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Post by B on Mar 1, 2008 6:15:19 GMT -5
There are only few true phenomenons on Earth. People say they've seen things. They made poems, songs, and eventually movies and books. Each portion brought new beliefs and different plots, but where any really true?
People know not the coming horrors they are to face and they'll believe they'll only have themselves to blame, their own technology, their own beliefs, their own leaders. Is it really their faults?
"This is how the world ends This is how the world ends This is how the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper." ~T.S Eliot
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A small town in Great Britain, not far south from the Scotland border, it was a well liked rumor among the people of the whole country. They called it Waynon, apparently deprived from the "first" discoverer's last name. The rumor spread, more reports of it being seen but finding it was extremely difficult.
IT was a small town consisting of merely twenty to thirty residential buildings, there was an old tin mine and an industrial area. It was made of a couple warehouse like buildings that were used to make a multiple of necessary items. From the crust of age and the entangle of ancient roots the buildings were in an unstable state. Despite the dead yet humble deserted homes there was one building that stood among the whole town. It was a chapel...
The chapel was large, the size of the Sistine Chapel and yet much more beautiful. It wasn't beautiful for being shiney and colorful, it was beautiful because of the age, the history, the unknown truths. There was no cross at the top, rather a giant statue of a hand, the wrist area held two holes that were not brought upon by age rather by intentional means. The panes were not colored rather it was plane glass, aged and deteriorated, adding more to its natural beauty.
The inside was perfect. It was just one hallway to begin with then it leads to a giant dome. There were carefully crafted stone bleachers circling around the whole dome. The seats were cracked and aged but still fine. In the middle of the dome there was a metal podium. It was a blue metal and it was solid and pure and crafted as if it weren't made by man. On top of it was a book, its pages were of a similar metal, however the color was of a darker blue, the slabs were so thin that it could cut someone's finger, the imprinting was perfect and easy to read. There was no title on the blue cover.
What lies in the secrets of such a spot? The podium, the book, what makes them so special to be the first spot anyone notices? Deep within the mystical words writ by an immortal palm lies a reality not of this one.
Within ancient rituals, beliefs descended from the words writ in the book, a town of cultists were able to go to a nexus, no, they were more damned into a nexus of a world that gave them immortality, but needs were changed. Their want for blood, whether it be for food or for pleasure. Inside such an existence the sun does not shine but on certain days. A thick dark fog covers the grounds, but with superior vision and trained eyes the world's population were able to see through it, but new comers would only be able to see a few feet away. This alternate world is just a printed version of the town, except the town is beautiful. The buildings are not crumbling and structure is lively, the chapel was brilliant and unique its structure like new and the inside was new but the metal in the middle was all the same.
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It is within this town where the basis of all evil occurs, the spot where the final whimper is heard....
(Bad ending, I'm sorry. Lets let the roleplay start with our human characters in their normal human jobs. Give me alot of detail so Lyra (My vamp character) can persuade them through their dreams.)
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Post by Jo on Mar 1, 2008 18:24:37 GMT -5
The piercing scream caused panic to the citizens on the lake shore. The lone mother crying out for her child; a stranger dove into the lake, swimming faster and faster to the child. Diving below into the depths. He tried to pull the little girl up. He soon realised that her foot was caught in fresh water seaweed. He tore and tore at the weed, finally freeing the child. She was falling unconcious; nearly drowning, the child's life was slowly fading away. He used one arm to carry her. The young girl's head above the water. The other arm stroked. It paddled with the waves. Soon enough the two made it to shore.
She was no longer breathing. He quickly tried to CPR. Pushing on her chest, breathing into her mouth.
" One, two, thre push".
This was his mantra. He repeated his words and actions. His actions prevailed. The kid spat the water out, taking large heaping breathes of oxygen.
" Oh god my Selene, my poor, poor Selene. I will never leave you". The mother comforted her child, rocking back and forth with the child in her arms. He face nuzzling her little miracle's head. Tears following the event.
