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Old 04-04-2011, 11:42 AM View Post #21 (Link)
Alexz (Offline)
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6th June 1926

Seth, now solely in the comfort of the lonesome woods, dropped his bag to the ground, being careful to avoid the various patches of viscous mud. He took his prized possession, his wondrous bulky camera shaded the hue of the midnight sky and zipped his bag back up. The droplets of rain spattering on the top of his soaked head brought his attention to the writing material within his bag, most likely being soaked through. He propped it up beneath the confines of a large, dense tree and moved away, so as to not have such an arteficial shot.

The undergrowth nearby looked to be thriving with tiny creatures and numerous peculiar plant forms, so Seth wandered over and began to capture the beauty of the local wildlife. He took no notice of his camera or himself becoming more sodden by the second; rather, he cared vast amounts more about getting the pictures that he desired. He was, in fact oblivious to any precedings taking place around him; he was purely captivated by the urge to photograph.

It was only when his shoes were sinking into the mud underfoot that Seth decided enough was enough. He'd taken a great number of pictures, and when he found someplace to stay during the oncoming night, he could decide his next move. After all, he had a map of Ferrelrock that would most definitely come in useful. Seth reached into his pocket, grasped the contents and brought out: a wet clump of inky paper.
Great. That's just perfect.
"DAMN IT!" he let out a cry of great outrage and flung the useless scrap into the underbrush.

I challenge thee to find a spelling/grammatical error in the above post.
"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." - Aristotle.

						Last edited by Alexz; 04-04-2011 at 11:47 AM.
					 Reason: You know. Making it better and stuff.
Old 04-04-2011, 02:28 PM View Post #22 (Link)
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The policemen, two of them in total, had thrown plastic sheets over themselves when the rain started. They stood outside of the police car, watching the newcomers without a hint of consideration for their well being.

Another policeman, Officer Joey Anderson sat inside the car, waiting for the last of the newcomers that was meant to report to him to hurry up and do so. He missed Anmer; he wanted to be as far from this tainted place as possible. Something about the twisted wood that scattered the beach and the bleak Asylum that overshadowed it made Anderson hate going there. He hated it almost as much as he hated the old Reeve House on the road north of Hamsworth. That place had an aura about it that not even Softrock beach did.

Joey flicked through an old copy of one of Massachusetts’ many newspaper, staring at it’s headline.


It had been Joey’s job to brief all of the officer’s that came to the island for investigation. Joey hated the FBI, they were always so sure of themselves. They thought they had a right over all the people on Ferrelrock. Not that Joey particular cared for any of Ferrelrock’s inhabitant’s, but he still hated it when the officers skulked around, pushing their noses where they weren’t needed.

“I bet there’s some FBI here right now, more of them,” he muttered under his breath.

One of the policemen from outside slipped in as the rain got heavier. He removed the plastic sheet from around him and threw it in to the back. He glanced at the newspaper in Joey’s hands.

“Still obsessed with those damn FBI, Joe?”

"I figure there’s at least one of them on that ferry," Anderson begun. "There's enough police from Massachusetts snooping around this island. There are near enough twenty of them down by the old wrecked sea vessel ten or so miles east of here. How many more do they need?”


The car’s tires dug a deep ditch in the mud as they shot around their axis, spraying dirt and water droplets high in to the air. Rosie slammed her foot down on the gas pedal just as the clouds burst above and a torrent of rainfall fell over everything. When the windscreen wipers kicked in and pushed back the translucent blanket, they were well on their way up the beach, and the rest of the newcomer’s were fading to pale blobs in the distance.

It took twenty minutes to get off of the beach and on to dry road. The car stopped rocking back and forth in the soft sand and the its underbelly stopped creaking like an animal in pain.

Rosie watched the woman in the back and scoffed her with her syllables and her polite attitude. Rosie wanted to claw the woman's skin and peel it back to see what she looked like underneath; maybe then the other boy would stop staring. The islander pushed her foot to the pedal, and the car sped off along a slightly smoother, more maintained road.

The entire car stank of their artificial odours. It sunk into the worn cloth that clad the car frame and grabbed at Rosie’s throat and nose to a point that she wanted to be sick. She wanted to be rid of them as quickly as possible, but already the speed of the car through the mud and rain was dangerous.

