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Oct. 28th, 2011 11:00 pmThe clock moves. The first chime feels abnormally loud in the silence of the house, an assault on defenseless eardrums. It's only the beginning, for between the first and the second chimes, something changes.
The house is full of the dying, screaming in their death throes. In the fireplace in the Parlor a man burns alive, screaming and choking as his lungs are seared with the excessive heat. In the Study a woman hangs, clawing at her throat to loosen the noose. In the bathroom, the twins drown, unable to break the surface of the tub as though some force holds them beneath it. In the kitchen, a woman futilely tries to stuff her innards back within the empty cavity of her stomach, sobbing and choking on her own blood as she dies. In the hall, the drowned woman slumps, far more hale and healthy than she appeared during the night, skin mottling with lack of oxygen as she claws at her throat, struggling to breathe through the water filling her lungs. A man stands in the bathroom, cutting his own face off and seeming not to hear the screams of the woman strangling next to him. A child sits on the stairs; face a melted mess of acid burns, skin gone liquid under her hands. A boy writhes on the floor of the clean room, face twisted and legs shattered, body spreading filth in the normally pristine room. And many more, figures writhing and suffering in every way imaginable.
They are all dying, and the crowd pressed close around the houseguests, stifling them with their presence, filling the halls that a moment ago seemed too large to ever consider filling. Gasping, dying, and pleading for a mercy that will never arrive.
To the sensitive, this noise becomes an almost living thing, another ghost filling the hall, pressing inside their skulls and hammering away at them as though they might never think or feel again. Nothing but sound and noise and a void of sanity.
Helpussaveuspleasepleasepleasepleaseletitend
The house is full of screams, crowded with the forms of the dying. Those house guests able to cast off their shock enough to move, to try help those suffering in the day light will find themselves quickly halted by the second solemn tone of the clock.
Everyone in the house falls asleep, regardless of ability. Despite the noise and the screams of the dying, everyone sleeps. There is no ability to resist, no chance to escape. Between one chime of the clock and the next, unconsciousness descends on all of the houseguests.
For the houseguests, this sleep will feel as though it lasted only moments, a breath of time in which they slept.
They will wake to silence, the screams are gone, the clock is silent, the house returned, it seems, to its former stillness. All houseguests will find themselves waking in the attic, on floors thick with dust. Their clothes might feel a bit strange, stiff and properly tucked, as though an undertaker has recently prepared them for their funeral. All have had their injuries tended, in many cases no trace of the injury remains at all, and those suffering from an illness will find themselves feeling much better. Many will also find their shoes and small items sitting neatly next to them, waiting for them to return to consciousness, as though whoever redressed them simply didn’t wish to bother. Anyone who was wearing a mask or anything on their face will find it removed.
As they shake the stupor off, each houseguest will find a tattoo on their arm, strange writing that none will recognize. A close look and a comparison to others will reveal that the writing shares some similarities; any members of the same family will have a similar mark included in the scribbles and for those who are in any way sensitive to ghosts or magic, another mark has been created. A closer examination and a bit more study will reveal a different mark for males and females, as well as a completely different mark for those who lack a gender.
The meaning behind the mark seems impossible to determine, and though the skin around it is not in any way tender, it is impossible to remove. For seven people among the house guests, an additional puzzle has been presented. A bracelet made of hard plastic, similarly impossible to remove, and entirely seamless. Its purpose remains to be seen.
As the houseguests begin to drift once more into the lower levels of the house, they will find that the clock in the Parlor has advanced an entire hour; at least a day has passed since they fell unconscious. In the kitchen, a traditional feast has been laid out for any who would partake. Fresh autumn fruits are piled high on the tables, smelling of outside and sunshine. Unfamiliar dishes are tucked under warmers and hidden in the oven. Everything needed for a traditional Halloween feast is in evidence. Colcannon and Boxty share with more modern sweets, wrapped candy bars and cookies shaped like pumpkins and ghosts and other ghoulish things.
