A single streetlamp flickered in the night, it's dying bulb revealing cracked concrete sidewalks...
Stare Too Long And... (Noir-ish/Mystery/Urban Reality/AU)
- Thread starter DaBlueSky
- Start date
- Original
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 11
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 4
-
Statistics (4 threadmarks, 3.4k words)
User Total DaBlueSky 4
1.1 The Beginning
DaBlueSky
Writer's Block Incarnate
- Location
- South Dakota
A single streetlamp flickered in the night, it's dying bulb revealing cracked concrete sidewalks and abandoned husks of cars. Houses were spaced at even intervals and every single one of them were in varying states of decay. Many had a piece of paper haphazardly stapled to rotting wooden doors with the word "Condemned" stamped in red ink. Vines had slowly found their way into the cracks of the walls and bricks, slithering through each weak point and tightening its grip, as if it wanted to pull the entire structure deep into the earth, forever lost in the abyss.
It was here that a single man walked, holding a leather briefcase to his chest, his gaze nailed to the ground as he mumbled to himself.
"Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back."
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
His shoes tapped rhythmically on the concrete, each step measured. He'd left the glow of the city lights far behind him, retreating to the extreme edges of the metropolis that had been abandoned by the city council some years former. There was no one to watch him, no poor soul around to get caught up in his curse. Finally reaching the dying streetlamp, he put his hand against the cold metal base, and looked at the sky, searching. But it wasn't the full moon or the twinkling stars that he was looking for, no. Within seconds, he spotted it. It had followed him all the way from the heart of the city.
A single line of smoke drifted from the top of the man's head, as if he were burning. No, "smoke" was wrong. The stench of anything burning was missing, but most of all, only he was capable of seeing it. It had been this way for weeks now. Everywhere he went, the spiral of smoke floated above him clear as day, yet none of his co-workers even mentioned anything like that. Were they in on it? Could they see it? Were they laughing? The man's fingers twitched, and they grasped the briefcase more firmly.
After some days of observing it...he noticed a change. The first time it'd appeared, the smoke appeared as if it were blowing to the west, no matter where they wind actually blew. Slowly but surely, as if it were correcting itself, the column inched closer and closer. Then when he woke up this morning, he found the smoke directly above him, and it never shifted. Like...a beacon. It reached into the skies, touching the clouds and beyond.
Paranoia had crashed into him. Don't look behind you, it whispered. Keep walking. Don't stop. Chills crept along his spine. The man obeyed. Grabbing an item out of his drawers, he'd never stopped since this morning. But he was tired. His feet were blistered and sore. No food had been consumed and his throat was parched from the unforgiving heat. I can't keep going on.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The man froze. Erratic movement, unnatural clicking sounds emanated behind him. The crickets stopped singing. There was a hoot and an owl took off from the tree, spreading its great wings into flight as flew into the darkness. The man wished he could fly as well. But there was only one thing he could do.
Keep walking. Don't look back.
With great deliberation, his breathing uneven, the man focused his attention back onto the sidewalk. His light footsteps turned into desperate pitter patter. Meanwhile, the clicks shuffled closer and closer, each one sounding like the crunching of bone. He picked up the pace, leaving behind his only source of light as he trekked through the abandoned community. Tears streamed to his eyes as he realized.
I can't keep going.
He was entirely spent. The bottom of soles felt as a blunt metal rod was being pressed into his bones. It hurt to walk. I can't keep going. Despair filled him as his shoulders shook. A miasma of maliciousness grew behind him, the thing sensing weakness as the man stumbled to his knees.
"Just take me. I-I can't keep going." Dread filled his voice, but he was physically incapable of continuing.
A single voice rushed into his head, roaring its displeasure in a earsplitting shriek,
"I TOLD YOU TO KEEP WALKING"
The man's scream was cut short as a shadowy monstrous figure fell onto him, the sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing resounding throughout the night.
"Jesus, christ. How many of these poor saps are gonna get slashed apart?"
Police squad cars had erected a poor barrier around the "body", if it could even be called such. Chunks of flesh were spread all over the street, organs that were never meant to see the light of day strewn across the sidewalk. Black splashes of blood were everywhere. A few officers had thrown up, their spew only adding to the disgusting stench that permeated the entire area.
