((Morgan Leftowitz continued from Make/Break))
Morgan Leftowitz's journey had taken him back to the swamp. A swamp that had held a memory of Jen, he had seen her naked in this swamp, It left them both embarassed. Were there different circumstances, he would have been able to laugh about it. And he would have had someone there to laugh with him.
But all of that had changed now. Jen was still with him, but now, if he had laughed about it, there would be no response. Jen was dead now. Leaving Morgan to wander alone, carrying her body.
Frankie had not followed him. He was surprised at first, unsure as to why she wouldn't follow him, especially since she knew about the boat. But then he looked down to the body of Jen Romita, Frankie had probably thought that he had gone mad and decided to stay away. He wasn't mad at her, it wasn't her fault that she didn't understand the reasons why.
Then again, nobody really understood Jen Romita. Nobody but him.
Morgan's arms were constantly drooping with the weight of Jen's body. He never expected a body to weight as much as it did, and as such, Morgan took many breaks to regain his strength. It was of no help that his body was now crammed with the contents of her bag and that he was still carrying a rifle as well, but that didn't bother him. He had let her down already, the least he could do was take her home on the boat.
There was another announcement at some point during his travels. He didn't know when it happened, or much else of the announcement, there was only one thing of importance to him. He now knew who it was that shot Jen Romita. It was Haley Kelly.
But even with that knowledge now. What was he to do with it? The island was huge and Morgan barely remembered Haley Kelly in the hallways. Another bi-product of his own hiding at school. He regretted this more now. Now that he was alone.
It would be impossible for Morgan to start travelling through the muddy mire during the night. Especially with the weight he had assigned himself to carry. Rest, if it could be called that, would have to do for now.
Morgan found a large tree and walked to it. He propped Jen's body up against the tree as if she had just been sitting there, keeping watch for something in the distance. The bleeding had stopped yesterday, the only evidence of the wounds were large red rose shapped sploches on the white cloth that wrapped around her head.
Once he had settled his friend to the ground, Morgan took a seat at the same tree, propping himself against it and looking out to where the boat was. He was unable to sleep these past few nights, he wouldn't allow himself to do so. Instead, he just watched the distance, thinking about the boat, thinking about what he would say to Jen's parents when he got home. Thinking about the last words Jen had said to him.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
"Oh Jen...I'm so sorry Jen...I'm...I'm sorry..."
Lonely American Nights
-Open- late night day 6 moving into 7
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
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Lonely American Nights
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ZombiexCreame†
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((Timothy Questiare continued from One Final Bow))
Timothy Questiare had been walking with no real destination in mind, no real thoughts in his head. With his duffel bag strung over one shoulder and his hand gripped tightly around his gun, he realized that he didn't give a fuck about hiding the weapon. Let people stay away from him, let them be scared of him, he didn't care. Why should he?
It was too late for Colin Falcone, that much was for sure. If only he had followed Colin to find Jacob, if only he had stayed by his side, if only things hadn't escalated at the town center, if only, if only, if, if if.. He was getting really sick of that nagging voice inside his head, the one that was constantly reminding him of his mistakes and what he could have done to change the past, but he was over that voice. Nothing was going to change what already happened, and nothing was going to change who already died.
But it wasn't like he could just forget about Colin. Every time he tried, he glanced down at his bloodied shirt, or a waft of eau de corpse shifted past his nose, and with a twinge of discomfort and grief, the memories came rushing back. It was the first body he saw, so this reaction was understandable, right? Other students here had lost so much more... But did that really change things? Was it more shocking because the first corpse he saw was the one of his best friend?
And it wasn't like he had just been walking along and minding his own business, casually tripping over the body of Colin on his way. No, he had died in his arms... But in a morbid, grotesque way, perhaps that was a good thing. Tim was there to comfort him and be with him in his last few minutes. Perhaps that comforted Colin in his passing, and for just a few lingering moments, Tim felt almost good about himself.
That feeling disappeared too.
...Slipped the gun back into the waistband of his pants. As much as he wanted to come off as a shell-of-a-person badass, he wasn't anything of the sort. And, thus, he concealed his gun, not wanting to scare anyone or consider him anything of a threat. And, Christ! He didn't want anyone to think he'd killed anyone! Or, for that matter, killed Colin! Heaven's no, no, no, no, no.
He became aware that the ground beneath him was a little squishier than common grass. The nature around him was becoming boggy and a little creepy, sort of like those old crocodile movies in which a few kids wander down into the Bayou and SNAP! The crocodile gets them! Or is it an alligator? Tim never could tell the difference, but after quickly consulting his map, he realized that he was in the swamp.
Putting the map back into his bag with an arm that just refused to stop shaking, Tim continued to walk, the same arm rubbing across his eyes. He was tired, both physically and mentally, but he wouldn't allow himself to rest. Not now, not when he had places to go... Where was he going? No idea, but he would find who injured Colin so fatally. He would find him and make him pay! He just had to wait for the next announcement to reveal it.
"Oh Jen...I'm so sorry Jen...I'm...I'm sorry..."
Tim's ears prickled a bit at the sound of a voice, and he immediately stopped walking, his eyes darting around suspiciously. He didn't see anyone at first, just the constant apologies to someone named 'Jen.' Apologies didn't seem so violent, right? He would keep walking... keep walking... Just keep swimming, so said a particular fish from a particular children's movie. It pained him to think of something so silly in such a horrible situation, but it admittedly cheered him up a bit. ...And the song got stuck in his head. He refused to sing it out loud, then people would just think he'd snapped, and he was positive that his mind was still in one piece. Maybe a little frazzled, nothing would ever be the same after what happened to Colin, but he wasn't a basket case yet.
He took careful and calculating steps forward until finally a figure came into view. It was a boy propped up against a tree. He was looking off into the distance, and his eyes looked a little damp. Tim quickly surveyed the area for anyone else and noticed another girl propped up against the same tree. So there were two people here. Why was the boy apologizing to her with such fervor?
"Hey-"
Pause. As Tim took a step forward, he realized that something wasn't right. The clearly injured-looking girl was strangely still, her skin strangely pale and-
Tim immediately turned around, covering his mouth a little. His eyes were clenched shut, this was too soon. It reminded him too much of Colin. Had the girl been close to the boy? Perhaps, it was a good possibility. Regardless, it didn't matter. He was leaving, leaving, leaving, out of here, out of here... He couldn't deal with this, not another death. Not another person going through something similar to Tim, it was just...
He wasn't quite sure why he turned around and headed towards Morgan, the smell of death becoming more and more obvious as he got closer and closer. He knew that if Colin was here, Colin would want to help Morgan. That's just what Colin did, he helped people. He wasn't selfish or rude, he'd never turn away from someone in need. And so Tim knelt down beside Morgan, placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, "I-I'm sorry.. Is there anything I-I can do?" His lips turned down into a sour frown, his heart beating wildly because he just wanted to be far, far away. But he wanted to help. He wanted Colin to live on inside himself, and Colin would want to help Morgan. Tim would do the same, he would do anything he could.
Timothy Questiare had been walking with no real destination in mind, no real thoughts in his head. With his duffel bag strung over one shoulder and his hand gripped tightly around his gun, he realized that he didn't give a fuck about hiding the weapon. Let people stay away from him, let them be scared of him, he didn't care. Why should he?
It was too late for Colin Falcone, that much was for sure. If only he had followed Colin to find Jacob, if only he had stayed by his side, if only things hadn't escalated at the town center, if only, if only, if, if if.. He was getting really sick of that nagging voice inside his head, the one that was constantly reminding him of his mistakes and what he could have done to change the past, but he was over that voice. Nothing was going to change what already happened, and nothing was going to change who already died.
But it wasn't like he could just forget about Colin. Every time he tried, he glanced down at his bloodied shirt, or a waft of eau de corpse shifted past his nose, and with a twinge of discomfort and grief, the memories came rushing back. It was the first body he saw, so this reaction was understandable, right? Other students here had lost so much more... But did that really change things? Was it more shocking because the first corpse he saw was the one of his best friend?
And it wasn't like he had just been walking along and minding his own business, casually tripping over the body of Colin on his way. No, he had died in his arms... But in a morbid, grotesque way, perhaps that was a good thing. Tim was there to comfort him and be with him in his last few minutes. Perhaps that comforted Colin in his passing, and for just a few lingering moments, Tim felt almost good about himself.
That feeling disappeared too.
...Slipped the gun back into the waistband of his pants. As much as he wanted to come off as a shell-of-a-person badass, he wasn't anything of the sort. And, thus, he concealed his gun, not wanting to scare anyone or consider him anything of a threat. And, Christ! He didn't want anyone to think he'd killed anyone! Or, for that matter, killed Colin! Heaven's no, no, no, no, no.
