Polly
Junior Member
What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
Posts: 88
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Post by Polly on Feb 1, 2011 17:02:18 GMT -8
"Oh dear."
Polly put the coffee pot down on a nearby surface before it could slip from her fingers. "That...that's not good." Or was it? There was a twinge of relief that she wasn't going crazy, even in the middle of the horror that was slowly filling her. "I--I'm sorry, I think I need to sit down."
She gathered her thoughts while she made her way to an empty chair. It was too much, it was just all too much. She sat down and tried to breathe. There was too much air pressure building up in the dining room, making her ears ring and forcing her breath out in a sob. She covered her mouth tightly with her hand, scrunched her eyes shut and rocked back and forth until it receded enough for her to speak. She looked up at Charlotte, wide eyed.
"You poor, poor thing. I knew whatever happened to you must have been bad, but I didn't realize...Are you all right, dear? Please, if there's anything I can do, I will."
There were so many questions, so much she needed to know. "Tell me, in your...nightmare...was there...anyone else there? People who seemed ill, who tried to attack you?" She fumbled for the right word. Ghosts? Walking dead? Zombies? "Shadows?" she asked, not quite knowing where the word came from.
"Did...have you developed your film yet? I hate to ask, I really do." But she had to know. There was something about that camera that haunted her, wouldn't let her go. What had it seen? And why did it feel so important?
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Feb 1, 2011 18:12:48 GMT -8
Charlotte followed Polly, pulling up an empty chair and sitting across from the older woman. She didn’t say anything, giving her a moment. She reached out and covered her hand with her own. She fervently wished that she had found another way to say what she had needed to say. But Polly had needed to be told; she wasn’t crazy. Neither of them were.
She gave Polly a lopsided smile. Her first words when she could speak again were concern not for herself... but for Charlotte. It... was strange. Concern wasn’t something she was used to. “I’m okay. He... I’m not letting him scare me anymore. Not letting him see it, anyway.” The next words came without thinking. “If... if there’s anything I can do for you... I’d like to. It... couldn’t have been easy, going through what he put you through.”
I hope he’s angry enough with me that he will leave you alone...
“Yes... there were. They had Glasgow smiles and bled purple...” Purple... why did that colour seem important, somehow? There was something important about it, she could feel it, brushing against the edges of her mind. “He... ripped the head off of one that got too close to me.”
Nodding, Charlotte paused for a moment before continuing. “It’s all right. I did. Mostly they were just photos of an abandoned lumber mill. But there was one... It was a photo of ME.” She swallowed. “The camera never left my possession.”
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Polly
Junior Member
What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
Posts: 88
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Post by Polly on Feb 1, 2011 19:13:40 GMT -8
She patted Charlotte's hand. "Thank you." She swallowed. "It's very kind of you to offer to help. That's wise, not letting him scare you. That's what he's trying to do, isn't he? Scare you. Just pull up everything in your past and throw it in your face. Even if it was fifty years ago. Even if it wasn't. Your. Fault."
Polly listened to what Charlotte had to say about the shadows with dread and then despair. "Purple. Of course purple. Just like the smoke." She pulled herself together and answered as best she could, gripping Charlotte's hand on top of hers. "You have to understand, Charlotte. You have to know. These shadows...they aren't just puppets of his. They were good people once. They don't deserve this, they should be at peace. Be kind to them. Please." She looked up and amended, "I don't mean you shouldn't defend yourself, I just mean, well. He enjoyed it. He tore them apart as if they were disgusting, as if he liked the way it hurt.
"And yes, I suppose there is something you can do for me. Or, well, help me do. I want to help them. I want to help them, Charlotte. I want to get them out of this hell on earth they've been trapped in for fifty years. I want them to see heaven, or whatever it is out there that they can't find. I didn't know, you know. I thought they were dead and gone. That they had left here like the rest of the dead."
She was surprised at the contents of the camera. "There was nothing? May I see them?" She shook her head. "He really went to all that trouble just to toy with you? Amazing."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Feb 1, 2011 21:32:21 GMT -8
“You’re welcome.” Charlotte sighed. “That’s definitely what he’s trying to do. I think he enjoys it. That must be his modus operandi. He... did something similar to me. Took something out of my past and used it against me.”
A puzzle piece fell into place as Polly mentioned smoke. Holy fucking shit. Purple blood. Purple smoke... purple gas. There’s the connection David and I were looking for. She itched to call him, tell him what she knew. But it had to wait. Until she was alone. “Smoke? There was purple smoke?” Her voice was soft.
