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Horror A Summer Place

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Ramza, Jun 18, 2011.

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  1. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Paul Whittaker
    The Unknown

    The pain returned as soon as he came to. He blinked twice before everything came back into focus and he frowned at what he saw before him. He had been moved and not for the better. The pit was gone and a non-descript room now lay in its place. And that was far from the only surprise he found upon waking. He couldn't move, his body was strapped and fully secured to a chair with a medical IV digging into his arm. He squirmed, trying to loosen his bonds when he took note that he wasn't alone. The other folks from the pit had made the journey with him as well. That helped him relax, knowing that he didn't have to bear this burden alone.

    And then the unspeakable happened.

    Their captors lost patience with one of the older men and responded by slicing off his fingers. Paul winced as the blade came down and he could only stare as the blood began to drip from the stumps and pool on the ground. Why he found that fascinating, he didn't know. He couldn't tear his eyes from the scene...

    ...until he heard the reactions around him.

    The others were frightened and disgusted, some crying out for their release and others still trying to reason with the madmen. Paul knew none of it would work - these two were too far gone for that. Perhaps, even some of them were too far gone as well. After all, there was supposedly a murderer among them.

    His eyes returned to the unfortunate man and the blood that pooled beneath him. Poor bastard. It was a terrible scene, but something inside of him wondered if justice was indeed being served. But such brutality. Why would he think that and wish something like that upon someone? It was sick. Very sick.

    He swallowed hard and waited with anticipation for the madmen's next move.

    TAG: Ramza, Others
  2. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 6
    Circle the Third - At Least It's Non-Habit Forming

    "It's funnier if I leave the thumb. Looks stupid. Like you."

    "I quite agree with your assessment, Professor Fether. A bit crass, but effective."

    "Thank you, Doctor Tarr."

    "And Ms. Rodgers, I resent the implication that we have some sort of explicit goal of driving you mad. Insanity, if it even occurs, is merely the symptom. We seek to treat the cause. Is that not right, Professor Fether?"

    "Indeed it is, Dr. Tarr. Although Xander has some sense."

    "A commendable trait, Professor Fether. Very hard to come by in this day and age. But now, we have a demonstration to begin. The wondrous, ponderous, transcendent, unclassifiable system of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether!"

    As if on cue, the captives would hear a distinct whiiirRRRRRRRRRIiiiiiiiiNNNNNg noise emanating from the back of their chairs. A mechanical arm positioned itself several feet out from their faces. They would perhaps note a small, hypodermic needle pointed towards them.

    Even if they didn't, they would now, because the needle suddenly rocketed forward.

    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/needleeyesmall.jpg]

    Stopping scant millimeters from their eyeballs. And there they all were - unable to blink.

    "This is only going to hurt a lot."

    And the hypodermics eased forward, scratching the surfaces, just slightly.

    "The green liquid you no doubt see pooling around the crimson bits - uh, you don't want to know what the crimson bits are - is the system. Psychoactive drugs that will propel your consciousness back to those hot August days, and there you


    wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiillllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

    [image=http://img3.lsistatic.com/members/782697/trippy.jpg]

    The drugs had begun to take effect. Swirling psychedelia would begin to envelop their senses.

    Until finally, darkness.

















    Absolute darkness.










    ET FACTA EST LUX!
















    And there, upon the stair, stood a man.








    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/tour_guide.jpg]

    He wasn't there.

    TAG: All - But don't reply just yet
  3. Your_Tour_Guide Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 21, 2011
    "A film is - or should be - more like music than like fiction.
    It should be a progression of moods and feelings.
    The theme, what's behind the emotion, the meaning, all that comes later." - Stanley Kubrick


    Ah, greetings. I was beginning to wonder when I would finally meet you all. Well, I have met you all, but not you all. The true you is known to me. The this you is foreign. Still, an interesting sort of mask you have all chosen for yourselves. I used to deal quite often in the way of masks. But that was one and one third years past. Now I exist as I am. Upon the stair and eternally not there.

    But that is not important. What is important is the Persona. The this you. The you before me. ?The façade under which the true nature of a man lies. That is Persona.? He said that once. He is no longer himself, of course. Lost. A faint flicker of a memory. A dream within a dream. Much like me. Much like the old yous. Much like my wedjet eye. Everything fades eventually. The true you will follow the this yous in time.

    The true yous have seen one of my tales, for they are the guests of my tour. Would the this yous care to see one as well? A parting gift before you depart to the this world.

    Feh, enough mysticism! I have a wondrous sight to show to you, my esteemed guests - the tale of one James Nervon. I suggest you familiarize yourself with this narrative, as you will find its details essential to cracking the riddle of Jackson, Iowa.

    Keep close now, and don?t stray from the group! Who knows what dangers may lurk in?


    The Second Attraction

    THE ABANDONED BELFRY

    Midnight, August 4, 2013

    I had had a long day.

    That was perhaps the best way to phrase it, now that I think about it. They say a man of the cloth must be willing to serve, but these people ask so much of me. It's exhausting. I am not so young and fiery as I once was. Just look at these withered old hands! You're 89 years old, James Nervon, maybe it's time you finally retired. There are younger men, stronger men, men they can relate to. You're just dragging this old church down with your old bones.

    Little self-scolding I do every Sunday night, anymore. I rub my temples and poor myself a cup of decaf. The pitcher shakes as I hold it. 89 years old.

    The church itself has been here since before even I was born. Beautiful, old, stone structure. Originally Baptist, from what I've heard, but even they know a thing or two about architecture. And when you get down to it, they're all God's house.

    Most striking feature of the church is the old belfry, which no one ever goes up to. Door's been long locked, I guess there used to be a bell up there, but that got melted down for scrap during the second world war.