"I guess the only saving grace is that this happened in a condemned section of the city."
"You're fucking telling me, it's hard to keep these fucking reporters in check, much less a crowd of civilians."
Indeed, a small group of reporters had bunched up besides the squad cars, their voice mingling as they attempted to make their voices heard to the officers. Beat cops were holding them back, sweat beading down their necks in the unbearable heat.
A detective looked at the blood trails and splatter. Sighing, he took out a phone and dialed, waiting for it to pick up, "Yep, same M.O. Just mindless bloody work. 8th one in two months, right? Yep, call in the freak. She's the only one capable of trying to solve this twisted shit. If ya ask me, should've done this a lot sooner."
Unintelligible words.
"Who the fuck cares what the commissioner thinks. If he'd asked a month ago, we could've already caught the fucking sicko. But he thinks the pride of the department rates higher than the poor bastards who are getting torn apart. Yeah, yeah, just get her down here, yeah? Good, talk to you soon."
20 minutes later, a single black car pulled up. With a wave of his hand, she passed through the beat cops unmolested. Despite the heat, she was wearing a long business jacket. Long brown hair flowed down past her shoulders. Her eyes, piercing emeralds, darted back and forth attentively, drinking in the entire scene of the crime. Reaching into her pockets, she withdrew a small notepad and a pen.
"You the weirdo private eye?"
Seemingly missing the abrasive tone, the woman smiled widely and held her hand out to shake his, "Yep, P.I Gretel Willows. A detective called my office today."
With a grunt, he briefly shook Gretel's hand, before motioning the victims remains, "I don't know what you can make of this. Best guess is he died around 3 a.m this morning. Found a briefcase with a handgun and some papers inside. DNA has already been sent in, so we're not quite aware of his identity just yet."
Gretel nodded, writing everything down as he spoke, "Thanks, Detective Donovan."
"No problem--Did I tell you my name?"
"Of course!" Gretel walked forward, looking at the chunks of meat lying around the street, "Well, time for work."
"You got limited time, Ms. Willows. You ain't an official part of the investigation. You got about twenty minutes before other detectives start showing up. Make it quick."
Select Two
All options will Yield Clues, but their importance varies. Choose wisely.
[] Try and examine the remains? Police already have numbers placed at each chunk.
[] Look inside the briefcase.
[] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma. Interact?
[] Talk and found out which cops got to the scene first.
[] Speak with the detective.Maybe he knows more.
It was here that a single man walked, holding a leather briefcase to his chest, his gaze nailed to the ground as he mumbled to himself.
"Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back."
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
His shoes tapped rhythmically on the concrete, each step measured. He'd left the glow of the city lights far behind him, retreating to the extreme edges of the metropolis that had been abandoned by the city council some years former. There was no one to watch him, no poor soul around to get caught up in his curse. Finally reaching the dying streetlamp, he put his hand against the cold metal base, and looked at the sky, searching. But it wasn't the full moon or the twinkling stars that he was looking for, no. Within seconds, he spotted it. It had followed him all the way from the heart of the city.
A single line of smoke drifted from the top of the man's head, as if he were burning. No, "smoke" was wrong. The stench of anything burning was missing, but most of all, only he was capable of seeing it. It had been this way for weeks now. Everywhere he went, the spiral of smoke floated above him clear as day, yet none of his co-workers even mentioned anything like that. Were they in on it? Could they see it? Were they laughing? The man's fingers twitched, and they grasped the briefcase more firmly.
After some days of observing it...he noticed a change. The first time it'd appeared, the smoke appeared as if it were blowing to the west, no matter where they wind actually blew. Slowly but surely, as if it were correcting itself, the column inched closer and closer. Then when he woke up this morning, he found the smoke directly above him, and it never shifted. Like...a beacon. It reached into the skies, touching the clouds and beyond.
