[Arthur Bernstein continued from This Be The Verse]
Disgusted.
That was the only way that Arthur could describe how he felt as Tracen read down the list of names on the morning of what felt like his fifth year on the island, though it was only his third day. He had stayed with Coleen, the two crossing the bridge over to the asylum building with even less discussion than they'd had as they walked to the gym. They settled in a room with a clear view of the outside, sleeping behind easels and scattered furniture on beds of leaves and scribbled drawings like discarded memories.
Finding sleep was not easy.
Finding the restraint to stop from swearing at the sky when he heard the familiarly slimy voice echo around him mere minutes after he woke up was even harder.
He could easily separate each death into three different categories:
There were the ones that he didn't know - namely Jasmine and Jeremiah, two juniors.
Then, the people he knew but wasn't phased by, whether out of lack of surprise or indifference toward them as a human being - Jane, Mitch, Danny, and Sam.
And then there were the people that brought tears to his eyes or chills to his heart - Sabrina, Sandy, and...
Bradley. He couldn't help but feel his heart being tugged from his chest when he heard his name. The first person that he had seen on the island before they had died, he noticed, as he thanked God that Bryony, Jasper and Henry were all alive at the very least. He watched the window, thinking of them, wondering where they had gone, and decided that he'd let them come to him, if they so pleased. At the very least, he hoped that they'd be shown more dignity than Bradley was when the time came for them to...to be...
There's a better epitaph for him. You can't just leave it at that, Arthur thought, though he wasn't going to admit to himself that if there was a more fitting eulogy, it wasn't something that Arthur could think of.
If there was anyone he felt connected to, it was Coleen. As he watched her sleep for the few moments that he was awake before the announcements, feeling her disheveled hair with his watchful eyes and seeing the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed under her pale green dress, he couldn't deny that he was growing attached to her, and he couldn't be sure that he'd feel that way if there was someone else with him instead of her. He couldn't decide if the fact that she reminded him of Marie was good, bad, or something that somehow tainted the connection he felt toward either of them, as if either were pure and innocent, as if either were worth keeping sacred.
Arthur's hat had been stuffed into his pack long ago, at some point on the day before. His spear was leaning against the wall, and the paintball gun that had yet to be fired was sitting on a chair in the corner. All at once, the splinters of himself that he had brought with him and the new jigsaw pieces that filled the empty spaces in his mind were slightly out of place, and he no longer felt entirely like himself.
He sighed, and closed his eyes, listening to the rustling of the leaves outside.
Honeysuckle and Pain
Open
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
/ 
- 
/ 
- 
- 
- 
- 
- -
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
((Coleen Reagan, continued from This Be the Verse))
Coleen struggled to sleep through the dull screeches of the announcement. The art room was secluded enough that the shill blaring howl that assaulted her ears on the morning of the second day in her new prison was reduced to something of a dull roar. It wrestled her from the sleep she managed to cobble together through the night, but only just, and the girl tossed and turned in some vain attempt to find a pillow that she could stuff her head under.
She didn't want to hear. She didn't want to know who died, and yet she wanted to know who was still alive. She was forced already to confront the cold reality that faced them -- any hope to the contrary was dashed when Bradley's heart burst, hands feebly clutching at a spear that wouldn't be removed until his death. That Arthur still held the spear haunted her all the way across the bridge to the other side of the island, through the doors of the decrepit-looking asylum, down the hallway on the first floor that led to a room where people had once come to rehabilitate through creation. Now this room saw only death.
The asylum must have been eerie by day. By night it was maddening; flashlights cast just as many shadows as they illuminated surfaces, and Coleen's brain filled in the blanks from what her eyes couldn't piece together, forcing her to imagine every hiding spot as somebody ready to jump out and add them to the announcements of the next day. Alas, they had made it, the two of them, to this room. Coleen remembered shrieking when they found the body of Mitch Settles, a bloodstain pocked with gray matter behind his head against the wall. Her heart made demands her mouth couldn't carry on to Arthur, not wishing to stay in the room that contained a dead classmate, but she had been slowly convinced to sleep in a hovel placed in the far corner, with a wall of upturned desks and easels. If she couldn't see Mitch, it might have ticked the animal part of her brain that he wasn't there.