The house is still, quiet. Waiting.
OOC Mod Note: The winners are Nahallo, Knuckle, Orihime, Terezi, The Riddler, and Mary. The mods will need to speak to each of the six people involved; one of the mods will also be included in the form of Klavier! A note on the tattoo, the tattoo is also on the non organics. Anyone with more than one personality/soul will have multiple tattoos, which means that Ricardo and Akito/Agito both have two, one on either arm. Happy Halloween!
The house is full of the dying, screaming in their death throes. In the fireplace in the Parlor a man burns alive, screaming and choking as his lungs are seared with the excessive heat. In the Study a woman hangs, clawing at her throat to loosen the noose. In the bathroom, the twins drown, unable to break the surface of the tub as though some force holds them beneath it. In the kitchen, a woman futilely tries to stuff her innards back within the empty cavity of her stomach, sobbing and choking on her own blood as she dies. In the hall, the drowned woman slumps, far more hale and healthy than she appeared during the night, skin mottling with lack of oxygen as she claws at her throat, struggling to breathe through the water filling her lungs. A man stands in the bathroom, cutting his own face off and seeming not to hear the screams of the woman strangling next to him. A child sits on the stairs; face a melted mess of acid burns, skin gone liquid under her hands. A boy writhes on the floor of the clean room, face twisted and legs shattered, body spreading filth in the normally pristine room. And many more, figures writhing and suffering in every way imaginable.
They are all dying, and the crowd pressed close around the houseguests, stifling them with their presence, filling the halls that a moment ago seemed too large to ever consider filling. Gasping, dying, and pleading for a mercy that will never arrive.
To the sensitive, this noise becomes an almost living thing, another ghost filling the hall, pressing inside their skulls and hammering away at them as though they might never think or feel again. Nothing but sound and noise and a void of sanity.
Helpussaveuspleasepleasepleasepleaseletitend
The house is full of screams, crowded with the forms of the dying. Those house guests able to cast off their shock enough to move, to try help those suffering in the day light will find themselves quickly halted by the second solemn tone of the clock.
Everyone in the house falls asleep, regardless of ability. Despite the noise and the screams of the dying, everyone sleeps. There is no ability to resist, no chance to escape. Between one chime of the clock and the next, unconsciousness descends on all of the houseguests.
For the houseguests, this sleep will feel as though it lasted only moments, a breath of time in which they slept.
They will wake to silence, the screams are gone, the clock is silent, the house returned, it seems, to its former stillness. All houseguests will find themselves waking in the attic, on floors thick with dust. Their clothes might feel a bit strange, stiff and properly tucked, as though an undertaker has recently prepared them for their funeral. All have had their injuries tended, in many cases no trace of the injury remains at all, and those suffering from an illness will find themselves feeling much better. Many will also find their shoes and small items sitting neatly next to them, waiting for them to return to consciousness, as though whoever redressed them simply didn’t wish to bother. Anyone who was wearing a mask or anything on their face will find it removed.
As they shake the stupor off, each houseguest will find a tattoo on their arm, strange writing that none will recognize. A close look and a comparison to others will reveal that the writing shares some similarities; any members of the same family will have a similar mark included in the scribbles and for those who are in any way sensitive to ghosts or magic, another mark has been created. A closer examination and a bit more study will reveal a different mark for males and females, as well as a completely different mark for those who lack a gender.
The meaning behind the mark seems impossible to determine, and though the skin around it is not in any way tender, it is impossible to remove. For seven people among the house guests, an additional puzzle has been presented. A bracelet made of hard plastic, similarly impossible to remove, and entirely seamless. Its purpose remains to be seen.
