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softkaimin · 5 years

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Stranded (Part 4) - Arthur

part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3

(Y/N) watched the flickering sunlight pierce through the leaves of the towering trees, breathing in - for what she hoped would be the last time - the smell of the damp earth and fallen leaves. It was far different from the gross stink of the Dark Woods back home, and she found herself graciously welcoming the distracting ambiance of Camelot's forest.

However, there was one thing that she felt she could do without.

She wasn't mad at Merlin for having forced Arthur to be the one to take her to meet the mysterious recluse in the middle of god knows where. No, she was more annoyed at him for refusing to come with. She didn't want to be alone with Camelot's very own 'prince' any more than he wanted to be alone with her.

It irked her how much his obnoxious comments about magic got under her skin. She wished she had time to show him that magic was nothing to fear because even though her mind trembled in disgust when she thought about him, she'd rather educate him than let him go on hating those who didn't deserve it.

She subconsciously bunched the fabric of Arthur's shirt in her fist as she thought about the witches and wizards of Camelot, and the heartache they were facing under their monarchy. She wished she could take them with her, so they could live a life without fear and know the wonders of modern magic. But even her going home was questionable.

Could she trust this mysterious man that Merlin claimed to be so honest? She could trust Merlin; she knew that for sure. All the stories she read about him as a child, she was certain that Merlin was a force of good in this disordered land of biased views.

But not everyone was morally right. Even those with magic had their faults. But was it fair that the King of Camelot and his heir decided to judge an entire group based on the actions of a few? Of course, it wasn't. It wasn't fair-

"Um... we're here." Arthur's voice jolted her out of her thoughts, and she realized the change in her surroundings. The once towering trees and puddles of water were replaced with smaller, budding trees and a neatly kept field where a single cabin sat on a small mound. She wasn't aware of how long she'd been in her head, or even when she stopped paying attention to the environment around her. She tried to gather her thoughts, but the only thing her mind comprehended was the fact that she was currently perched on top of a horse, her hands bruising Arthur's chest as her own was forcibly pressed against his back.

Arthur hadn't realized just how close she'd gotten to him either, not until he heard her mutter something about the citizens of Camelot in his ear. He turned his head to look at her, but as he did so, his cheek came in contact with her forehead, and he quickly snapped his head away from her as much as he could. His body tensed up, and the rest of the way, all he could do was concentrate on the beating of her heart against his back. He tried to distract his mind with useless things, like how much he hated Merlin for making him do this, but he kept getting drawn back to the strangely hypnotic rhythm of her heartbeat.

"This... is it?" (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows, eyeing the run-down cabin that sat in the middle of the grassy embankment, seemingly abandoned. Its roof was slanted and falling apart, and the multicolored stones that walled its exterior were beginning to lose the battle against the ever-growing moss. The fact that the cabin was still standing was astounding to (Y/N). From first glance, it seemed that even the smallest wind would send it crumbling to the ground, and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was some sort of magic keeping it in place.

"Yes. Now let go of me," Arthur demanded. If there was anything more surprising than witnessing a rickety cabin defying the laws of gravity, it was realizing just how nonexistent the space between (Y/N) and Arthur had become.

Horror set upon (Y/N)'s features, and she quickly backed away from Arthur, almost as if his back had been set aflame and scorched her. "Ohgod, I'm so sorry-"

Arthur stopped her mid-apology, taking her hand in his as he helped her off the horse's back. "No need." Arthur dismounted his horse and reined it in near the cabin's entrance, tying its lasso around the old decaying post. "I didn't realize sorcerers could be so simple minded."

(Y/N) scoffed, wiping her hand on the skirt of the dress she'd been forced to wear by Arthur and Merlin. "I could say the same about half-witted princes, but I wouldn't want to insult the price of Camelot, now would I?" She raised her eyebrow at him, almost as if she were daring him to continue this war of insults he'd started.

Arthur turned to look at her; eyes squinted in aggravation. He sneered, and took his bottom lip into his teeth, fighting the need to jab her with another dig at her nature. He swallowed hard and motioned toward the cabin's wooden door. "Let's just get this over with. The sooner you're gone, the sooner I can get back to my life."