He became aware that the ground beneath him was a little squishier than common grass. The nature around him was becoming boggy and a little creepy, sort of like those old crocodile movies in which a few kids wander down into the Bayou and SNAP! The crocodile gets them! Or is it an alligator? Tim never could tell the difference, but after quickly consulting his map, he realized that he was in the swamp.
Putting the map back into his bag with an arm that just refused to stop shaking, Tim continued to walk, the same arm rubbing across his eyes. He was tired, both physically and mentally, but he wouldn't allow himself to rest. Not now, not when he had places to go... Where was he going? No idea, but he would find who injured Colin so fatally. He would find him and make him pay! He just had to wait for the next announcement to reveal it.
"Oh Jen...I'm so sorry Jen...I'm...I'm sorry..."
Tim's ears prickled a bit at the sound of a voice, and he immediately stopped walking, his eyes darting around suspiciously. He didn't see anyone at first, just the constant apologies to someone named 'Jen.' Apologies didn't seem so violent, right? He would keep walking... keep walking... Just keep swimming, so said a particular fish from a particular children's movie. It pained him to think of something so silly in such a horrible situation, but it admittedly cheered him up a bit. ...And the song got stuck in his head. He refused to sing it out loud, then people would just think he'd snapped, and he was positive that his mind was still in one piece. Maybe a little frazzled, nothing would ever be the same after what happened to Colin, but he wasn't a basket case yet.
He took careful and calculating steps forward until finally a figure came into view. It was a boy propped up against a tree. He was looking off into the distance, and his eyes looked a little damp. Tim quickly surveyed the area for anyone else and noticed another girl propped up against the same tree. So there were two people here. Why was the boy apologizing to her with such fervor?
"Hey-"
Pause. As Tim took a step forward, he realized that something wasn't right. The clearly injured-looking girl was strangely still, her skin strangely pale and-
Tim immediately turned around, covering his mouth a little. His eyes were clenched shut, this was too soon. It reminded him too much of Colin. Had the girl been close to the boy? Perhaps, it was a good possibility. Regardless, it didn't matter. He was leaving, leaving, leaving, out of here, out of here... He couldn't deal with this, not another death. Not another person going through something similar to Tim, it was just...
He wasn't quite sure why he turned around and headed towards Morgan, the smell of death becoming more and more obvious as he got closer and closer. He knew that if Colin was here, Colin would want to help Morgan. That's just what Colin did, he helped people. He wasn't selfish or rude, he'd never turn away from someone in need. And so Tim knelt down beside Morgan, placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, "I-I'm sorry.. Is there anything I-I can do?" His lips turned down into a sour frown, his heart beating wildly because he just wanted to be far, far away. But he wanted to help. He wanted Colin to live on inside himself, and Colin would want to help Morgan. Tim would do the same, he would do anything he could.
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[[Celeste Beaumont continued from "The Gods Hate Us"]]
Fuck life.
Fuck everything.
Just...fuck...
Celeste trudged through the muck, her feet nearly coming right out of her shoes a few times when she got stuck. At one point she'd lost her balance after pulling her foot out and ended up planting it back on the ground, getting it nasty and wet and she swore under her breath before pulling her shoe back up and putting it back on. She could turn around and go back, but she'd have to deal with the same situation the whole way back anyway, and forward was better than backward.
That and she wasn't even sure she knew the way back anymore.
After she'd left the tunnels days ago, she'd heard it. John had died. Her boyfriend had died. When did I actually start thinking of him as my boyfriend? she wondered briefly, taking another step forward. Huh. She must have liked him more than she'd thought. She'd bothered to remember the chick who shot him after all.
Not that she could do anything if--no, when--she confronted her. Celeste's hammer was still gone. She hadn't even bothered to go to the sawmill to get it, hell, it probably wasn't even there anymore. If someone saw a big sledgehammer lying around with no owner, of course they'd take it. Probably some other big guy had taken it and used it to dash someone's brains against a wall.
Celeste smiled humorlessly. Huh. Funny how thinking of people dying didn't affect her as much as it had at the start. She still worried about Pandora, yeah, but she actually knew Pandora. Sorta. And her only possible hope of protection and companionship was dead. So fuck everyone else.
"FUCK 'EM!" she shouted, noting with some surprise that her voice broke a bit. Huh. She was near tears..she hadn't expected that to happen. Sighing, she kept on walking, muttering darkly and furiously wiping at her eyes when her feet stuck again. "Fuck 'em all..." she half-sobbed.
Fuck life.
Fuck everything.
Just...fuck...
Celeste trudged through the muck, her feet nearly coming right out of her shoes a few times when she got stuck. At one point she'd lost her balance after pulling her foot out and ended up planting it back on the ground, getting it nasty and wet and she swore under her breath before pulling her shoe back up and putting it back on. She could turn around and go back, but she'd have to deal with the same situation the whole way back anyway, and forward was better than backward.
That and she wasn't even sure she knew the way back anymore.
After she'd left the tunnels days ago, she'd heard it. John had died. Her boyfriend had died. When did I actually start thinking of him as my boyfriend? she wondered briefly, taking another step forward. Huh. She must have liked him more than she'd thought. She'd bothered to remember the chick who shot him after all.
Not that she could do anything if--no, when--she confronted her. Celeste's hammer was still gone. She hadn't even bothered to go to the sawmill to get it, hell, it probably wasn't even there anymore. If someone saw a big sledgehammer lying around with no owner, of course they'd take it. Probably some other big guy had taken it and used it to dash someone's brains against a wall.
Celeste smiled humorlessly. Huh. Funny how thinking of people dying didn't affect her as much as it had at the start. She still worried about Pandora, yeah, but she actually knew Pandora. Sorta. And her only possible hope of protection and companionship was dead. So fuck everyone else.
"FUCK 'EM!" she shouted, noting with some surprise that her voice broke a bit. Huh. She was near tears..she hadn't expected that to happen. Sighing, she kept on walking, muttering darkly and furiously wiping at her eyes when her feet stuck again. "Fuck 'em all..." she half-sobbed.
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
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Morgan's hands were fubling around his eyes, searching for a way to remove the tears from his face. He had to be strong. Jen would have wanted him to be strong. She would have been strong if he had died.
But he just couldn't stop crying. No matter how hard he tried, they just trickled slowly down, impeded by the mud, blood and stubble that had collected. His throat felt like it had shouted out into the night for days on end, and he would continue to shout for as long as he was able.
His voice finally faultered, and he broke down into a series of fitful coughing. He propped himself back up into a straighter sitting position and folded his arms on his knees. His crossed arm became a perch from which his head would roost on.
She was still there, right next to him. It was as if she would wake up and say, 'I'm sorry Morgan, it got out of hand' and then the two of them would kiss. He would kiss her with all the passion he could muster. It would be a perfect world. A perfect day...
"Hey..."
Morgan lifted his head up to find where the voice had been, nobody was in front of him and so he turned to see who had spoken to him. The darkness obscured many of his features, but the build suggested that it was Tim. Tim something, he couldn't remember the name and it didn't matter right now. There were more important things. Like his own thoughts.
He went back down to his arms, feeling the greasy film that had now developed on his brow. His mouth was drier than a desert, he needed water. Water was in his bag along with Jen's belongings. Something he dared not touch.
A hand was placed on his shoulder, but he did not move. He just sat there, absorbed in staring at the grass beneath his legs.
"I-I'm sorry.. Is there anything I-I can do?"
Morgan lifted his head and turned to see the man that was behind him. Clasping his hands on his knees, his legs shook. His mouth opened to speak, but little sound came out.
"N-no..." he croaked, "I don't...I don't know what you can-"
"FUCK EM"
Morgan's gaze turned back to the distance. There was a figure there, somewhere in the swamp, close by at this rate. His hands dropped to the ground and brought Jen's lifeless form closer to her.
"What...was that?"
But he just couldn't stop crying. No matter how hard he tried, they just trickled slowly down, impeded by the mud, blood and stubble that had collected. His throat felt like it had shouted out into the night for days on end, and he would continue to shout for as long as he was able.
His voice finally faultered, and he broke down into a series of fitful coughing. He propped himself back up into a straighter sitting position and folded his arms on his knees. His crossed arm became a perch from which his head would roost on.
She was still there, right next to him. It was as if she would wake up and say, 'I'm sorry Morgan, it got out of hand' and then the two of them would kiss. He would kiss her with all the passion he could muster. It would be a perfect world. A perfect day...
"Hey..."
Morgan lifted his head up to find where the voice had been, nobody was in front of him and so he turned to see who had spoken to him. The darkness obscured many of his features, but the build suggested that it was Tim. Tim something, he couldn't remember the name and it didn't matter right now. There were more important things. Like his own thoughts.
He went back down to his arms, feeling the greasy film that had now developed on his brow. His mouth was drier than a desert, he needed water. Water was in his bag along with Jen's belongings. Something he dared not touch.
A hand was placed on his shoulder, but he did not move. He just sat there, absorbed in staring at the grass beneath his legs.