As the houseguests begin to drift once more into the lower levels of the house, they will find that the clock in the Parlor has advanced an entire hour; at least a day has passed since they fell unconscious. In the kitchen, a traditional feast has been laid out for any who would partake. Fresh autumn fruits are piled high on the tables, smelling of outside and sunshine. Unfamiliar dishes are tucked under warmers and hidden in the oven. Everything needed for a traditional Halloween feast is in evidence. Colcannon and Boxty share with more modern sweets, wrapped candy bars and cookies shaped like pumpkins and ghosts and other ghoulish things.
The house is still, quiet. Waiting.
OOC Mod Note: The winners are Nahallo, Knuckle, Orihime, Terezi, The Riddler, and Mary. The mods will need to speak to each of the six people involved; one of the mods will also be included in the form of Klavier! A note on the tattoo, the tattoo is also on the non organics. Anyone with more than one personality/soul will have multiple tattoos, which means that Ricardo and Akito/Agito both have two, one on either arm. Happy Halloween!
The clock in the Parlor starts to move itself again as the sky starts to lighten for dawn.
Just as the clock begins to chime, a boy enters the house from the front door. His glance is nervous as he shuts and latches the it as quickly as he can. The boy is young, perhaps ten years old, at most twelve. His face, though sharp and thin, is untouched by the marks that puberty leaves in its wake. He has short dark hair, hacked into messy curls and a close look would reveal that his eyes are blue. His clothes are a rag tag collection of too large and well worn, pockets full and lumpy with supplies. A crowbar hangs from his fingers as though he is prepared for a fight. He backs into the Parlor, more concerned with whatever might have been chasing him than he is with whatever might wait in the house.
His lack of caution nearly results in an uncomfortable encounter with the burning man, as the creature rises from the fireplace to do his duty. The boy curses violently as he steps away, crowbar swinging between them. His reaction seems to be enough to give the flaming man pause, though he does not wait to see if it does any good. He turns and dashes for the locked door in the parlor, pulling them open as though for him they were never locked. He glances once more to the entry way, eyes cold. “You can all go fuck yourselves. Fucking flaming ghosts with grabby hands. Screw you bastards and your pets.” The doors shut behind him, locked and immovable once more.
Dawn breaks.
The fire goes out in the fire place, the man at its heart fading from view without a sound, eyes still on the path the child took.
In the Maid’s Hallway, the Drowned Woman gurgles, wrapping her arms about herself as the Dawn takes her away.
The Doctor and his nurses fade. One remains, features melting away like wax until little is left behind but a faceless, shapeless shell wearing a hat. It seats itself at the desk in the Waiting Room and will not move unless addressed.
The children in the upper hallway cling to each other, silent and morose, shoulders still covered with the drape of the scarf. Their hands remain clasped, the girl’s eyes sad and wide, but make no sound as the dawn banishes them. The sound of chains takes hours to fade from the Trophy Room.
In the Doll Bathroom, the strange tapping at the mirror quiets, the man within leaning to press his featureless face to the glass. He seems to breathe out, though it is not apparent exactly how, and the glass fogs as the man fades from view. A message is left behind, written like a child’s picture in the frost. Ylkrad ssalg a hguorht ees ew won rof.
Uoy ees I.
In the Perfume Bedroom the woman sets down her brush, sighing softly at the mirror and looking almost regretful as she rises. She vanishes mid-step, smile directed towards a small heart drawn on the mirror.
The other ghosts vanish once more from the house, the Hunters retreat, and light returns to the halls. It’s time to sleep, rest, and heal from injuries survived.
There is no rest for those who wish to find the next mystery, though. An attentive eye will spot the tape recorder in the Doctor’s Office. One tape rests in recorder, easy enough to locate. The others are scattered about the new area, waiting to be found. Those who seek them out may find out more than they wish.
To any sensitive people in the house, the oppressive feeling of the night fades. The girl returns, though she seems hesitant to approach any of the people that can see her.