    I hope there wasn't any lead in that bell. I'd hate to think I shot anyone with it.

    Oh, right, I was 18 back in the early 40s, and like any young, physically fit white male, I got drafted right up. Comes with the territory. Met a nice chaplain in the Pacific in '45, convinced me to take up preaching the good word, and here I am. God's plan is full of such eccentricities and quirks. But then, it's the little details that make life worth living.

    I take a lot of time to stop and appreciate those little details, anymore. I'm sipping the coffee, remembering the first time I ever tried coffee. That night I had...

    No, don't go back there. Not worth dragging up bad memories on a hot August night like this one. Memories of hot, sticky jungle.

    Memories of the little Japanese boy.

    All in the past. I walk by the door to the old belfry, as I always do.

    What's this?





    [image=http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pt24d-7Pv5Y/SZYLAZ-R6mI/AAAAAAAAHOY/ld7K2nCAo6c/s400/doorway.jpg]

    It's open. How on earth did it get open? Guess the old lock finally gave up the ghost. Better just shut the door and...

    And...

    And you know what? I'm 89 years old. I might as well see what it looks like from the top of those stairs. It's a long, slow climb. Building up a little bit of a sweat. Legs drag/>
  4. The_Judge Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Feb 8, 2009
  5. Sinrebirth SWC and EUC Forum Moderator

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 15, 2004
    star 7
    IC: Xander
    ****

    The needle jabbed the eye, just about, and Xander flinched, he flinched a lot, all the way through the crazy colours, through to a crazy world, and saw the craziest thing he'd ever seen, for a menagarie of reasons.

    And the priest died.

    And Xander saw it, all the way down to the very end. To the bone-crushing finale.

    Xander rocked to his haunches, and swore, loudly. "****. Just ****, man. What the ****!?"

    His reticence had been all but obliterated. His caution shattered. His resolve dribbled away.

    Xander knew he had to compose himself, knew he had to check on the idiot with only a thumb left, knew someone did.

    All Xander did, all he could do, was heave his guts up.


    TAG: All
  6. spycoder9 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jul 23, 2008
    star 4
    Camille Rodgers
    . . . . . . . . . . .



    The moment the professors allowed the needles to approach their eyes, Camille screamed. She struggled with her bound arms and legs, her bound head. Tears streamed down those cheeks. Her eyes were so wide. The needle was closer. Closer. Closer. Oh, God, so close. Camille couldn?t even blink it was so close. She wailed. Moaned. SCREAMED. She had never screamed so much. So loud. It pierced her eyes. Psychedelic colors invaded her senses. Such a wide rainbow of colors that Camille felt blinded for a moment. Even though she didn?t realize it, her loud cries had finally faded away. As darkness followed the obnoxious colors, Camille watched the priest. The priest. She recognized him. She had noticed him around town. Shaky old man. The moment he started climbing the stairs, Camille knew what was coming. The murders. He was going to die. He was pushed. Down, down, down. The way he smashed into the ground was horrific. Camille struggled.

    ?AHHHHH!? Camille screamed again. She could hear herself talking. Even in this strange place. The dead body on the ground. Disgusting. Gross. Blood. Camille was bathed in sweat. Sweat, sweat, so much sweat. She was doused in sweat. The old priest was dead. He was splattered on the ground. Her forehead. Oh it burned. Sweat. Sweat.?STOP IT!? She cried even though she knew they wouldn?t listen, ?PLEASE STOP!?


    TAG: ALL
  7. Teegirloo Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    May 26, 2005
    star 6
    Michaela Gardner
    Unknown Location

      Michaela sobbed. It was all she could do. She was too afraid to even speak. Dr. Tarr and his partner Professor Fether frightened her to no end. There was nothing she could do, but hope that someone would rescue them. Hoping someone would realize that they are gone. Not that she knew anyone here really. But some of the other people have been in Jackson for a long time. Surely someone would miss them and go looking for them. Michaela only hoped and secretly prayed in her mind for a rescue.

      Until then she kept quiet and hoped that these lunatics would leave, so she could atleast try and find a way to escape.

      Meanwhile Dr. Tarr kept talking. "But now, we have a demonstration to begin. The wondrous, ponderous, transcendent, unclassifiable system of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether!"

      Michaela hoped it was nothing like that last one. She wasn?t sure how she was going to hold up. She heard a whirring noise from behind the chair. A mechanical arm positioned itself several feet out from her face with a small hypodermic needle pointed toward her.

      Then suddenly it shot toward her, only to stop right at her eyeball. She whimpered much more loudly then she wanted to.

      "This is only going to hurt a lot." said the mad man

      She felt a poke in her eye, then something liquid inside her eye lids. She felt funny. A weird sensation and the room began to spin around and around with colors like a kaleidoscope.

      Then she saw a man on a stair, but was he really there.


    TAG: All, Ramza
  8. TheGoodImperial Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    May 17, 2009
    star 2
    August Starr

    Pictures. A needle and pain. A man on the stairs. Violence. Death. A priest fell, and who pushed him? Who? he felt as if the answer did not really mattered. Only survival did. Only survival. He had to get out of there, had to life. He had not come to the US to die in a hole. No. No.

    The pain was bareable. The drugs made it though. After all he had not faded, had he? Or was it all a dream? When he regained something that was probably his consciousness or possibly a fever dream he realized he could speak. But what was there to say?

    Aman hanging, a man on the stairs. It made all no sense. Silence did.

    Damned.

    This was a damned place. So he took a deep breath. in the sea of perdition you never knew when you needed to dive.

    And they were not any closer to finding this murderer. Maybe Mr. Thumb was right. Most likely he was right. They did not really tried to find him, they just babbled and enjoyed their "job".