"I-I'm sorry.. Is there anything I-I can do?"
Morgan lifted his head and turned to see the man that was behind him. Clasping his hands on his knees, his legs shook. His mouth opened to speak, but little sound came out.
"N-no..." he croaked, "I don't...I don't know what you can-"
"FUCK EM"
Morgan's gaze turned back to the distance. There was a figure there, somewhere in the swamp, close by at this rate. His hands dropped to the ground and brought Jen's lifeless form closer to her.
"What...was that?"
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ZombiexCreame†
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Tim wasn't sure if the boy in front of him would ever stop crying. Would he just continue to cry and ignore Tim? Should he just leave now and pretend he never saw Morgan or his...slightly decaying companion? He really didn't like this, the sight of someone crying so mournfully in front of him. It made Tim want to cry, but that wouldn't help matters, and it would probably be a little awkward to top things off. Besides, Tim cried enough. His tear ducts were closed for business, and they didn't appear to ever want to function again. Not that Tim wanted to cry anymore, even he became a little exhausted from the choked sobs and waves of tears. It also gave him a wicked headache.
He began coughing, and Tim was glad to see a notion that wasn't crying. He sat up straight and... rested his head on his arms. Really, should Tim leave? This was a little weird, and the body resting against the tree just added to the unsettling situation. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that Colin would help Morgan, Tim had his doubts. Maybe Colin wouldn't? Maybe he would have walked away, fast? ...No, probably not.
Morgan finally looked up at Tim and down went his head again. Now Tim was beginning to feel a little angry. Excuse me, I'm talking to you here!!! At least, that's what he wanted to say, but he refrained. After another uncomfortable silence, the boy finally lifted his head and muttered something very quietly. His voice was shaky and stuttered frequently, but Tim got the gist of it. He didn't want help. Of course he didn't, what exactly could Tim do? Should I just leave? he thought to himself, finding that no matter what he said or what he did, it would just lead to a clearly uncomfortable situation.
An expletive was shouted in the distance. Tim immediately stood up and looked off, identifying the voice as a clearly irritated female. He squinted and could see a figure off in the bogs somewhere, and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to shout out to her or... pretend they weren't here. That girl could be dangerous, right? He didn't want to bring undue attention to himself or Morgan. They weren't in any state to fight anyone off.
Hearing Morgan ask a question, Tim immediately turned around and found Morgan hugging Jen's lifeless corpse. Oh my fucking god. Tim just sort of thought that the body had been propped up against the tree and was left there for Morgan to find. And Morgan, understanding that bodies were to be left alone, would just sort of acknowledge that fact and leave Jen be. But he was hugging Jen's body, and Tim was one-hundred percent sure that there was no book on proper etiquette in WHAT TO DO WHEN SOMEONE IS HUGGING A CORPSE.
Is there a polite way to say "please stop nuzzling your body against that dead person?"
No, probably not.
So Tim decided to just ignore Morgan hugging Jen. Pretend it was normal. Morgan apparently thought it was normal, so was there any harm in just refraining from mentioning it?
"I-I dunno... It sounds like someone is out there... Probably a girl." He paused and turned around, squinted into the swamp. "Should we see who it is, or stay put?" he asked, his heart beating rapidly against his rib cage. However, it wasn't beating so fast because there could potentially be a killer out in the swamp. It was beating so fast because Morgan was hugging a body, and Tim felt a little uncomfortable. And probably wonder how far gone his mind was.
He began coughing, and Tim was glad to see a notion that wasn't crying. He sat up straight and... rested his head on his arms. Really, should Tim leave? This was a little weird, and the body resting against the tree just added to the unsettling situation. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that Colin would help Morgan, Tim had his doubts. Maybe Colin wouldn't? Maybe he would have walked away, fast? ...No, probably not.
Morgan finally looked up at Tim and down went his head again. Now Tim was beginning to feel a little angry. Excuse me, I'm talking to you here!!! At least, that's what he wanted to say, but he refrained. After another uncomfortable silence, the boy finally lifted his head and muttered something very quietly. His voice was shaky and stuttered frequently, but Tim got the gist of it. He didn't want help. Of course he didn't, what exactly could Tim do? Should I just leave? he thought to himself, finding that no matter what he said or what he did, it would just lead to a clearly uncomfortable situation.
An expletive was shouted in the distance. Tim immediately stood up and looked off, identifying the voice as a clearly irritated female. He squinted and could see a figure off in the bogs somewhere, and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to shout out to her or... pretend they weren't here. That girl could be dangerous, right? He didn't want to bring undue attention to himself or Morgan. They weren't in any state to fight anyone off.
Hearing Morgan ask a question, Tim immediately turned around and found Morgan hugging Jen's lifeless corpse. Oh my fucking god. Tim just sort of thought that the body had been propped up against the tree and was left there for Morgan to find. And Morgan, understanding that bodies were to be left alone, would just sort of acknowledge that fact and leave Jen be. But he was hugging Jen's body, and Tim was one-hundred percent sure that there was no book on proper etiquette in WHAT TO DO WHEN SOMEONE IS HUGGING A CORPSE.
Is there a polite way to say "please stop nuzzling your body against that dead person?"
No, probably not.
So Tim decided to just ignore Morgan hugging Jen. Pretend it was normal. Morgan apparently thought it was normal, so was there any harm in just refraining from mentioning it?
"I-I dunno... It sounds like someone is out there... Probably a girl." He paused and turned around, squinted into the swamp. "Should we see who it is, or stay put?" he asked, his heart beating rapidly against his rib cage. However, it wasn't beating so fast because there could potentially be a killer out in the swamp. It was beating so fast because Morgan was hugging a body, and Tim felt a little uncomfortable. And probably wonder how far gone his mind was.
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Her foot stuck again, and she ended up pulling it out of her shoe when she tried to free herself. With a loud, frustrated cry, Celeste just dropped to her knees, not caring if she ruined her jeans or not. They were too far gone anyway, so what the hell would worrying do?
I must look horrible, Celeste thought, lifting a hand and running it through her hair, taking note of the dirt, mud, leaves in it. Maybe...Maybe it was good John was dead. He wouldn't have to see her looking like the Swamp Thing.
...or maybe he still did see her. Heaven, and all that crap.
Unless he managed to kill someone, Celeste thought bitterly. If he did that, I bet he'd be sent to Hell regardless of whether it was in self-defense or cold blood. ....Probably self-defense. He doesn't seem likely to kill in cold blood.
Didn't, I mean. Didn't. He was dead.
Even if he did end up in Hell, I bet he can still look up, she told herself, unable to think of anything else at the moment. So either way...I still look horrible and he's still grossed out, I bet. He was probably like 'Ewww, I slept with her.'
Celeste let out a humorless laugh, dragging her hand from her hair down her face, leaving a streak of mud behind. Camouflage. Haha.
She began laughing a little, half-crying. At least it'd be funny, she thought, when she found John's killer, the bitch would be weirded out by her appearance first. That'd be funny at least, right?
I must look horrible, Celeste thought, lifting a hand and running it through her hair, taking note of the dirt, mud, leaves in it. Maybe...Maybe it was good John was dead. He wouldn't have to see her looking like the Swamp Thing.
...or maybe he still did see her. Heaven, and all that crap.
Unless he managed to kill someone, Celeste thought bitterly. If he did that, I bet he'd be sent to Hell regardless of whether it was in self-defense or cold blood. ....Probably self-defense. He doesn't seem likely to kill in cold blood.
Didn't, I mean. Didn't. He was dead.
Even if he did end up in Hell, I bet he can still look up, she told herself, unable to think of anything else at the moment. So either way...I still look horrible and he's still grossed out, I bet. He was probably like 'Ewww, I slept with her.'
Celeste let out a humorless laugh, dragging her hand from her hair down her face, leaving a streak of mud behind. Camouflage. Haha.
She began laughing a little, half-crying. At least it'd be funny, she thought, when she found John's killer, the bitch would be weirded out by her appearance first. That'd be funny at least, right?
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
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Morgan squinted out into the distance. Hoping to have a better glimpse at the figure that stood out in the swamp. They didn't seem to be holding anything, they just seemed to be wandering.
The boy that had found said it was a girl out there. After closer study, he realized that it was in fact a shilouette of a girl out in the distance. The girl was unarmed, as far he could tell in the darkness. She seemed frozen, or stuck, he couldn't tell.
The boy had asked him whether they should go see her and instantly Morgan found himself wanting to say no. No it wasn't safe. It was just safer to stay here, and then he and Jen would go to the boat, and they would go home...
The girl cried, and fell to her knees. Morgan blinked and looked to the ground. He shouldn't do anything, he should just ignore her, retreat away. It had worked so many times before. Morgan could do it again.
It was then that Morgan turned his head back to the lifeless form that he had taken hold of. It had worked so many times, but it never worked on Jen. What would she have done here?