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, walking up to where Arthur stood. "Couldn't have said it better myself." She pressed her hand on the damp wood, and pushed it open, reluctantly allowing the muggy air from inside the cabin to encase them in a gross layer of humidity. (Y/N) scrunched her nose but entered the cabin anyway, Arthur following closely behind. She let her eyes wander, taking note of anything that seemed to be out of place.

Everything was exactly as she imagined it would be, unusually primitive in the way things were set up. (Y/N) would be the first to admit that not much has changed from the medieval era to now. Or... at least, not much will change in the future.

Wizards and witches didn't know the modern technology that muggles had. They didn't need to since they had magic. But even so, seeing the archaic lifestyle of the medieval ages instilled a sense of privilege in her.

Nothing out of the ordinary, she thought. But one thing was for sure: no one lived here. There was a thick layer of dust coating the entirety of the cabin, including the bed, and the walls defaced by the dangling cobwebs.

So, maybe there was something off about this place after all.

"Are you sure this is it?" (Y/N) asked, turning around to face Arthur who also seemed focused on the fine details of the cabin's interior.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm certain. This isn't the first time I've met with the old man-" He was interrupted by the loud banging of the wooden door against the stone wall. They both jumped at the sudden noise, and (Y/N) instinctively reached for her wand.

"Ah! Don't even think about it young sorceress," spoke an old man with a gravelly voice.

She stopped to look at Arthur, then back at the doorway where the old man stood. He wore a long, red, tattered robe that reached way past his feet, and his hair was long and white as snow, matching perfectly to his beard. She couldn't help but feel like he looked familiar. Something about the way he spoke bothered her, too. It sounded almost forced, like he was mimicking someone. But she shook her suspicions out of her head. She didn't have time to play detective.

"How did you know? About my wand, I mean," (Y/N) asked.

The old man walked in, shutting the door behind him. "That fine young lad, Merlin, told me. Ah, such a nice boy." He shuffled over to where Arthur stood, grabbed the wooden spoon that sat on the table across from him, and used it to smack Arthur's arm with it. "He tells me of the way you treat him. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Arthur held his arm, trying to subdue some of the stinging with the added pressure from his grip. "How I treat my staff is none of your concern."

"A little more respect for your elders," the old man spat. "I should hex you for being a spoiled, arrogant brat!"

"How about you show a little more respect for your prince!" Arthur retorted. "I should have you jailed for the prohibited use of magic!"

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes as she watched the peculiar exchange between the two. Nothing about this entire situation was normal, but seeing Arthur argue with an old wizard as if they knew each other personally was plain bizarre. After a few more moments of hearing the two go back and forth with insults after insults, (Y/N) cleared her throat harshly, finally grabbing their attention.

"Sorry to interrupt... whatever it is you two have going on, but I would really like to go home now." (Y/N) moved to stand in front of the old man, and regrettably, beside Arthur.

"Idiot," the old man grunted one last insult at Arthur before finally giving (Y/N) his undivided attention. "Yes. Merlin told me about your unfortunate situation. It must be terrible being so far away from home."

(Y/N)'s fingers tapped against her legs impatiently, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. She didn't care for his condolences, all she wanted was to get this nightmare over with and sleep peacefully in her own bed, in her own home. "Please, Merlin tells me you know how to send me back to my time," She pushed, trying to further this conversation along.

The old man sighed, "We can slow down time and speed it up. We can even stop it all together, but there is nothing that allows me to send you across it. Time travel magic is far beyond anything that the old religion can offer."

(Y/N) pressed her fist against her eyes, trying to ease the anguish-fueled headache that was beginning to fester. "There has to be something!" She cried in desperation. "A spell! Anything!"

"It is not that simple," the old man recounted, an apparent difference in their tones. He was calm, but she practically was on the verge of tears. "There is no one spell that allows for the movement across time."

"Then how am I here?!" (Y/N) shouted.

The old man shrugged, sending a wave of rage along (Y/N)'s spine. "You're from the future. Perhaps, your magic is more advanced than the old religion's."