    Wait and see. All left. More colours. More pictures. Somehwere beneath it all some sort of sense awaited them, probably. Or just madness. He knew that was always an option. Let go and give your mind to the impulses it could not control and through it, learn to swim.

    His hands trembled. Still restrained? Anyway, he felt the muscles tremble with fear and exhaustion.

    "So, the drugs work after all, hm?"

    Tag: Ramza, others
  9. Jedi_padawan_leigh Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 13, 2003
    star 4
    IC: C.J Karmichael
    Unknown


    C.J whimpered as the needle inched closer and closer to her eye. Unable to blink, unable to turn away, it moved unhindered, stopping mere millimetres from her eye ball. Her pleads went on deaf ears as the menacing whirring of the contraption controlling the needle seemed to drown out every other sound in the room.

    The needle made contact with her eye.

    She shrieked.

    It hurt?it hurt so much?!

    Their torturer appeared to be explaining what was in the syringe, but it was wasted on C.J. Her consciousness and awareness went into a rapid downward spiral of strange colours and images as the drug quickly took effect. She felt strange sensations throughout her body as she was dragged deeper and deeper against her will. The colours started to dim and dull until there was only darkness

    Suffocating darkness.

    A man appeared.

    A man on a stair.

    He wasn?t there, apparently.

    He spoke in riddles, C.J didn?t understand. Worlds within worlds, dreams within dreams. Personas. The real you and the you right now. Then there was a church. She thought she recognised it. A priest, old, frail. It looked and felt as real as day. The crumbling old aged stone of the church walls, the smell of burnt out candle wicks from a recent prayer service. A door ajar, it leads to the church belfry. She witnesses his steps, sees the dust kicked up from the stairs with each slow movement.

    He reaches the top

    He?s not alone

    It all happens so fast

    He?s falling?.falling?

    ?No?no no NO NO!?

    It was her voice, screaming as she watched the priests blood spread across the ground, his body broken in angles she never thought were possible with a human skeleton.

    She wanted to cover her eyes, She didn?t want to see this! Make it stop! Make it stop!


    ?TAG: Ramza
  10. Reynar_Tedros Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jul 3, 2006
    star 6
    Sean King

    Sean felt like he'd just awoken from a bad dream. He had that same feeling of unconsciousness mixed with sobriety, his mind trying to differentiate between what was real and what was not, like a camera attempting to focus its lens.

    That particular dream felt more real than others, though. Watching the elder man, his conflicting emotions and the eventual fall to his demise, Sean was utterly enthralled. He had no idea what the purpose of it was, but he couldn't stop thinking about it even after coming to.

    It was hard to control his thoughts with all of the hysterics from his fellow captives around him. None of that was helping. And so he sat, waiting for the next round of insanity.

    Tag: Ramza
  11. Jabba-wocky Chosen One

    Member Since:
    May 4, 2003
    star 8
    IC: Alexander Scott

    Alexander watched without taking anything in. His senses were unreliable. He was already scared into a stupor in any case. Nor was there much coherence left in his thoughts. There was only the blurred trickle of sounds and images, sweeping him along and away. There was a vanishing man, severed limbs, a staircase, another man. . .the same staircase? He didn?t know. Nor was he ever really clear where he was in all of it. By turns he was viewer, participant, or some strange blend of both that could only be produced by a steady erosion of his sense of self.

    The man began to fall. There was swirling, vertiginous blue. Black asphalt leapt up at him, or he towards it. Alexander tottered unsteadily, uncertain why he hadn?t lost his balance. His movements seemed strangely restricted. He dropped faster. Struggled more. His vision twisted in every direction, his head went nowhere at all. Confusion and panic were peaking together.

    Impact. Fire was everywhere. His eyes watered as harsh yellow light flooded his field of vision. His abs seared from wrenching. His throat burned raw as liquid sprayed from it. He gagged, trying to suck air down into hot, empty lungs. He needed to bend over. He couldn?t do either. The pain was so bad he wanted to pass out. But besides a few cruelly hopeful moments, that wouldn?t happen either. At some point, he?d stopped dry heaving, and was just reduced to pained gasps and overwhelmed shrieks.

    When it was intelligible enough for words again, he was blathering, ?How are they so calm? Were they expecting this? So calm, calm. Why? All so calm.?

    TAG: Ramza, Others
  12. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Paul Whittaker
    Unknown

    Everything was not what it seemed. At least, that's what the man had said; the same man who had been standing on the stairs. And perhaps the same man who had been responsible for the grotesque situation in the belfry. That innocent man did not deserve to die, much the same as they did not deserve to be tortured.

    But everything was not what it seemed. Were the events he had just witnessed real or had Paul simply imagined them?

    Paul moaned and allowed his head to loll to one side, or at least as far as the restraints would allow. His surroundings had not changed as far as he could tell, but did he really expect them to? Even the desperate cries of fear and pain from the others remained a constant. They were in hysterics and rightfully so.

    And yet, that concerned him all the more. Why wasn't he in hysterics, yelling in tandem with the others and demanding to be set free? He wanted to be set free just as much as anyone else here and yet, he failed to express it openly. Perhaps his job had hardened him against situations like this or perhaps, it was something else.

    Either way, Paul remained calm and collected, staring straight ahead and breathing deeply as he waited for something to happen.

    TAG: Ramza, others
  13. Your_Tour_Guide Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 21, 2011
    Our humble host, Ramza, wishes for me to inform you that, due to his being at Comic Con, he feels that any updates made would be of subpar quality, and as a result, he will not be updating until on or shortly after Tuesday, July 26. Those of you who have already posted are welcome to enjoy this time off.