What would she have wanted him to do?
He blinked and felt his grip loosen around her. His gaze returned to the distance. He had lost track of where the figure was, but she was laughing now. He could feel the lump in his throat beginning to grow inside of him. With force he gulped it down and got up to his knees and lifted himself off of the ground.
"I...I think...we should check it out..."
Morgan took short steps out towards where he last saw the figure until he felt the ground become less firm. He saw no sign on the girl, which meant that she was deeper in. He looked back to the tree. He had left his belongings with Jen and the boy. A gun wasn't neccessary for this. Not right now...
Morgan swallowed back the soreness in his throat and cupped his hands.
"Hello?"
The call was weak, and ended in a fit of coughing, but he was able to compose himself. As composed as he could possibly look. He rubbed his face, brushing down the subble that was developing on his cheeks and trying to whipe away the excess mosture still pooling around him. Preparing himself for whatever it was in the murk of the swamp before him.
The boy that had found said it was a girl out there. After closer study, he realized that it was in fact a shilouette of a girl out in the distance. The girl was unarmed, as far he could tell in the darkness. She seemed frozen, or stuck, he couldn't tell.
The boy had asked him whether they should go see her and instantly Morgan found himself wanting to say no. No it wasn't safe. It was just safer to stay here, and then he and Jen would go to the boat, and they would go home...
The girl cried, and fell to her knees. Morgan blinked and looked to the ground. He shouldn't do anything, he should just ignore her, retreat away. It had worked so many times before. Morgan could do it again.
It was then that Morgan turned his head back to the lifeless form that he had taken hold of. It had worked so many times, but it never worked on Jen. What would she have done here?
What would she have wanted him to do?
He blinked and felt his grip loosen around her. His gaze returned to the distance. He had lost track of where the figure was, but she was laughing now. He could feel the lump in his throat beginning to grow inside of him. With force he gulped it down and got up to his knees and lifted himself off of the ground.
"I...I think...we should check it out..."
Morgan took short steps out towards where he last saw the figure until he felt the ground become less firm. He saw no sign on the girl, which meant that she was deeper in. He looked back to the tree. He had left his belongings with Jen and the boy. A gun wasn't neccessary for this. Not right now...
Morgan swallowed back the soreness in his throat and cupped his hands.
"Hello?"
The call was weak, and ended in a fit of coughing, but he was able to compose himself. As composed as he could possibly look. He rubbed his face, brushing down the subble that was developing on his cheeks and trying to whipe away the excess mosture still pooling around him. Preparing himself for whatever it was in the murk of the swamp before him.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler GregTheAnti-Viking. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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ZombiexCreame†
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Tim couldn't tear his eyes away from the figure of the girl in the swamp. There were crying sounds, followed by half-laughing sounds, and Tim was fairly positive that this girl needed help. She was crying, perhaps in hysterics. Maybe something really bad happened, and she needed some serious help. All thoughts about the girl being a killer flew out the window, and Tim became determined. He would help her, see if she was okay. If she turned out to be a violent sort, well, Tim was armed. He could take her down, not that he would want to. He would never shoot a girl... or maybe he would. Back at the town center with Bounce and Alice, he was quite quick to pull out his gun.
This island was surely changing him. He didn't like it. Sighing as he made up his mind, he peered back at Morgan and noticed that he wasn't hugging the body anymore. He was actually standing up and... talking! Forming real sentences! Even Morgan agreed they should check it out. This was kind of a big improvement from previously attaching himself to a dead body and, for a few seconds, Tim wondered if he had just imagined that. He wasn't out of the realms of reality, no, but... He looked back, stared down at Jen's body. Nope. She was still there.
Tim and Morgan walked deeper into the swamp, their feet sinking slightly into the muddy ground. Morgan called out a greeting to the girl, and Tim stayed attentive, his hand hovering over the gun that he kept in the waistband of his jeans. He walked slowly, his eyes darting from tree to tree in paranoia. He was afraid that this was all a trap, that crying girl actually had someone lying in wait for them, just about to attack! Slash their necks, carry their bodies over to Jen. And instead of just Jen's singular body, there would be three bodies all keeping each other company. Tim was shaking now, moments from turning around and darting back to the clearing. "H-Hello...?" he called, but he stayed quiet. Morgan wasn't coughing as harshly now.
Colin would do this. Colin would want to help this girl, and he would walk fearlessly through the swamp. Tim could do it, right? Yes, he could. He kept walking until the girl came closer and closer, and he could see more specific facial features. She was an extremely tiny girl, for starters. Extremely small and dirty. Dark hair. Pale skin underneath all the mud. She didn't seem armed or dangerous, so Tim stopped a few feet from her and let his hands snap to his sides. He wouldn't pull his gun on her, that was silly. He didn't want to frighten her. "H-Hey... You alright? We heard you from over there.. Uh, I'm Tim. If you need anything at all, we're here to help." He smiled kindly. "Your name is Celeste, right?"
At this moment, Tim was actually feeling rather good. Celeste didn't look in danger of trying anything funny, and even Morgan seemed composed. He was convinced that Tim was helping them, and this made him feel good about himself. Just like Jacob back at the ocean! Tim helped him too. ...Except Jacob was dead, wasn't he? Huh. When did that happen? He tried to think about it, but the details got so muddled and mixed with Colin's death. They both died in a close proximity of time to each other. Poor Jacob. But it was time to focus on this. Mourning wouldn't help, as he'd reminded himself a hundred times. Tim looked over at Morgan and managed a brief smile.
"She doesn't seem dangerous, at least."
This island was surely changing him. He didn't like it. Sighing as he made up his mind, he peered back at Morgan and noticed that he wasn't hugging the body anymore. He was actually standing up and... talking! Forming real sentences! Even Morgan agreed they should check it out. This was kind of a big improvement from previously attaching himself to a dead body and, for a few seconds, Tim wondered if he had just imagined that. He wasn't out of the realms of reality, no, but... He looked back, stared down at Jen's body. Nope. She was still there.
Tim and Morgan walked deeper into the swamp, their feet sinking slightly into the muddy ground. Morgan called out a greeting to the girl, and Tim stayed attentive, his hand hovering over the gun that he kept in the waistband of his jeans. He walked slowly, his eyes darting from tree to tree in paranoia. He was afraid that this was all a trap, that crying girl actually had someone lying in wait for them, just about to attack! Slash their necks, carry their bodies over to Jen. And instead of just Jen's singular body, there would be three bodies all keeping each other company. Tim was shaking now, moments from turning around and darting back to the clearing. "H-Hello...?" he called, but he stayed quiet. Morgan wasn't coughing as harshly now.
Colin would do this. Colin would want to help this girl, and he would walk fearlessly through the swamp. Tim could do it, right? Yes, he could. He kept walking until the girl came closer and closer, and he could see more specific facial features. She was an extremely tiny girl, for starters. Extremely small and dirty. Dark hair. Pale skin underneath all the mud. She didn't seem armed or dangerous, so Tim stopped a few feet from her and let his hands snap to his sides. He wouldn't pull his gun on her, that was silly. He didn't want to frighten her. "H-Hey... You alright? We heard you from over there.. Uh, I'm Tim. If you need anything at all, we're here to help." He smiled kindly. "Your name is Celeste, right?"
At this moment, Tim was actually feeling rather good. Celeste didn't look in danger of trying anything funny, and even Morgan seemed composed. He was convinced that Tim was helping them, and this made him feel good about himself. Just like Jacob back at the ocean! Tim helped him too. ...Except Jacob was dead, wasn't he? Huh. When did that happen? He tried to think about it, but the details got so muddled and mixed with Colin's death. They both died in a close proximity of time to each other. Poor Jacob. But it was time to focus on this. Mourning wouldn't help, as he'd reminded himself a hundred times. Tim looked over at Morgan and managed a brief smile.
"She doesn't seem dangerous, at least."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZombiexCreame. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((As of this, I am now the handler of George Leidman, who continues from There's Always Room in the Swamp!))
How long had it been since he had left Dustin's body? George wasn't sure. All sense of time had long since gone. All George knew was that it was now almost night. The dark sky kinda gave that away. As George trudged through the murky brown waters of the swamp, he kept trying to think of one thing, and one thing only; Play the game. This is the path you've chosen. However, other thoughts and images kept on flooding his mind. Dustin's body, floating in the swamp. The patch of dry land where Dustin had been, and where he'd left the guy's bags. What'd happen if someone found them? Jasper and Maria. Two of the few people he'd met that were still alive. How'd they react when they hear the announcements?
Most importantly, however, how do I get out of this godforsaken place?
There was no sign of, well, anything in the dark. No patches of land, no signs of any buildings or the nearby forest. Just miles and miles of never ending swamp. George could have pulled out his flashlight, but he was tired, wet and, well, if there was anyone like Lombardi or Hartmann hiding, he didn't want to make his presence known.