(Y/N) huffed as the rage began to seep out of her in low, exasperated breaths. She turned around, focusing on the blinding shine of Arthur's armor as she tried to compose herself enough to think at least one cohesive thought. The old religion was very powerful, but maybe he was right. Maybe there was something her era of magic knew that they didn't.

She turned around and pulled her wand out of her boot, unraveling the parchment that she had wrapped around it for safekeeping. She looked over the Frankenstein spells that she had been working on earlier, and handed it to the old man, a newfound hope dancing across her features. "What if you try one of my spells? Maybe with the power of the old religion, and my spells, it'll be enough to send me back."

Arthur watched her as she spoke. She had such confidence that her idea would work, and he really hoped it would. Sorceress or not, a part of him pitied her for the situation she was in. He looked at the old man, squinting his eyes at him as if he were willing him to accept her plan with just a look.

The old man took the parchment in his feeble hands, looking over the unfamiliar jumble of letters to what he could assume came together to create spells. "Legilimens Depulso," read the old man aloud.

(Y/N) nodded. "They're two different spells. Legilimens to see my memories, and Depulso to send me back to them. It was the only thing I could think of that made some sense."

The old man pondered for a moment. He had already spoken to the Great Dragon about what he could do to help the young sorceress, but the Great Dragon advised him that there was no use. The young witch was meant to be here, and the sooner she understood that, the sooner she could do what she was destined to do.

But even with all the sound explanations in the world, he couldn't seem to shake the sense of guilt that coursed through him. Merlin had promised her that he would help her out, and telling her that any course of action was useless was not his definition of helping. Maybe humoring her idea that one of her spells would work, even if it did fail in the end, would help jumpstart her road to acceptance.

He grunted. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try." He cleared his throat and motioned for her to step forward. As she did, he positioned the parchment in one hand, holding out his dominant hand toward her. "Legilimens Depulso," he bellowed, but the room stood still. Not even a small explosion, or a gust of wind. "Huh," he said in surprise. The old man pouted. He didn't expect the spell to work, but he also didn't expect it to not to work. He took another moment to ponder, then held his palm out. "Let me see your magic stick thingy."

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows at his choice of words. "You mean my wand?"

The old man grunted.

She handed it over cautiously, unsure of what the old man had planned. She fiddled with her fingers as she watched him weigh the wand in his hand, giving it a quick once-over. He gripped it firmly in his fist and pointed it at (Y/N). "Legilimens Depulso!" He roared.

A bolt of lightning shot from the tip of the wand, hitting (Y/N) in the chest. The impact hurled her body into Arthur and both of them into the kitchen cabinets. Arthur landed in a seated position against the wall, while she laid sprawled out against him.

In hindsight, the franken-spell was probably a bad idea. She also probably shouldn't have given him her wand since she knew only it's owner could wield it without causing harm. But desperate times can make one stupid.

And now there was no stopping the memories from resurfacing. Memories of when she was happy, laughing alongside her best friends as they pulled childish pranks on anyone and everyone who walked the halls of Hogwarts. Memories of her first heartbreak, and the feeling of her dramatic belief that her world was over. Memories of the Wizarding War, and the lives that were lost in battle, including her parents.

There was no stopping the pain she felt afterward from bubbling up once again, the hatred that once coursed through her veins reigniting at the images of Hogwarts being destroyed and marred in the face of misplaced revenge. It was torture to endure so much pain at once. So much that her body couldn't take the misery any more, and gave out, allowing her a reprieve from everything around her.

Night had already fallen when (Y/N) finally came to. She rolled her head to the side, the painful throbbing in her neck beginning to rouse her back into consciousness. She lifted her hand to her face, her body aching with the consequence of her bad idea as she attempted to sit up.

The darkness of the room made it hard for her to bring her line of vision to full focus, but she could hear faint snoring from somewhere in the room. It was stupid of her to get her hopes up, to believe that it could possibly be one of the twins, but hope was sadistic.