With mixed emotions the mother calmed her baby and tried to thank the strange man.* * * The young girl woke up, flinging her body forwards. A stewardess came by asking if everything was alright. She merely nodded and said she wasn't used to flying. The lady took out a card. She stared at it for minutes. The day before she looked at it with terror, disgust, sorrow and anger for who knows long. Her mother had finally passed away. Looking down at her large carry on purse she noticed her cat's head peaking out of the bag. She smiled. It was curious that they let her bring the pet aboard. But it was a small commercial airplane so they probably were happy that someone was even on it. It was her and a few other people. Mostly college students, spring break. The first stop was a an english tourist town, just south of a so called "Ghost town". She swept a bit of her blonde hair behind her left ear, the rest was put into a high ponytail. She stood no taller then Five foot and Eight inches. She wore a knee length ice blue dress with a bit of rouguing on the side (that means the bunching on the side. It makes a woman seem slimmer). Over top she wore a cropped, charcoal grey jacket. The jacket's cut off point was just below her chest; the sleeves came mid-way on her forearms. To create a smooth line all the way down she wore flesh coloured pantyhose. To compliment her look she put it with a piar of three inch high, black wedge, strap sandals.
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Post by D on Mar 1, 2008 18:39:03 GMT -5
“Run with a Camera by Rachel I.O.C. Baunduay. What an interesting picture… Don’t you agree?” A man and a female stood in front of a pencil sketch. It was a still of a child’s feet running or walking away while a broken camera dragged behind them. On the cement that the child ran on were small, little darkened spots. They were obviously tears. The artist had sketched in every detail, but the background behind the child’s feet, the cement, and the camera, was blurred. It seemed as if fog had rolled into the background. The sketch wasn’t happy at all.
“It is.” The woman replied.
“It’s a sad picture…Makes me wonder about what Baunduay was thinking about…” The man asked.
A young woman who was dressed in an elegant, red evening gown looked up at the couple. Her skin was brown in color and she stood around 5’7 with her heels. “This picture…” She began, as she ran a hand through her wavy black hair, but when she stepped into the light, it was obviously a very dark brown. “I was tired one day…and I sat down and drew it. I don’t know what influenced me to draw such a troubling picture. It’s a depressing one for me, and is unlike the photos and other pieces I have normally made.”
“Might you be the artist? Uh…Miss Baunduay?” The man asked.
“Please, call me Rachel.” The young woman said with a polite smile.
“Oh. It’s very pleasant to meet such a person. You are a rising artist and photographer! I absolutely enjoy your work.” The woman beside the man said.
Rachel nodded her head and instead of giving them the same polite smile she had given all of the others, she gave them a genuine smile. They were the first people to look at the sketch in front of them and were the first to say anything about it. “Run with a Camera.” Her amber eyes settled on the sketch. “This is one of the sketches I truly enjoyed making…” She continued to speak with the couple, and when they left, she took a seat to rest. Being there was a lot harder than it looked.
“This is my art gallery. People can come to just look or they can buy some of it…” She yawned and looked at a clock across the room. It would be closing time soon, and tonight would be the last night that she would be in this city. “I will need rest for a while…Perhaps I won’t try…I lack inspiration. A vacation would be enjoyable.” The time was ticking away, but there were still many people in her gallery. Most would pass her by, but some people would stop and ask about who Baunduay was. Her name was getting famous in the art world, but not a whole lot of people knew her face.
She sat there lost in her thoughts, but when a hand reached for her shoulder, she nearly screamed. “Why hello there, little Rachel.” A voice said with spite. The hand had a tight grip on her shoulder and she slowly looked up. The owner of the hand stood above her and smirked. “How are you doing, little sister?” The man who had his hand on her shoulder was her older twin brother, but there was nothing brotherly or friendly about him.
“Please leave, David. I refuse to work with you or your company.” She said rather politely even though she didn’t like the man. Rachel gently pulled his hand off her shoulder and smiled. “It’s closing time, David. Not even wealthy men are allowed to stay after hours. Your money won’t help you in this case, but thank you for coming.”
“I came to say good job. Your art is atrocious…so I’m surprised that you’re actually getting through.”
“Around me…are people who you might do business with.”
“I’m rich.”
“So you are… but make one false move in front of them and I know that they won’t make any deals with a man like you.” He glared at Rachel and she stood up from her seat. “Goodnight, dear brother. It’s time for me to say goodbye to the rest of my guests and then close the gallery down.” She walked with him to the door and then watched as the rest of her guests left.