Paranoia had crashed into him. Don't look behind you, it whispered. Keep walking. Don't stop. Chills crept along his spine. The man obeyed. Grabbing an item out of his drawers, he'd never stopped since this morning. But he was tired. His feet were blistered and sore. No food had been consumed and his throat was parched from the unforgiving heat. I can't keep going on.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The man froze. Erratic movement, unnatural clicking sounds emanated behind him. The crickets stopped singing. There was a hoot and an owl took off from the tree, spreading its great wings into flight as flew into the darkness. The man wished he could fly as well. But there was only one thing he could do.
Keep walking. Don't look back.
With great deliberation, his breathing uneven, the man focused his attention back onto the sidewalk. His light footsteps turned into desperate pitter patter. Meanwhile, the clicks shuffled closer and closer, each one sounding like the crunching of bone. He picked up the pace, leaving behind his only source of light as he trekked through the abandoned community. Tears streamed to his eyes as he realized.
I can't keep going.
He was entirely spent. The bottom of soles felt as a blunt metal rod was being pressed into his bones. It hurt to walk. I can't keep going. Despair filled him as his shoulders shook. A miasma of maliciousness grew behind him, the thing sensing weakness as the man stumbled to his knees.
"Just take me. I-I can't keep going." Dread filled his voice, but he was physically incapable of continuing.
A single voice rushed into his head, roaring its displeasure in a earsplitting shriek,
"I TOLD YOU TO KEEP WALKING"
The man's scream was cut short as a shadowy monstrous figure fell onto him, the sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing resounding throughout the night.
"Jesus, christ. How many of these poor saps are gonna get slashed apart?"
Police squad cars had erected a poor barrier around the "body", if it could even be called such. Chunks of flesh were spread all over the street, organs that were never meant to see the light of day strewn across the sidewalk. Black splashes of blood were everywhere. A few officers had thrown up, their spew only adding to the disgusting stench that permeated the entire area.
"I guess the only saving grace is that this happened in a condemned section of the city."
"You're fucking telling me, it's hard to keep these fucking reporters in check, much less a crowd of civilians."
Indeed, a small group of reporters had bunched up besides the squad cars, their voice mingling as they attempted to make their voices heard to the officers. Beat cops were holding them back, sweat beading down their necks in the unbearable heat.
A detective looked at the blood trails and splatter. Sighing, he took out a phone and dialed, waiting for it to pick up, "Yep, same M.O. Just mindless bloody work. 8th one in two months, right? Yep, call in the freak. She's the only one capable of trying to solve this twisted shit. If ya ask me, should've done this a lot sooner."
Unintelligible words.
"Who the fuck cares what the commissioner thinks. If he'd asked a month ago, we could've already caught the fucking sicko. But he thinks the pride of the department rates higher than the poor bastards who are getting torn apart. Yeah, yeah, just get her down here, yeah? Good, talk to you soon."
20 minutes later, a single black car pulled up. With a wave of his hand, she passed through the beat cops unmolested. Despite the heat, she was wearing a long business jacket. Long brown hair flowed down past her shoulders. Her eyes, piercing emeralds, darted back and forth attentively, drinking in the entire scene of the crime. Reaching into her pockets, she withdrew a small notepad and a pen.
"You the weirdo private eye?"
Seemingly missing the abrasive tone, the woman smiled widely and held her hand out to shake his, "Yep, P.I Gretel Willows. A detective called my office today."
With a grunt, he briefly shook Gretel's hand, before motioning the victims remains, "I don't know what you can make of this. Best guess is he died around 3 a.m this morning. Found a briefcase with a handgun and some papers inside. DNA has already been sent in, so we're not quite aware of his identity just yet."
Gretel nodded, writing everything down as he spoke, "Thanks, Detective Donovan."
"No problem--Did I tell you my name?"
"Of course!" Gretel walked forward, looking at the chunks of meat lying around the street, "Well, time for work."
"You got limited time, Ms. Willows. You ain't an official part of the investigation. You got about twenty minutes before other detectives start showing up. Make it quick."
Select Two
All options will Yield Clues, but their importance varies. Choose wisely.
[] Try and examine the remains? Police already have numbers placed at each chunk.
[] Look inside the briefcase.
[] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma. Interact?