The axels creaked as they hit a slightly uneven patch of road and Rosie slowed the car.

The first of two open park areas on the long stretch of road, Hammil Park lay to her right.

Just the decrepit iron railings surrounding the acre of land brought shivers to Rosie’s body. She dared not look long at the queer monuments that scattered the place; monuments that depicted twisted beings of membranous skin and twisted limbs, beings certainly not of this Earth. The place had survived even the memories of the most elderly locals of Ferrelrock. Only the maddest of Hamsworths residents dared to go near the place, and those that lived in Port and Anmer barely acknowledged its existence; they deemed it cursed by unnatural forces and tainted with magic of the blackest kind.

Her thoughts were jarred when a the fuzzy outline of a person on the road came in to view, she gripped the wheel tight and slammed on the breaks, but the dark fuzz smashed hard against the bonnet of the car. Rosie wasn’t sure whether the following sound was that of the person against the metal roof, or the sound of bones shattering under pressure. The car came to rest in the road.

Rosie leaned back to the passengers: “Stay ‘ere if I were you.”
						Last edited by Jack; 04-04-2011 at 04:02 PM.
Old 04-04-2011, 03:29 PM View Post #23 (Link)
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Caitlyn had no desire to break the somewhat awkward silence that had settled in the car, adamant that she would not be the one to begin a forced conversation that would inevitably peter out. There was nothing to do but sit through the tension.
An echoing thunder clap made her jump slightly in shock and she glanced sidelong at the stranger next to her, hoping he had not noticed. Thankfully, he was too intent on a crumpled letter he had pulled from his pocket.

She turned away and resumed her position, watching the world fly past in a blur. Every so often, the sky would be split open by a fork of lightening and the black sky would be illuminated briefly. The minutes crawled by as the never ending line of trees flashed past the window. Caitlyn, in an attempt to distract herself from the inexplicable panic that was mounting within her, removed her hat and unpinned her hair. It tumbled into loose auburn curls, finally free from the tight design she had imposed on it that morning.

Ridiculous custom anyway, she thought to herself, hiding her heat-flushed cheeks behind a curtain of hair.


A sudden jerk wrenched Caitlyn from her vivid dreams and she sat up, disorientated. It was impossible to work out where she was in the near gloom, but Rosie’s rough outline disappeared before she could ask. Caitlyn peered out through the steamy window but she could only make out the ghosts of a few buildings. There was no sign of life – no lights dispelling the darkness and not a single soul outside. She glanced at the stranger beside her, and it was only then that she saw the web of shattered glass on the windscreen, and the red rivulet that ran down the glass. Strangely fascinated, her hand reached for the door handle, and she climbed out of the silent car as though in a trance.

Something lay at an odd angle on the road behind the car, legs splayed almost comically. Caitlyn had difficulty containing the bizarre laugh that bubbled in her throat as she stared down at the muddy, broken body. The blood that lay in a puddle around the dark mass was already being diluted by the heavy rain. Rosie was kneeling in the road beside the shape, so Caitlyn dared not lean any closer. She merely hovered at the edge of the road, where the track met the grass and trees, her loose hair darkening in the rain. Caitlyn looked at the steamy car, but could not bring herself to relinquish the cool outdoor air yet. She’d almost forgotten about the poor creature they’d hit, and was absorbed instead by the curious monuments inside the rusted iron gates before her. One marbled face in particular held her in its transfixing stare – a face unlike any she’d ever seen before. Its mouth was open in a snarl, filled with dagger-sharp teeth, and its eyes seemed to bore into hers.

Caitlyn gasped in shock as she tripped over something concealed by grass, and landed hard in the mud. Without realising, she had crossed the road and was within touching distance of those worn gates. She rubbed her ankle, bemused, and searched for the object that had tripped her. She found it without much difficulty – a large round stone. Upon closer inspection of the offending thing, she realised that, in falling, she had dislodged it enough to reveal a small hole. Glancing over her shoulder to ascertain the car was still there (she wouldn’t have put it past Rosie to drive off without her), she uncovered the hole completely. Hearing the motor restart, she jumped to her feet, snatching something paper-wrapped from the bottom of the hole and surreptitiously slipping it inside her beaded purse.