But I'm just like them now. Aren't I? I've killed Dustin. I don't know what happened to that girl. I'm a murderer, and soon everyone on this island's gonna know.
... What the hell's happened to me?
George felt as if he should start crying, but just like last time, there was nothing. And as it turned out, it was a good thing he didn't.
"Hello?"
A male voice called out from somewhere in the swamp. Well, called was a slight exaggeration. Spluttered was more appropriate. Still, it was more than enough for George to freeze where he was. Trying to ignore the swamp water, he kept an ear open for anyone else. Turned out there were two other people, as he heard a different male voice, who was apparently called Tim, talking to someone named Celeste. Wait, didn't a Tim already die? Or was that my imagination? George still didn't know who the first voice belonged to, and he wasn't willing to introduce himself until he found out. The voice certainly didn't sound like that of a killer, but it could easily have been a ruse.
I'm not like Lombardi or Hartmann. They'd have just murdered all three of them in the blink of an eye. That girl was shooting at people. Dustin... well. That was...
I'm not like Lombardi. I'm not.
How long had it been since he had left Dustin's body? George wasn't sure. All sense of time had long since gone. All George knew was that it was now almost night. The dark sky kinda gave that away. As George trudged through the murky brown waters of the swamp, he kept trying to think of one thing, and one thing only; Play the game. This is the path you've chosen. However, other thoughts and images kept on flooding his mind. Dustin's body, floating in the swamp. The patch of dry land where Dustin had been, and where he'd left the guy's bags. What'd happen if someone found them? Jasper and Maria. Two of the few people he'd met that were still alive. How'd they react when they hear the announcements?
Most importantly, however, how do I get out of this godforsaken place?
There was no sign of, well, anything in the dark. No patches of land, no signs of any buildings or the nearby forest. Just miles and miles of never ending swamp. George could have pulled out his flashlight, but he was tired, wet and, well, if there was anyone like Lombardi or Hartmann hiding, he didn't want to make his presence known.
But I'm just like them now. Aren't I? I've killed Dustin. I don't know what happened to that girl. I'm a murderer, and soon everyone on this island's gonna know.
... What the hell's happened to me?
George felt as if he should start crying, but just like last time, there was nothing. And as it turned out, it was a good thing he didn't.
"Hello?"
A male voice called out from somewhere in the swamp. Well, called was a slight exaggeration. Spluttered was more appropriate. Still, it was more than enough for George to freeze where he was. Trying to ignore the swamp water, he kept an ear open for anyone else. Turned out there were two other people, as he heard a different male voice, who was apparently called Tim, talking to someone named Celeste. Wait, didn't a Tim already die? Or was that my imagination? George still didn't know who the first voice belonged to, and he wasn't willing to introduce himself until he found out. The voice certainly didn't sound like that of a killer, but it could easily have been a ruse.
I'm not like Lombardi or Hartmann. They'd have just murdered all three of them in the blink of an eye. That girl was shooting at people. Dustin... well. That was...
I'm not like Lombardi. I'm not.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Celeste's head snapped up suddenly, hearing the calls. Damn, who were those people? Did they have weapons or not? Well, isn't this peachy? she thought bitterly, wiping away some stray tear that'd rolled down her cheek, getting more mud on her face. A few days ago you wanted to find people to protect you, and now, with no weapon, you might find people who wanna kill you.
Except...
"H-Hey... You alright? We heard you from over there.. Uh, I'm Tim. If you need anything at all, we're here to help. Your name is Celeste, right?"
Except he didn't sound like he wanted to kill her. And his hands were at his sides, limply--not reaching for a weapon or tensed up or anything. Then the way she heard him describe her--"doesn't seem dangerous," while looking back to his friend--a killer wouldn't have sounded relieved, would they? Nah, they'd sound eager. Probably. The point as, Tim didn't seem dangerous.
"Yeah..." she muttered, slowly rising to her feet proper--the mud made a disgusting squelch as she pulled her knees out of it. Disgusting. "Yeah, 'm Celeste...." she said, now in a normal speaking tone, voice raspy. "Don't think I know your names...except Tim's--just intro'd yourself," she added. Damn it, was she so affected by this--John's death, being stuck with no weapon or friends for a few days, the whole island battle royale--that she was sounding like a shy idiot? "I...I ain't dangerous right now, my weapon's gone and I'm positive someone took it by now...lost it a few days ago." Wait, that first statement wasn't entirely true...well, fine, she wasn't dangerous to these guys.
She didn't want to kill anyone anymore. Just the bitch who killed John. All Celeste wanted to do now was survive.
And to do that... "You said you were here to help, right?" she asked. "Then take me with you?" She spread her hands out unnecessarily, as if to show she really didn't have a weapon on her. "I can't do anything myself, and I don't wanna die...So...please?"
Except...
"H-Hey... You alright? We heard you from over there.. Uh, I'm Tim. If you need anything at all, we're here to help. Your name is Celeste, right?"
Except he didn't sound like he wanted to kill her. And his hands were at his sides, limply--not reaching for a weapon or tensed up or anything. Then the way she heard him describe her--"doesn't seem dangerous," while looking back to his friend--a killer wouldn't have sounded relieved, would they? Nah, they'd sound eager. Probably. The point as, Tim didn't seem dangerous.
"Yeah..." she muttered, slowly rising to her feet proper--the mud made a disgusting squelch as she pulled her knees out of it. Disgusting. "Yeah, 'm Celeste...." she said, now in a normal speaking tone, voice raspy. "Don't think I know your names...except Tim's--just intro'd yourself," she added. Damn it, was she so affected by this--John's death, being stuck with no weapon or friends for a few days, the whole island battle royale--that she was sounding like a shy idiot? "I...I ain't dangerous right now, my weapon's gone and I'm positive someone took it by now...lost it a few days ago." Wait, that first statement wasn't entirely true...well, fine, she wasn't dangerous to these guys.
She didn't want to kill anyone anymore. Just the bitch who killed John. All Celeste wanted to do now was survive.
And to do that... "You said you were here to help, right?" she asked. "Then take me with you?" She spread her hands out unnecessarily, as if to show she really didn't have a weapon on her. "I can't do anything myself, and I don't wanna die...So...please?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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ZombiexCreame†
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
((Sorry to skip you, Greg, but Tim's gotta die, so I'm just going to post a few times out of order until he's dead. Hope you don't mind.))
Tim managed a faint smile directed at Celeste, appearing quite relieved that she had calmed down and ceased her crying. The girl confirmed that she was indeed Celeste, and he nodded in response when Celeste said his name. "Yep, I'm Tim." He listened silently as she mentioned that she wasn't dangerous. In fact, she was weaponless. This was disconcerting because it meant that Celeste had no way to defend herself, but on the other hand... She also couldn't attack then. She said it herself, she wasn't dangerous right now.
What did that mean, exactly? It caused little prickles of paranoia to sprout within his mind, sweat appearing around his brow. Had Celeste killed someone or something? Oh god, what if she had. He desperately wracked his brain in order to recall whether her name had appeared in the announcements or not, but he simply couldn't remember... Hundreds of names had been announced since he first arrived here, it would be too difficult to remember one single name...
Tim pushed the thoughts away. Celeste was tiny. She couldn't possibly harm someone without a weapon, and he reminded himself that he had a gun. If anything got out of control, he could still use it. Yeah, that was his saving grace, the only thing that made him feel slightly comfortable in uncomfortable situations.
His attention swiveled back to Celeste as she asked if she could come with Tim and Morgan, and Tim thought for a moment, slightly glancing over at the clearly unstable Morgan. Were they actually going anywhere? Tim hadn't really considered traveling with the guy... I mean, maybe Morgan was a nice guy, but it was obvious that he was going through something difficult. Tim was too, but yeah, different people dealt with grief differently. Some people hugged decomposing bodies and others ignored the situation entirely. Tim was mostly just pretending that what happened to Colin didn't really happen, and Colin was happily waiting for him back in St. Paul. It was so easy to fall into the delusion, but he didn't want to lose himself to his mind. He wouldn't allow it.
"Of course we'll take you with us," Tim finally said, trying not to look too worried in his face. "I'm not sure where we're going for now, but... we'll figure something out. Welcome to the team, Celeste." He managed a brief smile and suddenly gasped, the smile fading and morphing into a paranoid sort of look.
There was someone out there in the swamp. He could hear them, their footsteps... And then there was nothing at all. Did they stop walking? Tim looked around frantically, finally pausing on what he could only assume was the person out in the swamp... unbeknownst to Tim, a boy named George Leidman. Irrationality and illogical thoughts pulsed through his head, and he felt threatened. He felt like this fragile situation could go awry so easy, and he didn't want anything else to go awry. Perhaps if he had better control of past situations, Colin would still be alive. Or perhaps if he had better control over his own mind, he would have realized that he didn't even like camping that much. Maybe he wouldn't have come on the trip at all, and maybe he wouldn't have ended up on this island.