“I didn’t want to hurt any of them. But I was terrified, and one of them stuck their arm down my throat and I couldn’t breathe, and he had already tormented me so much... I just wanted to get back home,” she said, words spilling out rapidly, not even realising that she’d called Greenvale, or perhaps the Deer Yard, home.
“I don’t think he likes them. The Shadows, I mean. I thought at first that maybe he was a part of them... but he’s not.” She thought for a moment. “Do you think there’s a way to do that? Maybe we just don’t know enough yet...” Something occurred to her. “Did you know someone named Brian?”
“There was nothing,” Charlotte confirmed. “It was both a relief and a disappointment. Absolutely. They’re in the dark room, if you would like me to run and get them.” Do I tell her that I’ve had another run-in with him? In the end she went with being mostly honest. “I think he enjoys toying with people. He really likes puzzles.”
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Polly
Junior Member
What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
Posts: 88
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Post by Polly on Feb 2, 2011 17:11:03 GMT -8
Polly closed her eyes and nodded. "He's a sick, sick man, isn't he?" A thought occurred to her. "But...how does he know these things? I, well, I suppose I can see how he would know what happened fifty years ago, especially if he's part of it somehow, but how did he know about you? You're fairly new here, and I haven't heard any real gossip about your past. Isn't it strange?"
Lost in thought, she absently answered Charlotte's question. "Smoke. Yes, smoke, gas, fog, I'm not sure what it was, exactly. There was no one to ask, was there? No one would talk about it. Now there's a smell you'll never forget. His cigarettes and the fire almost overpowered it, but it was still there, surrounding us. Yes, he was almost trying to...drown it out, wasn't he? Make his own stench so he wouldn't have to smell that one anymore. It does get to you after a while. You can smell it when it rains sometimes, you know. And of course, you never forget why--
"Brian?" she repeated, snapping back to the conversation. "The gravekeeper? I'd met him a few times, before he went. I didn't know him well, though. Isn't it funny? You're the second person to ask about him in the last few days. Miss Weir was curious, too. Now what did I tell her? Oh, only that he took care of the graveyard ages ago. He had a house in town, but he spent all his time out there in his little shack, didn't like to talk to people. Everyone called him Brian the Insomniac, you know, because they'd see him wandering around that graveyard at all hours. Why do you ask, dear?
Polly shook her head and patted Charlotte's hand. "Oh, no, don't go to any trouble on my account. If you say there's nothing on there, I believe you. Your eyes are so much younger; if there was anything to spot on them, you'd see it long before I did, I'm sure.
"...Puzzles? Why do you say that? You think the photographs are part of a puzzle? How could that be?" That confused Polly a little. Although he had made Polly puzzle out what he wanted the other night. Is that what she meant?
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Feb 2, 2011 17:37:33 GMT -8
“He’s psychotic. And twisted.” Charlotte shrugged. “I’m not sure. He seems to have an uncanny ability to know things without being told. I haven’t told anyone in Greenvale... except David, and he already knew, so I didn’t actually TELL him. That’s probably why you haven’t heard any gossip about my past. No one knows it who would tell.” And I haven’t exactly been social enough for anyone to be curious enough to bother.
Oh my god. That’s it. Polly’s words about the gas confirmed her suspicions. She now had a solid link between whatever it was that had happened in Greenvale’s past and the attack in the subway. Her hand was in her pocket, wrapping around her cell phone before she could stop herself. She took a breath, and stopped before she could dial David’s number. She could tell him later. “Never forget why? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”
Tamika asked about Brian? I wonder why... Has she seen him? She wondered if Mister Stewart knew of any others in town that were sensitive. She might have to ask him. As well as ask him about the purple gas. Should she tell her about Brian? Maybe she would go visit him. He might appreciate having more visitors. I need to pay him another visit. I promised. “He had a house in town? Um... as for why I’m asking... I... sort of saw him. In the graveyard. After I had my run-in at the lumber mill. He’s not a Shadow, or anything. He just... hasn’t left. Maybe he can’t, because of what happened. I don’t know how these things work, exactly. Not everyone can see him, though. He seemed surprised that I could.” Note to self: look for more information on what might cause spirits to linger.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “No. I... ran into him again. Yesterday. He... left a clue for me and set up puzzles. That clue he left manipulated me towards the puzzles. He enjoys literary-themed puzzles.”
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