Didn't stop the nightmares from frequently breaking her sleep, but at least she didn't wake up screaming.
As the dying words of the announcement concluded, Coleen sat up and rubbed saggy, tired eyes. She winced and her lips screwed into a grimace - the bad side of her face burned, irritated by the salty air and windy climate from their outdoor journeys. Attempting to seek some normalcy of her routine, Coleen fished around her bag for her medicated moisturizing cream.
"I need a shower... I need a shower," she mumbled, swearing she could feel the knots forming in her hair. "I smell like shit. I feel like shit."
"I want to die," she lied.
Coleen struggled to sleep through the dull screeches of the announcement. The art room was secluded enough that the shill blaring howl that assaulted her ears on the morning of the second day in her new prison was reduced to something of a dull roar. It wrestled her from the sleep she managed to cobble together through the night, but only just, and the girl tossed and turned in some vain attempt to find a pillow that she could stuff her head under.
She didn't want to hear. She didn't want to know who died, and yet she wanted to know who was still alive. She was forced already to confront the cold reality that faced them -- any hope to the contrary was dashed when Bradley's heart burst, hands feebly clutching at a spear that wouldn't be removed until his death. That Arthur still held the spear haunted her all the way across the bridge to the other side of the island, through the doors of the decrepit-looking asylum, down the hallway on the first floor that led to a room where people had once come to rehabilitate through creation. Now this room saw only death.
The asylum must have been eerie by day. By night it was maddening; flashlights cast just as many shadows as they illuminated surfaces, and Coleen's brain filled in the blanks from what her eyes couldn't piece together, forcing her to imagine every hiding spot as somebody ready to jump out and add them to the announcements of the next day. Alas, they had made it, the two of them, to this room. Coleen remembered shrieking when they found the body of Mitch Settles, a bloodstain pocked with gray matter behind his head against the wall. Her heart made demands her mouth couldn't carry on to Arthur, not wishing to stay in the room that contained a dead classmate, but she had been slowly convinced to sleep in a hovel placed in the far corner, with a wall of upturned desks and easels. If she couldn't see Mitch, it might have ticked the animal part of her brain that he wasn't there.
Didn't stop the nightmares from frequently breaking her sleep, but at least she didn't wake up screaming.
As the dying words of the announcement concluded, Coleen sat up and rubbed saggy, tired eyes. She winced and her lips screwed into a grimace - the bad side of her face burned, irritated by the salty air and windy climate from their outdoor journeys. Attempting to seek some normalcy of her routine, Coleen fished around her bag for her medicated moisturizing cream.
"I need a shower... I need a shower," she mumbled, swearing she could feel the knots forming in her hair. "I smell like shit. I feel like shit."
"I want to die," she lied.
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
His right eye opened first, keeping half of his mind stuck in his temporary paradise of rustling leaves while he dipped his toes into the pool that was his reality. The water was too cold, frostbite nibbling at the edges of his feet. Though it was barely above a whisper, the sound of Coleen's voice was enough to send a cold shock through his face. She was awake, and, despite a lack of doubt of the fact, he was pleased to know that she was alive.
Even if she made it clear, seconds later, that she didn't want to be, with three words that wrapped their fingers around Arthur's shoulder blades and pushed with their tremendous strength until he felt the weight of the water and the bite of the cold pool had cut through to his bones.
His left eye opened next, finally wiping away any sense of normalcy that he had managed to wedge in between the folds of the tissue in his brain.
