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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 19, 2018 22:37:44 GMT -8
Marty-
"The hell you talking about? I know you're not on crack, goodboy.
You don't see your neighborhood? What do you see?"
If you really concentrated, you could make out subtle ambient sounds.((Roll 2d10+Perception)) |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 19, 2018 22:43:34 GMT -8
 It was unlike Marty to cuss. Something seemed off again.IKlsds3u · |
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 19, 2018 22:48:04 GMT -8
Sounded like distant road noise. A sprinkler going off. Kids playing somewhere
distant. A ball hitting the pavement. All hopelessly far away, like you were
hearing it from inside a closet. |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 19, 2018 22:51:41 GMT -8
It was changing in here again.Gerald -
"Alright. So it's a neighborhood."
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 19, 2018 23:02:09 GMT -8
Marty-
"Yeah, no kidding." |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 19, 2018 23:14:03 GMT -8
Nobody else I had seen was so oblivious to where we were. I thought I should play along, but to what end?Gerald -
"...How are you coming with the degree?"
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 19, 2018 23:19:52 GMT -8
Marty sighed. Strange to picture what it might look like if any of this was real.
Were you standing in the middle of the street? You could barely make out rough
pavement under your feet. Marty-
"Man... I know you're all big into the forgiveness game, but you really
think I could forgive you for that? What does a man have but his word?
You left me holding the bag, then worked with the pigs." |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 19, 2018 23:25:57 GMT -8
Martin always put on a facade that he wasn't upset. Maybe I needed to hear this?Gerald -
"Would you have done it different in my place?"
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 19, 2018 23:30:28 GMT -8
Marty-
"I know it's easy to just say I wouldn't,
but I really don't think I would, man.
I never snitched on anyone."
He didn't sound hostile, just exasperated and disappointed."Now I see you here, looking like that...
I just don't know what to say." |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 19, 2018 23:32:42 GMT -8
Gerald -
"You don't have to say anything. Just take care of yourself, okay?" |
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 19, 2018 23:59:40 GMT -8
Marty-
"Yeah, I guess. Take care of yourself too; you look like hell." The lights turn on.
You're facing the front door of the Bedford home. It's slightly parted.
The smell of blood wafts out, and someone is struggling and crying inside. |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 20, 2018 22:26:32 GMT -8
Gerald -
"Here again? I head back in. |
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 20, 2018 23:34:12 GMT -8
Your hand touches the knob, and a horrible feeling washes over you. The smell
of blood and viscera, so strong, eye watering. Death is inside, mangled corpses.
You saw them projected, but have you seen them in real life? |
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Nov 21, 2018 15:23:49 GMT -8
I almost pulled my hand away from the door handle.
Great Aunt Millie was a Jehovah's Witness. Great Aunt Millie had gone years without treatment for lung cancer. I was seven. Aunt Felicity would argue with Mama about every time she came over to our house. There was something she always brought up:
The smell, the smell, the awful smell.
Mama would take me to visit Great Aunt Millie on her birthdays and during the holidays. I knew what Aunt Felicity meant. It was a fruity, sickly stench that would never go away by washing. Around Aunt Felicity's eyes turned a gray color from the stress of living with that every day. It was like living with a corpse.
Aunt Felicity and Mama would argue every time they were together. I would go outside to avoid it, but I'd still hear them (even through the closed windows when the weather was cold). Aunt Felicity din't believe in God no more. Mama told her it was Great Aunt Millie's choice, but she didn't have to live with the smell, the smell, the awful smell.
I tried to steady myself, knowing full well I wouldn't get that out of my head, and opened the door.
((Rolling KIT)) Z0ZTRowY
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 15:29:47 GMT -8
((Fantastic writing!))You opened the door, your resolve firmly steeled for what you were about to see.
It was remarkably like the photograph. Maybe because this was all in your head.
However, in the center of the living room was something different-- a small body,
bound with nylon rope. A pale little boy you'd only seen in smiling family photos
and school pictures. His oversized Spiderman shirt was splashed with blood.
But he was wriggling, crying, especially now that you'd opened the door.
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