Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by BrutalBx


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The hallway had fallen dead silent save for the squeaking of feet across the bloodied floor. By this point, Charlie had lost count of the amount of times he had pulled the trigger. He stopped counting the bodies after Principal Payne hit the floor in front of English class. With the school in lockdown, it made his movements that much easier since no one was getting out and no one was getting in. The fact that anyone would be surprised by this was laughable to Charlie. How could it not have ended this way? He was born to do this.

The Glock in his left hand was warm from its recent firing but it still held plenty of ammunition. All the time he had spent behind his mother’s house, firing at cans and makeshift targets had left him with the aim he needed to not waste the ammo had brought with him.

His mind drifted as he thought back towards his native ancestors and it made his blood burn hot. His people had always had their lives taken from them and he was no different. He was marked from birth to change the status quo. His entrance into the cafeteria at the start of all this; screaming his tribes cry as he popped Boaz in the head. The blood splatter landing on his face felt just as good as the soft first breath of spring rain.

The walls were covered by this point, the Celtic jerseys hanging there, the picture of the lost Allison Davies that hung next to the trophy case was as well. Her beautiful visage was a crimson mass because Charlie had willed it. He was sick of starting at her, sick of those eyes watching every move he made. The guilt had finally been replaced by pure rage.

A slamming door in the gym broke him free from his day dream and a smile crept upon Charlie’s lips. He tore the photo of Ally off the wall and then it against the nearby lockers. They didn’t really know her. It was all a lie, everything was a lie. Using his bloodstained hand he brushed back his dark hair before he cocked his gun and looked towards the home of those damned jocks.

“The pansy at my feet doth the same tale repeat. Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?”

It hadn’t been the first and it wouldn’t be the last time that Roddy dreamt himself into the shoes of Charlie Decker. In a roundabout way, he didn’t hate the boy that put a bullet in his back and killed several of his friends. Instead there was a deep regret that he could not have done more. Rod had been bullied for years at that school but he had friends, the same couldn’t be said of Decker.

The dreams started with the first letter he received six months ago and they come whenever he gets any sleep, the joys of insomnia. Someone had Charlie’s journals, the ones he was always writing in, the ones that got read out to class by those that wanted to cause harm, the ones the police couldn’t find after the shooting. Someone was making copies of pages and sending them out to everyone, sending them to colleges, to jobs, someone didn’t want the world to forget Charlie Decker.

Pulling himself slowly out of bed, Rod’s back was burning but he didn’t have the time to dawdle. He was meeting Lanie and Rylie today and a few aching bones weren’t about to stop him from seeing his baby girl. He reached across to the bedside table to imbibe in the copious amounts of painkillers, muscle relaxers and other chalky tasting crap that the doctors had given him. He washed down the mixture with a glass of water before rolling out of the bed and towards the closet. He had to get his daily exercise and coffee from Beau’s Place.

Popping on his work out gear and Beats, Roddy set off on his run through the small community. The sun was on the rise and you could smell the summer in the air as the teenagers loaded up their cars for party filled weekends or even weeks. It was somewhat unbelievable to Rod what a difference a few years made between the drama he and his peers went through and the current crop of Edenridge kids and how easy it seemed for them.

A lot of the family run businesses were closing and there was a great sadness to that. For so long, the Edenridge neighbourhood stood self succulent away from its big brother Boston, yet by coincidence or consequence the rampage of Charlie Decker seems to not only just kill kids but seemed to kill the entire town. Maybe because he sniffed out the future, the place just died as it was.

Arriving at the homely looking Beau’s place, dripping in sweat, Rod ran in to be greeted by the warm smile of his former English teacher.

“Well, well; Roddy Callahan. You about thirty seconds later than yesterday. Your getting slow boy” The jolly man pressed a few buttons on his computer before setting off his machine. ”Chai latte and a biscotti?”

”My man” Roddy tapped his smartwatch on the card reader before moving to the end of the counter.

As he frothed the milk, Beau looked towards his former charge with a unique look.”You opened the mail yet today Rod?” The boy shook his head. ”There's another one of his journal entries. Whoever’s doing this, they added a caveat, something is happening at the school tonight. I don’t know what, I don’t wanna know. Do me a favour, don’t go. I chased you into that place once before, I don’t wanna do it again”

Deep breaths. Just another day.

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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Hedgehawk
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Aaron awoke in a cold sweat. He had once again dreamed about fire. Burning. Cleansing. Shaking his head, Aaron made sure that he was actually awake, and not in some kind of dream within a dream. The sudden sharp pain in his lower spine reminded him that this was indeed, very much, real life. With a long exhausting sigh, Aaron picked up his old phone to check the time. Maybe he had time to go into a light sleep. The clock read a solid eight o’clock. Almost on the dot. So no extra sleepy time then.

Getting out of bed every morning was a difficult task for the male, who was still very much early in a long recovery path. It took him a good fifteen minutes to sit up, each attempt causing large shooting pains to appear up his left leg and lower back, sometimes forcing him to roll back onto the bed. Eventually he was able to sit up long enough to grab onto his bed support and pull himself onto his feet. It was a ritual that he performed every single morning since the shooting. Using the furniture to help him move around the bedroom, he found his way to his desk, where a conveniently placed pill box lay. Opening the box he took out the pills for early morning slot and swallowed them whole. No water. No fluid. There was little point in wasting time getting a drink with the sheer amount of painkillers that he needed to take.

Opening his dresser draw, he pulled out several boxes of tablets ready to fill the container for the rest of the week. Opening the first box, and pulling out the sachet jogged his memory: it was empty. With a deep sigh he shoved his fist into the drawer, withdrawing a prescription sheet. Well it looked like his morning was ruined. It took the male a good thirty minutes on his own his clothes on. It was a long and laborious task that resulted in Aaron almost falling over several times. His mother had insisted on them trying to get a nurse to help him get out bed and dressed in the morning, but Aaron refused on the grounds that he didn't want to be more of a financial burden on his mother than he already was. Grabbing onto his black wooden cane, Aaron began to shuffle around the small family home. The home was mostly studio, with the living, dining and kitchen areas rolled into one large room with the bedroom and bathroom breaking off into a corridor at the back. Reaching the dining table he picked up a stack of addressed letters, flicking through them to make sure they were all sealed. Might as well post them while he was moving around town.

Aaron decided to forgo eating. He could eat when he got back. Right now he wanted to get his tablets and get back, as soon as these wore off, he would have no replacements. Wearing his black hoodie with the hood up, Aaron began to shuffle down the street, and towards the pharmacy in the centre of town. No one took notice of him, but at the same time, everyone took notice of him. It was this strange paradox. No one acknowledged him verbally, but every bystander glared at him. It was a strange sensation, but Aaron had this for years now. People were very unforgiving in this small town. Everyone talked. Everyone gossiped. Aaron Cox was the curse. He was the reason everything was bad in the town. If he just disappeared, everything else would go back to normal. At this point, nothing phased him, and Aaron just kept moving. If someone tried to stop him or make his life awkward, he simply shuffled around them. No one wanted anything to do with him, but at the same time the paradox almost dictated that they make Aaron aware that they don't want him around.

After almost an hour of shuffling down streets like a hermit, Aaron had reached his destination. Entering the pharmacy the same cold atmosphere that had followed him outside seemingly followed him inside. No one inside wanted to particularly acknowledge his existence. He handed the pharmacist the prescription slip in complete silence and was greeted with the same silence in return. Two minutes later he had a small bag filled with new tablets and paid for it by swiping his card, all without a single word leaving anyone's lips.

There was simply one last thing left on his list of things to do. Walking over the nearby postbox, he pulled out the letters he picked up from home from his waist pocket. Giving them a quick flick through to make sure they were all there, he pulled the handle of the box and posted them inside. With a small huff of accomplishment, Aaron turned around and began to make his way back home, at the usual snails pace.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Metronome
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Metronome Tick Box

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While the rest of the world was just now cracking its eyes open and crawling out of bed to take a piss, Orren had been up for hours. He'd gone into work last night around 5pm. He was scheduled to go home at five in the morning, but his relief called in sick and his manager couldn't be bothered to find anyone else to take over. Orren didn't particularly mind, though. It wasn't like he had plans. He hadn't had plans in...god, so long.