Once again, she found herself encased in the metal car, considerably more dishevelled than before. Her heart was beating so loudly with excitement that she felt sure the other two could hear it, for she swore she saw Rosie give her a suspicious glare.
One flew East, One flew West,
One flew over the Cuckoo's nest

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Old 04-04-2011, 03:52 PM View Post #24 (Link)
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A soup of muddy water and blood had pooled at the feet of Rosie, and she looked over the body that lay before her. A boy in his late teens, with long dishevelled hair down to his shoulders, his distorted face caked in a mix of thick mud and blood. She recognised the boy, though she did not know from where, and fell to her knees at the sight of him. The rain blurred her vision slightly as she checked in his pockets for anything that would help garner some sort of clue. She happened across a note in his pocket, though she dared not open it in the rain through fear of the water mixing with the ink and making whatever was written on it illegible.

When she returned to the car, she strained to see through the blood and cracked glass. She slipped the note in to a small leather bag in the empty front seat, and then rested back against the chair, breathing heavily. Where's the bleedin' girl? The door opened and the girl slipped back in to the car, a fine splatter of mud on her dress.

"I thought I told you not to leave the ca--"

A crimson hand print appeared on the windscreen of the car, and a quick flash of lightening revealed the silhouette of a man leaning against the car's bonnet. Rosie's sentence was cut short, and she attempted to hide the sudden burst of fear that erupted within her, a cold chill that spread from her chest across her entire body. For a moment she was still, but she managed to calm herself enough to reach in to the glove compartment of the car and pull out a small side-arm, a German pistol. She turned back to the passengers.

"If you ain't n the car when I git back, I'm gunna' be takin' off without yer, understand?"

And with that, she slowly opened the car door and ventured out in to the rain again.
						Last edited by Jack; 04-04-2011 at 04:19 PM.
Old 04-04-2011, 08:00 PM View Post #25 (Link)
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Andrew Henly sat in the ferry for a while after it had arrived at Ferrelrock. Dismal place, this is. He thought as he stared out across the island. Grey. Dull. And yet, dangerous. There was a horrible sense of dismalness and mystery that surrounded this place. Standing in the tiny ferry, Andrew scowled at the ferry master as he scowled back. He realised that the master was shouting at him to get off. After stepping out of the dank boat, he found himself in the wet sand.

Growling in anger at his predicament, and his new leather shoes being ruined, he extracted himself from the quicksand like mixture and speedily walked towards the woods. The woman and car had left. Most people still stood around the beach, looking dazed. But not Andrew. He had a plan. He planned to go to Hamsworth and hire a car for the duration of his time there.

Andrew strode off the beach, and finally smiled to himself. He was alone. Away from the idiots who accompanied him on the ferry. He didn’t care who they were, he just cared how to get away from them. He was away. Finally.
and he saw himself nailed to the cross of his own cradle and coffin
Old 04-04-2011, 10:52 PM View Post #26 (Link)
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With every rumble of thunder, Lorren shrieked. With every lightning bolt, she jumped three feet into the air. "I don't like this, I really don't like this," she kept saying over and over. Her frightened stumbles turned into uneven strides. Her heavy bag kept hitting the back of her leg, making it buckle every hurried step she took. Tears started running down her face. "Oh my God," she said, choking on snot and tears.

Finally, she gave up on trying to find shelter and, cursing herself mentally and verbally for not staying with her parents, she ran to a nearby tree and curled up at the bottom of the trunk, sobbing. She held her bag close, shaking hard. She put her hands to her head and just starting rocking back and forth. "Y-you're warm. You're at home. Th-there's no s-storm. It's sun-ny out--" She screamed as another thunderclap came; she dug her nails into the bark and sobbed.

She passed out.
"In Chat"
[KanenRenoir] I could be the PMS QUEEN!