"You're kidding, I hope," Arthur croaked, breathlessly. "You have to be, right? He's right there. You can't just say that and mean it with him in the room." With an empty gaze, Arthur's eyes swept the room. Once again, he was not surprised to find things were as he'd left them. Mitch was still where he was. Dead as a door nail.
He hadn't moved Mitch's body - there was already so much dangling off and threatening to dislodge and spill on the floor, staining the water of Arthur's pool red with blood - but he had moved an easel in front of it, covering the space where his face used to be. It wasn't an easy sight to stomach, but one of them had to do the dirty work, and he wouldn't entertain the thought of Coleen having to do it either. Besides, he had already dealt with Bradley just hours before when they opened the door to the room and found Mitch's body. He hated how easy it was to look down at the limp mass on the ground and think of just how pathetic it was that Mitch had just given up.
What kind of sick joke was it? What was he trying to pull? Was this some new game he didn't understand?
If it was some kind of reference that had gone over his head, it sure hadn't gone over Mitch's.
Stop that. It's not right to think of the passed like that. I didn't catch Bradley's sense of humor from his corpse, did I? Did a flea jump up from that mess of a person and bite me, infecting me with that foul plague?
Too many mixed metaphors. Make a note of that, revise it later. Buy the cheap white out at the store, it's just as good as the expensive stuff, and pour the bottle out all over your flimsy pages so that there'll be nothing left to find when they comb through my room. Another mistake. Another broken promise. Another failed attempt at poetic relevance. Where does that sit in my godforsaken pool?
I hope it's somewhere near the bottom.
Arthur sighed.
It was time for simple words.
Easy words.
Powerful words.
"I don't want you to die."
Even if she made it clear, seconds later, that she didn't want to be, with three words that wrapped their fingers around Arthur's shoulder blades and pushed with their tremendous strength until he felt the weight of the water and the bite of the cold pool had cut through to his bones.
His left eye opened next, finally wiping away any sense of normalcy that he had managed to wedge in between the folds of the tissue in his brain.
"You're kidding, I hope," Arthur croaked, breathlessly. "You have to be, right? He's right there. You can't just say that and mean it with him in the room." With an empty gaze, Arthur's eyes swept the room. Once again, he was not surprised to find things were as he'd left them. Mitch was still where he was. Dead as a door nail.
He hadn't moved Mitch's body - there was already so much dangling off and threatening to dislodge and spill on the floor, staining the water of Arthur's pool red with blood - but he had moved an easel in front of it, covering the space where his face used to be. It wasn't an easy sight to stomach, but one of them had to do the dirty work, and he wouldn't entertain the thought of Coleen having to do it either. Besides, he had already dealt with Bradley just hours before when they opened the door to the room and found Mitch's body. He hated how easy it was to look down at the limp mass on the ground and think of just how pathetic it was that Mitch had just given up.
What kind of sick joke was it? What was he trying to pull? Was this some new game he didn't understand?
If it was some kind of reference that had gone over his head, it sure hadn't gone over Mitch's.
Stop that. It's not right to think of the passed like that. I didn't catch Bradley's sense of humor from his corpse, did I? Did a flea jump up from that mess of a person and bite me, infecting me with that foul plague?
Too many mixed metaphors. Make a note of that, revise it later. Buy the cheap white out at the store, it's just as good as the expensive stuff, and pour the bottle out all over your flimsy pages so that there'll be nothing left to find when they comb through my room. Another mistake. Another broken promise. Another failed attempt at poetic relevance. Where does that sit in my godforsaken pool?
I hope it's somewhere near the bottom.
Arthur sighed.
It was time for simple words.
Easy words.
Powerful words.
"I don't want you to die."
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Arthur's words were met with sharp, rasping giggles. Coleen didn't really know why she was laughing. The air was never thicker, the score never darker. The scene laid out before them was supposed to be the start of the third act for a tragedy, yet she continued to laugh. She quickly stifled herself with her sleeve, shaking her head in desperation. The giggling subsided soon enough.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Coleen repeated. "You're -- erghm!" The girl cleared her throat, giving a shake of the head to affirm to herself and to present company that she was truly and entirely awake. She emitted a low hum from the back of her throat, confirming that her freshly-awoken airway had completely opened up and was ready for the day, whatever talking, crying, screaming or shouting just so happened to be called for.