The morning rush at the 24 hour corner store mostly consisted of little old ladies buying cat food and meager groceries, hasty commuters on their way to work, and the occasional cop. Being that this little convenient store was one of the few places open 24 hours in town, it was a hot spot for the local police. Although, they never seemed to be there when Orren actually needed them. He'd been robbed at least four times in the past six months, and may have lost count. A couple times the robber had been armed, once it had been a drunk, and once was a man who only wanted a pack of baseball cards and a bottle of lube...Orren wasn't there to judge. To be honest, the robberies didn't really get to him. Few things did these days. Most of his time at work was spent sitting behind the front counter, reading a bargain bin novel, or staring vacantly into space.

Today was no different. Orren had just rang up a man buying a pack of nicotine gum and three cases of beer when a somewhat familiar face entered the store. Wasn't that guy in his graduating class? What was his name...Cameron? No, that wasn't right. Orren watched passively as the familiar stranger walked back to the pharmacy at the back of the store, made a purchase, and left. He didn't try to strike up a conversation. What would he even say? Orren spent a good bit of time trying to erase that entire year from his life, and yet he still found it coming back around to remind him.

Just the other day, he'd seen a photo of himself in an old newspaper clipping. It was from when his class had done some community service project. He stood there, smiling at the camera with a dopey grin. He wasn't quite so thin, his face not as gaunt, and his eyes didn't have the deep bags under them that they had now. Standing next to him in the photo was...her. She looked just the way he remembered her: young, beautiful, happy, alive. It had only been one year, but he already felt so much older than the Orren in that photo. He'd torn the picture down from the bulletin board he'd found it on and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

"Hey, buddy, you alright?"

"Huh?" Orren snapped out of his daze and looked at the man standing in front of him, a small pile of groceries set on the counter. "Oh, yeah, sorry." He began ringing him up. How long had he been staring off into space like that?
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by metanoia
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Location: 👠 Massachusetts Correctional Institution – Concord

There were few things in this world that brought a genuine disgusted look to Jade’s face. Places that didn’t allow smoking, being told to wait until certain things could be achieved and the sight of dirty pigs who she just knew were crooked.

All of these things Jade hates to her core happened in succession as she waited in line to receive her visitor's badge at the Massachusetts Correctional Institution in Concord.

It was nearly a year from now when Jade first heard the name of this prison. She was at her uncle’s sentence hearing. Just a month before that, when her hellish junior year had ended and summer officially started, where most were looking forward to which beach they would party at, Jade came home to her Uncle Charlie in handcuffs. Later that night, she found out that he was busted on multiple counts of weapons-related charges. He claimed innocence and Jade believed he was.

Didn’t matter to the Boston District Attorney nor his so-called lawyer, because he was found guilty. His saving grace was a forgiving judge. Or at least, that’s what his PD said. Truth was, Jade knew the woman who oversaw his case. To most, she was Judge Wendy Knox, but she knew her as one of her Uncle’s friends. And she knew that he was be sent to a decent prison with a fifth of the time served that the DA was shooting for.

Instead of twenty-five years, Charlie Taylor was sentenced to five years, with the possibility of parole after half of that.

Two and a half years and he could be home. All because of her uncle’s fuck buddy did him a favor.

Still, making the journey -- a journey that was close to two hours from Edenridge to the prison and back -- had given her plenty of time to think, plenty of time to figure out what she was going to talk about when she got there. Having her uncle out of her life on the day-to-day, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, much less him, took its toll. And not just mentally, but ever since she barely graduated, Jade had been struggling to make ends meet.

“Yeah, don’t even go there.” She had to firmly remind herself. If nothing else, wasting time entertaining her financial woes wouldn’t do her any good, especially since her time with her uncle was limited to thirty minutes per visit.

“I.D. please!” A man’s voice called to her, devoid of any emotion.

Jade stepped forward, reaching into her red and black clutch. She pulled it out and handed it to him.

“Very good. Here’s your pass. Next!”

Without saying anything, Jade just stepped through the gate, surprised she didn’t trigger the metal detector considering she was giving every corrections officer that had a lingering gaze on her the dagger death stare, which seemed to do the trick because their unwanted eyes left her immediately.

So what if Jade didn’t dress conservatively for this prison visit? That doesn’t mean you can stare at her ass.

“Fucking perverts,” Jade scoffed under a breath.

As she was led through a series of halls, she was led into a room where tables that reminded her of the ones at her high school were scattered about. And, of course, she caught the glances of the inmates already in there with their families. Their wives...or whoever was sitting across from them, flicked them in the forehead in unison.

She found some joy in that and she took a seat.

It would be only about five minutes, but in those five minutes, she was the subject of glances, whistles, and she felt her blood boiling. Over and over again, she had to deal with this shit. Whether it was the pigs at the club, the pigs on the street, her sleazy landlord who made multiple shameless offers to pay her rent in exchange for...favors, and just about every fucking type of advance that could be made, she felt like she was going to snap.

I swear to god..

“Look at my niece again like that and a murder charge will be the least of your worries. Got me, Clarence?

Suddenly, the entire weight building from her severely-in-need-of-a-tan legs to her golden locks was lifted from her when she heard Charlie’s heavy Boston accent and she turned her blue-green eyes on the scene between him and Clarence standing inches from each other. Charlie was tall, but he wasn’t very muscular, or at least in comparison to Clarance who had arms that could kill a man.

And he probably did. Talk about yikes.

But Jade just smiled as Clarence took the road less traveled and sat back down and stood up as Charlie practically came running and he lifted her into a hug. It must have been weird for everyone else, but Jade didn’t care. She absolutely loved when he hugged her like that. He always did it ever since he became her guardian. Sometimes he’d do it just for the hell of it, but most of the time, whether she knew it or not, he did it because he could sense something was wrong.

But that was not why he did it.

“God, it’s been nearly three months since they’ve let me have any kind of visitor.” Charlie would admit as he let his niece down. “It’s just so great to see you, kid.”

“I’ve missed you too, Uncle Charlie,” she said, smiling and taking a seat opposite of him. “I see you’ve been trying out a new look.” She laughed, pointing to his six-inch beard and the mop of a mustache and poorly-managed sideburns to go along with it.

He matched her laugh and stroked his chin in the way Jade fondly remembered and he knew that.. “Yeah, well they don’t offer much facial hair treatments in solitary confinement.”

Most might raise an eyebrow, but Jade knew her uncle better than she knew herself. She knew his sense of humor and how, even though he probably added another year on to his sentence, at the end of the day, she knew he always would find humor in grim situations. That’s just the kind of guy Charlie Taylor was.

“But enough about me.” Jade laughed as Charlie quickly decided to switch the subject, his cheery tone making her continue to smile and chuckle. “How are things for you?”

Well, I’m behind on rent, cable and internet got canned, and I’m pretty sure my landlord wants to fuck me over more than he has already. Jade’s masochistic brain entertained all of the things in her life that wasn’t the anniversary of the shooting for a short minute, finding a delightfully grim appreciation for it. And then she shrugged it off. “Things are okay. Work sucks, but that’s to be expected given it’s a gentleman’s club.”

Jade remembered the look on Charlie’s face when she told him she started working at Edge of Sin. He wasn’t thrilled but she could vividly recall how he recognized she was an adult. Something they both agreed on, however, was how they both didn’t want her doing anything more than stripping. But given how the bills are stacking up…

“Shit Jade, I’m sorry. I’m sure if you hit up the MC, they would help you out. I mean, they owe me.”

She shrugged. “I might do that.” Especially to help deal with a certain sleazeball.

~ . ~

After catching up on what they had, Jade and Charlie spent the rest of the time talking about life before he was sent to prison. They chatted about their frantic schedules back then, the way Charlie always screwed up what was supposed to be the family signature strudel, and how Jade always found herself in trouble.