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[Perry] *slap*
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Old 04-04-2011, 11:35 PM View Post #27 (Link)
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The clouds that had moved in earlier in the day stayed as the night came seeping in. The moon was covered, the stars covered; Theo felt for the next stone with a trembling, outstretched foot. He knew he was hopelessly lost at this point - there'd been two forks in the path earlier, and he'd cursed Rosie Higgins for not telling him which way to take - and was now walking just to pass the time. The rain was heavy enough that he couldn't hear much animal life, except for when a fox or some other creature ran right up against him, but that didn't stop that aching feeling from returning to his chest. He was cold, hungry, terrified, and positively miserable. And he had no one to thank but himself. [I]I should have just followed the car. Damn this.[I]

The beating of rain on the trees around him had created such a constant, uniform sound that Theo hardly noticed it anymore. It was in the back of his mind. He concentrated on not falling, or falling asleep even as his heavy lids had threatened to shut his mind down. His stomach clenched as some sort of snuffling (he thought of a pig, really) broke through the sound of rain. What would a pig be doing out here?

Theo stopped, let his arm holding his bag drop to his side, and tried to focus. He was driving himself insane. No. This island was driving him insane, and he hadn't even been on it for more than a few hours.

I better find William soon. I can't stand it here. He cursed, spluttering words in his mind at William Sawyer, Rosy Higgins, his father, any human being he could think of. And that pig, snuffling around him. It didn't seem to be terrified, which led Theo to think of a monstrous pig walking around the woods, eating up anyone who might choose to walk into its domain.

I really am losing my mind.

He gave up on looking for the stone path, which he knew he wasn't even on, hadn't been on for at least three hours, and walked aimlessly about. He wondered if he should lay down and try to sleep. If some damn pig wanted to eat him, he'd let it.

The snuffling stopped, and with a burst of clarity, Theo realized that it had to be a person, walking around him. Circling. Theo felt like a mouse watched by a hawk. Could whoever it was see him? He took a few tentative steps forward. There was a pause, and for a moment Theo relaxed; the snuffling came again. Someone was walking through the underbrush.

Theo started to run.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea - he couldn't see where he was going, and he knew there were sheer drops of rock on this island that he could, at any moment, stumble off of and split his head open on. He didn't know whether the person was friend or foe. But by the way this island was making him feel, he guessed it was probably the latter.

At some point he must have dropped his bag because he stopped a few minutes later, put both his hands on his head and screamed profanity at the top of his lungs. He ran again, stopped, screamed. The shuffling was all around him, closing in. He bent over and vomited.

When he stood back up, breathing heavily from his panic attack, he saw something glowing.

He couldn't tell how far away it was, but there were two yellow globes, at eye level, watching him. His feet moved, pulling him to the side; he tumbled over something. His head hit the ground. The island seemed to disappear.

Theo had fallen unconscious blind and woke up with soft lights glowing around him. His vision was fuzzy, spotted with black dots and losing color around the edges, but he could see a person. A woman. He closed his eyes; they stung badly, like swimming in a pool with too much chlorine. There was warmth settled like a blanket around him.


He opened his eyes, pulled one hand from his lap and rubbed at the blackness. "Where am I?" The answer didn't concern him much. His head was pounding, and in one spot, fairly numb.

On the wall behind the woman, there was a picture of something coiled, shaded in grey, that Theo focused on. The woman came closer and pressed something cold against his head. He sighed.

It was a picture of a squid.

Or maybe an octopus? No, he was sure it was a squid. All coiled within waves, one massive eye staring out from within its many arms. Theo squinted.

"Thank Kraken we found you in time," the woman murmured, and kissed his forehead. Her lips were black.
Old 04-05-2011, 12:37 AM View Post #28 (Link)
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Oliver had been following the man for what felt like hours, and they still hadn't passed any kind of shelter and there were no roads to speak of. If the man had known where he was going to begin with, Olive guessed he sure didn't now. He trudged through the coarse grass, feet sodden and numb with cold to the point where he wanted to curl up in a ball of self-pity and imagine himself warm. He no longer cared if the man saw him following.

But the man never looked back, or if he did, Oliver didn't see him. He looked as wet and miserable as Oliver felt, from behind anyway. The night came quickly and lightning shot across the sky every now and then, highlighting the eerie landscape. Oliver wouldn't accept he was scared. Miserable, yes, but scared was something he never ever was.

