You glance around, wondering if there are any animals when you notice a deer in the bushes. Oddly enough, you can only see the head. The deer turns its gaze at you.
“What are you doing here?”
For a second, you stop. Did you just say something? But it didn’t sound like your voice.
“You’re not supposed to be here. You are not pure. The land is not yet ready.”
It’s the fucking deer talking to you. Suddenly, it rises from the ground. It’s not a deer. As it stands up, you see that it’s something with the body of a naked man and the head of a deer, like some kind of Minotaur-like creature. You think back to all of the strange and weird creatures you have heard about, encountered, or fought. You have no idea what the fuck it is.
The deer walks towards you, its animal eyes betraying no sign of pity or compassion. It looks young and muscular. It is almost certainly stronger than you.
“I must purge you. This land will be free from the filth and pollution you bring. I must end you and bathe in your blood as both hunter and hunted. I will be anointed by this act and gain great favor from the land.” Its voice is monotonous and dead.
[[Run -> Scene 19B]]You turn. You run. You don’t get far. You aren’t young enough to dodge the roots across the ground anymore. You trip. You fall. You hit the ground. You feel pain coursing through your body as you roll over and look at the deer man approaching you. You don’t know what to do. You think that you are going to die here in these woods. You weren’t even expecting anything this time.
The deer man is walking towards you. Your struggle means nothing to its unfazed demeanor. It will kill you here. There’s nothing you can do anymore. You just collapse and await the inevitable. Then you hear a thud. Barely a sound, more like a choked off gasp, is heard in the forest. You look back towards the deer man. There’s a mountain lion on top of it, its jaws choking the deer man. The deer man is dead. It drags its prey back into the woods.
You are on the verge of pissing yourself, and the wave of relief nearly takes you over. Two things in these woods could have killed you today. It looks like one killed the other. You can barely get yourself back up. You walk back because you no longer have the strength to run.
You reach the porch without incident. You didn’t even notice the path anymore. You see Ron still on the porch smoking. He looks up at you.
“Anything there?”
You know the drill about mountain lion sightings.
“No, not anymore.”
You step up onto the porch and say your niceties. You walk in the house to say your good byes to Mrs. Barrows. She notices how tired you look and lets you go. (if: $flyers > 1)[Somehow, in your haze you mention the Bingo night Jensen is planning. She promises Ron and her will be there.] As you walk out, you see the mysterious gnome again. Something possesses you to pick it up. You take it with you as you get back into your truck.
(Set: $gnome to 1)
[[Next -> Scene 20]]You turn. You run. You run through the woods, but you’re certain the deer man is following. You almost make it back to the house. You aren’t young enough to dodge the roots across the ground anymore. You trip. You fall. You hit the ground. You feel pain coursing through your body as you roll over and look at the deer man approaching you. You don’t know what to do. You think that you are going to die here in these woods. You weren’t even expecting anything this time.
The deer man is walking towards you. Your struggle means nothing to its unfazed demeanor. It will kill you here. There’s nothing you can do anymore. You just collapse and await the inevitable. Then you hear a bang. The bang completely freezes you. You know it’s the sound of a gunshot. You don’t feel the pain of a bullet plunging into you, so you look up. The deer man lies on the ground in agony. The shot didn’t kill him immediately. You are startled, more by the suddenness and inexplicability of the incident than the sight. Two more shots, spaced out from each other by a few moments, ring out in succession. The deer man is dead now.
You stand up after waiting to see if any other shots would come. Dazed by the incident, you walk back without enjoying the scenery. You walk up to the house, only to see Mrs. Barrows on the porch, rifle in hand.
“My aim isn’t as good as it used to be. Sorry if I frightened you.”
You just stare back at her and nod. You can’t speak. She looks concerned, and asks if you would like to go home. You nod. She helps you back to the truck. (if: $flyers > 1)[Somehow, in your haze you give her a flyer for the Bingo night Jensen is planning. She promises Ron and her will be there.]
(set: $flyers to 11)
[[Next -> Scene 20]]End of Chapter 3
Sorry for the long wait, I will try to get Chapter 4 on a quicker turnaround.