Yeah, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

But Jade was grateful for the thirty minutes she got to spend with her uncle. Especially with how things in her life had been falling apart. And it wasn’t just her landlord or the foreboding feeling she had every time her boss suggested she become a “VIP employee”. It wasn't even the fact that she would occasionally see Rod around town. None of that came close to the event coming to its one-year anniversary.

“Charlie Decker.” She uttered his name with a bittersweet note left in the back of her throat.

It was bittersweet because she still cared for him. Despite everyone he hurt, despite killing her kinda-sort-of best friend’s brother, injuring Rod, and hurting countless others, she couldn’t turn off her feelings about how. There was no way in hell Willow Jade Taylor could turn off the part of her heart that had always considered Charles Decker a friend. And no amount of horrible things done by him almost one year ago has changed that.

“Bet nobody else can say that.” She said with a slow, almost eerie laugh as she slid her helmet on and revved up her uncle’s red Shorttail Cruiser out of the prison parking lot.

The cruiser purred down the freeway, singing a bittersweet song as the humid, Boston summer wind hit Jade’s exposed body and she would make her way back to the trap that she called home.

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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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There was a soft clack as wheels hit the pavement, followed by the steady rolling sound as the skateboard swerved down the street. Vin found comfort in these sounds and preferred the old skateboard as his main form of transportation. It was reassuring, something he’d had since he was a little kid when everything was simple. He didn’t feel ready to trade it in for a car, another change that would only pull him farther away from the times when he had been truly happy. Some people kept a blanket or stuffed animal, but Vin had a battered old skateboard that made soothing noises. He didn’t tell people that. Vin only ever pointed out that it was better for the environment and loads cheaper.

He had a backpack with everything he needed and he carried with him a bunch of yellow sunflowers. Allison had liked yellow, he remembered that. Once he arrived at the gates of the cemetery, he carried the skateboard the rest of the way. It didn’t feel right to ride it around inside. The cemetery was quiet, not the sort of place that welcomed intrusive noises even if he did find them comforting. He came here once a month. At first, his parents had come too, even after their divorce when they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room together. Then, for a while, his mom occasionally came with him. And now, it was only him. He’d read somewhere that people weren’t really gone as long as someone remembered them. So, he did his best to remember, and he’d only ever missed a single month at the beginning of his senior year. And that wasn’t his fault; he’d been shot, and he figured Allison would get that, she’d been an understanding person. Some people deserved remembering, and others were better forgotten.

He didn’t mind the quiet walk through the cemetery; it was peaceful and always more or less the same. What occurred to him was just how many people he’d known who now rested here. Too many for any nineteen-year-old. And he had no control over it, who left and who stayed, but he could do this. So once a month he went to Allison’s grave and kept the headstone clean. Made sure it looked nice, took care of the weeds, and left fresh sunflowers. They hadn’t been exceptionally close; he talked to her now more than he ever had when she was alive. Vin regretted that, and all the slammed doors, arguments over music choice on family road trips, and the casual teasing that came with having a sibling. He wished he remembered more than just the shallow things, things like yellow flowers and someone who had been there to help and listen. But he didn’t, he could recall so few things about his sister that made someone a complete person.

Once everything looked right, Vin sat down in the grass with his back against the side of the clean granite stone. Part of his monthly ritual involved keeping her updated on everything; him, their parents, and any town gossip he’d manage to catch. He figured she’d appreciate that, even though he knew that he was just talking to a headstone. Maybe he did it because this was cheaper and easier than therapy, but this was someplace he felt like he could say whatever was on his mind.

“So I guess mom’s doing alright. Wants me to have dinner with her and some guy named Doug. I guess I should go, it’d make her happy. I really don’t want to, it’s gonna be so awkward.” He paused and gazed intently at the grass. If he didn’t go, it would keep being brought up, and he didn’t have enough going on to pretend like he was too busy.

“And dad, he’s always busy with something, you know how he is. I had lunch with him last week. He mostly talked about golf and everything he learned at that dental conference he went to. It wasn’t so bad, he didn’t bring up college or anything. Oh, and I got free shrimp, so that was cool.” Vin couldn’t remember if his sister liked shrimp, and both his parents hated when he asked questions like that. It made them too sad, he could tell, so he stopped asking them. He described the restaurant though, it was nice, fancier than anything he could afford, and he was pretty sure she had liked fancy restaurants. He talked about what he’d seen on his hike a couple of days ago and about the movie he watched the other night.

Eventually, he ran out of things to talk about. He knew only a little of the town gossip; he had less and less to share ever since high school ended. Vin didn’t mention the pages from Decker’s journals that people had been getting; he didn’t want to think about that. Vin hadn’t look at them, didn’t feel the need to know what was going on in the head of someone like that. So after he’d finished talking, he stood up and put a hand on the headstone.

“I’m sorry, you know, that I wasn’t a better brother.” He had always had an older sister looking out for him when he was a kid, Vin wished he’d been able to return that favor. He pushed forward and continued walking through the rows of headstones back towards the gates.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Fever Dream
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Fever Dream

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She was drowsy, but that was nothing new to her. Anna rubbed both of her eyes, sitting up on the recliner. It was finally daylight out, though she hadn’t had much sleep. Yes, Anna had a blanket draped over her as well as a pair of comfortable sweats on, but nonetheless, one of the lights in the room as well as the constant beeping of the machines hooked up to her mother kept her on edge throughout most of the night. Her father was called into work and he even had suggested she go home, but she didn’t do no such thing. Despite her mother being in a stable condition, as reassured by her doctor, Anna would make sure one of them stayed there with her until she was discharged. When she was the one lying in a hospital bed after being shot, her parents were there for her throughout her entire stay, and she be damned if she wasn’t there for her mother, especially if something were to happen to her.

A few moments later, Anna got up, and she was quiet as to not awake her mother. Yes, when she was a patient herself, she too went through a lot of restless nights. Anna slowly opened the door just the slightest to take a peek outside. The brightness alone caused her to squint her eyes, and it took her a moment to focus her vision, however, she was met with the usual sight: nurses, maybe a doctor here and there all walking up and down the hall. Some work stations placed adjacent to the entrance of almost every room occupied by staff logging in God knows what. Anna looked back at her mother as if silently asking for permission before stepping out into the hall. One of the nurses recognized her from her stay there and waved at her, and Anna waved back. The girl hugged herself as she walked down the hall, pulling her jacket tighter around her torso. Regardless of the fact that she was anemic and got cold easily, Anna was aware of the fact that hospitals were insanely cold and everyone felt the same way. That was one of the reasons she was heading down to the lobby, to get a hot beverage from the hospital cafeteria.

Once she was there after the quick trip through the seemingly endless maze of hospital hallways, Anna greeted the cashier whom she personally knew for quite a while. She then ordered her usual drink with a croissant as she figured she should have somewhat of a filling breakfast. From the brief conversation she had had with her father the night before, she was expecting him any time now at the hospital. Of course, Anna wouldn't hold it against him if he were to be late; that just meant she had more time to doze off on that ungodly recliner until her mother woke up or she was relieved of her duties.

Anna paid her bill after a quick chat then headed towards the nearest empty table to have her breakfast. She had her cell phone on her just in case she was summoned upstairs. But if nothing alarming was going to happen, once her father finally showed up, she'd stop by the corner store to get some quick shopping done before heading home to get her much needed rest.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by BrutalBx


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”And with the fiftieth anniversary of the mysterious Hangman murders coming up in just a weeks time; the question remains if that monstrous mans final prophecy will come to pass. Will the Hangman return from beyond the grave to exact his revenge on the town that put an end to his rampage? I guess time will tell dear viewers. That’s about all the time I have for this episode.