No one else was in the gallery and the lights were off, but she stayed there, even if it was dark. It was quiet in the place and it gave her time to think. “Run with a Camera…” She whispered to herself. Rachel had made that special sketch because she had been the one running with a broken camera. Her brother had always fought with her and would beat her up, but one day, out of a fit of anger, he broke a precious camera that had belonged to their deceased mother and then kicked her out of the house. It had happened a long time ago, but she remembered it well. The man never allowed her to return home and told their father that she had ran away. Rachel never really understood why it happened, but she hated remembering everything he had done. She feared her brother and at times she wished that he was gone…
“It’s getting late. I should change into something more suitable for rest.” Rachel finally exited the gallery and drove back to the hotel. “Room 2208…Thank you, Sir.” She received the key and entered an elevator. “What a tiring day…I hope that…all will be well tomorrow.”
“Wait hold it!”
“Hmm?”
“Miss Baunduay…You are her? I saw a photo of your’s in a magazine.” The elevator door closed behind him. “I loved it…The picture was absolutely chilling. You were in a graveyard, correct?”
“No… it was a church…”
“Oh! My mistake…but it was absolutely beautiful…You should make more…”
“Sir…I’m very tired…May you quiet down a bit?”
“I’m interested in seeing more of your…scarier photos. There are strange places all around, of course.”
“I’m not interested and churches aren’t frightening…”
“There is the town called Waynon…it is a three hour drive from here.”
Her patience was running thin, but the elevator finally opened her floor. “Pleasant speaking with you, Sir, but good day to you. It is late for me and I have to fly else where tomorrow. ”
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Post by B on Mar 1, 2008 19:57:22 GMT -5
(Jo's dream.)
Panicked screams were heard but the words were muffled. The constant drowning of water in her ears muffled most noises besides the ocean's furious whispers. Eyes burning with the saturated sea as they were opened as much as eyelids could fold back. Aching arms unable to fight the waves, burning leg trapped in slimy green. Then nothing but blue.
Suddenly two large fists pulled relentlessly at the girl's waste, not taking the time to be gentle. Her chest began to beat hard to pain on every obsessive blow. Her throat burned as her last drink left her lungs. Burning eyes opened and a face pure white, there were no eyes but two black sockets like a skull. The girl began to breath rapidly, each breath drawing in pain. A woman walked up, it resembled her mother but the skin was white, the black rings in which eyes were meant to sit gazed at her. A smile drew up upon both people's faces.
A slimy feeling on the girl's bare foot as it carressed up her leg. She was being engulfed by the sea's greens. Suddenly everything went blue and she was drowning again then, as if there were a town under the water she fell through and fell onto dry green grass. She wasn't a child anymore, but a college student. Hey eyes gazed at the wooden sign, flinging with a chilling breeze. It was aged, the words on it was "Waynon". It seemed to be surrounded by trees.
She picked herself up and looked upon the town laid out before her. It was aged but the sense brought her a an accomplished feeling, but also an intimidated one. It was silent, no sound of animals, all that was heard was the creaking of the sign to her left.
"They say that in this town." A soft voice of a child spoke. "You can be with the ones you love.." Everything went quiet again, a sudden rush of wind and fog and everything was difficult to see, the town was invisible. "Don't be afraid." A woman's voice broke through, her mother? "Walk forward my dear child.." Something difficult to make out, a person? The girl began to step forward but it wasn't a person, it was what looked to be a podium, or a shrine. It was blue, metal. She ran a hand across its delicate features. Then she noticed the book. She didn't want to open it but something compelled her to do so. She touched the piece and with a sudden shriek she pulled back. A puddle of blood had formed on the cover of the book. The girl took a look at her bloody finger.
The place faded away and she found herself in front of a magnificent chapel, the fog still surrounded by she could make out its features well enough. A little girl, wearing a poofy red dress with black buckled shoes whose feet wore soft pink socks, stood innocently in the doorway, blond cherry hair curled down to her shoulders. "Your mother is waiting..."
When the girl has awoken she will find a cut on the finger she attempted to open the book with..
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(Jillian's dream.)
Angry screams were heard followed by a return from the little girl. Her body ached a red spot easily seen on her right arm. The sting of tears hit the girls eyes as she gazed at the broken contraption standing between her and a recognizable boy. The little girl had her arms folded and pushed close to her heart. She looked up at the familiar face and shouted something, but her words were muffled to her ears as now all that sat was dismay in her mind. She grabbed the camera from the ground and the boy pointed at her, his eyes intent and malevolent, so violent that scared her. Frightful, the girl turned and ran, she dropped the camera again but caught it by its strap, it drug behind her as she ran down the familiar steps.
running didn't take long when a giant rush of wind sent fog around her. She didn't mind it, she continued to run, frightful of what her father would think, what lies her brother would direct, what her deceased mother would think. Salty tears continued to river from her eyes. Suddenly something came into view. It was a sign, "Waynon" was carved into its deteriorated wood, the rust around the loops sent the message of age. Suddenly her hands felt empty, frantic eyes gazed to her hand as the camera was gone. She gasped and searched the grass below to find nothing. Just then she noticed her shoes were now on and she was not a child anymore.