Tape Recorder:
Location: Inside the tape recorder
“I can’t. I just can’t—there’s too much—too many people, and I can’t help them all. I tried but it’s all gone mad. The nurses, some of them look like the people who-- the people--…. how are they still here? I saw the bodies. I preformed the autopsies. They’re dead. Deaddeadeaddeaddead--”
The voice cuts off suddenly, and there’s a few shaky breaths before it continues.
“But they’re here. They’re helping me. Why would they do that? How do they even know what to do? Those things aren’t… they aren’t doctors. Maybe they used to be, they aren’t. Not anymore. I wonder, will I—if they used to be, then when I die— …I can’t. I can’t die, I can’t become--”
The voice becomes tighter and more tense until it stops again. There’s a moment of silence and then strained laughter.
“Is this what crazy feels like?”
Location: Inside the scrubs pocket in the storage room.
There is a child crying in the background, she sounds quite young and desperate. “Please…please. I want my mama. Please. I want my mama. Please let me go. Please let me go.” A soft female voice starts to hum and the child falls quiet.
The tape ends.
Location: Inside the Surgery Room
Someone is screaming, loudly, as though they can’t stop. An attentive listener might pick up the sound of a drill in the background, but the screams overwhelm everything. They’re very loud and no adjustments to the volume will change anything.
Location: Princess Bedroom
A soft, somewhat shaken voice starts this recording. He seems to be reading from a list of questions and sounds rather young, his voice crackles with the tail end of puberty.
“Ah, can you hear me, Miss?”
A young, female voice answers, very quiet and a bit unsure of herself. “I can hear you. It’s really dark here. Am I doing it right?”
“You’re doing fine. Just try to relax and listen to the questions and answer as best you can, ok? Can you ah…still hear the voices, Miss?”
“Ok, if you’re sure. I can hear them. They’re pretty loud here. Can you hear them?”
“Ah, no miss. Can you tell me what they’re saying?”
There is a long pause in the recording, the questioner swallows loudly several times, fiddling with his papers.
“They want you to join them. They want you all to join them. They’re scared and hurting. They don’t understand why you can’t hear them, they’re right there. And they’re so loud. Can’t you hear them calling you?” The sentence ends on an almost plea, and she pauses. When the girl speaks again she sounds different, as though someone else is speaking through her. “You’re just as deaf and dumb as the rest of them, aren’t you? Morons.”
“Ah, Miss?”
“Don’t ‘Miss’ me. I can see you. I know you. I know all of you. You’re all going to die and then you will be-“ She cuts herself off, laughing again. “Moron. You wouldn't understand, even if I told you. All you can do is break.” The tape ends abruptly with the rattle of the recorder hitting the floor. The sound of her laughter seems to linger in the room.
Location: Sewing Room, on the table.
The recording starts with the sound of loud breathing, as someone tries to make themselves speak. “I-I am going to try to address one of these…these creatures-oh god I know her. She has a-“ He sobs, swallowing hard.
“Miss? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Miss, if I tell you to do something, can you?”
“Of course, Doctor. We will follow all of your instructions.”
He swallows, audible. “Do you have a- a name, miss?”
“No, Doctor. How would that help a patient?”
The recording goes silent for several minutes, the only sound the harsh breathing of the man.
".........Please guard the door, miss."
"Yes, Doctor."
"If--if anyone.... if a normal, living person comes through..... please let them in. If--if it's a monster...... you can kill it....."
"Yes, Doctor."
"Oh god, what am I doing.....?" The recording ends.
Location: Journey bedroom, sitting on the table with the maps.
The recording starts with the rather close and loud sound of a baby crying, desperate and frightened.
A female voice picks up after several moments of nothing but the baby crying. “It just…it seems wrong. You know?”
A male voice answers, somewhat closer to the recorder. “Yeah, but what can we do? If he stops…well, you saw what happened last time.”
“I just…I’ve got little brothers, you know? He’s so tiny. I just wanna do something.”
“Don’t. If you comfort him we’re all fucked.”
