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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 29, 2010 0:26:09 GMT -8
Time: Day 2, Late Afternoon
Weather: Raining
Warnings: ... Gore? There may be gore...
Characters: Charlotte Jacobs
Charlotte slowly walked toward the entrance to the lumbermill, boots barely crunching on the wet gravel. It felt a little like trespassing, but it hadn’t been closed off or anything. So she wasn’t trespassing, exactly. And she had been wanting to go take photographs inside for a while now. Since the first time she caught sight of the old abandoned building on the edge of town, actually. So here she was, camera in hand (and flashlight in pocket; just in case). Charlotte had already taken multiple shots of the outside of the building, from pretty much every side possible. And now she was standing at the doors to the interior, rain streaming down her face and plastering her hair to her head.
Well, there’s no time like the present.
She pulled the heavy doors open and limped inside.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 29, 2010 2:01:19 GMT -8
The door shut behind her with a solid ‘thud’. Testing to make sure it hadn’t locked on her (it hadn’t), she turned her attention ahead of her.
It was utterly quiet in the lumberyard as she limped to the edge of the ramp leading down. Of course, seeing as how the graveyard had started out similarly quiet, Charlotte was half-expecting a handful of other people to pop out of the woodwork as she made her way deeper into the building.
It was surprising how... well lit the place seemed. It was dim, true, but for an abandoned lumberyard it wasn’t bad at all. Made taking photos a little bit easier. For which she was grateful (though the question of why the building still had some sort of power did linger).
Taking a few shots of the ramp, Charlotte moved deeper into the building. The only sign anyone had been there at all was the trail of wet foot prints.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 29, 2010 2:13:12 GMT -8
Gods this is a creepy place...
It was almost completely silent, save for the sound of her own footsteps and the sound of rain on the roof. There were stacks of logs and old crates and barrels strewn about, remnants of the lumbermill’s former activity. They cast eerie shadows in the dim lighting. Charlotte was getting more than a little jumpy, but she continued to explore and take photos.
Climbing awkwardly on top of one of the crates, she took a moment to survey the room she was currently in. It looked like there was only way to proceed, and that way was straight forward. She took a handful of shots from a higher perspective, before climbing equally awkwardly down.
Then it was time to continue on.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 29, 2010 2:31:58 GMT -8
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to actually find my way out again, Charlotte mused wryly. She’d just... wandered, picking directions somewhat at random. It’s not like she’d taken the time to try and find blueprints or some sort of guide to the building she was now exploring. She’d simply gone whatever way seemed to tug at her. Following her feet, as it were.
Which had led her to where she was now. Standing in a small alcove with a series of mirrors on the opposite wall. It was a weird little room, and there was nothing there to indicate what, precisely, it had been used for when the lumberyard was in use. Pressing a hand against the mirror's surface she pondered her dusty reflection for a moment. This is just strange... A shiver ran down her spine.
Charlotte shot a couple of photos from a variety of angles to distract herself from the sense of unease that had gripped her. Then she stepped back and lined up a shot of that room that wouldn’t have her in it. After taking a few more and tucking her camera away, she... found herself studying the mirror again.
She pressed a hand to the mirror again, questions swirling through her mind.
Why are they here? What on earth was this room's purpose?
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Shadows
New Member
(Mod-Run NPCs)
Posts: 12 
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Post by Shadows on Nov 29, 2010 2:45:54 GMT -8
Indeed, it was strange. Why were there mirrors here? This was a lumbermill, wasn't it? Not a lot of use for such vanity in a place like this.
But as strange as it was, stranger still was the faint haze that drifted around the doorway behind her in the reflection. One puff. Two. Steady, measured. The air began to smell faintly of cigarettes. If she really listened, she could hear someone breathing...chuckling.
Then somewhere off in the distance, there was a shrill scream.
A child.
With one last puff of smoke, whatever was just beyond the door darted past, no more than a blur in the dim light. A cigarette butt rolled through the doorframe, still glowing and lit where it rested on the ground.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 29, 2010 23:47:13 GMT -8
What.
The.
HELL???
Charlotte couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror. Couldn’t turn around, to see if what was reflected in the mirror was actually there. She stood there, watching things unfold with a sort of... unbelieving shock. There... couldn’t be anyone else in the building. Could there? How many other people in Greenvale would go out in the rain, let alone to the abandoned lumbermill?
Cigarettes. Someone smoking?
She made herself listen, really listen. Straining her ears to hear something, anything.
Chuckling. She heard chuckling, drifting in with the smoke. Then there was the distant sound of a shrill scream. A child’s scream.