She walked past the sign, intent on finding the camera, but she didn't know why she was entering this unknown place where the camera couldn't have possibly been. She passed the houses, the warehouses and found herself in front of a familiar chapel. The fog engulfed half of it. "Look familiar?" A child's voice rung in her head. As if she appeared out of nowhere a girl was standing in front of the door, her blond cherry hair beckoning the woman. "Your mother wants to talk to you. Come Rachel." An innocent smile creased the girl's pale face. Unwillingly, the woman followed.
When she walked through the doors nothing but the little girl could be seen. Everything else was fogged out. Suddenly a figure could barely be made out, a human? Her mother? The woman reached her hand out and ran past the little girl only to run into a metal slab She looked around, she didn't know why she did but her eyes gazed around her and saw paintings the little girl's feet with the broken camera fogged out, the chapel. This was the place she had been drawing, did she create it? No, somehow this place felt a connection with her mother. She looked down at the book on top of the slab there was fresh blood on it, she didn't want to touch the book. The scene swooped again.
She awoke in her hotel room. She rubbed her head, finally convinced the dream was over, but there was a trickle of fog hazing her room, she knew it wasn't. The little girl sat at the foot her of her bed, with a smile. In her hand was that familiar camera. "Your brother will attempt to get you to work with him, by any means necessary, he'll come for this. Come to us Rachel. Your mother wishes to forgive you." The girl turned and walked over to the woman's suitcase and placed the camera into it.
When Rachel will awake for reals, she will find that same camera in her suitcase.
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Post by Jo on Mar 1, 2008 20:40:58 GMT -5
The dream had seemed so vivid. So realistic. And this cut on her finger, although in her dream it appeared like a blood fountain it was only a little prick, a few crimson droplets. Luckily she was prepared for the unexpected. With the non cut hand Selene rummaged through her purse. Lightly she moved her cat, Simone, aside. She picked up a bandage and wrapped in around her finger. She gently reminded herself to be more careful when she slept on a plane. * * * Only four years ago she won two paid in full scholarships to America. There she began majoring to become an Achitect and a Art historian. There she studied under two wonderful people. Nikolas Taranski and Yvette Smith. Both renown her their knowledge and expertise in their fields. She was become part of the top 5% of both subjects. In architecture she learned of medieval gothic styles churches and castle, also focusing on works like the Sistene Chapel. For art she studied Bernini, the Italian artist and sculptor, Da Vinci, etc. Now just finishing both subjects with a Bachelor of Arts degree she made her way back to England. Where her and her mother moved when she was fourteen. Before they lived in Tulle, a town in France. * * * Eventually the plane landed and took a taxi to the funeral. Her luggage would be transported to a hotel half way across town. She paid her respects, reciting a poem by E.E Cummings, a favourite of her mothers along with a eulogy. Afterwards the architect/art lover was being consoled by family and friends at her mothers estate. A medium sied cottage on the outskirts of town. Later that day she retired to her hotel room. Succumbed by jet lag and exhaustion. The following day the girl Selene and her cat Simone drove out to the town of Waynon. She planned to go immediately after she finished her four year college terms. Many a times her teachers would reference this place as a place of awe and almost fear. She parked the car just near the beginnings of the town. The land around Waynon was ominous. Dark clouds above, a chilling breeze. Deciding to best look around on foot. With that in mind she and her feline companion (in her large purse) made their way out of the vehicle and into the area. She took a few photographs of the buildings. They truly were magnificent but the town seemed to have an aura of sorrow. She could help but feel a bit of the melancholy of the winds and the organic vegetation around her. She played a bit with the chiffon shirt. It was a rust like colour; almost copper, with autumn foliage and orange, red, and yellow flowers. The shirt/blouse had pilgrim sleeves (large puffy sleeves, you know like in the old old days) and was just off the shoulder. She also wore an A-line brown skirt that came ten inches above the kness; brown, knee high boots were protecting her feet. Her tied her hair in an off to the side style. She finally made her way to the chapel. She looked in awe and like fear. Just like how her predecessors described the building. She wandered into the place. And looking at the podium from her dream.