    As for those of you who have not posted, you have until midnight board time on July 25 to post an update or PM Ramza. While our host was not willing to provide precise details of what a failure to do so would entail, he did enclose the following picture

    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/1287750349.jpg]

    along with a note that simply stated "A good mystery could always use additional victims."
  14. The_Judge Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Feb 8, 2009
    "Death is a debt we all must pay." - Euripedes

    I always liked that quote. Nice sense of inevitability. And I'm nothing if not inevitable.

    You've probably seen a couple of posts by me around. They were hints. Obtuse hints, but hints nonetheless. I've brought along another hint, because I'm such a swell person like that, and because frankly, since Ramza's taking his sweet time trying to get the updates up to snuff, I could go for a little derailing.

    So here's your clue:

    "Jehova in the Latin Alphabet

    Served with eggs

    BAABAAABBBAABAA ABAABABAAAABABAABABAAABAABAAAA ABAAABAAAB ABBAAABBABBAABA AAAAA ABABBAAAAAABBAA"

    Now won't that be fun?

    Of course it will be. It's a clue about me.

    Oh, right, I forgot to mention something really important - I'm the killer. No, really, it's me. But you see, I'm actually one of you. Ramza's just posting on my behalf using an old sock.

    Don't believe me? Just ask Mr. Easton and Mr. Smith.

    ... Oh wait.














    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/Bullet_Hole.jpg]

    Little too late for that.

    I'll see you around.
  15. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 6
    Elysium One

    They stood in the darkness. Time seemed to stand still.






    Had it been moments?






    Days?







    Weeks?






    Voices floated in the aether.

    "Reaction not consistent







    dosage adjustment required"





    "I concur Dr. Tarr"




    "Do what










    ever it takes. Taking too












    long."

    [image=http://web420.com/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Psychedelic_Garden__Thelma1.jpg]Swirling psychedelia enveloped them.













    Yet again more darkness.




    There.





    [image=http://i1142.photobucket.com/albums/n604/zack0in/AntiqueMirrorOval.jpg]
    Salvation.

    "Yes, Lewis Carroll..." murmured the man who wasn't there upon the stair. He wasn't there again today. "Of course. Of course. He would choose that! He would!"


    The more observant among them would see his left eye flash a magnificent gold.





    [image=http://life.australianmuseum.net.au/images/large/lbtt043.jpg]




    "I remember! Yes. Yes he would go for Carroll. It's so obvious!" He started laughing.

    They were being p u l l e d towards

    [image=http://i1142.photobucket.com/albums/n604/zack0in/AntiqueMirrorOval.jpg]

    "So obvious! Interconnectedness! All is one is all is one is we is you is us is them is all is one is all is one is we is you..."

    They were being pulled through the mirror. Cold.
















    Eternal cold.
















    Eternity.






















    Ytinrete.

    "Carroll and the Wachowskis! Yes! He would! He WOULD!"











    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/62/Paul_Gustave_Dore_Raven1.jpg]

    Embrace the end. Totality. Death. Rest. Peace. Final.











    The cold embrace of the mirror.


    Endless darkness.










    Eternal.








    Suddenly!

    Bombast!







    [image=http://i848.photobucket.com/albums/ab42/ParakeetPerson/meadow-flower.jpg]Endless meadow.

    Tranquility.

    A man.








    Drinking tea, reading a newspaper, face unseen behind the front page. "Always wanted to use that one. Verdi! SUSTAIN! PERCUSSION! PERCUSSION! Fantastic! Apocalyptic! Unforgiving!"









    The field was on fire.


    [image=http://i153.photobucket.com/albums/s227/blck8angel/iphone-wallpapers-31.jpg]

    THEY ARE MINE! YOU MAY NOT HAVE THEM!





    "Reactions still subnormal! UP! THE! DOSAGE!"

    IT SHALL BE DONE DOCTOR TARR!

    [image=http://files.shroomery.org/files/09-48/928142765-psychedelic.jpg]

    They were melting.

    [image=http://www.web420.com/Web420BluePsychedelic.jpg]

    Resolidifying.

    [image=http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs32/f/2008/226/e/e/Texture_psychedelic_by_Flatau.jpg]

    Time stretched out before them.

    They were there when this all began.

    "When you work hard to do something right, you don't want to forget it."

    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ea/Ted_Bundy_in_court.jpg]

    They were being torn to pieces. Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! The pain was surely excruciating. Fire, a million billion suns, exploding, each cell.

    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f8/Zodiac_cipher.png]

    Humanity would always kill. Thanatos. The death instinct. Of course! OF COURSE!

    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/aa/FromHellLetter.jpg]

    BAABAAABBBAABAA ABAABABAAAABABAABABAAABAABAAAA ABAAABAAAB ABBAAABBABBAABA AAAAA ABABBAAAAAABBAA







    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/3782_Common_Raven_in_flight.jpg]

    Corvus corax.

    Nevermore.









    Take this kiss upon the brow!
    And, in parting from you now,
    Thus much let me avow-
    You are not wrong, who deem
    That
  16. spycoder9 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jul 23, 2008
    star 4
    Camille Rodgers
    Unknown Place


    What was real and what wasn?t? When you stood in complete emptiness with people who you had only met in a passing glance at the grocery store, or at the school play? When there was an odd man upon a stair who wasn?t there with a golden eye? Who spoke odd words? How about going through a mirror and coming out on the other side? No one could truly understand how cold a mirror was until they passed through one. She wept in her hands as she swept through the mad lands. The darkness only remained for a couple of seconds longer before the world imploded in a bright blast of color. An odd man in an endless field with a newspaper. She didn?t like him talking. The words meant nothing.

    The field erupted into flames. A skeleton of a man roaring. They were. . .melting. . .resolidifying. . .Someone was speaking. She was being ripped apart piece by piece. Her child was ripped from her womb. Her screams went unnoticed in this HORRIBLE place. She sobbed. Sobbed. soooooobbedddddd. . . .