"You're right. I don't want to die." Coleen refused to look Arthur in the eye. "Guess I shouldn't be joking like that right now, huh? Not with, uh... with him in... um. Yeah." She really didn't want to think about Mitch in all of his brainless glory right now. Between him and Bradley, the two corpses she had managed to see but only a couple in a long line of those already dead, death should have been staring them all in the face. If there ever was a time to come clean with some confessional by finding a camera, Coleen supposed this was the perfect opportunity to do such a thing. No time for lying unless it was to save your own skin. If Arthur wanted to kill her, she supposed he had plenty of time. Slowly, she had come to grow more comfortable and trusting of him. Or, maybe that was just resignation, putting her life out on that line as if to say 'hey man, you want to kill me? All the more power to you.
"I really don't want to die. Decided that the first day when you guys ran into me, you know. Remember that? By the beach?" Coleen pulled her legs into lotus position, habitually, preening her hair with her fingernails as she lifted her chin up, higher than level, and peered at Arthur through one eye. "Maybe you didn't realize it, but I was thinking of going for a swim. Wasn't about to ask you to join me."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Coleen repeated. "You're -- erghm!" The girl cleared her throat, giving a shake of the head to affirm to herself and to present company that she was truly and entirely awake. She emitted a low hum from the back of her throat, confirming that her freshly-awoken airway had completely opened up and was ready for the day, whatever talking, crying, screaming or shouting just so happened to be called for.
"You're right. I don't want to die." Coleen refused to look Arthur in the eye. "Guess I shouldn't be joking like that right now, huh? Not with, uh... with him in... um. Yeah." She really didn't want to think about Mitch in all of his brainless glory right now. Between him and Bradley, the two corpses she had managed to see but only a couple in a long line of those already dead, death should have been staring them all in the face. If there ever was a time to come clean with some confessional by finding a camera, Coleen supposed this was the perfect opportunity to do such a thing. No time for lying unless it was to save your own skin. If Arthur wanted to kill her, she supposed he had plenty of time. Slowly, she had come to grow more comfortable and trusting of him. Or, maybe that was just resignation, putting her life out on that line as if to say 'hey man, you want to kill me? All the more power to you.
"I really don't want to die. Decided that the first day when you guys ran into me, you know. Remember that? By the beach?" Coleen pulled her legs into lotus position, habitually, preening her hair with her fingernails as she lifted her chin up, higher than level, and peered at Arthur through one eye. "Maybe you didn't realize it, but I was thinking of going for a swim. Wasn't about to ask you to join me."
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
Was she trying to reassure him? If she was, mentioning that Arthur had already barely saved her from "taking a swim" wasn't the way to do so.
The laughing didn't help, either.
For a while, Arthur was quiet, opening his mouth to speak several times with no words escaping his throat.
When he finally managed to speak, there was a tremble in his voice that he hadn't felt since...
...years ago.
"I'm glad that you're alive."
Arthur gazed deeply into a camera in the corner of the ceiling, staring into the souls staring back at him from the safety of their homes.
"I had no idea that you were planning on...that you were going to..."
The laughing didn't help, either.
For a while, Arthur was quiet, opening his mouth to speak several times with no words escaping his throat.
When he finally managed to speak, there was a tremble in his voice that he hadn't felt since...
...years ago.
"I'm glad that you're alive."
Arthur gazed deeply into a camera in the corner of the ceiling, staring into the souls staring back at him from the safety of their homes.
"I had no idea that you were planning on...that you were going to..."
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"And what's our alternative, exactly?"
Coleen held her gaze with Arthur.