Suddenly the man gave a shout ahead of him, and further shouts. Oliver dived behind a nearby clump of gorse bushes and peered out from behind them. The man was going insane, he thought. The wind rustled through the bushes and the rain hammered down on his head, but he was already soaked through so barely noticed it.

"What the--" he mumbled, staring as the man collapsed from seemingly nothing. Perhaps he was having a heart attack? No, he looked too young for that. He fell quiet and Oliver waited for a moment, wondering if he was dead. Dead people did creep him out, whatever he thought about being scared. Being creeped-out was different, anyhow.

At the moment he decided he should investigate and go see if the man was dead (if he was, he'd be seriously stuck), a figure appeared from the undergrowth. Then two more figures appeared, their features undetectable in the dark and picked the possibly-dead-possibly-not-dead man up, carrying him between them, and then they all disappeared back into the undergrowth. Bewildered, Oliver came out of his hiding place and swiftly followed them, keeping at a distance to they didn't see him. Surely people meant shelter and food and warmth? He grinned, already imagining a royal spread, a giant bed and a fire as big as a bonfire burning in a grate. Perfect.

The figures were fast, even with two of them carrying the possibly-dead man, and he had difficulty keeping up with them. Gorse and shrubs caught at his trousers and the ground was uneven and rocky in places, making moving fast more difficult than it had first seemed. Eventually a cabin appeared, a light from inside glowing a beacon of warmth to Oliver's soul, which felt thoroughly drowned.

They all disappeared inside and this was the moment Oliver realised he probably wouldn't see the inside. As far as he could see, there was one entrance - a wooden door to the northern side of the cabin beneath a kind of makeshift decking and porch area. He pulled himself into a gap under the decking where at least he was dry and frowned. Well he was still royally stuck, but he'd wait the storm out and find a town in the morning. Voices only just audible, floated from the cabin, but he couldn't pick out words. His stomach growled angrily. Morning felt a long way away.
						Last edited by Lykaios; 04-05-2011 at 12:44 AM.
Old 04-05-2011, 02:54 AM View Post #29 (Link) Sorry I'm Late
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Ben Sierre was sprawled on one of the creaky wooden benches that lined the ferry's sides, silently coaxing the swelling thunderclouds to break. She loved rain, and to tell the truth, right now she needed every bit of consolation she could get.

A whole summer!

The ferry scraped the beach with an almighty groan that nearly jarred her from her precarious position on the bench. She had slid far down in the seat, her long legs stretching halfway across the deck. Ben watched the other passengers step over her and scatter onto the beach. A few of them exchanged quiet words; the ferryman belted out a gruff warning, and one by one the people disappeared into the fog that was to be her home for the next two months.

I wonder if she came to pick me up. She said she would. But that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Ben squinted into the mist. Everyone was gone, driven away by the steadily increasing drizzle. There was no sign of her mother's beaten down wreck of a car.

She didn't come. Ben sighed. Why don't I just ride the ferry back to Boston? Forget about court orders. The ferryman will understand.

Be glanced up at the man's grizzled countenance. Now that is a face you don't mess with.

Abandoning her wishful thinking, Ben heaved herself off the bench, swung her suitcase over the side of the ferry onto the beach and leapt over herself. She looked around. No bus, no taxi, no mother.

I wonder what her excuse is this time.

Ben picked up her suitcase wearily. This is going to be a long summer.

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Old 04-05-2011, 01:01 PM View Post #30 (Link)
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Steve arrived at where the motor car was when it just speed off. He cursed and turned. He had no idea where the town was or where to go. Steve looked at the mist the car had gone into. I don't fancy walking in that, he thought. He turned to the beach again and tried to think a way out of his dilema. He could follow the tracks of the motor car and hope they were as easy to see here as they were further in the island or he could ask a fellow passenger whether they knew where the town was. Steve chose the latter. He turned back to the ferry and spotted a young lady with a suitcase just getting out. He started walking towards her. Even if she didn't know where to go, He thought as he walked, two of us would be better than just one.

"Excuse me, miss?" He called out.
"You need to face your inside demon.
I did, I punched it in the face and it exploded.
But now it's back!
Of course it is. It's resourceful. It is my inside demon after all."
-Skullduggery Pleasent.

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