Dread coursed through her veins. Her heart pounded, and she had to force herself to breathe steadily.
Something darted past the alcove, as one last puff of smoke drifted in and something rolled through the doorframe. A cigarette butt, still glowing and lit rested on the floor.
Almost simultaneously, Charlotte tore herself away from what she was watching in the mirror and spun around...
The cigarette butt was still there... still very much lit. She slowly, very slowly, crossed to where it lay innocuously on the ground. Crouching down, she carefully reached toward it... and picked it up with one hand. It was real.
What is happening?
She didn’t have an answer to that question, and every fibre of her being was screaming at her to get out of the lumbermill. Dropping the cigarette butt, she rose to her feet and nervously stepped out into the corridor.
There was no sign of whatever it was Charlotte had seen moving behind her. Which left her with a very important question. Did she head back the way she came, and hope she could find her way out without running into... anything else? Or continue on... and hope she didn’t run into anything that way.
Glancing both ways down the dimly lit corridor, she made a decision.
Continuing on. There’s got to be a way out down there.
I hope.
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Shadows
New Member
(Mod-Run NPCs)
Posts: 12
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Post by Shadows on Nov 30, 2010 0:38:07 GMT -8
The corridor was devoid of life, just as she had thought it to be before - but a trail of smoke disappearing around the next corner suggested otherwise. Someone else was here...the air had changed, thick with smoke and dust. A draft blew through the building...the way it whistled through the hallway, it sounded almost as if the lumbermill was breathing. The darkness seemed to thicken around her. Something was...strange, suddenly, about this building.
Another draft ran over the dust on the ground, reshaping the piles on the ground.
The gaps looked...an awful lot like footprints, now, didn't they?
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 30, 2010 1:03:59 GMT -8
Charlotte’s breathe caught in her throat, and fear thrummed through her like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Be brave, Charlie. Be brave. Between the trail of smoke disappearing around the corner, and the footprint shaped gaps in the dust... she was very nearly terrified and nowhere near feeling brave. But she couldn’t remain... So, somehow, she gathered herself and took the first step of many down the corridor.
Document this, something in the back of her mind suggested, and before going too much further she took out her camera with a trembling hand and (after taking a deep breath to try and steady herself) snapped several photos of the corridor. Then, putting the camera away... she continued.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 30, 2010 1:25:19 GMT -8
The lumbermill has a locker room?
At least it made more sense than that mirror alcove. Charlotte made her way into the locker room warily. It appeared to be empty (for the time being). There were rows of lockers, a desk, and a few other odds and ends.
She crossed over to the first row of lockers, opening and closing a few at random. They were empty, which had been expected. Except one. In the last locker she opened there was an unopened tin of smoked salmon just sitting on the bottom of it. Okaaay... Charlotte thought, turning the tin over in her hand. It might make an all right improvised weapon. Not that she thought it would work against... whatever it was in the lumbermill with her.
Still holding the tin of smoked salmon (had something of a death grip on the thing), she headed over to the desk.
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Shadows
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(Mod-Run NPCs)
Posts: 12
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Post by Shadows on Nov 30, 2010 2:18:58 GMT -8
The room was relatively empty compared to what she had just seen...except for the desk. As she approached it, she would notice two things lying upon it.
One was an ashtray, full to bursting with cigarette butts like the one she had found not very long ago. One of them was still smoking a bit...it had just been put out, seemingly seconds before she had arrived in the room. Something was strange about the way it smelled...like something else was burning besides the cigarettes. Something rancid.
The other object on the table was...more unnerving.
It was the carcass of what may have once been a rabbit, cut open with its intestines strewn out onto the tabletop. Its light fur was matted with blood...and more disturbingly, the creature was part-skinned, the skin and pelt of its abdomen (as well as all four paws) flayed out and pinned to the table with long, rusty nails. Half of its face had gotten the same treatment, the flesh pulled taut away from the skull and pinned to the wooden surface; the other half was untouched, except for one chilling detail: the creature's eyes had both been gouged out.
Upon closer inspection, they were stuffed under the freshest cigarette in the ashtray.
There was another soft chuckle from behind the lockers.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 30, 2010 2:34:07 GMT -8
There was no one else in this room. There was no one else in this room.
Charlotte was trying to reassure herself. She was aware of that. She was also aware of the face that it wasn’t working. At all.
Her stomach lurched and she very nearly lost the battle to not become physically ill. The sight, and the smell... She hadn’t realized she’d started holding her breath until she needed to breathe again. Something about the mess of blood and gore pinged something familiar in her subconscious, but it was lost underneath the terror rapidly bubbling to the surface.