"So I made it to the next day. And the next. Now, all around us, we're killing each other. I'm not like..." Coleen broke her stare and shook her head. "I'm not some weak kid you've got to save. I already told you, I chose to stay alive. But look where it's getting me? I'm just going to get shot tomorrow, or maybe two- I don't know, three days from now." Her voice picked up some steam and rolled with it until it was peaking at a simmering point. Coleen wasn't quite yelling at Arthur, but she wasn't exactly calm anymore, either.
"So don't pity. Don't judge me for what I was going to do, okay? You didn't save me. I made a choice, and I'm trying not to regret it." She tilted her head forward to hide her eyes behind that blonde curtain which so easily covered her face, just the way she trained it. The cool, smooth edges of a familiar canister was pressed between her fingertips. Coleen withdrew her moisturizing cream, looking it over to make sure it hadn't suffered some transgression in the hands of the terrorists who now acted as their keepers.
Deeming it okay, Coleen twisted off the lid and scooted in place, pointing her right shoulder at Arthur. Her makeup mirror was the next item to be pulled out. She snapped it open and looked with disappointment at the marred portions of her cheek and neck. This face was the face she saw when she looked in the mirror for as long as she could remember, but some part of her never could quite get used to it. 'Too bad', she figured silently; there was no changing her scars just like there was no changing the events that got her this far, to this island.
While applying the cream, she thought about her friends. She hadn't heard Cameron's name yet. Nor Vanessa, nor B.B.'s, nor Brady's. Were all of the buses taken? Could it be that at least some of the band, some of her closest friends, were safe? Coleen pursed her lips without realizing it. Just like everything else, it didn't really matter much. She could apply her cream just the same. Whatever got her mind off of the stupid turn in this stupid conversation.
Coleen held her gaze with Arthur.
"So I made it to the next day. And the next. Now, all around us, we're killing each other. I'm not like..." Coleen broke her stare and shook her head. "I'm not some weak kid you've got to save. I already told you, I chose to stay alive. But look where it's getting me? I'm just going to get shot tomorrow, or maybe two- I don't know, three days from now." Her voice picked up some steam and rolled with it until it was peaking at a simmering point. Coleen wasn't quite yelling at Arthur, but she wasn't exactly calm anymore, either.
"So don't pity. Don't judge me for what I was going to do, okay? You didn't save me. I made a choice, and I'm trying not to regret it." She tilted her head forward to hide her eyes behind that blonde curtain which so easily covered her face, just the way she trained it. The cool, smooth edges of a familiar canister was pressed between her fingertips. Coleen withdrew her moisturizing cream, looking it over to make sure it hadn't suffered some transgression in the hands of the terrorists who now acted as their keepers.
Deeming it okay, Coleen twisted off the lid and scooted in place, pointing her right shoulder at Arthur. Her makeup mirror was the next item to be pulled out. She snapped it open and looked with disappointment at the marred portions of her cheek and neck. This face was the face she saw when she looked in the mirror for as long as she could remember, but some part of her never could quite get used to it. 'Too bad', she figured silently; there was no changing her scars just like there was no changing the events that got her this far, to this island.
While applying the cream, she thought about her friends. She hadn't heard Cameron's name yet. Nor Vanessa, nor B.B.'s, nor Brady's. Were all of the buses taken? Could it be that at least some of the band, some of her closest friends, were safe? Coleen pursed her lips without realizing it. Just like everything else, it didn't really matter much. She could apply her cream just the same. Whatever got her mind off of the stupid turn in this stupid conversation.
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
"I'm sorry,"
Arthur said, realizing what he had been doing.
His eyes drifted to his spear.
"I'm just projecting, that's all. In a few different ways."
It still looked a little red.
"We're going to...not going to make it, anyways, right?"
Don't think about it.
Just don't think in general.
"So what do we do to kill time?"
Arthur said, realizing what he had been doing.
His eyes drifted to his spear.
"I'm just projecting, that's all. In a few different ways."