[] Talk and found out which cops got to the scene first.
[] Speak with the detective.Maybe he knows more.
Important Info
- Location
- Somewhere on Earth
Ohhh, interesting.
[X] Look inside the briefcase.
[X] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma, interact.
The miasma part is obvious, but the briefcase is interesting, why only grab that?
[X] Look inside the briefcase.
[X] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma, interact.
The miasma part is obvious, but the briefcase is interesting, why only grab that?
DaBlueSky
Writer's Block Incarnate
- Location
- South Dakota
[X] Look inside the briefcase.
[X] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma. Interact?
[X] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma. Interact?
1.2 Devoured
DaBlueSky
Writer's Block Incarnate
- Location
- South Dakota
[X] Look inside the briefcase.
[X] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma. Interact?
Gretel stood stock still, staring at the little mass of shadows. Miniature tentacles protruded from it, feeling the air around it. Even over the mass of shouting reporters, Gretel could hear the whispers that emanated from it but, even when walking up to it, they could barely be heard. Eyes wide in curiosity, Gretel reached her hand out for it, almost child-like innocence on her face. However, the second her fingertips brushed up against the cobweb of shadows, the tendrils shot forth, wrapping themselves around Gretel's neck.
Yet her expression didn't change, there was no sense of dread or fear on her face, instead it melted into almost disinterest. Even the little mass gave off an aura of confusion. Locked around her neck, it squeezed hard and harder, yet her only response was a twitch of her eye. Raising up her hand, Gretel wrapped her fingers around one of the tendrils, a dead look in her eyes.
Her voice monotone voice as she murmured, "You're incapable. Just let me ∂єνσυя you, okay?"
Suddenly, a wicked smile came to Gretel's lips, and her eyes turned pure black. Alarm raced through the miasma, and it retracted it's tendrils as quickly as possible, attempting to flee....yet it couldn't. Gretel still had one of its little appendages locked firmly within her grasp. A malicious aura had permeated the air, far greater than anything the little mass could ever hope to do. And the whispers...they floated from Gretel, yet her lips did not move.
∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя
The unknown words filtered back and forth, sometimes overlapping. With a small gasp, Gretel's grip tightened...and the black mass slowly began to disappear, sinking into her skin. The ball of shadows desperately tried to pull away from her, yet it was slowly reeled in, like a fisherman gleefully pulling his prize from the murky depths. But the little thing could feel itself disappearing. Piecemeal, it was being eaten alive. And for once in it's short life, it felt an emotion that it thought only humans were capable of.
Fear.
When it finally disappeared into the abyss, Gretel's eyes turned back to their normal green color, and she smiled, "Let's see what you saw, little one."
Concentrating, Gretel closed her eyes and searched within. The little beast was still there, trembling in the darkness. The way she searched for it, however, was like picking books from a shelf. Cold and calculated. Finding it...she ripped it to shreds, it's essence now floating within. Now it had truly been ∂єνσυяє∂.
Flashes of memory shot through Gretel's mind, but she tried her best to filter it. The man's wife, the face of his co workers, black smoke, and his fear of looking behind him. All were valuable and all were useful. But try as she might, Gretel could not glean the darkness that had claimed him. An unnatural fear prevented him looking at his pursuer. How had this happened? Did the abyss infect his mind, controlling him during his moments of weakness? That's interesting. Had she been expected--
"Hey, freak, what the fuck are you doing?"
Detective Donovan watched her with wary eyes. Her hand and been extended and she'd been staring into space for some time. Of course it was suspicious.
"Can't you tell, Detective? That house further down the street, the boards have been torn off and placed back together so it appears as if they were in one piece. Ivy and mold are growing in between the cracks. I was measuring out whether or not anyone within could've seen anything from this angle." Gretel smoothly replied.
"What? No, this area should be abandoned. Ain't no one supposed---ah, of course. Homeless. Yeah, I'll get some boys to check the area. Good catch--" The last part was muttered, almost out of reflex, but he caught himself.
Swiftly turning her attention back towards the cops, Gretel briefly remember that the Detective had mentioned a briefcase. Ah, there it is!