“I know. I just….it’s wrong. It’s wrong to make him suffer so we’ll be safe.”
They both fall quiet, for several moments all that can be heard is the baby screaming.
Unheard, it seems, by either of the two that spoke, a male voice starts to speak, the conversation in the background goes on uninterrupted. ”Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Shhhhhhhhh.”
The voice starts to sing, gentle and indistinct. The baby starts to quiet, the first male voice curses softly. “Somebody pinch him.”
”I’ll kill them all for you.”
The recording stops.
Location: Study
This tape is found right outside the locked door in the Study. A camera bag seems to have been set outside the door at some point between night and dawn, though no one in the room will notice the door opening. There is no camera in the bag, but the missing picture from the desk is waiting inside. There is also a tape and a small wooden frog.
The recording clicks on, and there's a pause, absolute silence excepting shallow breathing, faint in the background. Finally, a man's voice speaks, almost flat.
"I think I have to show them. I can try to deny things as 'illogical' but in this damn house that will only drive me mad. Madder. But worrying them would be pointless, too."
A little girl laughs in the background, and the man continues as if nothing happened.
"There's-- a girl. A little girl. In the photographs. I think it's the one she refers to. A little girl is in the photographs but there's no one fucking there. All disturbing smiles and always look right at the god damn camera. Hell, it's not even a child. It's just some thing lurking in the photos, creeping around... Been there since the birth."
He pauses, and the little girl's voice laughs again, louder. It ceases abruptly.
"What the hell do you do when a kid's imaginary friend becomes real? Kind of screws with you a little. Don't know how to get her away from it..."
The voice quiets, and for awhile the only sound in the background is the child's laughter.
The recording starts to pop oddly, as though someone is tapping on the recorder. This goes on for several minutes, unclear static and the fretful, constant tapping. Finally, a child's voice speaks, twisted and distorted by the static. "Stop that."
The recording goes dead.
---
Ooc: Sign up for a plot! There will be a general trigger warning for the entire plot, but those involved will be able to decide what happens to their characters.It's our policy as a mod team to avoid triggering anyone, so don't worry about being triggered by your involvement. There are six spots, if we get more than six volunteers, we will RNG for slots. There is also a key point in this plot, to be decided by RNG that will take place this weekend. People with two characters, please only sign up one character. Respond to this post with the name of the character you want included to sign up! Edit! We Will be rolling Friday night for the update.
Just as the clock begins to chime, a boy enters the house from the front door. His glance is nervous as he shuts and latches the it as quickly as he can. The boy is young, perhaps ten years old, at most twelve. His face, though sharp and thin, is untouched by the marks that puberty leaves in its wake. He has short dark hair, hacked into messy curls and a close look would reveal that his eyes are blue. His clothes are a rag tag collection of too large and well worn, pockets full and lumpy with supplies. A crowbar hangs from his fingers as though he is prepared for a fight. He backs into the Parlor, more concerned with whatever might have been chasing him than he is with whatever might wait in the house.
His lack of caution nearly results in an uncomfortable encounter with the burning man, as the creature rises from the fireplace to do his duty. The boy curses violently as he steps away, crowbar swinging between them. His reaction seems to be enough to give the flaming man pause, though he does not wait to see if it does any good. He turns and dashes for the locked door in the parlor, pulling them open as though for him they were never locked. He glances once more to the entry way, eyes cold. “You can all go fuck yourselves. Fucking flaming ghosts with grabby hands. Screw you bastards and your pets.” The doors shut behind him, locked and immovable once more.
Dawn breaks.
The fire goes out in the fire place, the man at its heart fading from view without a sound, eyes still on the path the child took.
In the Maid’s Hallway, the Drowned Woman gurgles, wrapping her arms about herself as the Dawn takes her away.
The Doctor and his nurses fade. One remains, features melting away like wax until little is left behind but a faceless, shapeless shell wearing a hat. It seats itself at the desk in the Waiting Room and will not move unless addressed.