    She woke up in her bedroom. Drenched in a cold sweat. She put a hand to her chest and raised up in bed. Her eyes searched wildly for the man upon the stair. But then she remembered he wasn?t there. She was wearing her nightgown. The silky pink one. Glancing to her side, she noticed Carl was missing. For a second she imagined his mangled body at the bottom of that church. What if he had been murdered by that person in the church? She looked around in her bedroom for a few seconds. It had all been a dream. She had read some silly news report, and she had a dream that she was being blamed.

    A nightmare, really. She placed her hand on the bed to raise up when she noticed the blood on her hand. What? What? She was losing the baby! She almost cried out, but she noticed her nightgown was stained with the blood. Only her handprint which she had made in her wake. Why was blood on her hands. She rose from the bed. Her heart was going one hundred miles per hour. She turned back to her bed. The lump under her pillow. The lump of a revolver. Why she knew it was a revolver, she didn?t know. But it was. Speeding into the bathroom, she turned the sink on and washed the blood off of her hands. It sickened her to think that someone?s blood was on her hands. Literally.

    After the blood was thoroughly scrubbed from her hands, she flung her nightgown off. She had to thank the Lord that Carl hadn?t of been home. He would?ve asked where this blood had came from and she couldn?t tell him. If these murders really were happening, then this blood could be those dead people?s. Someone could be framing her. Getting inside her brain. She shivered as she put on a tank top and some shorts. She was scared. The nightmare had been so vivid. She reached under her pillow and pulled out the revolver. Now she was really freaked out. Someone had been in her house. Staring at the revolver, she noticed something out of place. Two missing bullets. She dropped it on the bed and placed a hand over her mouth in horror.

    This gun had been used. She had murder weapon in her home. No, no, no, no, this could not be happening. She had the perfect life. What was happening? Was her mother coming back to haunt her? No, nothing like that could happen. Camille believed in God. No such things as ghosts. But what about demons? Her mother wasn?t a demon. Her brother was though. He was a demon. He would come to make her life a living-

    She pushed the thoughts from her mind. She could not, would not, be implicated on a crime that she didn?t commit. She took the gun and crept downstairs. Carl was gone. Off at work, she guessed. She went outside and tossed the gun in the trash can. Sighing in relief, she walked back inside and took off her shoes. Rose should wake up soon enough. Camille went into the kitchen and took out some pancakes from the fridge. She tried to push out whatever nightmare had been from her mind. No one would blame her for murder. No one.

    That?s when she saw the bloody knife in her sink. With her eye/>
  17. TheGoodImperial Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    May 17, 2009
    star 2
    August Starr; Jackson; Iowa; Bedroom

    Dreams within dreams within dreams. Purgatory for a reasonable man.

    I sit up and his head aches. MY body does to. Like I had spasms over night. OR as if I had too much sex. Just not that pleasurable. Exhausted and still suffering from what I call my extended jetlag I sit up and curse in German. It is no fun when nobody understands you. Oh this horribnle small flat. And how can my iboprophen be so faaway when my flat is so small?

    I stand up. Sirens outside. What the hell . . . I came her for safety. And now cops are everywhere out there as if someone was kidnapped or something.

    My hands tremble, as I make myself coffee. My head keeps hurting, until I throw in the third ibo and even then it gets only better. I imagine it is a tennis ball tall tumor eating my brain from the inside. But probably it was just too much . . . what? Whisky? Jack Daniels is no Whisky. Bourbon? Well, Jack. Too much Jack.

    These people in my dream, if they exist really? That would be nice. So post-modern.

    Yawning I go to the kitchen window and hear the gurgling sound of my coffee, waiting for the outside to reveal it´s secrets. What doe3s Jackson Iowa hold for a man like me?

    Tag: Ramza
  18. Teegirloo Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    May 26, 2005
    star 6
    Michaela Gardner
    Unknown Location

      Time, what was time she had forgotten. Her mind was frail and filled with hallucinations or was it real. She had no idea. It felt as if the darkness was swallowing her up. then in the near distance there was a mirror. Then out of nowhere she saw a flash of gold. Did it come from his eye? Again reality was uncertain.

      Was she hallucinating or was she getting closer.......closer to the mirror. She was being pulled through the mirror. She tightened up as if to resist but couldn?t. She was cold....extremely cold. Her teeth chatter as her body shivered. Was it ever going to stop.

      The darkness...the cold was too much to bare. It felt as if it was an eternity. Her body felt numb. But then the darkness went away. The cold was no longer here.

      She was in a meadow and it was the most tranquil and peaceful feeling that she felt in a long time. There was a man. Drinking tea, reading a newspaper, face unseen behind the front page.

      Something horrible appeared. An evil skeletal face looked at her and yelled.

      THEY ARE MINE! YOU MAY NOT HAVE THEM!

      She tensed up again wanting to scream but lost her voice along time ago. Then the hallucinations of psychedelic images appeared once again.

      She felt her mind melting then resolidifying. She was being torn apart, she screamed a voiceless scream. The pain was excruciating.

      She felt as if she was dying.

      She woke up sweating. She looked around. It was her own bed. The clock radio had the date and time. 7 o'clock on the morning of August 2nd. She looked on her hands there was blood stained on them. Underneath her pillow was a gun. She never had a gun before where did this come from. She got up to wash her hands. She passed by the kitchen and noticed a something in the sink.

      A knife filled with blood all over it. She immediately washed the knife. Scrubbing it hard trying to get the blood off.

      She turned on the tv and watched the news as they covered the first two murders in Jackson in twenty eight years. She had no memory of doing anything yet why was the knife and the gun here. She had no one to confide to. She had to get rid of the gun somehow and even the knife. She was panicking and started to breathe hard. She finally calmed herself down.