It still looked a little red.
"We're going to...not going to make it, anyways, right?"
Don't think about it.
Just don't think in general.
"So what do we do to kill time?"
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"I didn't say we weren't going to make it."
A lie. Barring a miracle, at least one of the two of them wasn't making it to the end of this game. Coleen didn't have anything against Arthur, but she didn't particularly pray for his survival over hers. The thought to kill him, though, that was still a thought a hundred miles away. Even in her wildest fantasy, she still couldn't see herself driving a spear through somebody's heart or slashing their neck or blasting their head open with a gun. The bloodiest thing she ever cut with a knife was a medium cooked steak.
"We could check this place out," Coleen offered. "It's... huge, and I got this creepy feeling we're not alone in here. I swear I heard a scream last night or something. And to be honest? It got us through the night but I don't want to stay in this room anymore when we've got a corpse for a roommate."
She practically convulsed a little at the thought, but there just wasn't getting around it anymore. She'd done her crying the first couple of days. Now, stress pulled at every string in her neck and back. She was just done with it, unwilling to accept a reality which saw her dying in less than 72 hours. "You're the guy with the weapon. I imagine if I leave, you'll follow me?" She guessed, sealing up her bag.
A lie. Barring a miracle, at least one of the two of them wasn't making it to the end of this game. Coleen didn't have anything against Arthur, but she didn't particularly pray for his survival over hers. The thought to kill him, though, that was still a thought a hundred miles away. Even in her wildest fantasy, she still couldn't see herself driving a spear through somebody's heart or slashing their neck or blasting their head open with a gun. The bloodiest thing she ever cut with a knife was a medium cooked steak.
"We could check this place out," Coleen offered. "It's... huge, and I got this creepy feeling we're not alone in here. I swear I heard a scream last night or something. And to be honest? It got us through the night but I don't want to stay in this room anymore when we've got a corpse for a roommate."
She practically convulsed a little at the thought, but there just wasn't getting around it anymore. She'd done her crying the first couple of days. Now, stress pulled at every string in her neck and back. She was just done with it, unwilling to accept a reality which saw her dying in less than 72 hours. "You're the guy with the weapon. I imagine if I leave, you'll follow me?" She guessed, sealing up her bag.
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
"Of course," he said as he stood up, "No need to worry about that."
Relief, all over his body. He could keep on moving, find the friends that he had missed - Jasper, Henry, others not yet gone - and explore what would eventually become his final resting place.
Even though he wasn't someone that Arthur particularly cared for, Mitch still had the feeling of humanity about him. It felt odd to think of him as dead, but at least he hadn't seen what pushed him over the threshold between this world and the next.
Arthur found his bag right next to his spear, up against the wall. He picked up both, slinging the bag across his shoulder and holding his spear with both hands, the point facing to his left.
"To be honest, exploring would probably be the closest thing to 'fun' that we could make of this place."
Exploration was a lens that he was used to looking at things through. If he could manage to suspend for a moment the fact that, yes, this was really happening, the island became less of a scary and unknown place and more like...
...a video game.
The realization brought new color to his vision, and he felt the tension in his face begin to relax.
"Any ideas where to go next?"
Relief, all over his body. He could keep on moving, find the friends that he had missed - Jasper, Henry, others not yet gone - and explore what would eventually become his final resting place.
Even though he wasn't someone that Arthur particularly cared for, Mitch still had the feeling of humanity about him. It felt odd to think of him as dead, but at least he hadn't seen what pushed him over the threshold between this world and the next.
Arthur found his bag right next to his spear, up against the wall. He picked up both, slinging the bag across his shoulder and holding his spear with both hands, the point facing to his left.
"To be honest, exploring would probably be the closest thing to 'fun' that we could make of this place."
Exploration was a lens that he was used to looking at things through. If he could manage to suspend for a moment the fact that, yes, this was really happening, the island became less of a scary and unknown place and more like...