The children in the upper hallway cling to each other, silent and morose, shoulders still covered with the drape of the scarf. Their hands remain clasped, the girl’s eyes sad and wide, but make no sound as the dawn banishes them. The sound of chains takes hours to fade from the Trophy Room.
In the Doll Bathroom, the strange tapping at the mirror quiets, the man within leaning to press his featureless face to the glass. He seems to breathe out, though it is not apparent exactly how, and the glass fogs as the man fades from view. A message is left behind, written like a child’s picture in the frost. Ylkrad ssalg a hguorht ees ew won rof.
Uoy ees I.
In the Perfume Bedroom the woman sets down her brush, sighing softly at the mirror and looking almost regretful as she rises. She vanishes mid-step, smile directed towards a small heart drawn on the mirror.
The other ghosts vanish once more from the house, the Hunters retreat, and light returns to the halls. It’s time to sleep, rest, and heal from injuries survived.
There is no rest for those who wish to find the next mystery, though. An attentive eye will spot the tape recorder in the Doctor’s Office. One tape rests in recorder, easy enough to locate. The others are scattered about the new area, waiting to be found. Those who seek them out may find out more than they wish.
To any sensitive people in the house, the oppressive feeling of the night fades. The girl returns, though she seems hesitant to approach any of the people that can see her.
Tape Recorder:
Location: Inside the tape recorder
“I can’t. I just can’t—there’s too much—too many people, and I can’t help them all. I tried but it’s all gone mad. The nurses, some of them look like the people who-- the people--…. how are they still here? I saw the bodies. I preformed the autopsies. They’re dead. Deaddeadeaddeaddead--”
The voice cuts off suddenly, and there’s a few shaky breaths before it continues.
“But they’re here. They’re helping me. Why would they do that? How do they even know what to do? Those things aren’t… they aren’t doctors. Maybe they used to be, they aren’t. Not anymore. I wonder, will I—if they used to be, then when I die— …I can’t. I can’t die, I can’t become--”
The voice becomes tighter and more tense until it stops again. There’s a moment of silence and then strained laughter.
“Is this what crazy feels like?”
Location: Inside the scrubs pocket in the storage room.
There is a child crying in the background, she sounds quite young and desperate. “Please…please. I want my mama. Please. I want my mama. Please let me go. Please let me go.” A soft female voice starts to hum and the child falls quiet.
The tape ends.
Location: Inside the Surgery Room
Someone is screaming, loudly, as though they can’t stop. An attentive listener might pick up the sound of a drill in the background, but the screams overwhelm everything. They’re very loud and no adjustments to the volume will change anything.
Location: Princess Bedroom
A soft, somewhat shaken voice starts this recording. He seems to be reading from a list of questions and sounds rather young, his voice crackles with the tail end of puberty.
“Ah, can you hear me, Miss?”
A young, female voice answers, very quiet and a bit unsure of herself. “I can hear you. It’s really dark here. Am I doing it right?”
“You’re doing fine. Just try to relax and listen to the questions and answer as best you can, ok? Can you ah…still hear the voices, Miss?”
“Ok, if you’re sure. I can hear them. They’re pretty loud here. Can you hear them?”
“Ah, no miss. Can you tell me what they’re saying?”
There is a long pause in the recording, the questioner swallows loudly several times, fiddling with his papers.
“They want you to join them. They want you all to join them. They’re scared and hurting. They don’t understand why you can’t hear them, they’re right there. And they’re so loud. Can’t you hear them calling you?” The sentence ends on an almost plea, and she pauses. When the girl speaks again she sounds different, as though someone else is speaking through her. “You’re just as deaf and dumb as the rest of them, aren’t you? Morons.”
“Ah, Miss?”