Next time, we’re gonna delve into something a little closer to home. By popular demand I’m gonna deep dive into the mysterious death of Amanda Caulfield in the Edenridge Shoe Factory Fire. Was it an accident? Murder? Suicide? As someone who knew the parties involved, this host has her own ideas. Let’s explore the dark together though, my friends, until next time I’m your Demon Dream Girl Mei Midnight, signing off and as always remember, when it’s dark and your fear hits just the right level, listen close and you just might hear the Midnight Frequency”

Upon hitting upload onto her latest file, Mei, dressed in nothing but a black tank top and underwear, got up from her computer and turned away to head into her walk-in closet. In the small studio apartment she had held for the last few months, her closet pretty much took up most of the space. Her kitchen and bedroom were small and her bathroom, when it had running water, was the size of a phone booth. It was a Goddess-send really when her father said she could use the Dojo’s showers whenever she needed.

The only illumination in her pitch black apartment other than her laptop was a purple neon sign that read “The Deadlights”. Popping in her earbuds, Mei pressed play on her phone and as the tunes began to play, she began to apply her makeup for the day. Midway through the application, she stopped to gaze into the mirror for a moment, her free hand drifting up her midsection and settling into the still rough scar tissue on her neck. Mei’s eyes closed and she was transported back to the art room of Edenridge High. She could hear the glass shattering from the door that Charlie shot out. She could feel the hot blood dripping down from her neck onto her torso and hitting the cold marble floor of Miss Meek’s classroom.

Pushing out her demons with a sharp breath; Mei turned up the music in her ears to full and began to sort through her dark clothes looking for an outfit for the day. Finally settling upon a short off the shoulder skater dress (black of course) fishnets and her Docs, she hung her hair long and used a thick choker to cover her scar. Once she was happy with her look, Mei pulled herself to her feet, grabbed a pile of papers from the desk and left her craphole of a home.

“Morning Mei” a deep baritone voice called behind her.

The artist turned and waved at the man standing by her front door. He was tall, slim and greying but his strong frame exuded authority. He was leaned up against the exterior of her apartment with his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets. She glared at him as she slipped the roll of papers in her hand into the mailbox. ”Good morning, Agent Hearst. So you’re following ME today?”

“No, just passing by. Lotta mail you’re posting. Don’t kids just use Instagram or Pinterest nowadays?”

”I get a lot of commissions, I don’t trust technology” She responded. ”Don’t federal agents actually solve crimes instead of hanging around people’s houses?” Mei spat at the floor, taking the perfect image of Hearst before her and projecting it into the dirt where her spit landed.

“Be seeing you Mei” Hearst pulled a hand from one of his pockets and pushed up his horn rimmed glasses with a smile before turning the opposite direction to the young woman and heading down the sloped path.

Mei kissed her middle finger towards the federal before spinning on her heel and heading deeper into town. She breezed past her family dojo and even through her earbuds, the dark priestess could hear the grunts and chants of her fathers students. Daddy dearest did like to get started early; the poor guys under his tutelage didn’t stand a chance. Nobody could outwork Will Ramsey; that was a simple fact of life but his second born daughter certainly came close. Peering in through one of the windows, Mei smiled as the group performed the kata. It was obviously the beginners class.

A short while later, Mei found herself in the Edenridge graveyard. It was a shortcut she felt safe taking. Too many people considered the walk amongst the tombstones just as cursed as Edenridge High. Emerging from behind a tree she noted the long mane of a former classmate, talking to the grave she was coming to visit herself.

”She won’t respond Vin, the dead don’t tell tales unless you bribe them”
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Aces Away
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Aces Away Phantom by Circumstance

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Phil Bristol's door opened early in the morning to a face he never thought he'd see again outside a phone screen. Mordechai Boaz stood outside the apartment of his longest standing father-figure with a shamed face and a tight grip on a ratty duffle bag; the man's eyes were glued to Phil's work boots and they just stood in silence for a tense moment. When it settled in his mind that the other man was actually here, a wide grin split his face and he pulled Mordechai into a tight hug.

"It's good to have you back, son." He said, holding onto Mordechai as the man went from coiled tight to weak in the knees, gripping him back just as strongly.

"I missed you, Phil."

Once the two had their heads on straight, Phil locked up and they walked together to the shop, Decky telling Phil about where he'd been and Phil ignoring the gaps in the story that were most likely edited-out crimes. By the time they had gotten to the Garage, Phil was completely caught up on any need-to-know of Mordechai's life, not that there was much. Phil, on the other hand, was being less than forthcoming about current events in Edenridge, and while that wouldn't typically bother him if they were talking on the phone, Decky knew Phil was always telling him that he had great stories for when he returned. Granted, it was said more out of hope that Decky would ever return in the first place, but Phil wasn't one to lie, which Decky found led to him simply not talking about things so as to not have to lie about them.

He was doing a lot of Not Talking at the moment, and left Decky unsure of how to fill the silence.

"Seriously, Phil," Decky grumbled as they made their way into Phil's office, only hesitating for a moment at his old work station, which looked untouched since the day he left. "I'm not stupid, a'ight? I know Nolan has left things out during our phone calls and texts, and now you're avoiding talkin' 'bout the town despite conspirin' with Nolan to get me back here, it's starting to freak me out."

Phil seemed to deflate a bit, his sunny demeanor falling victim to shade. "Look, Mo-Bo-" Mordechai's lips twitched at the old nickname. "We didn't start receiving these until after we convinced you to come back." Ok, what? Mordechai watched as the older mechanic bent down by his desk and unlocked the top drawer, pulling out a stack of envelopes. "Some of them were addressed to me, but most of them...most of them showed up with your name on it," he handed over more than half the envelopes, left unopened. "The whole town's been gettin' them recently. Or, at least...those who were somehow involved."

Decky listened to Phil over the buzzing in his ears as the man explained the recent plague of letters upon Edenridge, letters that were photocopied straight from Charlie fuckin' Decker's journals. Eventually, as he opened and began reading the letters himself, Phil got lost in the now pounding of his ears. Decker talked about him; about Decky and Danny and Southside things that people north of the tracks should never know. When he finished reading them all, he took his phone out with shaky hands and texted Nolan, surrounded by crumpled papers laying out the sick mind of his brother's murderer.

Outgoing Messages
To: So You Need to Learn How to Punch...

Why the fuck didn't you tell me?
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Venus
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It was another beautiful summer morning in South Boston, and the blond-haired beauty named Elaine Lancaster was driving down the familiar roads that lead to Edenridge. When she had made the decision to leave town after her gut-wrenching breakup with Roddy Callahan the previous year, Lanie had hoped that the move would mark the beginning of her complete disassociation with the cursed town. Roddy had been making big and steady steps in his recovery journey, and she had hoped that by this point in time he would be strong and healthy enough to drive himself to her new home to spend time with their baby. This, of course, had been foolish thinking on the young woman’s part. Fast forward, and she was still making the wretched drive back to the place that had almost ruined her life-- just like she had consistently been doing three out of four weekends a month for the last damn year.

The entire situation made the normally sweet, outgoing and cheerful girl silently seethe with anger and bitterness. It wasn't that she regretted having her daughter-- quite the opposite, actually. Rylie's arrival had been a true eye-opener for Lanie. It gave her a new purpose, a new outlook in life, and taught her that good things can come out of the darkest moments. It also wasn't that Roddy was a bad father. From the moment he had found out about their incoming child, he'd been nothing sort of supportive, taking complete responsibility for his actions, fulfilling and excelling his role as much as he could under their special circumstances. What was truly upsetting Lanie was the fact that she only had her own damn, stupid self to blame for putting herself in these sticky situations.

Maybe if she had focused a lot more of her high school life on schooling and cheerleading rather than being the savior of the shaggy-haired broken boys of Edenridge, then perhaps she would’ve saved herself a lot of pain and heartache. She didn’t have to fall in love with Decky to help him and his brother out of that dark place they were at. Just like she didn’t have to let herself get knocked up by Roddy after bonding over shared trauma and failed relationships, and helping him stay caught up with his schoolwork. But no: her weak heart had decided that these were the two young men she was destined to give every last part of her to.. Only for them to discard her without so much as a look back.

How fucking pathetic.