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Post by B on Mar 1, 2008 21:11:42 GMT -5
(My dream.) The teen's green eyes gazed into the girl's of the same age. They were holding hands, smiling. They looked about the age of 14. There was a tinge of weight at the boy's right shoulder, one he's gotten used to. An acoustic was strapped across his back. "Goodnight.." The girl mouthed, she leaned in and the two's lips met. A song played in the conscious of the boy. "Thought you said you'd stay for a while," A copy of the boy's voice sung out in his head. "But you disappeared, like a whisper on the wind." The words were repeated three more times while the two continued their moment of romance. She pulled away and waved then turned to leave.
The green eyes stared on as she hazed out of his view, the fog thick around him. The girl's voice now sang in his head. "Good night became goodbye, too soon... I'll never forget the day that I lost you..." The boy stood up and walked up to the coffin laid out before him. The beautiful brown eyes that once gazed upon him, the soft lips that once became acquainted on several occasions with his. He bent down to kiss those new hardened and cold lips when the eyes suddenly open, but the eyes weren't there, they were empty like a skull. The boy pulled back with a scream and ran.
He found himself in front of a sign post. The carved in words said the name "Waynon". He ran a hand through his dark brown, slicked back hair. Then he noticed he was not a boy anymore. He walked past the sign and into the town that awaited. He looked at the architecture, mentally downgrading whoever built this piece of crap. Suddenly he found himself in front of a church. A rush of fear was felt deep within his gut, especially when he saw the little girl with her cherry blond hair. She smiled sweetly. "She's waiting for you." She said politely. "Like a whisper on the wind..." The song ended in the powerful voice of a rising rock talent that was himself. The girl beckoned him and he followed.
The fog was thick. There was an object hazed into the fog, a person? Becca? He was cautious, afraid that it isn't her, but also afraid that it was. He walked up to it regardless. The metal was pretty, probably worth a fortune. He wanted to try to pick up the slab, despite it obviously being embedded in the ground, and walk off with it but the dream wouldn't allow it. Then he saw the book, a puddle of red on it, from the looks it was worth more than the giant slab under it. Suddenly the fog engulfed him.
"Like a whisper in the wind...." Becca's voice broke out in his mind.
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Larry "Vibe" Blake awoke with a start calling out the name "BECCA!". He was breathing rapidly but he quickly got a handle of the things around him. He left the covers, completely naked. He had a slim body one that is well taken care of and sees a gym but not that of body builder, just someone in it for the sex appeal and it did work. A woman walked in, she was wearing a guilty red thong and a silk shirt which her bra-less breast could easily be seen, pointy and perfect.
"Vibe, I made you breakfast." She was an oral hygienist, Vibe didn't know about hygienist but she proved she was good at oral. She had met her a few days ago when him and the band finally came to Europe to play. "I'm okay, thanks though Melanie." He said with a troubled tone. "My name is Melissa." She replied with an awkward stare. "Oh shit, my bad." He went to the end of the bed where his clothes sat and pulled them on. "You going somewhere?" She asked. He nodded. A pair of dog tags hung from his neck, they were fake but were good copies, he always lies and says he served. He pulled on his shirt, the sleeves covering a tattoo of a bloody dagger on his left shoulder. "I gotta go talk to the guys." He said and left, he'd done her in, he had no more time to spend on her anymore.
He found himself at his apartment where his bad was hanging out, smoking dope. He walked in and a few of the cursed. "Where the fuck you been Vibe?" A shirtless man sat with his leg crossed, eyes slitted into a stoned glaze. "I fucking this one chick." The other understood. "Hey, Larry." A man in a nice tuxedo murmured, believe it or not, he was the backup guitarist and the shirtless man stoned on the couch was the manager. "We need to talk."
Jerry "Glen" Karsch pulled Vibe outside and spoke quickly. "Your broke. You know Nickles? Well now he's pissed that you haven't paid him yet." Vibe shook his head. "Glen, I can't be broke, we did that gig a couple nights ago, that was two thousand!" He argued back. Glen shook his head. "You bought that coke, remember? Which that party last night sucked up like a dehydrating man who found a McDonald's soda." Vibe slapped a hand to his forehead. "Are you fucking shitting me?" He asked and the other shook his head. "It's okay, we'll stop the tour for now, go out and see the sites and I'll work on getting some money. Glen's father, himself included, were rich as hell, his father actually owned an oil company and Glen was not only a guitarist, but also ran his own oil well, he just did the band gig for fun. "Go somewhere for a few days Vibe, I'll get this settled." Vibe nodded, an image immediately came to his mind. "Waynon." He mumbled, Glen shrugged and went back inside to let the others know. Vibe entered after to begin packing for a few days away. When he was satisfied he got into his porshe and made sure his beloved acoustic was on the passenger seat, he then set off with a map.