She swung her legs over the flimsy wood bed, and stood up, ready to scold her best friends and hug them into oblivion. One step was all it took, though, to disintegrate her hope into nothingness and leave her in the dark all alone. Again.

(Y/N) began making her way toward the dimly moonlit window when her bare foot met something much softer than the wooden floor she was expecting. There was a loud cry of pain, then a hand that tore her foot away from whatever she had stepped on, causing her to lose her balance and send her tumbling to the ground.

"Argh! What is wrong with you?!" It was a man's voice, but it wasn't the one she hoped to hear. She leaned against the wall, half-slouching as she watched Arthur sit up, rubbing the side of his abdomen where she stepped on him.

He narrowed his eyes at her when she didn't respond, taking in her defeated appearance like a blow to the heart. Not of kindliness, or compassion, but of guilt for having thought so little of her when in reality he didn't know her.

Those unfamiliar images that he saw, the happy and sad ones – some even painful – were now seared into his mind. Images of two identical boys laughing until tears brimmed their eyes. Images of those same two boys broken and bruised as they held an inconsolable figure, whose bloody hands held onto them for dear life. Images that he was certain were her memories.

He fought himself to ask her about it, she was gone as it is, and he was afraid that even the smallest thing would cause her to disconnect completely. So, they sat in silence for what felt like hours, though in reality it was probably only a few minutes of heavy stillness while they pondered what to say to each other.

"It's almost like I was made to suffer," (Y/N) finally spoke, her voice brittle as if even the lightest of feathers would be enough to undo the last seam that held her together. "Like I was made to lose everything I love." The corners of her mouth heightened, forming a smile that could've fooled even the most intelligent person into thinking that her life was nothing less than perfect. But Arthur saw right through her.

Maybe it was the fact that he saw her at her lowest when he didn't mean to. Or that she showed him the side of magic - the honest side - unintentionally through her memories. He wasn't sure what caused it, but something between the two changed.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, his gaze never leaving hers. He couldn't apologize to every single person he hurt for believing the lies of his father. He wanted to, but just as he had done to him, the king used his power to force his people to believe that magic was an abomination. And apologizing for trusting in a belief that they still held onto would seem like a betrayal.

"What is this, the prince of Camelot is apologizing to me? Never in my life-"

"I'm serious, (Y/N)."

She raised her eyebrows at the sound of her name leaving his mouth. She hated being called 'sorceress,' but she wasn't sure she exactly liked him calling her by her name either. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I do. I treated you terribly-"

"Save it," (Y/N) said, her smile falling from her face as if the pins holding her lips upright had been finally removed. "It's not me you should be apologizing to anyway. It's your citizens, and when you become king you tell them exactly what you were gonna tell me. Don't waste your breath."

Arthur shook his head. He was never one to apologize and admit his wrongdoings - his pride as the prince never let him - and now that his attempts to right a wrong were being dismissed as if they were nothing, he found the need for her forgiveness intensifying.

"(Y/N)-"

"Please, just let it go!" Her sudden cry rang throughout the cabin, quickly replacing the still atmosphere with a woefulness that consumed them both. "If you apologize to me then that means I'm not crazy." She shook her head frantically, finally meeting his eyes.

"If I'm not crazy, then that means that I'm really in fucking Camelot. I can't be in Camelot, Arthur! I can't!" Her eyes were shut tight as a last resort to keep the tears from spilling out, but her body seemed to make up for the hindrance through sobs that physically shook her.

What are you doing, (Y/N)? Stop crying. Stop Crying. Stop-

Arthur had no idea what came over him, or why he didn't stop even after he realized exactly what he was doing, but he found himself embracing (Y/N). Her head was pressed against his chin, and his shirt balled into her fist. The harder she tried to hold onto the need to get home, the more her grip seemed to slip. Her family was drifting further and further, and the only thing she could do was watch them disappear, her soul fading along with them.

"It's alright," Arthur spoke. "It'll still hurt in the morning, so just rest for now."

a/n: morgana’s part coming v soon

#stranded #merlin bbc #merlin #merlin imagine #merlin scenario #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #hp imagines

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kyunnwon · 5 years

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I’m finally fkn leaving this shithole!