“Don’t ‘Miss’ me. I can see you. I know you. I know all of you. You’re all going to die and then you will be-“ She cuts herself off, laughing again. “Moron. You wouldn't understand, even if I told you. All you can do is break.” The tape ends abruptly with the rattle of the recorder hitting the floor. The sound of her laughter seems to linger in the room.
Location: Sewing Room, on the table.
The recording starts with the sound of loud breathing, as someone tries to make themselves speak. “I-I am going to try to address one of these…these creatures-oh god I know her. She has a-“ He sobs, swallowing hard.
“Miss? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Miss, if I tell you to do something, can you?”
“Of course, Doctor. We will follow all of your instructions.”
He swallows, audible. “Do you have a- a name, miss?”
“No, Doctor. How would that help a patient?”
The recording goes silent for several minutes, the only sound the harsh breathing of the man.
".........Please guard the door, miss."
"Yes, Doctor."
"If--if anyone.... if a normal, living person comes through..... please let them in. If--if it's a monster...... you can kill it....."
"Yes, Doctor."
"Oh god, what am I doing.....?" The recording ends.
Location: Journey bedroom, sitting on the table with the maps.
The recording starts with the rather close and loud sound of a baby crying, desperate and frightened.
A female voice picks up after several moments of nothing but the baby crying. “It just…it seems wrong. You know?”
A male voice answers, somewhat closer to the recorder. “Yeah, but what can we do? If he stops…well, you saw what happened last time.”
“I just…I’ve got little brothers, you know? He’s so tiny. I just wanna do something.”
“Don’t. If you comfort him we’re all fucked.”
“I know. I just….it’s wrong. It’s wrong to make him suffer so we’ll be safe.”
They both fall quiet, for several moments all that can be heard is the baby screaming.
Unheard, it seems, by either of the two that spoke, a male voice starts to speak, the conversation in the background goes on uninterrupted. ”Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Shhhhhhhhh.”
The voice starts to sing, gentle and indistinct. The baby starts to quiet, the first male voice curses softly. “Somebody pinch him.”
”I’ll kill them all for you.”
The recording stops.
Location: Study
This tape is found right outside the locked door in the Study. A camera bag seems to have been set outside the door at some point between night and dawn, though no one in the room will notice the door opening. There is no camera in the bag, but the missing picture from the desk is waiting inside. There is also a tape and a small wooden frog.
The recording clicks on, and there's a pause, absolute silence excepting shallow breathing, faint in the background. Finally, a man's voice speaks, almost flat.
"I think I have to show them. I can try to deny things as 'illogical' but in this damn house that will only drive me mad. Madder. But worrying them would be pointless, too."
A little girl laughs in the background, and the man continues as if nothing happened.
"There's-- a girl. A little girl. In the photographs. I think it's the one she refers to. A little girl is in the photographs but there's no one fucking there. All disturbing smiles and always look right at the god damn camera. Hell, it's not even a child. It's just some thing lurking in the photos, creeping around... Been there since the birth."
He pauses, and the little girl's voice laughs again, louder. It ceases abruptly.
"What the hell do you do when a kid's imaginary friend becomes real? Kind of screws with you a little. Don't know how to get her away from it..."
The voice quiets, and for awhile the only sound in the background is the child's laughter.
The recording starts to pop oddly, as though someone is tapping on the recorder. This goes on for several minutes, unclear static and the fretful, constant tapping. Finally, a child's voice speaks, twisted and distorted by the static. "Stop that."
The recording goes dead.
---
Ooc: Sign up for a plot! There will be a general trigger warning for the entire plot, but those involved will be able to decide what happens to their characters.It's our policy as a mod team to avoid triggering anyone, so don't worry about being triggered by your involvement. There are six spots, if we get more than six volunteers, we will RNG for slots. There is also a key point in this plot, to be decided by RNG that will take place this weekend. People with two characters, please only sign up one character. Respond to this post with the name of the character you want included to sign up! Edit! We Will be rolling Friday night for the update.