Waynon wasn't on the map, it was just a silly dream after all. He stopped at a bar to get a light drink for the road and possibly to ask about it. Bars were the best places for rumors. After talking with the bartender and getting many laughs out the man's concerned looks he figured out that Waynon was a "ghost" town. Superstitious crap. Vibe got back into his car and looked at the circle of where Waynon would be near, or as the bartender put it "said to be near".
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Post by D on Mar 1, 2008 21:46:49 GMT -5
She knew others were screaming, but she couldn’t hear it. She knew that she was screaming, but nothing came out of her mouth. There was a familiar pain on her arm, and her heart was hurting. Her eyes were red and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. There in front of her was the very object she cherished with all her heart, but its lenses were now shattered and she knew that it would never turn on for her again. The little girl held her hands near her heart while the boy and her exchanged yells and screams, but she couldn’t hear any of it. The words were too quiet and it seemed as if she was deaf. The boy pointed his finger, and without thinking, the little girl grabbed the camera. She looked back and saw frightening eyes from him, and she ran. The little girl stumbled and dropped the camera, but caught it by its strap and ran down the steps of what had been her home. No, it was no longer her home.
She was running and her feet were hurting. The road underneath her was rough and was cutting her. She wanted to get away and refused to stop even when the wind sent fog around her. What will Father think? What will brother do? Mother, are you angry? These questions filled her mind as she ran with aching feet. Her tears continued to flow from her eyes, but her view was blurring even more. Everything was aching and she wanted to stop, but her body refused. She continued running until a sign came into view. “Waynon” was carved into old wood, and rust had form around the loops. The child didn’t understand, but that was the least of her problems. Her hands suddenly felt empty and she frantically looked to her hands. She gasped and fell down on her knees to search for it. But then she realized that her feet were no longer aching and she now had shoes on. That wasn’t the strange thing though. She was also no longer a child.
The grown woman walked passed the sign with the wish of finding the camera. She wondered why she continued her walk when she knew that the camera probably wasn’t even in the place. Her feet took her passed houses, warehouses, and finally stopped in front of a familiar chapel. She looked up at it and saw that the fog had engulfed half of the building. “Look familiar?” A child’s voice rang out. She looked around and finally, her amber eyes settled on a girl with cherry blond hair. “Your mother wants to talk to you. Come Rachel.” The woman told herself that her mother was dead, but for some reason she followed.
She followed through the doors and saw nothing but the little girl. Fog surrounded her, but she could barely make out a figure. Her hand reached out and ran passed the little girl, but instead of getting to the figure, she ran into a metal slab. Around her was the picture she drew and then it fogged out into the chapel. Did I draw this, she asked herself. Something inside of her said no, but the place she was in was somehow connected with her mother. She looked around and noticed a book on top of the slab with fresh blood on it, but she backed away. She didn’t want to touch it.
Her eyes blinked for a moment and she found herself in her own hotel room. Her head was aching so she rubbed it, convinced that it was over, but the dream was still going on. The same little girl from earlier smiled and held the familiar camera in her hand. “Your brother will attempt to get you to work with him, by any means necessary, he’ll come for this. Come to us Rachel. You’re mother wishes to forgive you.” The girl opened her suitcase and placed the camera into it. Before the grown woman realized it, she fell into darkness.
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Rachel woke up with a sick feeling. She felt as if she had cried out everything and she didn’t like the feeling. “I have a headache.” A headache? Her eyes widened and she looked around her room quickly. She was the only one in this room and she sighed with relief. Rachel stumbled out of her bed and walked over to her suitcase. “Time to dress into something suitable for the plane trip to Asia.” She opened her suitcase and looked down at its contents with shocked. Her hand picked up the camera and shook her head. She had thrown out the old camera years ago, and she refused to connect it with her dream. It couldn’t be connected, right?
She prepared herself for the new day and got herself dressed. Rachel didn’t really bother too much with her hair and put on a black and gray beanie. She wore a white tank top underneath her buttoned up white blouse with its sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Over that she had on a loose black tie. “Oop.” She said as she pulled her black jeans up. Rachel pulled on some black, fingerless gloves, and then slipped her feet into some white shoes.