After nearly 3 years living in a 30 year old RV we’re finally moving out.

Words can’t describe how happy I am to finally be out of here. To give you insight of what I’ve been dealing with for the past couple years:

I’m sorry this is so long, bless you if you manage to read all of it

When we got this RV, we were being kicked out of our previous house because we couldn’t pay rent due to my mom losing her job. We had to drive hours to this RV sales lot, park in a walmart parking lot and sleep there over night in my stepdad’s suburban (which had some expensive-ish upgrades on it, they were there before my mom lost her job) hoping we could trade it + some money for an RV. We got the cheapest, oldest one for the Suburban and had to drive hours back in it. it was hot as fuck and the ACs didnt cool it down. Before we could move into the trailer park, we had to park it in an autozone parking lot for some weeks.

The stove didn’t work, and the fridge in it was disgusting, there were maggots in it and it had the worst smell on the planet. We NEVER opened it again. Instead we opted for using a cooler for all of our food. A small cooler. We constantly needed ice and couldnt fit much food in it. My parents even tried to clean out the fridge and tried to get it working but that wasn’t happening, eventually we got a working fridge and stove.

Nearly the entire RV is made of wood. The insulation is horrid and there are parts where the walls are separating from the ceiling and the floor. And because wood traps moisture, a lot of bugs get in. And by bugs, I mean these fuckers which are native to Florida. Warmth + moisture = nice little home for these demons.

Both of the A/Cs that are built into the ceiling of the RV in the back room (where i stay) and the living room broke not long after we got it, for a while we actually had to live in the RV, IN FLORIDA, WITHOUT AIR CONDITIONING. just some fans blowing hot air around. Finally I got an A/C in my room and my parents put 2 A/Cs out in the living room. Turns out those weren’t strong enough and it was still getting BALLS HOT out there. so they got a third one.

That third one... our outside breaker the trailer park provides residents with fucking CAUGHT ON FIRE because of it. There was just too much power and it just straight up over heated. Replaced it, rewired to split the power between two different breakers, all is good.

The roof in the living room has such a bad leak that my stepdad had to make an electrical drain that you can switch on and off (before that we had to siphon the water off the roof using a hose and our mouths skhskghfsg)

The carpeted floor was gross and old so they removed the carpet and replaced it with like foam mats. There was a leak from the bathroom, we still have absolutely no idea where. It caused the entire floor from inside the tiny bathroom to outside my door to always be wet.

Which caused me to injure myself, worse than I ever had in my 20 years. I was on my bed, standing, attempting to kill one of those massive palmetto bugs, I lost it and it somehow ended up on my god damn head. I flipped a shit, jumped off the bed, right on the foam mat that was soaked beneath and it slipped from under me, I landed really badly on my left knee. I heard a crack then I immediately collapsed and screamed and cried for my mom, it hurt so bad, it was the worse pain I had ever felt in my entire life. It was only sprained, we think the cartilage was just cracked. I was supposed to go to physical therapy for it but I didn’t. Just wore the brace when I needed to, I still have the crutch I used to get around with, which let me tell you was not easy when you have just over 3 feet wide of walking space. I’m somewhat sure this injury gave me mild PTSD.

The leak which we could never find left water to sit soaking in the wood, so god knows how much mold is growing everywhere and how long I’ve been breathing it in, I’m surprised I haven’t gotten severely sick because of it.

The RV shakes like CRAZY when there’s movement. Like, in the back room, I’m talkin earthquake levels of SHAKE. At one point my stepdad had to get jacks to place under it because it was literally keeping me up at night because our dogs scratch a lot. One of them has a flea allergy and we literally cannot get rid of the fleas here no matter how hard we tried, so he’s up ALL NIGHT just scratching. The jacks stopped working no matter how tight he made them, the the shocks are old and the tires are losing air, over the last couple months it’s been so bouncy that not only is it keeping me from sleeping, it’s WAKING ME UP in the middle of the night.

Because the pipes are so old, the water that flows from our sinks is undrinkable. We didn’t realize this sooner and it has started to make our pets sick.