With a bright smile at the officer, Gretel walked up to a squad car that had evidence bags strewn on top of it, and motioned "May I?" in a sweeping gesture. The officer had been watching Gretel with some confusion. Now he turned his head towards Detective Donovan, who distastefully nodded his assent.
"Go right ahead, ma'am. But I can't let you take anything with you. That would be illegal."
"I won't take anything, officer! Just need to write some stuff down." With that, Gretel reached into the bags and pulled out a scrap of leather that had obviously been a briefcase. The golden straps dangled haphazardly, dried specks of blood still on them. Reaching into it, she pulled out some papers. They too were soaked with dried blood. Blood here, blood everywhere!
They were official company papers, the beginning of a logo could be seen at the top. Making it out, however, was a completely different story. Taking a scrap, she lifted it up towards the sky and peered through it in a futile--Wait a second. The bit of logo that was visible looked vaguely familiar. Had Gretel actually seen it, or did she get it in a vision from that little miasma? It..looked like the beak of a bird. Extremely detailed for a logo, of all things.
"Detective, a moment of your time, if you would!"
Donovan strode over, discomfort clear on his face, "You gotta get outta here quick. More police are arriving. I don't think--"
"Look at this, will you? Looks like a bird, doesn't it?"
Donovan replied, irritated at being cut off, "I don't fucking know. It's a triangle spaced against a circle, and it's a logo for christ's sake. It could literally be a jumble of shapes."
"Doesn't look familiar at all? I'm pretty sure I've seen it in a department store, but I can't remember a thing." The lie came easily to Gretel's lips.
"...Actually, I might've seen it before. Uhhh, one of the big department stores. It's always on shit like clothes. I should know, my wife loves to go out shopping for that crap."
"Thank you." Perhaps a textile company? There should be some easy ways to search for it.
Just as Donovan was about to turn away, he stopped, and dug into his pants pocket, handing something to Gretel, "You're a consultant to me, personally. Remember that. If you find anything, be sure to contact me. I don't need a dead private eye becoming my next case file."
"Understood. Thanks for worrying."
Donovan watched her walk back to her car, shaking his head all the while, "Worried? You'll just become more work."
Two avenues of investigation have opened up!
Choose one to pursue right now.
[] Go to the man's home.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
[] Attempt in any way possible to find the logo of the company.
Clues- Vague Logo, WARNING Write in Required WARNING.
Detective Donovan added to Contacts Tab!
Clues added to Clues Tab!
Notes Tab added!
All of the above can be found in the Important Info Threadmark (In the works)
[X] Gretel can see it. A chunk of floating miasma. Interact?
Gretel stood stock still, staring at the little mass of shadows. Miniature tentacles protruded from it, feeling the air around it. Even over the mass of shouting reporters, Gretel could hear the whispers that emanated from it but, even when walking up to it, they could barely be heard. Eyes wide in curiosity, Gretel reached her hand out for it, almost child-like innocence on her face. However, the second her fingertips brushed up against the cobweb of shadows, the tendrils shot forth, wrapping themselves around Gretel's neck.
Yet her expression didn't change, there was no sense of dread or fear on her face, instead it melted into almost disinterest. Even the little mass gave off an aura of confusion. Locked around her neck, it squeezed hard and harder, yet her only response was a twitch of her eye. Raising up her hand, Gretel wrapped her fingers around one of the tendrils, a dead look in her eyes.
Her voice monotone voice as she murmured, "You're incapable. Just let me ∂єνσυя you, okay?"
Suddenly, a wicked smile came to Gretel's lips, and her eyes turned pure black. Alarm raced through the miasma, and it retracted it's tendrils as quickly as possible, attempting to flee....yet it couldn't. Gretel still had one of its little appendages locked firmly within her grasp. A malicious aura had permeated the air, far greater than anything the little mass could ever hope to do. And the whispers...they floated from Gretel, yet her lips did not move.
∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя ∂єνσυя
The unknown words filtered back and forth, sometimes overlapping. With a small gasp, Gretel's grip tightened...and the black mass slowly began to disappear, sinking into her skin. The ball of shadows desperately tried to pull away from her, yet it was slowly reeled in, like a fisherman gleefully pulling his prize from the murky depths. But the little thing could feel itself disappearing. Piecemeal, it was being eaten alive. And for once in it's short life, it felt an emotion that it thought only humans were capable of.
Fear.
When it finally disappeared into the abyss, Gretel's eyes turned back to their normal green color, and she smiled, "Let's see what you saw, little one."
Concentrating, Gretel closed her eyes and searched within. The little beast was still there, trembling in the darkness. The way she searched for it, however, was like picking books from a shelf. Cold and calculated. Finding it...she ripped it to shreds, it's essence now floating within. Now it had truly been ∂єνσυяє∂.
Flashes of memory shot through Gretel's mind, but she tried her best to filter it. The man's wife, the face of his co workers, black smoke, and his fear of looking behind him. All were valuable and all were useful. But try as she might, Gretel could not glean the darkness that had claimed him. An unnatural fear prevented him looking at his pursuer. How had this happened? Did the abyss infect his mind, controlling him during his moments of weakness? That's interesting. Had she been expected--
"Hey, freak, what the fuck are you doing?"
Detective Donovan watched her with wary eyes. Her hand and been extended and she'd been staring into space for some time. Of course it was suspicious.
"Can't you tell, Detective? That house further down the street, the boards have been torn off and placed back together so it appears as if they were in one piece. Ivy and mold are growing in between the cracks. I was measuring out whether or not anyone within could've seen anything from this angle." Gretel smoothly replied.
"What? No, this area should be abandoned. Ain't no one supposed---ah, of course. Homeless. Yeah, I'll get some boys to check the area. Good catch--" The last part was muttered, almost out of reflex, but he caught himself.
Swiftly turning her attention back towards the cops, Gretel briefly remember that the Detective had mentioned a briefcase. Ah, there it is!
With a bright smile at the officer, Gretel walked up to a squad car that had evidence bags strewn on top of it, and motioned "May I?" in a sweeping gesture. The officer had been watching Gretel with some confusion. Now he turned his head towards Detective Donovan, who distastefully nodded his assent.
"Go right ahead, ma'am. But I can't let you take anything with you. That would be illegal."
"I won't take anything, officer! Just need to write some stuff down." With that, Gretel reached into the bags and pulled out a scrap of leather that had obviously been a briefcase. The golden straps dangled haphazardly, dried specks of blood still on them. Reaching into it, she pulled out some papers. They too were soaked with dried blood. Blood here, blood everywhere!
They were official company papers, the beginning of a logo could be seen at the top. Making it out, however, was a completely different story. Taking a scrap, she lifted it up towards the sky and peered through it in a futile--Wait a second. The bit of logo that was visible looked vaguely familiar. Had Gretel actually seen it, or did she get it in a vision from that little miasma? It..looked like the beak of a bird. Extremely detailed for a logo, of all things.
"Detective, a moment of your time, if you would!"
Donovan strode over, discomfort clear on his face, "You gotta get outta here quick. More police are arriving. I don't think--"
"Look at this, will you? Looks like a bird, doesn't it?"
Donovan replied, irritated at being cut off, "I don't fucking know. It's a triangle spaced against a circle, and it's a logo for christ's sake. It could literally be a jumble of shapes."
"Doesn't look familiar at all? I'm pretty sure I've seen it in a department store, but I can't remember a thing." The lie came easily to Gretel's lips.
"...Actually, I might've seen it before. Uhhh, one of the big department stores. It's always on shit like clothes. I should know, my wife loves to go out shopping for that crap."
"Thank you." Perhaps a textile company? There should be some easy ways to search for it.
Just as Donovan was about to turn away, he stopped, and dug into his pants pocket, handing something to Gretel, "You're a consultant to me, personally. Remember that. If you find anything, be sure to contact me. I don't need a dead private eye becoming my next case file."
"Understood. Thanks for worrying."
Donovan watched her walk back to her car, shaking his head all the while, "Worried? You'll just become more work."
Two avenues of investigation have opened up!
Choose one to pursue right now.