Lost as she was in these bitter thoughts, Elaine failed to notice a growling red motorcycle getting hot on her trail as they approached a curve. Without warning, the rider darted right past and cut in front of the blonde’s red Kia Sportage, causing her to abruptly slam on the brakes with just enough time to avoid colliding with the metal bike.

Fucking asshole! Lanie yelled out to the disappearing figure of the mysterious rider, slamming the horn of her steering wheel in frustration. The sudden, violent stop of the car and her mother’s high-pitched screeching seemed to have startled the sleeping baby in the backseat. After a few wobbles of her tiny lower lip, Rylie Callahan’s cries filled the car, and not long after she was joined by the sound of her mother’s own overwhelmed sobs.

Someday, like today, it all felt like it was too much.

Elaine allowed herself to let out all of the poisonous, negative feelings she'd been carrying for a few long minutes before pulling herself back together, soothing her infant daughter, and getting back on the road again.

A short fifteen minutes later, and the young mom was pulling into one of the parking spots in front of Beau's Café: the place where she and Roddy would start off their “shared custody” days at. Lanie's comfort and gentle demeanor had put Rylie back in her regular, easygoing good spirits, and she was all smiles and giggles as her mother released her from her car seat and hoisted her up in her arms. Less than a minute later, the tinkling of the small bell atop the café’s door signaled the two ladies’ arrival. It only took about ten seconds for the blonde’s green eyes to spot Roddy, and after letting out a resigned sigh, Elaine made a beeline straight for his stool at the end of the room.

“Hey,” she greeted him coolly as soon as she was within earshot, wasting no time in passing him the infant that had been letting out small giggles and squeals of excitement as soon as her blue eyes had fallen upon her dearly beloved daddy. Once her hands were freed, Lanie took off her shades and placed them in one of the available side pockets of her mommy backpack. Hopefully her eyes weren’t still bloodshot or swollen from her little meltdown earlier. “Sorry I’m a little bit late today. Some asshole on a red motorcycle cut in front of me when I was making the turn after the highway exit, so I had to slam on the brakes so hard it woke my poor baby up,” she explained, pouting at her daughter and giving her a few little kisses on her chubby cheek. “I had to stop on the side of the road to calm her down before I could finish up the drive here. But, hey, at least she looks like she’s a lot more happy now...” the blonde finished, shooting Roddy a disinterested look before shifting her attention to the establishment’s owner.

“Hey, Mr. Beau!” she called out to the dark-skinned older man, happily waving her hand at him. The difference between how sweetly she handled her daughter, how cheerfully she’d addressed their former English teacher and her standoffish manner with her ex-boyfriend was obvious. Clearly, there were still many open wounds and raw feelings in Lanie’s heart to be cordial at best with the father of her child. “I’ll have a French Vanilla Latte, a banana nut muffin, and a tiny cup of sugar-free whipped cream for Miss Thing here,” she told him, turning back to her baby with an adoring smile on her face.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Prosaic
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Prosaic Local Ghost

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Days blurred into one another.
One by one by one.

Monotony was familiar.
He woke up every day at exactly the same time, brushed his teeth, brushed his hair, didn't linger on his reflection and got dressed for work. He wasn't at the bakery every day, just most days, he found the days that he wasn't at the bakery were the hardest. If he couldn't keep his hands busy then he started thinking too much and when he started thinking too much, he spiraled. The last thing he needed was to spiral again.

So, it was monotony or bust. He kept his hands busy, he kept his head down and he didn't think about things that might send him spiraling. He liked it when life was slow and there was nothing to talk about. Unfortunately, there was something to talk about. The letters. The letters had caught him off guard at first, had made his hands start trembling, had nearly triggered a spiral. He hadn't wanted to read them, not when he'd seen who had signed off each entry.

He had wanted to burn them.

He did wind up reading them. He did not wind up burning them. They sat on his dresser, a wrinkled pile of diary entries. They were an unwanted stain on an otherwise monotonous existence. He tried to ignore them, he tried to pretend they weren't there and most of all-- he tried not to spiral again. Things weren't all bad in his life, he had Lanie, he had Decky, hell, he had Bradley. People he could talk to, who didn't judge him, who accepted that he was kind of a spaz.

He liked that bit of his life. He liked them.

He leaned onto their presence when things got rough-- of course, there was still so much leftover drama between Lanie and Decky. He didn't exactly want to be their mediator but as the days went on, he felt more and more like he might have to. Especially with Decky back in town, especially because it was almost entirely his fault he was back in town but sue him! Decky was his friend. He hadn't seen him in an age and he missed him.

He had almost forgotten about the letters that would greet him.
An unpleasant surprise but not one that was really his fault.

He had made it to his car by the time his phone pinged and he cringed internally at the preview message. It wasn't a good sign. He dropped his response before he took to the road.

You're going to have to specify, man. What did I do?
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by HaleyTheRandom
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HaleyTheRandom ☣ Hurricane Eyes ☣

Member Seen 2 days ago


Serena wasn’t looking forward to returning to Edenridge.

She loved her family, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was actually looking forward to the family reunion. Of course she was going to have to deal with the memories of her hometown. Then there was the added pressure of keeping up the lie that she was sober around her parents. Serena only hoped that returning to Edenridge wouldn’t make things worse.

She was wrong.

With a scream trapped in her throat, blankets thrown to the floor, and tears running down her face, Serena woke up in one of the rooms that belonged to the local hotel. Legs pulled up to her chest, the young woman wrapped her arms around herself as she rocked back and forth on the bed. It was a desperate attempt to hold herself together, and it failed with each memory racing through her head.

The sound of Charlie's shoes thudding on the floor of the school halls. The gunshots. That unmistakable sound of bodies falling to the floor. Screaming. The smell of blood.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, shaking and crying silently. By the time Serena had found the strength to climb out of the bed, the sun was coming through the curtains. With a groan, she rolled over to see that the alarm clock read eight in the morning. Knocking the clock to the floor, Serena decided that the best thing to calm her aching muscles would be a warm shower.

Climbing out of the bed, Serena allowed the water to warm up before she climbed in the shower. As the water ran over her body, Serena felt herself instantly relax. Once showered and dried off, the young woman chose her look for the day. She was back in Edenridge for the first time since graduation, and she’d rather die than look like garbage while walking around in town in front of the people she used to know.

Once her wig had been applied, Serena took extra care in applying her makeup. Her outfit for the day was simple, but a quick glance in the mirror was enough to let her know that she had made the right choice. Dressed in a black sweater, black jeans, and high-heeled boots, Serena grabbed her purse and car keys before exiting the hotel.

Not wanting to go to her parents house quite just yet, Serena drove around the town aimlessly while listening to the radio. Old habits were hard to kill, and Serena found proof of that as she pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store. Walking into the store, she was greeted by a bored looking dark haired gentleman.

Grabbing a bottle of Grey Goose, Serena cracked it open and began drinking it straight from the bottle on her way to the register.

“You know, you should really pay for that first,” the clerk said, glaring.

”Oh relax,” she retorted, putting the bottle down on the counter for him to scan. ”You’ll get your money.”

After her card was swiped, and the payment was processed, Serena snatched the bottle back up from the counter and took another drink while walking towards the exit. Once back in her car, Serena put her bottle of booze in her purse. As much as she would have liked to have only vodka for breakfast, Serena could hear her mother scolding her in her mind.

Leaving the liquor store, Serena headed towards the Cafe for a proper breakfast.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by HaleyTheRandom
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HaleyTheRandom ☣ Hurricane Eyes ☣

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Bradley King lived a very simple routine life. It wasn’t anything special or glamorous, but it was enough to keep him content.


That was a word he used a lot these days.

The young man had woken up at six this morning, brewed a pot of coffee, took his shower, and ate breakfast while watching the news. By the time the clock struck eight, he was in the family garage working on the Hendersons minivan.

Turnip laid by the door, wagging his tail lazily. His father, John, would be working on replacing the brakes of a 99’ Chevy Silverado. Richard was manning the register as usual, and the old timey radio would be set to the local country station. For Bradley, this was the start to a normal day.