After making sure that she was presentable, she pulled the strap of her new camera over her head and let it hang. Rachel grabbed her coat and her backpack filled with her art supplies, before heading out.
What am I doing?
“You should make more…I’m interested in seeing more of your…scarier photos…There is a town called Waynon…”
“Sir.” The man looked up and she passed him the keys to her room. “I don’t want to check out today… I’ll pay for one more day if I have to, but please do not give away my room or throw my items away.”
“Hm? Why is that?”
“I want to capture this place…before I fly to Asia.” She replied and the man nodded.
Before she even realized what she had done, she was in front of the Waynon sign and snapping pictures of it. “What a strange place…Not an animal in sight…” She walked into the town slowly and looked at the buildings, wondering where the people had gone. Rachel snapped a few pictures here and there, but suddenly felt a chill. She didn’t like the place. The woman put on her coat and continued walking through, but soon she found herself running. She didn’t know why she was running, but when she stopped in front of the chapel, she stopped wondering. “Imagine the odds…”
She took her backpack and looked through its contents. “There.” She said, pulling out her broken camera. Rachel held out the camera in front of her and looked up at the chapel. “Hehehe…Now would be a good time to wake yourself up, Rachel.”
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Post by Jo on Mar 1, 2008 22:04:51 GMT -5
It was all quite nostalgic. The architecture of this Chapel was truly remarkable. Breath taking really. It reminded her of that old record her mother used to play. Lady In Satin by Billie Holiday. The album and this place was heartbreaking. A few tears could help but surface. Simone meowed in respond, nuzzling Selene's hand in affection and comfort. She smiled but it was bitter-sweet.
She heard a sound off in the distance, like someone taking a photograph. She turned to see another woman. She was just outside the Chapel right now. Must be another tourist looking around. Waiting to be freaked out by the Ghost town.
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Post by B on Mar 1, 2008 22:13:52 GMT -5
After a frustrating adventure to get to the path he found it. He got out and strapped his beloved guitar behind his back. He was wearing faded blue cargo jeans held up by a black leather belt. He wore a white tank top covered by a tan vest which was zipped open, it wasn't a very chilly day after all. His shoes were black combat boots to help the lie that he'd served in the army.
He looked at the sign and felt like a boy again. He could just see himself now gazing into that sign like before. He shook his head to get back into the nexus of reality. Vibe began walking into the town. It was empty and crusty. "I should've gone to a boob bar..." He mumbled to himself. "Hello!?" He called. "Anyone out there!?" He giggled, what a nice little tourist attraction, a place people would raise money with to get other to walk through. Still, the dream, the fact that there's not concession stand, and the lack of other tourists. Just what the hell was he thinking. "Congrats Waynon, you have someone famous here!" He called hoping to hear a shriek of a fan girl. "Vibe Blake is in the house!" He shouted with a smile. He pulled his guitar around in front of him and began playing a rock solo. He decided to leave out the vocals for now.
'Prolly the first person to play a song in this forsaken place.' He thought with an accomplished smile. 'Prolly the first who is actually brave enough to be here, yeah. Vibe, the man who can handle a ghost town, hell yeah!' His smile grew as he played harder.
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Post by D on Mar 1, 2008 22:31:58 GMT -5
She carefully placed the broken camera in her bag. “Why did I come here in the first place?” She asked herself as she took out her sketch book and a pencil. For some reason, she didn’t feel like capturing it with her camera. She wanted the chapel to be captured on a piece of paper with a pencil. Rachel began sketching the statue on top of the chapel and silently spoke to herself. “What’s the real reason?”
Her sketching was going well until she began sketching a woman and her cat. “Hm?” Rachel looked up at Selene and then back at her sketch. “I don’t suppose you live here, Miss.” She said and continued to sketch. “Will you please stay there for a moment? Just for a while…There…you’re done. ” She really didn’t expect to see another person in the town, but it didn’t matter. What she had on her paper was good enough to make her smile. “My name is Rachel I.O.C. Baunduay…Thank you for being in my sketch.” Rachel nodded and turned back to the paper to continue her work.
“…” With a look of slight annoyance, she turned towards the sound of an electric guitar playing. The sound was so sudden that it had caused her to make a mark across her page. “This is the worst.” She muttered before shoving the stuff back into her backpack. Rachel got up from the ground and then grabbed her pack. “It’s probably some ghost…” She walked towards the sound, but stopped to take a glance back at Selene. Was she coming or not?