The water heater is broken, it doesn’t light when you turn on the switch inside so one person needs to turn on the switch while another person is outside with a lighter. That’s about 10 minutes of hot water, a lot of the time it’ll go out before any of us can shower.

Our neighbors have stolen from us, specifically a money order for my mom which she has not gotten back.

My depression got so bad while living here that I gained 30 pounds and stopped going out. Going out meant I had to come back. I would constantly go up to two weeks without showering

Basically! My life has been absolutely terrible!

I’m so excited to be out of here tomorrow. To have my own room larger than fucking 6x6 feet. To have a closet I can put my things in, my own bathroom that isn’t made of plastic, a tub I can lay in. God the shower here is so fucking small. it’s a quarter the size of a normal shower, and it’s a lot higher off the ground, you can’t imagine how hard it was for me to shower with a sprained knee.

I can’t wait to lay in a new bed. I’ve been sleeping on this one for five. fucking. years. It’s half the size it SHOULD be because I have all my belongings on one side because there’s literally nowhere else to put them. I can’t wait to have SPACE. To live in a healthy, clean environment.

I’m literally excited to diet and exercise, because I know I’ll have a normal sized toilet to shit in (one that ISNT MADE OF PLASTIC), a normal sized shower to wash in (also one that isn’t made of fucking PLASTIC), and a normal sized bed to rest in afterwards. My own ROOM to decorate and surround myself with things that I love. I’ll have a flat top stove to actually LEARN how to cook on, a washer and dryer to clean my own clothes, a dish washer to clean my own FUCKING DISHES. A dining room to eat with my parents in, a fenced in back yard to play with my dogs in.

Just... fucking NORMAL stuff I’ll finally get to do again. And I’ll have it all tomorrow.

#morti's monologue #text #SUPER LONG

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infinitehours · 5 years

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Chapter 1

This fic is based off of The Haunted Mansion “Story and Song from the Haunted Mansion” audio. It will also be based deeply off of my first impressions of the ride itself when I was a kid going on it those first few times in my life.

Also, if you’re wondering why there isn’t much description on our two main mortals, it’s because I felt it best to leave that up to the imagination (there was never much description in the original either). I know I can’t get away without descriptives for every character though, so I’m not going to try for that, but hopefully it wasn’t too jarring.

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Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

Other Author notes: There’s supposed to be an audio of the Big Ben chime (to parallel the demonic clock and represent that this is the realm of mortals), but I can’t currently find a way to create this audio file. So. Imagination I guess.

Someone created a recording of the Big Ben clock from Parliament Square. Cars and all, it definitely sounds like a city. I will link it here in case you all want to hear it and use it to help your imagination, but it was NOT made by me, and as such it is NOT officially part of this story:

https://freesound.org/people/Noise%20Cuisine/sounds/47098/

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Table of Contents Link

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Ch 1: Miss Jackson

Have you ever seen a haunted house? You know the kind I mean. That old dark house that’s usually at the end of a dimly lit street. The windows are broken and boarded, and the shutters hang loose on their hinges. The trees have grown wild, their branches brush against the sides of the weathering house making strange noises in the night. There’s a high vine-covered fence around the property. Is it there to keep somebody out, or is it there to keep something inside? It’s a house that people avoid walking past at night. Strange sounds come from within the walls, and it’s said that eerie lights have been seen both in the attic window and in the graveyard at the side of the house.

Seen, at least….by some….

Our story revolves around this mysterious mansion….

But I’m getting a-head of myself…aren’t I?

So let me ask a different question…

Have you ever been chased?

He was panting the whole way.

Round the corner where the pastor liked to play his accordion.

Over the iron wrought fence that blocked off the alley from the cars.

Through the double doors of the unused library.

Out the back.

Through the nook by J. H. Thomas’ shop.

And over the broken manhole right to the berry-red bench in the tiny cranny.

Michael knew the route like the back of his hand, spent every day of his life traversing it. Or, at least, every day of his High School life, which was the only important part of your life you considered when you’re fresh faced and under twenty.