At nine, Bradley drove to the local bakery in hopes of scoring a blueberry muffin. The morning conversations with Nolan were always a plus, and Bradley was slightly disappointed to see that he wasn’t there this morning. Oh well. It must have been his day off.

Once Bradley had gotten his muffin, he climbed back into his car and began his drive back to the garage.

Just another boring start to what was going to be another uneventful day.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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It was late into the morning as unwelcomingly bright and artificial lights assaulted his eyes and Logan awoke with the taste of stale vomit still lingering in his mouth. His head pounded, his stomach was empty and twisting itself into knots. He groaned and pulled himself up into a sitting position and through half-opened eyes looked around. He was in a vaguely familiar place, one that smelled like piss, vomit, and of men in desperate need of a shower. How exactly he’d ended up in the drunk tank was a void that alcohol had carved from his memory. He laced his fingers together behind his head and used his forearms to cover his ears as someone nearby sang loudly, and off-key, an obnoxious song.

For most people waking up in a human cage without any recollection of how they ended up there would be concerning. Not for Logan. For him blacking out meant that when, and wherever, he passed out he would get to sleep without dreams. Or he wouldn’t remember those dreams which was pretty much the same thing to him. That easily made it worth the early morning confusion and splitting headaches the next day. He’d just gotten back into town the day before, and he was already sitting on the world’s most uncomfortable excuse for a bed because the thought of spending an entire summer back in Edenridge was more than enough to make him want to drink his memory away.

It would be a lie to say Logan was in any way glad to be home. Edenridge, when it wasn’t busy being an absolute magnet for every goddamn tragedy one could imagine, was absolutely fucking boring. Living here was like being in that cartoon about the dog that lived in the middle of nowhere, except instead of weird shit, it was endless grim melodrama. In Logan’s opinion, anyone who chose to live here had to be out of their mind. But after a year of aimless partying at university and barely managing to not fail most of his classes, he had to fix something. Leaving hadn’t made a difference, only made sense to try the opposite now. So that was the plan; spend one miserable summer in a place so obviously cursed and figure his shit out. Then leave it all behind forever without the need to keep looking back. Spending a chunk of his day in the drunk tank wasn’t exactly a step in the right direction but only an absolute masochist would want to experience Edenridge fully sober.

Eventually, he was released, handed back the handful of items he’d come in with, and only given a warning about the whole underage public intoxication issue. Surviving a high school massacre had very few perks but generally, people cut you more slack, and Logan was more than willing to exploit that. He slipped his cell phone, car keys, cigarettes, wallet, and an old worn zippo all back into his pockets and staggered out back into the outside world.

The summer sun was an even more unbearable harsh assault against his eyes but his sunglasses were in his jeep that still sat in a small lot by a local bar. It wasn’t a very long walk so he lit up a cigarette and headed that way. Logan took long indulgent drags from the cigarette, which helped with the foul taste in his mouth, but only further aggravated his bone-dry throat. So, on his way back to the bar he stopped at one of those always opened corner stores and flicked the rest of the cigarette into the street before heading inside. He wandered around through the aisles, grabbing a bottle of aspirin, one of those small travel-sized mouthwashes, and an overpriced bottle of water promising electrolytes. With the knowledge that the best cure for a hangover, other than a morning joint, was a bit of the hair of the dog he also picked up a six-pack of the first beer that grabbed his attention and headed to an open register.

He set his stuff down at the register and looked up at the cashier. It took a minute but he recognized the guy, someone he’d gone to high school with, he was pretty sure they had graduated together. He tilted his head and offered a half-hearted smile. Shit. He thought. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting to run into people he went to school with, but when buying beer with a fake ID it did make things a bit more obvious. Of course, his ID was a pretty good one, worked just fine in most places, where the person checking it didn’t know him. Well, now it would just look weird if he grabbed his stuff back up and went to a different register.

“Hey it’s uh, Owen right? How ya been?” He glanced around at the cigarettes behind the counter and then back at Orren who he thought was called Owen. He hadn’t known Orren very well, but it wasn’t a huge stretch to say he looked rough; like one of those anti-heroin posters kind of rough. Then again, here he was wearing yesterday’s clothes and smelling like last night’s bender, so not like he could judge.

“Gimme a pack of camel lights too.”
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by GirlOnMarz
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✂ ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒

Smoking weed was Keisha Carter's source of relaxation and temporary happiness. In her mind, she believed that getting high would take all of her fears and problems away — and it did... for a brief moment, at least. For those few short hours, Keisha's perfectly pearled joint would ease all of her worries, cure her heartache, and comfort her when she was feeling lonely. It became her peace of mind. Nowadays she spent more time getting high than anything; whether she was at work, in class, or simply chilling in her bedroom, she always had a joint tucked away somewhere, ready to be put to good use.

The only problem Keisha had with getting high was when it all started to wear off. It was then that she would be able to think clearly again. Reality would start to set back in, and the euphoric feeling she once felt would slowly start to slip away. Keisha woke up at around eight o'clock that morning, and despite having cotton-mouth from smoking the night before, she was stone-cold sober. "Wake and fucking bake," she muttered under her breath as she lazily swiped her arm to the left, her hand searching the nightstand. Her eyes remained shut thanks to the blinding sunrays that beamed light through her window, but she found what she was looking for with ease. And without even moving from her spot on the bed, Keisha lit the end of her joint and took a hit. It was only after she heard footsteps outside of her bedroom door that she came to her senses, opened her eyes, and scrambled to hide the rest of her stash.

"Keisha Nicole Carter. I know damn well you're not smoking that stuff in my house again," her mother's shrill voice suddenly said as her door began to be pushed open. "And don't even try to lie. I was your age once upon a time, and I know what it smells like."

Keisha couldn't help but roll her eyes as her mother's figure appeared in the doorframe. And as the woman came in and began to pull open her curtains, she couldn't help but let out a loud groan. "I guess knocking before entering isn't a thing anymore," the young woman said sarcastically as she grabbed one of her pillows and plopped it over her face.

"Not in my house it isn't."

"Aren't you supposed to be at work right now? Tending to your plants or... something?"

"I took today off, thank you very much," the woman said matter-of-factly as she began to pick up a few random articles of clothing that had been carelessly tossed around the room by her daughter. "I figured I'd take a few flowers from the shop and go visit Ty this morning... maybe sit and have a little chat with him. Catch him up on everything that's been going on recently."

"It's not like he can actually hear you," Keisha responded bluntly, her voice muffled thanks to the pillow. The silence that followed, however, instantly made her regret what she said. She removed the pillow to see that her mother was still absently tidying up her messy room, but the somber expression on her face said it all. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," She said in an attempt to backtrack, but they both knew that she was lying through her teeth.

"It's alright," Keisha's mother said, forcing a smile as she took one last glance around. "Anyway, you're more than welcome to come if you'd like. You haven't been to visit since... well, since the funeral. It'd be nice." And as soon as those words had left her mother's mouth, Keisha let out another groan and rolled over on her side, facing her wall.

There was so much that she wanted to say in that very moment... so much about how she sometimes still pretended that Ty was alive and just away on a trip or something. Or about how she dreamed that he had just left a few days ago and was only a phone call or quick bus ride away, and that visiting his gravesite would do nothing but force her to face reality. But instead, just like every other time her mother attempted to drag her along, she simply said: "A cemetery? No thanks. Place gives me the creeps." And just like each other time, her mother shot her a sad, knowing look before leaving her to her own devices. Within the next couple of minutes, Keisha heard the front door open and close, and that was when she knew she was in the clear.

Soon after, Keisha was smoking again, but this time in the seat next to her window. She'd even decided to put her record player to use while she did so. She stared out into the front yard as she took a hit, her eyes following the mailman as he tossed a couple of envelopes into their mailbox. But before she could even think about going to check if she'd received another one of Charlie's journal entries, her high had finally started to settle in. She didn't want anything to blow it.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by HaleyTheRandom
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HaleyTheRandom ☣ Hurricane Eyes ☣

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Coming back to Edenridge was bittersweet for Erin.