      Whatever she was going to so, she had better do it as quick as possible.


    TAG: Ramza
  19. Jedi_padawan_leigh Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 13, 2003
    star 4
    IC: C.J Karmichael
    Unknown


    More darkness, suffocating endless darkness enveloped C.J as the priest?s broken body faded from view. More colours swirled about her, then again, darkness. The man who wasn?t there, appeared on his stair, but amongst the darkness a glint of gold came from his eye. Then there was a mirror, she was being pulled towards it, passing through it. How could you pass though a mirror? She shivered violently. The mirror was cold, so cold! Then a field, tranquil, but only for a few seconds before the place was consumed with fire. She was melting, changing, re-solidifying. Then pain, intense pain. She felt her body being physically ripped apart, the pain was excruciating. She screamed and screamed until her voice was no more?


    C.J?s eyes flew open as she sat bolt upright in bed. Her chest was heaving as she gasped for breath, her eyes were blurry as they darted around her dim room. As her sight cleared she noticed she was at home in her own bed, dressed in her favourite PJ?s, a pale purple vest top covered in smiling cartoon pandas and darker purple bottoms. Her curtains were still closed. Her alarm clock blinked on her bedside table. The house was quiet, her mother and father must have gone to work early. She let out a shuddered breath. Her head and body throbbed, the nightmare was so intense, she must have been thrashing around something awful. She went to reach up and wipe away the sleep in her eyes, but stopped immediately, staring horrified at the substance that covered her hands

    Blood.

    There was blood on her hands. Why? Why was their blood on her hands? How? When did it..?

    She leapt from her bed, stumbling as she did so, she felt light-headed, and for some reason really quite groggy, bracing herself on the chest of drawers opposite the bed. A heavy metallic thud filled the air and she jumped at the sound, something had fallen off the bed. Her mouth fell open in shock . There, on the floor lay a gun. Why was there a gun in her bedroom? Where did it come from? Her father didn?t own one, her mother wouldn?t allow any sort of dangerous offensive weapon into her home. She wasn?t even old enough to own or purchase a gun. How did it get there? She felt her panic levels rising again as she ran to the bathroom and began frantically scrubbing her hands clean, the water red with someone else?s blood swirled around the plughole before disappearing from view. Red hot tears ran down her face as she leant heavily against the basin counter. The blood, the gun, the nightmare, it was all to much. She felt her stomach do a complete one-eighty and she heaved her guts up.

    A rattling noise echoed through the house and C.J whipped her head around. What was that? Was there someone in the house? Cautiously she made her way along the upstairs hallway and crept down the stairs. She peeked into the living room, there was no-one there. She walked into the kitchen. No-one there either. Did she imagine it? It was then she saw it. In the sink, was a knife, its blade covered in dried blood. More blood. A ripple of fear shot through her and she turned the faucet of the sink on, drenching the knife in water and washing up liquid before attempting to wipe the blade clean before removing it from the sink. Reluctantly she returned to her bedroom, her eyes fell on the gun again, she didn?t want to see the gun, she didn?t want it in her room, in her home. But she was terrified to even touch it. Slumping down against the bedroom door, she pulled her knees up to her chest. What was she going to do! ? How would she explain this to her parents, hell, to anyone! She was so scared.


    TAG: Ramza
  20. Jabba-wocky Chosen One

    Member Since:
    May 4, 2003
    star 8
    IC: Alexander Scott
    Jackson, Iowa

    Alexander didn?t recognize the ceiling. He was staring with the sort of intensity that only adrenaline could lend. It dropped off more quickly than his grogginess did. Likewise, the night?s dreams were sharper in his memory than the look of an apartment he?d just moved into. So he lay there, orienting himself with small details. The room was empty; no one else was here yet. There were papers?important papers?on the floor; he meant to arrange them this morning. The window on the east wall was an annoying but worthwhile compromise.There was a lump under his pillow. That was something he didn?t recognize. Eyes half closed, he rolled over absent-mindedly and fished for it. Its contours restarted the adrenaline. As it came out from under his pillow, there was a surge of reflux up his throat.

    He screamed. Dropped out of the bed. Dropped the gun. Cowered from the shot he expected when it hit the ground. When it didn?t, he finally noticed the dampness on his palms wasn?t sweat.

    Forty minutes later, he was staring at the stone tiles of the apartment bathroom. He could hardly hear over the roar of the shower beside him. The thundering pulse in his ear didn?t help either. Nor yet the pleading from all the corners of his mind that still weren?t comfortable with what he was about to do. All of it gave the phone systems of Erkan, Sanger & Wells LLP a surreal distance. His name cut a thankfully short path to the senior partner?s voicemail, as he was too numb to manage much more. More pointedly, he feared losing his nerve should he actually have to explain what he was doing.

    But, he told himself, it was pretty straightforward. An abduction seemed implausible. Especially given the lack of response to his antics just moments earlier. But he wasn?t safe. Fixing this meant abandoning the hopes that had brought him here. In all likelihood, anyway. He kept holding out some vain hope that wasn?t true, as if to justify the fact he was only making one phone call instead of two. Especially considering it was a call to the person that wasn?t already expecting one. Not that he?d convinced himself to believe his own lies. But cowardice was a compelling enough reason to act.. Mercifully, the tone broke in on his reverie about then, telling him to leave a voice message.

    ?Call my Mom. I?m. . .in a crime scene,? he started unsteadily. He willed himself to unclench his jaw and continue. ?I don?t know what happened. I need you to tell me what to do now.?

    In his halting voice, inflection cracking with emotion it sounded more like ?I need you to tell me what to do. NOW.? And that wasn?t entirely wrong, either.