[] Go to the man's home.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
[] Attempt in any way possible to find the logo of the company.
Clues- Vague Logo, WARNING Write in Required WARNING.
Detective Donovan added to Contacts Tab!
Clues added to Clues Tab!
Notes Tab added!
All of the above can be found in the Important Info Threadmark (In the works)
Last edited:
- Location
- Who Knows
Welp what's done is done
[X] Go to the man's home.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
[X] Go to the man's home.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] Go to the man's home.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
So, we're an elderitch abomination.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
So, we're an elderitch abomination.
1.3 It Encroaches
DaBlueSky
Writer's Block Incarnate
- Location
- South Dakota
[X] Go to the man's home.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
After slamming her door shut, Gretel turned the keys and listened to the engine rumble. Driving past incoming squad cars, Gretel gently hummed to herself. There was blissful silence. No one shouting about or, more importantly, speaking inside her head. The whispers had been quelled, if only momentarily, by the miasma. It's sacrifice ensured that Gretel would be able to think properly and be fairly lucid in her goings-on of the day. Inhaling heavily, Gretel let out her breath in a sigh of relief.
The voices helped as much as they hindered.
Coming to a close behind a column of other vehicles, Gretel stared outside her window while she waited for the stoplight to turn green. With a bit of effort, she was capable of seeing the darkness in the world, so it was reasonable to assume the next time the "smoke" signals rose again she'd be able to find them. If a new target were to be found by it, Gretel could probably assume that it would take weeks for it to reach them...Or not. It was already in the city. If she wished to save a life, she had to do it before the smoke column would appear.
Eyes glazing over a bit, Gretel spaced as she drove towards the wife's home. Surely the police had already been there. It'd been over 12 hours since his death. If the police were still there, Gretel was likely to have to wait some hours before they departed. That thought depressed her. How long before the hunger pangs would start to wrack her mind again? Personality splits were the least of it. Shaking her head, Gretel turned her vehicle into a suburban neighborhood and found the house....with no officers present.
Did they take her to police station for safety? Damn, that's going to be a pain to deal with. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check. Shoes padding against the stairs and light coat swishing, Gretel made her way to the wooden door and knocked. Silence. However, just as Gretel was about to turn away, downcast, the door flung open, revealing a woman in her late 30's. Short black hair that was showing hints of silver and crows feet....this was a woman who dealt with a lot of stress.
Clearing her throat, Gretel smiled and said, "Hello, my name is Gretel Willows. I'm from a private investigation company. I have a few questions concerning your husband."
Wary, she looked over Gretel, distrust in her eyes, "Might I ask why? A P.I? That sounds extremely fishy."
...?
"Well, the situation is fishy all around. I was hoping you could tell me about your husband's workplace and his behavior."
"Okay, I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull, but I think I need to call the police. Some stranger shows up and starts poking around my husband's private life? That doesn't--"
Call the police?
"Excuse me, Miss, but shouldn't they have already been here? It's been...many hours since--"
"Why would they be here?!" Her voice was rising, she was becoming hysterical.
For a moment, Gretel felt flabbergasted, "Were you not told? Your husband was found dead this morning."
Silence.
"W-what are you saying? That can't be right. I don't..." The woman was holding her hands against her face, shaking her head all the while.
I really didn't want to have to deal with this. This is the only situation I didn't want to deal with.
Humans are so pathetic. They cry over their own mortality. Useless creatures--
Gretel shook her head, and a smile went to her lips. Her eyes twitched as she tried to keep the encroaching coldness at bay. Seeing someone become over emotional in others...irritated her. She needed information now. Otherwise, she couldn't eat--
"I'm sorry for your loss, but I am investigating his death. I just need you to answer a few simple questions, then I'll leave you alone. Please, I need to get on this while the trail is relatively fresh." There was a frantic tone in Gretel's voice that belied her beaming smile. For a moment, here eyes flash black, but the woman didn't notice.
"Yes, I'm sorry, of course. What did you need to know?"
Questions
For this, all questions will be answered. No popular vote needed.
[] Write in.
Clues- His address, recognition of the wife's face.