Seeing her family was something that she was really looking forward to, but the memories of high school were not. After graduation, Erin ran away from all of her issues, and never cared to look back. She wasn’t quite sure what was in store for her if the memories were to come flooding back, and she was hoping that she wouldn’t have the chance to find out.

Driving with the windows down, Erin rolled into Edenridge around eight thirty in the morning. The closer she drove her hometown, the more nervously excited she became.

The normal thing to do would have been to go to her family's house and surprise them with the fact that she had arrived early. What she chose, however, was to head to the Cafe. Serena had messaged Erin that she would be there and was buying.

How could I say no to pancakes?

Parking her Jeep, Erin headed inside of the Cafe with her camera around her neck. Inside, Erin was greeted by the sight of something she hadn’t seen in years - Roddy Callahan and Lanie Lancaster, standing side by side. As if that didn’t hit her hard enough, Roddy was holding their child. The last time Erin had seen that thing, it’d had still been in the womb.

Letting her eyes linger for a moment, Erin smiled brightly at the couple.

Are they still a thing?

”Hey guys,” she began, cheerfully. ”Long time, no see. How are things?”

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by NeoAJ
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NeoAJ Fine. I'll High Five Myself.

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Lockers. That's all she could see. Just a maze of lockers. It didn't make sense. There were doors somewhere around there right? There had to be. What good was storage space without any way to bring stuff in? But there were no doors. There was no escape.

She could hear the footsteps. They were coming for her. She kept running but there was nowhere to go. The footsteps were growing louder, surrounding her auditory field. Were they coming from in front of her now? She couldn't tell. Everything was confusing. This was school, right? What was happening?

Her shoes betrayed her, coming loose and sending her sprawling to the tile. Her hands try to catch her but they splay out, leaving her unable to spring up quickly. The footsteps are loud and ringing in her ears. She closes her eyes to shut them out before they stop. She opens them and sees two pairs of feet standing in front of her. She looks up. She can't see their faces, but they look familiar? Why? Why are they familiar? Why are they holding guns? No! No not here! Not he-

Before the bang comes, a loud knock on the door interrupts. The redhead who was certain it was her time to go bolts up in her bed, looking around in a haze.

"Jilly! If you want breakfast, you're going to have to show yourself and get it!"

That voice confirms that Jillian O'Brien's mother was the one to save her youngest child from another dream ending in death. Jillian grumbled and fell back down onto her bed. "...Whatever. I don't need any more hash browns." The grumble in her stomach contradicted that sentiment, however. Maybe some food was necessary.

It could wait though. Phone first. Phone was the primary method of communication, at least with those Jillian still wanted to communicate with. Granted it had shrunk by a wide margin since the days when she got that Samsung A51 just before senior year. She was due for an upgrade, but she knew nothing about getting phones, and then there was going to the mall and that was not where she wanted to be right now. Instead, she relied on her aging device to dash off a quick text to the one remaining person from the squad she maintained contact with.

"Hey, Miss Midnight. You awake? Dreams are assholes and I want to forget they keep happening. Could use a partner if I'm dancing this early."
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by BrutalBx


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December 18th 2016:

Helen Keller once said

“The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart”.

I didn’t know Allison Davies well but she is someone I’ve known all my life; much like pretty much everyone in Edenridge. It kind of comes with the territory of being from such a small place. From what I’ve heard of her, Helen’s quote is an apropo one for Ally. She was someone that felt things incredibly deeply and experienced the world with every fibre of her being. At least that’s what they said at her funeral today.

There’s a name that’s been loitering in peoples mouths since that cold night two weeks ago; mine. My name.

It makes sense that when faced with tragedy that most of us reach out for or in this particular case, lash out at something or someone. When we are briefly embraced in darkness it is easier to blame those that already live there for dragging us down to their level.

They’re trying to paint me as some sort of sadist monster who has snatched the life away from a girl who worshipped life so feverishly. They’re saying that I value money and the world of a Triple S gangbanger more than the life of a child.

I didn’t kill Allison Davies and this town is spitting on my name because of what I gave her. They want to find the real culprit, they might want to look into the eyes of the one whose face they put on the wall today.

Edenridge High. 8pm. Tonight. The Truth
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Metronome
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Metronome Tick Box

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"Excuse me, ma'am, you have to pay for those." Orren's dull eyes tracked the woman across the storefront as she headed for the door. She managed to balance her bounty in one arm long enough to free her other hand and flip him off. Orren blinked, sighed, and pulled out an inventory loss slip. What could she have possibly wanted with that many pregnancy tests anyway?

He filled out the paperwork in his sloppy handwriting and put in the already formed pile. People stole from this store a lot. Orren certainly didn't get paid enough to go to heroic measures to stop it.

Time passed like both cold molasses and a speeding bullet. Every time he sat down and opened his book, another customer magically appeared. The process of getting them checked out dragged. Sit down, open book, new customer. Finally, his relief showed up.

She was a small, perky girl named Terra. Her hair was a mousy brown with a few streaks of pink that were clearly a DIY at home job. She always had a handful of college prep books, which meant she was probably going to be one of the lucky ones that made it out of this town someday.

"Orren! I'm so sorry I'm late! My roommate was sick and I had to drive her to the hospital and-"

"It's fine." He was really too tired to listen to her story. He just wanted to count down the till and get out of here.

"Oh. Okay then. Well, let's get this done so you can go home and rest. You look like you could use it!"

She didn't mean for that to sting, he was sure. "Yeah." Once the register was traded off, Orren grabbed his backpack and headed out. Going straight home was pointless; it wasn't like he could sleep anyway. He'd probably stop at the nearby cafe and get a sandwich or something. His current grocery situation at home was sad at best.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by BrutalBx


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Some might call it disrespectful having your phone on in a cemetery but Mei considered it a necessity. How else would the ghosts contact her? It was a lifeline in case the unquiet dead decided to rise from their graves and take deadly revenge;

In this town; they just might.

To: Jillybean: Hey girl, you know I’m down. Be at your place in a few

Mei put away her phone and made her way towards Allison Davies headstone. It was a fairly large thing; the Davies were one of the more financially fruitful families in all of Edenridge so giving their only daughter a big memorial was no great shock. Kneeling down onto the warm grass, the artist placed one hand on top of the stone, saying a silent prayer for her fallen idol.

As a child, Mei had been scouted by various schools. With her natural talent in gymnastics, it was thought that with the proper training she could go to the olympics. Her fathers martial arts training had made her a machine when it came to all things physical. As much as she enjoyed all that, it wasn’t what Mei wanted. For as long as she could remember, Mei wanted to be just like Ally Davies. She was her older sister Reagan’s best friend.

Reagan and Mei always held a contemptuous relationship. The older Ramsey sister was someone considered cold and logical; beneficial for her chosen career path as a doctor sure but it left for considerable issues with her baby sister. On the reverse, Ally was everything Reagan was not; warm, embracing and kind. When it came time to choose which high school she would attend, Mei picked Edenridge High purely for Allison. The day Ally said that Mei could join the cheerleading squad was the best day of her life.

Then she went and died.

Finishing up her prayer for the beautiful departed; the priestess got back up to her feet and smiled. ”See you tomorrow” She popped her AirPods back on and began to make her way forward out of the graveyard. She stopped in her tracks at a tombstone just off of the exit and away from most of the others. It was covered in moss and vines. It was unkempt and it had very obviously been spray painted multiple times but someone was trying to keep it clean; that much was obviously by the smudge marks.

Here Lies Resting
Charles Jay Decker
Beloved Son
“They are not dead who live in the hearts they leave behind. – Tuscarora”

There was a wall built in the centre of town with the names of all of Charlie’s victims enshrined onto it. In many ways there was one forgotten victim of a boy who gave into his darkness; that boy's mother. Rhonda Decker was now alone in this world, a pariah in a town that held a grudge. Mei hadn’t heard much of her since the massacre, all she did know was that she was still around, somewhere on the south side and was obviously attempting to maintain her son's grave. There seemed to be many things to blame for what Charlie did but his mother wasn’t one of them and she certainly didn’t deserve to pay for his crime.