Regardless, he didn't want to lose Morgan and Celeste because he was too soft to pull out his gun every once in awhile. If he asserted himself and showed others that he was the boss, everything would be okay. Other people wouldn't dare to mess with him! The body count was rising, and the killers were coming out on top. Soon there wouldn't be real people left, so Tim knew he would have to step up ad do something.
Just like when he pulled out his gun on a group of three innocent classmates out of fear, Tim did quite the same thing, pulling out his gun and aiming it vaguely into the trees. He didn't plan to pull the trigger, too afraid of actually hitting the boy out in the swamp, but he felt comforted with the barrel aimed at something, even if it was some trees.
"Who.. Who's there?" he called. "I know someone's there! Don't think you can try and get the sneak on us, I-.. I've got a gun."
I've got a gun, and I'm too scared to use it. That was rather obviously from his badly shaking hands and guilt-plagued mind. He remembered Colin's outrage at pulling out his gun, but... maybe this situation called for it. Maybe the guy out in the swamp really was a killer? God, he sure hoped so, or else he would feel like shit.
Tim managed a faint smile directed at Celeste, appearing quite relieved that she had calmed down and ceased her crying. The girl confirmed that she was indeed Celeste, and he nodded in response when Celeste said his name. "Yep, I'm Tim." He listened silently as she mentioned that she wasn't dangerous. In fact, she was weaponless. This was disconcerting because it meant that Celeste had no way to defend herself, but on the other hand... She also couldn't attack then. She said it herself, she wasn't dangerous right now.
What did that mean, exactly? It caused little prickles of paranoia to sprout within his mind, sweat appearing around his brow. Had Celeste killed someone or something? Oh god, what if she had. He desperately wracked his brain in order to recall whether her name had appeared in the announcements or not, but he simply couldn't remember... Hundreds of names had been announced since he first arrived here, it would be too difficult to remember one single name...
Tim pushed the thoughts away. Celeste was tiny. She couldn't possibly harm someone without a weapon, and he reminded himself that he had a gun. If anything got out of control, he could still use it. Yeah, that was his saving grace, the only thing that made him feel slightly comfortable in uncomfortable situations.
His attention swiveled back to Celeste as she asked if she could come with Tim and Morgan, and Tim thought for a moment, slightly glancing over at the clearly unstable Morgan. Were they actually going anywhere? Tim hadn't really considered traveling with the guy... I mean, maybe Morgan was a nice guy, but it was obvious that he was going through something difficult. Tim was too, but yeah, different people dealt with grief differently. Some people hugged decomposing bodies and others ignored the situation entirely. Tim was mostly just pretending that what happened to Colin didn't really happen, and Colin was happily waiting for him back in St. Paul. It was so easy to fall into the delusion, but he didn't want to lose himself to his mind. He wouldn't allow it.
"Of course we'll take you with us," Tim finally said, trying not to look too worried in his face. "I'm not sure where we're going for now, but... we'll figure something out. Welcome to the team, Celeste." He managed a brief smile and suddenly gasped, the smile fading and morphing into a paranoid sort of look.
There was someone out there in the swamp. He could hear them, their footsteps... And then there was nothing at all. Did they stop walking? Tim looked around frantically, finally pausing on what he could only assume was the person out in the swamp... unbeknownst to Tim, a boy named George Leidman. Irrationality and illogical thoughts pulsed through his head, and he felt threatened. He felt like this fragile situation could go awry so easy, and he didn't want anything else to go awry. Perhaps if he had better control of past situations, Colin would still be alive. Or perhaps if he had better control over his own mind, he would have realized that he didn't even like camping that much. Maybe he wouldn't have come on the trip at all, and maybe he wouldn't have ended up on this island.
Regardless, he didn't want to lose Morgan and Celeste because he was too soft to pull out his gun every once in awhile. If he asserted himself and showed others that he was the boss, everything would be okay. Other people wouldn't dare to mess with him! The body count was rising, and the killers were coming out on top. Soon there wouldn't be real people left, so Tim knew he would have to step up ad do something.
Just like when he pulled out his gun on a group of three innocent classmates out of fear, Tim did quite the same thing, pulling out his gun and aiming it vaguely into the trees. He didn't plan to pull the trigger, too afraid of actually hitting the boy out in the swamp, but he felt comforted with the barrel aimed at something, even if it was some trees.
"Who.. Who's there?" he called. "I know someone's there! Don't think you can try and get the sneak on us, I-.. I've got a gun."
I've got a gun, and I'm too scared to use it. That was rather obviously from his badly shaking hands and guilt-plagued mind. He remembered Colin's outrage at pulling out his gun, but... maybe this situation called for it. Maybe the guy out in the swamp really was a killer? God, he sure hoped so, or else he would feel like shit.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZombiexCreame. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Same deal with Zombie. Sorry Greg.))
George still couldn't clearly see anyone. He still didn't know the first boy's name. These two points were enough to make George wary of introducing himself. So he just waited, crouching in the murky water, paranoid and alert.
The first boy hasn't said anything for a while. Is he planning on murdering Tim and Celeste while they're distracted? Or maybe one of them killed him without me noticing?
George wasn't thinking straight. He hadn't really been since his encounter with Sebastian. He was trying to think of anything that would make the other people seem worse than him. Tim and Celeste were still talking, but George was trying to blot them out. Blot out everything except for his own thoughts, and four little words. I'm not like Lombardi. I'm not like Lombardi. I'm not like Lombard-
And then it happened. Everything stopped. And then, after a few moments, the longest moments of George's life, Tim spoke.
"Who... Who's there? I know someone's there! Don't think you can try and get the sneak on us, I-... I've got a gun."
George's heart stopped. He was going to die. He was going to die, unless he did something quickly. And there was only one thing he could do...
George pulled Dustin's sword from its scabbard, which felt much heavier than it looked. He stood up, and rushed towards Tim, ignoring the swamp water trying to slow him down.
George didn't notice how much Tim was shaking, or how his gun hadn't even been pointing in George's direction. He didn't even consider the fact that Tim could have heard someone else in the swamp, or that he might not have even been willing to fire.
All George could see was Tim, and the sword now jutting out of him.
George still couldn't clearly see anyone. He still didn't know the first boy's name. These two points were enough to make George wary of introducing himself. So he just waited, crouching in the murky water, paranoid and alert.
The first boy hasn't said anything for a while. Is he planning on murdering Tim and Celeste while they're distracted? Or maybe one of them killed him without me noticing?
George wasn't thinking straight. He hadn't really been since his encounter with Sebastian. He was trying to think of anything that would make the other people seem worse than him. Tim and Celeste were still talking, but George was trying to blot them out. Blot out everything except for his own thoughts, and four little words. I'm not like Lombardi. I'm not like Lombardi. I'm not like Lombard-
And then it happened. Everything stopped. And then, after a few moments, the longest moments of George's life, Tim spoke.
"Who... Who's there? I know someone's there! Don't think you can try and get the sneak on us, I-... I've got a gun."
George's heart stopped. He was going to die. He was going to die, unless he did something quickly. And there was only one thing he could do...
George pulled Dustin's sword from its scabbard, which felt much heavier than it looked. He stood up, and rushed towards Tim, ignoring the swamp water trying to slow him down.
George didn't notice how much Tim was shaking, or how his gun hadn't even been pointing in George's direction. He didn't even consider the fact that Tim could have heard someone else in the swamp, or that he might not have even been willing to fire.
All George could see was Tim, and the sword now jutting out of him.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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ZombiexCreame†
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Time passed so slowly, it was almost as if Tim could see a giant hourglass before him, each grain of sand slowly making a sluggish descent down, down, down into the lower portion of the glass. The grains were falling like snow, but extremely slow flakes, and all he could hear was the sound of his own beating heart hammering against his ribcage. He swallowed and tried to listen, but all that he could make out was the sound of absolute silence. Perhaps no one was there at all but... when he squinted his eyes, he was positive that he could see a figure out there in the swamp. Someone was clearly there, unless it was a human shaped bush, or he really had lost his mind and was now actively hallucinating.
Stuff like that happened all the time in movies. Someone deals with a hell of a lot of stress and completely snaps. Things start talking to them, and inanimate objects come alive. You perceive things that aren't really there, but you feel adamant that something really was there. Yes, Tim was quite positive that there was someone standing before him, waiting and perhaps even planning. But time was ticking so slowly and the silence was whispering for Tim to lower his gun and turn his attentions back to Celeste and Morgan, his new 'teammates' if you could really call them that. That girl needed help, and Tim planned to help her out. It's what Colin would do, right?
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought? At the bat of a lash? At the fall of a single grain of sand within the giant hourglass that was present before his very mind? Maybe not. Perhaps that was why Jacob ran away from Tim and Colin back at the town center, and it was surely why those girls.. Bounce and all them, screamed at them to go away. He should put it away, apologize, go back to his little team. He was sure he could help them.