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Post by Jo on Mar 1, 2008 22:54:00 GMT -5
“Hm?” Rachel looked up at Selene and then back at her sketch. “I don’t suppose you live here, Miss.” She said and continued to sketch. “Will you please stay there for a moment? Just for a while…There…you’re done. ”
A little bit a strange request but she agreed to it. It seemed as if the woman was an artist herself. So thats why she came here. she smiled and looked at the old book. It was frightening how accurate her dream truly was in the visual images of this place. But she had longed looked at pictures about Waynon in her books.
“My name is Rachel I.O.C. Baunduay…Thank you for being in my sketch.” Rachel nodded and turned back to the paper to continue her work.
" I'm Selene Novue, and your welcome Miss Baunduay" she replied back.
With a look of slight annoyance, she turned towards the sound of an electric guitar playing.
The blonde also noticed the noise, it seemed to be an acoustic guitair. an electric guitair wouldn't be able to carry sounds this far. Odd that it was so loud.
Rachel shoved the stuff back into her backpack. Rachel got up from the ground and then grabbed her pack. “It’s probably some ghost…” She walked towards the sound, but stopped to take a glance back at Selene.
She seemed to get the same idea like Rachel. She nodded and soon followed the other woman to the resonating sound. The closer that they got she could hear some of the words the man said. Ignorant and vain. Great another pompous ass.
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Post by B on Mar 2, 2008 0:01:18 GMT -5
Town was empty alright. He stopped playing. "Tough crowd." He mumbled then turned and saw a few people. "Oh... I wasn't supposed to pay to be here, right?" He asked the women. He was still in the notion that it was a tourist town. Seeing the look of annoyance on both of their faces he sighed. "This an old folks town? Sorry 'bout that." They didn't look old but they could very well be the nurses, but aren't the supposed to be wearing some kind of uniform? Oh well, they were both kinda cute.
(Filler.)
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Post by D on Mar 2, 2008 0:13:41 GMT -5
“Oh…I wasn’t supposed to play here, right?” Rachel just stared at him. “This is an old folks town? Sorry ‘bout that.” She shook her head and sighed. She wasn’t one of those people who yelled at others for simple mistakes, and really, had only come over to see what was making the noise.
“Well…you were pretty loud.” She said. He was an interesting character to meet with, but it made her wonder why the other two were there and why they were the only ones in the place. “I’m sure that you have woken up a few spirits with your performance.” Rachel sighed at the awkward silence, and looked around. Was it getting colder or what?
((Filler seriously))
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Post by Jo on Mar 2, 2008 0:26:07 GMT -5
She stood and shivered a bit while the other two talked or at least acknowledged each other. Curious that any of them were here. She knew that it was the off season for tourism. But it did peak her interest that they were here. This guy seems off and the other one was probably looking for the next big thing.
And she was here to see this preserved ruin. Oxymoron no? well that was what she told herself. But she knew she had this other wordly connection to this place. Like she had been here before. Perhaps in another life time.
" Yeah it's a tourist town but its the off season. And no there's no one living here" she answered the man.
" I'm Selene Novue and this is Rachel Baunduay. This little lazy furrball is Simone. Whats your name?"
Even after all these years she still retain some of her french accent. But less thick then most of her countrymen.
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Post by B on Mar 2, 2008 0:36:36 GMT -5
"Well…you were pretty loud.” The girl said and he giggled. "You sound like my whole block." He joked and seeing the uninterested looks he shook his head. "I mean, erm, sorry about that. I felt I needed an audience so I had to wake the dead." After he said that goose bumps appeared on his arms, a sudden rush of cold? "Uhh..."
"Yeah it's a tourist town but its the off season. And no there's no one living here." He shook his head. "Off season? Sweet heart this place is probably a gimmick for some T.V. show.." He mumbled and looked around.
"I'm Selene Novue and this is Rachel Baunduay." She introduced "This little lazy furrball is Simone. Whats your name?" A cat? How disgusting. "Vibe Blake!" He said and put his fingers out like two guns making a click with his tongue. He stood there and they just raised eyebrows. "Erm... THE Vibe Blake! The lead singer and guitarist for the famous band, 2010: Exodus." He smiled, unsure of whether they known it or not. They were going through a world tour, maybe they've heard of them.
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