...a video game.
The realization brought new color to his vision, and he felt the tension in his face begin to relax.
"Any ideas where to go next?"
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"No idea. But I'm going."
Coleen peered out of the room. Nobody was immediately outside, waiting to cut her head off. Her mind flashed to a scene from the 1968 Romeo and Juliet, the one with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern being dragged to their execution. She wasn't sure why it came to mind; it hardly seemed appropriate for the situation. She decided it was because the halls of the asylum reminded her of a dungeon and shrugged it off the best she could... though not without pulling up on the collar of her blouse just a tiny bit, as if to protect her neck.
"Let's try heading upstairs..." she murmured to Arthur, securing the straps of her bag and leaving the room without looking back.
((Coleen Reagan, continued in There Are So Many Offices...))
Coleen peered out of the room. Nobody was immediately outside, waiting to cut her head off. Her mind flashed to a scene from the 1968 Romeo and Juliet, the one with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern being dragged to their execution. She wasn't sure why it came to mind; it hardly seemed appropriate for the situation. She decided it was because the halls of the asylum reminded her of a dungeon and shrugged it off the best she could... though not without pulling up on the collar of her blouse just a tiny bit, as if to protect her neck.
"Let's try heading upstairs..." she murmured to Arthur, securing the straps of her bag and leaving the room without looking back.
((Coleen Reagan, continued in There Are So Many Offices...))
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
Coleen left the room, leaving Arthur alone with a corpse.
He turned around quickly, looking at the easel in front of Mitch's body. Arthur carefully stepped over and moved the easel as quietly as he could, revealing the mess of dried blood and viscera staining the wall above the limp shell of a human being slumped before him. The recent re-contextualization in Arthur's mind of the situation he found himself in was enough to push him Arthur to realize that if Mitch had shot himself, there would likely be a gun somewhere nearby.
Each and every object that he could find could be used to his advantage. He was no longer some pawn in someone else's game, but the agent of change in a game of his own mental design.
But no matter how hard he searched, Arthur couldn't find the gun.
Someone had been there to take it before they arrived.
The plot thickens, he mused internally, moving away from the body and toward the door.
His curiosity piqued, Arthur left the room and followed after Coleen, jogging to catch up with her and hoping that she hadn't noticed his delay. Maybe they'd catch up with the person who took the gun somewhere down the line, or maybe it would never be resolved.
Maybe it had already been fired and tossed away, perhaps into the ocean, plummeting to the bottom as two curious fish swirled around the strange object for a moment before returning to their complacent swirl in the bay.
[Arthur Bernstein continued in There Are So Many Offices, but Everyone Seems To Be A Patient. Where Are The Doctors?]
He turned around quickly, looking at the easel in front of Mitch's body. Arthur carefully stepped over and moved the easel as quietly as he could, revealing the mess of dried blood and viscera staining the wall above the limp shell of a human being slumped before him. The recent re-contextualization in Arthur's mind of the situation he found himself in was enough to push him Arthur to realize that if Mitch had shot himself, there would likely be a gun somewhere nearby.
Each and every object that he could find could be used to his advantage. He was no longer some pawn in someone else's game, but the agent of change in a game of his own mental design.
But no matter how hard he searched, Arthur couldn't find the gun.
Someone had been there to take it before they arrived.
The plot thickens, he mused internally, moving away from the body and toward the door.
His curiosity piqued, Arthur left the room and followed after Coleen, jogging to catch up with her and hoping that she hadn't noticed his delay. Maybe they'd catch up with the person who took the gun somewhere down the line, or maybe it would never be resolved.
Maybe it had already been fired and tossed away, perhaps into the ocean, plummeting to the bottom as two curious fish swirled around the strange object for a moment before returning to their complacent swirl in the bay.
[Arthur Bernstein continued in There Are So Many Offices, but Everyone Seems To Be A Patient. Where Are The Doctors?]