There was an invisible ghost holding onto his hands, keeping him from lowering the gun and returning back to reality. It was fear, and it was gripping every bone in his body. Forcing him to shake and grit his teeth, forcing animalistic thoughts to run through his head. The need to survive - he wanted to survive at the end of it all. It was hard to go on without his best friend by his side, yes, but he still had so much too. He had his parents and family and friends back at home. He had a college scholarship and other things to look forward to.
College. He would actively kill a classmate to live the college experience right now.
Or would he? The fear was making his thoughts shaky and unstable. He became caught up in the moment, entangled within his own thoughts, and he barely noticed the figure darting out of the trees and coming towards him. Tim's eyes flashed open and he stared, unable to comprehend whether the figure was going to attack him or prove his innocence. No, no. Definitely not the latter, he was holding his sword out in front of him. Was this guy a freakin' psychopath? So this proved one thing. Tim wasn't crazy and this guy out in the swamp really did exist. It also proved that this guy was probably sitting in wait, planning his big kill. He probably wanted to get famous. Probably wanted to hear his name as announced by Danya. Probably got off on the fact that he killed three people in such short proximity of each other with a single sword or whatever the hell that blade was.
He opened his mouth to shout something, but the words didn't come forth, and all he had was a shaky gun just barely pointed in George's general direction. Finger twitched on the trigger, and Tim was ready to pull it, and George would be forced to catch that bullet with his skull. His hand shook harder. He could do this. Colin killed someone back in the tunnels. He was sad, yes, but it... that boy had tried to attack them, perhaps even kill them. Colin was sad about it, yes, but he was able to live for a few more days, right? Tim could do this.
Apparently he couldn't, as George came closer and shoved the sword at Tim with as much force as he could muster. As the blade dug a path through his abdomen, the shock caught him off guard and he fired a bullet in George's general direction, although Tim honestly couldn't tell if it hit him or a tree somewhere in the background. A ripping pain was emanating through his torso, and he let out a pained cry, although it sounded more like a croak. His eyes were wide, the hand that had previously gripped the gun was shaking so hard that it hurt. His gun lied on the ground, discarded. "Oh fuck, he cut me," Tim thought, taking a gasping breath and slowly sinking to the ground.
He was too scared to look, too scared to see how bad the cut was. It must have been bad because his breathing felt labored, and he was drooling on himself. How embarrassing. He reached up to wipe away the drool, only to find that it was a bit thicker that saliva.. He peered at his fingers, noticed blood. Blood was never good, he must have bit his tongue or something. Who did this guy think he was? Tim looked up, eyes watery with pain as he examined George, bathed in fear. "Wh-What.. was that for?" he managed to croak, although it was impossible to tell if George was even able to understand Tim. There was a hell of a lot of blood passing his lips.
He slowly touched his abdomen, reaching for the cut.. fingers hit a cold blade. His eyes widened a little, peering down to see the sword stuck inside him. This felt like a joke, this was something that he thought would never happen to him. He felt like he was in a movie and this was some crazy special effect. A sword.. stabbed him. Really? He wrapped his hands around the blade but removed them quickly, realizing that it would be worse to remove the foreign object. That would just cause more bleeding, right? His eyes felt heavy, consciousness fading. He could feel the blood drizzling from the cut and saturating his stomach and legs and the ground before him. Lot a blood. Looot of blood.
"What the fuck, you stabbed me!" Tim screamed. "What did I do to you?! Just what did I do to you? I was just scared alright, I wasn't really going to shoot you! Why.. Why didn't you just announce yourself or something?! Announcing yourself with a sword isn't going to get you many allies! Celeste.. the other guy, why can't you guys just DO something! Help me!" he pathetically cried.
Except he didn't say any of that at all, although he wanted to. Really, he had just reached for his back and felt the familiar metal across his bloodied fingertips. Coming to the grim realization that he wasn't stabbed, he was impaled and had maybe ten more seconds to live the rest of his life, his chin fell to his chest. He'd never walk again, he'd never speak again, he'd never go to college or whatever. Whatever. College didn't matter anymore. Even if he did get out of this, it wasn't like he would want to go to fucking college anyway. He'd probably just want to go to therapy and maybe lie on his couch all day, watching reruns of Friends and eating kettle corn. He didn't know. Who the fuck needed college.
And Colin... Why was he thinking of Colin at this moment? Colin had someone to cuddle him and hold him in his last moments, but Tim had no one at all. Lucky Colin, with a best friend until his final moments. Tim had no one at all except two strangers who were probably just staring at his impaled backside. Or maybe Morgan ran off to go tell his corpse-friend about what happened. Probably didn't. Tim wasn't important enough.
His vivid blue eyes shut, and he died quickly and quietly, leaving Survival of the Fittest behind in the same fashion that he entered: unwillingly.
B099 - Timothy Questiare: DECEASED
Stuff like that happened all the time in movies. Someone deals with a hell of a lot of stress and completely snaps. Things start talking to them, and inanimate objects come alive. You perceive things that aren't really there, but you feel adamant that something really was there. Yes, Tim was quite positive that there was someone standing before him, waiting and perhaps even planning. But time was ticking so slowly and the silence was whispering for Tim to lower his gun and turn his attentions back to Celeste and Morgan, his new 'teammates' if you could really call them that. That girl needed help, and Tim planned to help her out. It's what Colin would do, right?
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought? At the bat of a lash? At the fall of a single grain of sand within the giant hourglass that was present before his very mind? Maybe not. Perhaps that was why Jacob ran away from Tim and Colin back at the town center, and it was surely why those girls.. Bounce and all them, screamed at them to go away. He should put it away, apologize, go back to his little team. He was sure he could help them.
There was an invisible ghost holding onto his hands, keeping him from lowering the gun and returning back to reality. It was fear, and it was gripping every bone in his body. Forcing him to shake and grit his teeth, forcing animalistic thoughts to run through his head. The need to survive - he wanted to survive at the end of it all. It was hard to go on without his best friend by his side, yes, but he still had so much too. He had his parents and family and friends back at home. He had a college scholarship and other things to look forward to.
College. He would actively kill a classmate to live the college experience right now.
Or would he? The fear was making his thoughts shaky and unstable. He became caught up in the moment, entangled within his own thoughts, and he barely noticed the figure darting out of the trees and coming towards him. Tim's eyes flashed open and he stared, unable to comprehend whether the figure was going to attack him or prove his innocence. No, no. Definitely not the latter, he was holding his sword out in front of him. Was this guy a freakin' psychopath? So this proved one thing. Tim wasn't crazy and this guy out in the swamp really did exist. It also proved that this guy was probably sitting in wait, planning his big kill. He probably wanted to get famous. Probably wanted to hear his name as announced by Danya. Probably got off on the fact that he killed three people in such short proximity of each other with a single sword or whatever the hell that blade was.
He opened his mouth to shout something, but the words didn't come forth, and all he had was a shaky gun just barely pointed in George's general direction. Finger twitched on the trigger, and Tim was ready to pull it, and George would be forced to catch that bullet with his skull. His hand shook harder. He could do this. Colin killed someone back in the tunnels. He was sad, yes, but it... that boy had tried to attack them, perhaps even kill them. Colin was sad about it, yes, but he was able to live for a few more days, right? Tim could do this.
Apparently he couldn't, as George came closer and shoved the sword at Tim with as much force as he could muster. As the blade dug a path through his abdomen, the shock caught him off guard and he fired a bullet in George's general direction, although Tim honestly couldn't tell if it hit him or a tree somewhere in the background. A ripping pain was emanating through his torso, and he let out a pained cry, although it sounded more like a croak. His eyes were wide, the hand that had previously gripped the gun was shaking so hard that it hurt. His gun lied on the ground, discarded. "Oh fuck, he cut me," Tim thought, taking a gasping breath and slowly sinking to the ground.
He was too scared to look, too scared to see how bad the cut was. It must have been bad because his breathing felt labored, and he was drooling on himself. How embarrassing. He reached up to wipe away the drool, only to find that it was a bit thicker that saliva.. He peered at his fingers, noticed blood. Blood was never good, he must have bit his tongue or something. Who did this guy think he was? Tim looked up, eyes watery with pain as he examined George, bathed in fear. "Wh-What.. was that for?" he managed to croak, although it was impossible to tell if George was even able to understand Tim. There was a hell of a lot of blood passing his lips.
He slowly touched his abdomen, reaching for the cut.. fingers hit a cold blade. His eyes widened a little, peering down to see the sword stuck inside him. This felt like a joke, this was something that he thought would never happen to him. He felt like he was in a movie and this was some crazy special effect. A sword.. stabbed him. Really? He wrapped his hands around the blade but removed them quickly, realizing that it would be worse to remove the foreign object. That would just cause more bleeding, right? His eyes felt heavy, consciousness fading. He could feel the blood drizzling from the cut and saturating his stomach and legs and the ground before him. Lot a blood. Looot of blood.