After slamming her door shut, Gretel turned the keys and listened to the engine rumble. Driving past incoming squad cars, Gretel gently hummed to herself. There was blissful silence. No one shouting about or, more importantly, speaking inside her head. The whispers had been quelled, if only momentarily, by the miasma. It's sacrifice ensured that Gretel would be able to think properly and be fairly lucid in her goings-on of the day. Inhaling heavily, Gretel let out her breath in a sigh of relief.
The voices helped as much as they hindered.
Coming to a close behind a column of other vehicles, Gretel stared outside her window while she waited for the stoplight to turn green. With a bit of effort, she was capable of seeing the darkness in the world, so it was reasonable to assume the next time the "smoke" signals rose again she'd be able to find them. If a new target were to be found by it, Gretel could probably assume that it would take weeks for it to reach them...Or not. It was already in the city. If she wished to save a life, she had to do it before the smoke column would appear.
Eyes glazing over a bit, Gretel spaced as she drove towards the wife's home. Surely the police had already been there. It'd been over 12 hours since his death. If the police were still there, Gretel was likely to have to wait some hours before they departed. That thought depressed her. How long before the hunger pangs would start to wrack her mind again? Personality splits were the least of it. Shaking her head, Gretel turned her vehicle into a suburban neighborhood and found the house....with no officers present.
Did they take her to police station for safety? Damn, that's going to be a pain to deal with. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check. Shoes padding against the stairs and light coat swishing, Gretel made her way to the wooden door and knocked. Silence. However, just as Gretel was about to turn away, downcast, the door flung open, revealing a woman in her late 30's. Short black hair that was showing hints of silver and crows feet....this was a woman who dealt with a lot of stress.
Clearing her throat, Gretel smiled and said, "Hello, my name is Gretel Willows. I'm from a private investigation company. I have a few questions concerning your husband."
Wary, she looked over Gretel, distrust in her eyes, "Might I ask why? A P.I? That sounds extremely fishy."
...?
"Well, the situation is fishy all around. I was hoping you could tell me about your husband's workplace and his behavior."
"Okay, I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull, but I think I need to call the police. Some stranger shows up and starts poking around my husband's private life? That doesn't--"
Call the police?
"Excuse me, Miss, but shouldn't they have already been here? It's been...many hours since--"
"Why would they be here?!" Her voice was rising, she was becoming hysterical.
For a moment, Gretel felt flabbergasted, "Were you not told? Your husband was found dead this morning."
Silence.
"W-what are you saying? That can't be right. I don't..." The woman was holding her hands against her face, shaking her head all the while.
I really didn't want to have to deal with this. This is the only situation I didn't want to deal with.
Humans are so pathetic. They cry over their own mortality. Useless creatures--
Gretel shook her head, and a smile went to her lips. Her eyes twitched as she tried to keep the encroaching coldness at bay. Seeing someone become over emotional in others...irritated her. She needed information now. Otherwise, she couldn't eat--
"I'm sorry for your loss, but I am investigating his death. I just need you to answer a few simple questions, then I'll leave you alone. Please, I need to get on this while the trail is relatively fresh." There was a frantic tone in Gretel's voice that belied her beaming smile. For a moment, here eyes flash black, but the woman didn't notice.
"Yes, I'm sorry, of course. What did you need to know?"
Questions
For this, all questions will be answered. No popular vote needed.
[] Write in.
- Location
- England
[X] Where did your husband work?
[X] Have you noticed anything unusual lately?
May as well get the obvious questions out of the way first. Anybody got any other ideas on what to ask?
Edit: Cancelling asking about name due to issues it could cause.
Last edited:
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] What are your husband's interests?
[X] Do you know any of his friends?
[X] Do you know this symbol? (Show her the symbol)
[X] What did he talk about recently?
[X] Do you know any of his friends?
[X] Do you know this symbol? (Show her the symbol)
[X] What did he talk about recently?
We would know the first if we got here via normal means.
- Location
- England
Ah....oops....I'm sure Gretel could make something up...Though most excuses would probably get revealed as fake when the police turn up...Should I cancel that question, then?