    Barely able to stand, he slid off the toilet lid, and out of the last off his clothes. He stepped into the shower, and almost immediately sunk to the ground. Water beat down on him.

    TAG: Ramaza, All
  21. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Paul Whittaker
    Jackson, Iowa

    Paul awoke with a start, gasping for breath and drenched in a cold sweat. The images that had formed the nightmare in his mind had been so vivid, so unnerving. The priest, the man on the stair with the golden eye, the open field and the subsequent burning that led to untold destruction and...pain.

    Even now that he was certain that he was home and back safely in his own bed, the pain continued to haunt him, every nerve ending in his body tingling with the residual effects of what he had witnessed. It was almost real; too real for his liking. Never before had he experienced a dream where the line between reality and make-believe was so remarkably vague. It was unsettling, to say the least, and it had him starting to question his own sanity. Had it truly been a dream or had he experienced some kind of freak event? It didn't help that he was having trouble recollecting the events from the night before...

    He recoiled at the memory and shuddered, the movement dislodging a metallic object that had been sitting off balance beneath his pillow. It clattered to the floor and Paul took in the telltale sight of a shotgun. Well, that wasn't too surprising a revelation considering he was a cop. Yes, a cop. Cops carried guns and he was a cop, so he carried a gun--he needed to relax.

    Shaking his head, he tried to avert his attention elsewhere as he pushed the sheets aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his tousled hair, but stopped abruptly as a sticky substance on his fingers hindered the motion. A pit began to form in his stomach as he slowly retracted his hand. He already had a gut feeling as to what it was he was facing.

    Blood. He closed his eyes tight and lowered his chin to his chest. Of course it was blood, what else would it be? And it wasn't just his blood, no, it was someone else's blood. The thick, dark substance signified that someone had been critically wounded and here he was, sitting here with that very substance dried upon his hands. Finally opening his eyes, he forced himself to look upon the mess on his hands and slowly clenched his fists closed until his knuckles were white and he was visibly shaking. He didn't kill anyone! He was set up! He was a cop, dammit!

    With his heart now racing and pounding heavily against his chest, Paul rose shakily to his feet and rushed towards the kitchen, bare feet padding noisily against the wood paneled floor beneath him. He had to get in contact with the force and let the Chief know what was going on - how he had been set up and had awoken this way with no knowledge of the actual event...if there had even been a murder in the first place. Why was he automatically assuming someone had been killed? What was wrong with him?

    "Relax, will you?" he breathed with irritation as he pressed both hands against the counter and leaned forward. He took several steadying breaths to calm his nerves before reaching for the cellphone that had been discarded on the counter. He fumbled with the keypad for a moment, his hands still shaky from the morning's events, until he was able to finally dial in the appropriate number. It began to ring as he placed the phone to his ear and waited.

    "Hello?"

    Paul fell silent, not being able to find his voice as he stared at an object protruding from the kitchen sink. It was a knife; a knife coated with the same sticky substance as his hands. He simply gaped and continued to stare, seemingly oblivious to the person on the other end of the receiver trying to grab his attention.

    TAG: Ramza
  22. Your_Tour_Guide Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 21, 2011
    "To enjoy freedom we have to control ourselves." - Virginia Woolf

    Hello again ladies and gentlemen and welcome back to Summer Place, the only game show where you, the viewing audience, get to actively decide what happens to our contestants through the miracle of surreality! Is this the real life? Is it just fantasy? I have no idea, but here's your host... The Gambling Man!

    [image=http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/Dl1on/Dl1on0902/Dl1on090200027/4389093-gambler-sign-playing-cards.jpg]

    Thank you, thank you, please. Please. No seriously, stop applauding, we've got a lot of show left to cover and, well, as you can see by my watch, not a lot of time left to cover it in. As you know, I've had a lot of names and a lot of jobs over the years, but everybody pretty much just calls me the Gambling Man these days. Must be the monocle. Screams gambler.

    When we last left our contestants, they had just woken up to quite the startling situation! They seem to be handling it somewhat poorly, eh Jerry?

    Understatement of the year.

    Our announcer Jerry, everybody, ain't he a scream? Of course he is. Yes. And now it's time for you folks at home to help decide what happens next. We have here not one, not two, but three! Three hands of fate!

    A, B, and C. Each fate is completely unknown to everyone but myself, Jerry, and... I dunno, Jerry, does the Tour Guide usually know about these things?

    Tour Guide knows just about everything. The eye, y'know.

    Right, right, how silly of me. Guy gets one magical Egyptian symbol for an eyeball, suddenly he knows everything. But you know what he doesn't have? Style. Why, you know, I used to be called Ah-

    Don't give everything away just yet.

    Jerry has a good point, folks, but nonetheless, A, B, and C. One of these will determine the path our little game will unfold along, and all it takes is a PM from you, the home audience, to decide which letter is supreme! And if they don't vote enough to pick the right letter?

    There's a contingency in place. Should be lulz.

    You can't say lulz on television, Jerry. This isn't the internet! Probably. Actually I think it is. Anyway, get those votes in, folks!

    TAG: All (Sort of)
  23. Your_Tour_Guide Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 21, 2011
    ?All human actions have one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsions, habit, reason, passion and desire.? - Aristotle

    Hello again gentlemen and ladies and welcome back to Summer Place, the only game show where you, the viewing audience, get to actively decide what happens to our contestants through the magic of postmodernism! Caught in a landslide? No escape from reality? I have no idea, but here's your host... The Gambling Man!

    [image=http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/Dl1on/Dl1on0902/Dl1on090200027/4389093-gambler-sign-playing-cards.jpg]

    Thank you, thank you, please. Please. No seriously, stop applauding, we've got a lot of show left to cover and, well, as you can see by my watch, not a lot of time left to cover it in. As you know, I've had a lot of names and a lot of jobs over the years, but everybody pretty much just calls me the Gambling Man these days. Must be the ascot. Screams gambler.