"What the fuck, you stabbed me!" Tim screamed. "What did I do to you?! Just what did I do to you? I was just scared alright, I wasn't really going to shoot you! Why.. Why didn't you just announce yourself or something?! Announcing yourself with a sword isn't going to get you many allies! Celeste.. the other guy, why can't you guys just DO something! Help me!" he pathetically cried.
Except he didn't say any of that at all, although he wanted to. Really, he had just reached for his back and felt the familiar metal across his bloodied fingertips. Coming to the grim realization that he wasn't stabbed, he was impaled and had maybe ten more seconds to live the rest of his life, his chin fell to his chest. He'd never walk again, he'd never speak again, he'd never go to college or whatever. Whatever. College didn't matter anymore. Even if he did get out of this, it wasn't like he would want to go to fucking college anyway. He'd probably just want to go to therapy and maybe lie on his couch all day, watching reruns of Friends and eating kettle corn. He didn't know. Who the fuck needed college.
And Colin... Why was he thinking of Colin at this moment? Colin had someone to cuddle him and hold him in his last moments, but Tim had no one at all. Lucky Colin, with a best friend until his final moments. Tim had no one at all except two strangers who were probably just staring at his impaled backside. Or maybe Morgan ran off to go tell his corpse-friend about what happened. Probably didn't. Tim wasn't important enough.
His vivid blue eyes shut, and he died quickly and quietly, leaving Survival of the Fittest behind in the same fashion that he entered: unwillingly.
B099 - Timothy Questiare: DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZombiexCreame. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
It happened too fast. Celeste had been smiling in sheer relief one moment, feeling weak in the knees...then Tim had whipped the gun out, aimed at someone, shouting that he had the gun...She didn't blame him, what if the person he was yelling at was dangerous?
And then someone was running up to them...
And then Tim got stabbed.
"AAAAAH!" Celeste shrieked, taking a few stumbling steps backwards and falling on her ass, hands covering her mouth as she stared, wide-eyed, at the guy who was smiling and talking to her just a few moments ago. No...nonononononono--that's not fair! "What the fuck?!" she screamed, not sure if she was asking God or the guy who'd been holding the sword. "What the fuck was that?! What--why'd you--?! YO STABBED HIM, YOU FUCKING STABBED HIM, OH GOD--!" she shouted, shaking her head, unable to take her eyes off of Tim. Something in the back of her mind told her she should probably--no, she should--do something, she should help him--
Except she couldn't. Tim's eyes had already shut, and the way the sword was jammed in there--No.
"OhGodohGodohGod..." Celeste whimpered, throwing herself forward, hands gingerly touching the flesh around the sword. Normally she'd be disgusted, and a small part of her still was, but this was a matter of life and death! There was no time to be squeamish! But a living person would flinch, right? Or...or I'd be able to feel some rise and fall in their chest or stomach, right? RIGHT? she thought, terrified."You killed him! He didn't even do anything and you fucking killed him!" she screamed, whipping her head around, giving the other guy a look that was between fury and terror. At that instant, she wasn't thinking of what he might do to her, all she could think was that the guy who had been kind to her in that one moment, who offered her protection and a companion, who hadn't even done anything was dead.
And for the first time in her days here...she actually saw it happen to someone.
She actually saw someone die.
Celeste saw someone die, get killed right in front of her...She didn't like it one bit. Understatement of the century.
"What the fuck?!" she kept screaming, unable to stop. "You--Get the hell outta here, get out getoutgetout!" she shouted, voice hoarse already, even more tears mixing with the mud on her face. Celeste didn't even fully realize she was shouting, it was like she was on AutoPilot.
And then someone was running up to them...
And then Tim got stabbed.
"AAAAAH!" Celeste shrieked, taking a few stumbling steps backwards and falling on her ass, hands covering her mouth as she stared, wide-eyed, at the guy who was smiling and talking to her just a few moments ago. No...nonononononono--that's not fair! "What the fuck?!" she screamed, not sure if she was asking God or the guy who'd been holding the sword. "What the fuck was that?! What--why'd you--?! YO STABBED HIM, YOU FUCKING STABBED HIM, OH GOD--!" she shouted, shaking her head, unable to take her eyes off of Tim. Something in the back of her mind told her she should probably--no, she should--do something, she should help him--
Except she couldn't. Tim's eyes had already shut, and the way the sword was jammed in there--No.
"OhGodohGodohGod..." Celeste whimpered, throwing herself forward, hands gingerly touching the flesh around the sword. Normally she'd be disgusted, and a small part of her still was, but this was a matter of life and death! There was no time to be squeamish! But a living person would flinch, right? Or...or I'd be able to feel some rise and fall in their chest or stomach, right? RIGHT? she thought, terrified."You killed him! He didn't even do anything and you fucking killed him!" she screamed, whipping her head around, giving the other guy a look that was between fury and terror. At that instant, she wasn't thinking of what he might do to her, all she could think was that the guy who had been kind to her in that one moment, who offered her protection and a companion, who hadn't even done anything was dead.
And for the first time in her days here...she actually saw it happen to someone.
She actually saw someone die.
Celeste saw someone die, get killed right in front of her...She didn't like it one bit. Understatement of the century.
"What the fuck?!" she kept screaming, unable to stop. "You--Get the hell outta here, get out getoutgetout!" she shouted, voice hoarse already, even more tears mixing with the mud on her face. Celeste didn't even fully realize she was shouting, it was like she was on AutoPilot.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
There was, in George's mind, a brief moment of calm as Tim fell to the ground. A sort of calmness, as if he was the only person there. Everything was silent.
And then everything flooded back again.
Celeste was screaming, screaming at him? Why? Tim had been holding a gun, he could have shot her any time. Couldn't he? His hands felt warm, and he looked down to see blood, Tim's blood, covering his hands. This was... new. Gloria and Dustin had both died without losing any blood. It scared him just how calm he felt about it, although the calm was rapidly evaporating as the shouting continued. Celeste, yelling about how George had stabbed Tim. Tim, managing a few words... Tim?! He was still alive?
George turned to look at the boy. What was that for? Really, wasn't it obvious? George was about to speak, say something along the lines of "You were gonna shoot me, genius."
And then Celeste had to speak up.
"He didn't even do anything and you fucking killed him!"
George froze. His whole world came tumbling down around him. "No..." he managed to whisper, before his voice rose. "No! You're lying, you're fucking lying! He was gonna shoot me, and then he'd have killed you, and that other guy!"
But George knew, somehow, that wasn't true. Tim had been innocent, and George had stabbed him. And finally, finally, George began to cry. There was no turning back for him now. I am like Lombardi after all.
Striding towards Tim's corpse, George managed to heave the sword out of it. Celeste was yelling something, telling George to leave. He turned, and pointed the sword at the girl, tears still running down his face.
"You're right. I killed him, even though he did nothing wrong. I'm a fucking murderer, ok? Now, I'd suggest you better get out of here, before I do the same to you."
George picked up Tim's gun, and turned to where the other guy was.
"Same goes for you." George didn't know how he should feel. Sad? Terrified at the fact he was becoming a vicious murderer? But there was nothing. He had just killed someone, and he didn't even feel anything.
And then everything flooded back again.
Celeste was screaming, screaming at him? Why? Tim had been holding a gun, he could have shot her any time. Couldn't he? His hands felt warm, and he looked down to see blood, Tim's blood, covering his hands. This was... new. Gloria and Dustin had both died without losing any blood. It scared him just how calm he felt about it, although the calm was rapidly evaporating as the shouting continued. Celeste, yelling about how George had stabbed Tim. Tim, managing a few words... Tim?! He was still alive?
George turned to look at the boy. What was that for? Really, wasn't it obvious? George was about to speak, say something along the lines of "You were gonna shoot me, genius."
And then Celeste had to speak up.
"He didn't even do anything and you fucking killed him!"
George froze. His whole world came tumbling down around him. "No..." he managed to whisper, before his voice rose. "No! You're lying, you're fucking lying! He was gonna shoot me, and then he'd have killed you, and that other guy!"
But George knew, somehow, that wasn't true. Tim had been innocent, and George had stabbed him. And finally, finally, George began to cry. There was no turning back for him now. I am like Lombardi after all.
Striding towards Tim's corpse, George managed to heave the sword out of it. Celeste was yelling something, telling George to leave. He turned, and pointed the sword at the girl, tears still running down his face.
"You're right. I killed him, even though he did nothing wrong. I'm a fucking murderer, ok? Now, I'd suggest you better get out of here, before I do the same to you."
George picked up Tim's gun, and turned to where the other guy was.
"Same goes for you." George didn't know how he should feel. Sad? Terrified at the fact he was becoming a vicious murderer? But there was nothing. He had just killed someone, and he didn't even feel anything.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017