Ohgodohgodohgod.
The realization that the poor rabbit’s eyes were underneath the still smoking cigarette sent her fear levels ratcheting up to near panic levels. NO! You can panic later. For now... just focus on getting out.
At the soft chuckle from behind the lockets Charlotte started, spun, and flung the tin of smoked salmon she still had grasped in her hand at whatever the source of the sound was... and ran from the room.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 30, 2010 2:36:59 GMT -8
Charlotte ran. At the moment she didn’t care where, as long as it was away from the rabbit and the locker room. And whatever it was that had chuckled. Just... away. Away was good.
She kept running.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 30, 2010 2:39:35 GMT -8
Where the FUCK am I?
Charlotte slowed to a stop on a metal walkway high up in a very large room. Something about it... felt wrong. Very, very wrong. It made her skin crawl. All she wanted to do was get out of it as soon as possible. She wanted to get out of the lumbermill as soon as possible, too. But getting out of this room was the more immediate (more important) thing.
She ran down the walkway toward the nearest set of metal stairs and began scrambling down them. Her hip hurt like hell, a fiery pain that wasn’t letting up. But it didn’t matter, NOTHING mattered. Nothing except getting out of that room, that awful, oily-feeling room.
Scrambling so fast she was practically running, she wasn’t being careful enough. Not nearly careful enough. Halfway down that metal staircase...
Charlotte fell.
Her breath was knocked from her lungs by the impact. The metal grates ripped her jacket and tore up her hands and arms. Her camera was again driven into her hip. At some point in tumbling she hit her head and saw stars. She at last reached the bottom of the stairs and rolled onto the hard concrete floor with a sharp cry.
Get UP, Charlotte. GET. UP.
Gasping in pain, Charlotte forced herself up onto her hands and knees. There was blood trickling down her face and she felt dizzy. And she was in agony. But that didn’t matter.
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Shadows
New Member
(Mod-Run NPCs)
Posts: 12
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Post by Shadows on Nov 30, 2010 3:21:57 GMT -8
From her vantage point on the ground, something stepped into her line of sight - a pair of bare feet, bloodied and ashen gray. They moved right up close, standing right in front of her...and then they stopped, whoever they belonged to turning to face the other direction. The scent of cigarette smoke filled the air first - then it was joined by the scent of old blood and a sickening pop and squelch of tearing sinew and skin. Blood dribbled downward, splattering against Charlotte's skin and hair - it was cold, thick as if congealed. A soft chuckle cut through the quiet that followed.
The head hit the ground before the body did, mouth still opened wide in a grin cut from ear to ear and sporting a scorch mark where a cigarette was extinguished against its gray forehead. Muscles and stray bits of artery and windpipe trailed from where the skin of the neck ended, twisted as if it had been simply ripped off of the body by force.
"There are other places you should be," a cold, low voice spoke.
By the time she looked up, she would not see the source of the voice...only more figures with ashen skin and Glasgow smiles, bent over backwards and fumbling around with their eyes missing from their sockets. They were moaning, screaming, crying out...one of them, what may have once been a woman, reached backwards towards Charlotte as if trying to feel for her blindly.
"Please," she groaned, her voice low, warped. "Just let me DIE...."
((Congratulations, Charlotte. Your exploration has pulled you into a new kind of sight you may not have expected.
Good luck to you in getting out alive.))
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Nov 30, 2010 3:48:37 GMT -8
OhgodohgodohgodOHGODOHGOD
The smell of cigarettes and the sound of a soft chuckle caused the terror that had so far been bubbling to the surface to simply burst forth, filling her from head to toe. Why did they stop? What are they? Then she knew, as cold, thick congealed blood splattered down on her and a head, followed by a body, thudded to the ground.
Charlotte scrabbled backwards frantically, all the pain pushed quickly to the background by the sheer panic coursing through her veins. What the hell is happening??? Whoever it was that had spoken had to be the same person who had tossed the cigarette butt through the doorway into the mirrored alcove, the same person who must had laid out that rabbit for her to see... had just ripped the head off one of what – whatever those THINGS were.
WHY?? Was he – it toying with her? Other places she should be?? FUCK.
There were more of those... things surrounding her, searching for her.
Charlotte scrambled to her feet and looked around for something, ANYthing that she could use to defend herself. There was a pipe, a heavy metal pipe, lying on the ground a foot or two away. She ran for it, picking it up and swinging it like a baseball bat at one of the figures getting too close to her, the one that had moaned at her to just let her die. It made a sickening sound, and thick, purple liquid splattered from the wound. It stopped the figure for a moment, and she took full advantage.
She ran.
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