    When we last left our contestants, they had just woken up to quite the startling situation! They seem to be handling it somewhat poorly, eh Jerry?

    Understatement of the year.

    Our announcer Jerry, everybody, ain't he a scream? Of course he is. Yes. And now it's time to tally up those votes from you, the viewing audience, to decide what will happen to our esteemed protagonists! As you probably recall, you were given a choice between three seemingly meaningless letters:
    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/BlackletterA-01.png]
    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/BlackletterB-01.png]
    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/90/Old_Latin_G.png]

    Of course they seem meaningless because they are! They are, in fact, merely symbols for various ways the plot could develop - ways that, were we to reveal them to you, would dramatically influence the manner in which you voted.

    Too late for that, suckers. Spin the wheel, Jerry!

    [image=http://www.bestfreechristian.com/gallery2/images/wheel1.gif]

    You know, this kind of reminds me of a song Gene Wilder once sang. There's no earthly way of knowing... doo doo doo doo doo...

    [image=http://www.strangefunvideos.com/images/content/140933.gif]

    Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd the winner is...






    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/BlackletterB-01.png]

    Yes, the letter B, which corresponds to... the envelope please! Thank you.

    B corresponds to...

    ...


    ...





    ... Oh really?


    ...



    ... Heh.



    Heheheheh.





    Oh that is amusing.

    Yo'll be hearing from me again shortly. In the mean time, keep watching this thread.

    [image=http://www.emmacarlson.com/emmablog/images/tv-static.jpg]
  24. The_Judge Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Feb 8, 2009
    [image=http://www.emmacarlson.com/emmablog/images/tv-static.jpg]


















    [image=http://memberfiles.freewebs.com/85/98/45849885/photos/Ghosts-in-the-house/Ghost-face-in-tv-2.jpg]

    KILL YOU ALL

    [image=http://www.emmacarlson.com/emmablog/images/tv-static.jpg]
  25. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 6
    Elysium Two - Judgement

    Camille Rogers

    No sooner had she placed the knife in the dishwasher when the television in the next room over flicked on. Or maybe it had been on. Had the television always been there? Camille was finding it hard to remember, but the entire morning had been a whirl, so it was rather hard for her to remember correctly.

    It was a cartoon of some sort. Talking animals were invariably involved.

    But something about the dialogue was just a little off.

    "You know it's not okay to keep secrets, Professor Fether," said the cartoon mouse.

    "Indeed, Dr. Tarr. Definitely not okay," replied the cat.

    "For example, say I killed you. It would be a pity to keep that under wraps, would it not, Professor Fether?"

    "A terrible pity, Dr. Tarr."

    "Mrs. Rodgers? I say, Mrs. Rodgers, can you hear us in there?" the mouse asked, wrapping on the television screen. "I'm afraid we're going to have to request your full disclosure on various issues, Mrs. Rodgers."

    The television set seemed to grow larger. A trick of the eye, no doubt.

    "We know all of your secrets, Mrs. Rodgers. We know about the knife. We know about the gun. We know about..."

    The mouse's stomach growled.

    "Cor blimey, Professor Fether, I'm famished."

    "Shall I make you a sandwich, Dr. Tarr?"

    "Please do. Peanut butter, if you'd be so kind, Professor Fether."

    "An excellent choice, Dr. Tarr."

    The ceiling groaned, the television increased in size.

    "Or rather I suppose it's what we don't know about Mrs. Rodgers. It seems you are a rather ordinary person, a husband, one kid, another on the way, and yet... and yet there's one thing I can't quite sort out."

    Something flashed on the screen.

    It was a boy with dark hair.

    Or it had been.

    Bits of its face had begun to rot away. Maggots covered its face.

    It opened its mouth and a word croaked out.

    Why?

    TAG: SpyCoder


    Elysium Two - Judgement

    August Starr

    No sooner had he gone to the window then the television in the next room over flicked on. Or maybe it had been on. Had the television always been there? August was finding it hard to remember, but the entire morning had been a whirl, so it was rather hard for her to remember correctly.

    It was a cartoon of some sort. Talking animals were invariably involved.

    But something about the dialogue was just a little off.

    "You know it's not okay to keep secrets, Professor Fether," said the cartoon mouse.

    "Indeed, Dr. Tarr. Definitely not okay," replied the cat.

    "For example, say I killed you. It would be a pity to keep that under wraps, would it not, Professor Fether?"

    "A terrible pity, Dr. Tarr."

    "Mr. Starr? I say, Mr. Starr, can you hear us in there?" the mouse asked, wrapping on the television screen. "I'm afraid we're going to have to request your full disclosure on various issues, Mr. Starr."

    The television set seemed to grow larger. A trick of the eye, no doubt.

    "We know all of your secrets, Mr. Starr. We know about the knife. We know about the gun. We know about..."

    The picture began to break up.

    "We

    know

    abo-"

    Static.

    A million faces.

    Angry faces.

    Hands reaching out from floorboards.

    Skeletal hands.

    Was it hot in here or was it just him?

    Somewhere there was laughing.

    And a bestial roar.

    No.

    It was a scream.

    Why?

    TAG: TGI


    Elysium Two - Judgement

    Michaela Gardner

    The television flicked to a new channel. Or maybe it had been on that channel. Had the television always been there? Michaela was finding it hard to remember, but the entire morning had been a whirl, so it was rather hard for her to remember correctly.

    It was a cartoon of some sort. Talking animals were invariably involved.

    But something about the dialogue was just a little off.

    "You know it's not okay to keep secrets, Professor Fether," said the cartoon mouse.

    "Indeed, Dr. Tarr. Def/>/>
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