Leaving the graveyard, Mei began to walk the hilly streets of Edenridge, making her way towards Jillian’s place. As she passed by the Edge of Sin Club, Mei’s mind drifted slightly. She had often considered doing a few shifts there. She had an open offer from the owner and she loved to dance and from what Jade had told her in the past, the pay wasn’t great but it also wasn’t bad. The thought of Jade brought her mind to another Queen of Darkness. She had heard that Serena may be back in town for a reunion of some kind. She was a girl after her own heart and would be a welcome addition to her and Jill’s party.

To Rena: A little birdy told me you were in town. If you wanna party later, hit me up xxx

Finally arriving at Jillian’s, Mei parked herself on a nearby bench directly opposite her flame haired friend's bedroom and threw a small stone at it. She could’ve just text but where would the fun in that be. Whilst she waited, Mei began to read through Charlie’s latest letter on her phone.
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"What're you doin'?" Phil asked, having come back out of the office to see Decky on the floor with his phone in hand. He snatched the device out of the other man's hand as he walked past. He took a moment to register the easy acquisition before reading the content of the message on screen while Decky glared at him with red shot eyes, knowing from experience he couldn't retrieve his phone from the older man's higher reach. When he saw the message on draft to be sent out, he scoffed and deleted every word before tossing the phone back to Decky, who fumbled with the catch. Phil frowned. "You were faster when you were sober, Mo-Bo."

It was Decky's turn to scoff. "Wasn' fast enough, Phil," he muttered, avoiding eye contact by checking to see what had been done to his phone. "Why'd you delete my fuckin' text?"

"Cause you ain't bein' fair to Nolan and you should already know that," Phil crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the man he considered a son, allowing his elation at first seeing him to fall to the side so he could properly assess the situation. "You've been usin' again, and you have shit judgment when you're usin'."

"It ain't the H 'n' pills that make my judgement shit, Phil, I was fuckin' born that way-"

"Bullshit," Phil cut off, pushing through Decky's responding glare. "That's fucking bullshit, Mordechai Boaz, and that's the drugs talkin'. Anyone can make bad choices, and you made plenty, but I haven't once seen you be a bad judge of character." He knelt down in front of Decky and stared the boy down until he returned eye contact. Phil then gripped his shoulder-scrawnier than it should have been, of course, he was already under developed before he fell back down the rabbit hole- and spoke in a low and steady tone, ensuring Decky would have to listen carefully. "Now you had good judgement when you started bringin' Nolan and miss Lanie around, and you know he's a good man that wasn't tryin' to drag you back into more bullshit, so before you go losin' your only current friend by nailin' him to a cross, how's about you take down that wood and use it to patch up your bridges instead."

Decky broke eye contact as he felt his face heat up. The floor was looking suspiciously blurry and when he blinked to clear it, a tear broke out and slid down his cheek.

"Neither of you told me shit about someone passin' out Decker's journal pages like a fuckin' paper boy," He ground out finally, scratching his arm. He glanced over the papers spread around him before picking up the one just in front of him. "And this new one? My one fuckin' condition on coming back was that I don't have to go near that fakakta place!" He exclaimed, shoving the letter a Phil, crossing his arms like a stubborn child as Phil read the letter in silence.

"...I...I didn't get this one," Phil finally admitted, putting down the letter with a disturbed look on his face. "Most of the letters I got were either directly or indirectly about you and the Serpents."

"Christ Phil, this is fucked," Decky hissed, mind racing through the things Decker had said about Decky and the rest of the corner crew from Southie. He couldn't think of a single thing they'd done that he would want Phil knowing about. He thrust a hand through his greasy hair. "Who does this kinda shit?"

"I don't know, Mo-Bo, but don't let it break you. Don't let anything happening here take you back down a path you ain't gonna come back from. Now message your friend and apologize, y'hear me?"

"Yeah Phil, I hear ya," Decky replied, swiping his nose with his arm and standing up, the latest letter once more clutched in his fist. "I'm gonna go walk around, I'll text him as I'm walkin'." Phil raised an eyebrow at the weak excuse but nodded, heading back into his office to get a start on the bills for the garage. Decky made his way out the bright open front of the building and made his way to the sidewalk. He pulled out his phone and sent out a text before taking a sharp right and speeding up his pace, throwing his hood over his head and shoving his fists into his pockets, right hand tight around the knife he had there.

Outgoing Messages
To: So You Need to Learn How to Punch...

Sorry, Phil showed me the letters
I was pissed
But he set me straight
I'll come see you at the bakery later, when's you're break at?

The metal and wood train tracks that separate North and South Edenridge were old but well maintained, given that the tracks fell solely under North Eden's jurisdiction. Decky could feel nostalgia humming in his bones as his shoes made contact with the metal, and hunched his shoulders a bit more as if to protect himself from the feeling.

The first step into South Edenridge is like being caught in the path of a Dementor; the skies were clouded, the grass brown and dead, and the weather feeling bitter regardless of the actual temperature. Graffiti littered the weathered brick buildings, covered in everything from basic nicknames and doodles to gang logos marking territory. No one seemed to be walking the streets but there were people out loitering at every corner and building stoop. As he passed the gas station on the corner before his old neighborhood, he saw the same old man that always worked there was being held up. He shook his head and walked a little faster; the poor robber wouldn't know what hit him once Mr. Digari got ahold of his shotgun. As he came up to the corner he knew so well, he saw one of the jacket-clad figures perk up at the sight of him.

"MOB! Is that fuckin' you?" The person asked, jumping up from his crate and moving to meet Decky at the street sign. Sonny "Sunshine" Cernis clasped Decky's hand and pulled him in for a quick hug, thumping the other man on the back with his fist. "Holy shit man, how the fuck you been? I ain't seen you in years."

"It's been shit, Sunshine, but the thought'a your pretty face kept me goin'." Decky answered with a sarcastic wink. Sunshine laughed and pushed away at Decky's cheek.

"That hasn't worked since the seventh grade and we both know it," Sonny replied with a blinding grin, nodding at the crew that was watching their interaction with wary interest. "C'mon, everyone here is a newbie, s'about time they held their own without a supervisor anyway." And with that, Sonny gripped Decky's wrist and dragged him towards the house that's belonged to this corner crew for longer than any of the current members have been alive. All heads turned to them as Sonny burst through the door with him in tow, and then suddenly the music wasn't the loudest thing in the house anymore. More than half of his old crew was not only still alive, but still part of the Trip-S as well, and all of them were demanding at once to know where he'd been and what he'd been doin. He was jostled around for back pats and one armed side-hugs while everyone spoke over each other to make their questions heard. It all became one big buzz in his ears before he finally let loose an ear piercing whistle.

"Shut the fuck up! Christ, how am I s'pposed to answer you assholes if you don't calm to fuck down! Goddamn, I am too sober for you fuckers I swear to-" before he could finished, he was presented with several hands, each holding a different narcotic for him to grab. Decky paused before laughing, loud and true. "Fine, fuck, gimme a sec to get prepared." he said, snatching a familiar needle from one hand and a blunt for the other, dropping down onto the couch and lighting up. Sonny knelt down next to him with a rubber tube in his hand, staring at him intently as he took the first hit. Decky returned the look with one of confusion. "Sunshine, wha-" His words, along with the smoke that had been in his lungs and mouth, were swallowed as Sonny kissed him hard, distracting him as he tied the rubber tube around Decky's upper arm. It was a move they'd done so many times when they were teens, before Lanie. Before Decky left. When he pulled back, there was a large smile on Sonny's face as the stolen smoke curled out the side of his mouth.

"Welcome back, Mob." He whispered before moving over to sit down next to him, satisfaction lining every part of his posture. Decky shook his head and smirked at the other man, licking his lips as he turned his focus to inserting the needle into his arm. As euphoria flooded his system, Decky leaned back into the couch and against Sonny and let out a sigh.

"S'good ta be back, w'th you at least..." he mumbled, letting himself fade away.

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