But they were right behind him, he could swear they were, thumping along and hollering; you could only run for so long. The clock of the church chimed from somewhere a ways away, in Big Ben style; Six PM.

He jostled a trash can on his way, half-heartedly hoping that it might slow his pursuers down as he rounded the corner. The relief that flooded him when his target, a bench, came into his sights was a thankful feeling

For all of five seconds.

Then he was yanked back by his collar, just out of reach of his fragile safety net. Falling to the hard concrete, three faces loomed into his view; three black leather jackets swarming around him and his red hoodie like vultures around a recent bloody kill

Jacob Matheson. The head vulture, front and center, grinning over his recent (and recurring) victim.

He was the son of the owner of the largest retail store in town, which earned him a bit of a celebrity status in the sleepy rurals of northern Virginia. Probably the only reason why he was the leader of his little gang.

“What’s your hurry, huh?

Michael grimaced as a boot came down on his chest

“I…ugh. I was just on my way back home..

“Liar. You live other way.”

“What’s the super special occasion?” Another boy said. “We never see you out anymore, Mikey-Wikey. You wouldn’t go off without at least saying ‘hi’, would you?”

“Our feelings might get hurt. You wouldn’t want that now would you?”

Michael refused to answer that, wincing as the toe of the boot dug deeper into his ribs

“So how you going to make it up to us, huh? How much you got on you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a really terrible liar, Mikey.” Jacob gestured towards the others.

Two seconds later and they pried Michael’s hands off of his pockets to start their rummaging

“Nice. A whole twenty.”

“There’s more than that! What’s this?”

The other boy held a miniature keychain of a football, twirling it around on one of his fingers

“That’s mine. Give it back!” Michael lunged, yet the boy had already tossed it to another

The three jeered and danced around him, taking turns with the keychain.

“Ooh. Almost got it that time!

“Gonna practice your jumping skills with us, huh?”

“Good dog!”

“Go get it, boy!

“You think we can teach him to beg?”

“You want it?? You want it?? HA!”

Jacob was last to receive, and Michael turned to him in irritation. “You have my money. You played your little game. Can you just leave already?”

“I don’t know. We just got here.” A murmur of agreement. “What are you doing with this thing anyways? Pining for the good ol’ days when you were still on the team?”

“Aw, Jacob. Can’t you see he misses playing?” One of the other vultures said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Did I say that too soon? How long’s it been? Four months? Five? Got your leg all healed up nicely?”

One of the boys pretended to make a pass at his left leg, causing him to jerk into the defensive. Jacob flashed a grin at the sight.

“Still not in tip top shape, huh? Considering what happened, playing with this little football is probably the closest thing to a real game you’ll ever going to get for the rest of your life. But don’t worry, Mikey.”

Jacob’s little wicked sneer only grew smug.

“I’m sure the rest of the team will do just fine without you. You were just the water boy, weren’t you? Most benched player ever in ol’ G. H. T. High. Quite the honor.”

Michael gritted his teeth; he never cared too much about playing football, but he also didn’t need to hear this.

“But you can come play with us any time. We don’t mind that you’ve got a bum leg. In fact, how about you go long right now?”

Jacob pulled back with a sinister little smirk and a clear intent to throw it straight to the roof of the nearby apartment building. Unfortunately for him, the football was snatched just before he let it loose.

“Wow, what do you know? A real life wannabe biker gang in their native environment.”

The football’s new owner was a welcome sight. A pink sweater, a black skirt with an embroidered horse, a white blouse, and the look of someone who had just ate a whole bag of sour gummy worms (Jacob and his gang tended to have that effect on people).

“Ugh. It’s the girlfriend. Go away, Karen. Nobody invited you.”

“As if I need an invitation to rain on your parade. If you’ll give back the money that I’m sure you stole, we can be on our way and I won’t have to tell anyone about this.”

A speck of realization later and Jacob was staring at Michael with an even wider grin than before.

“Wait, is SHE why you came out of your house? Date night? OooooOOOoooooh. Kissy kissy.”

The boys started making smooching noises, prompting Karen to let out a sigh of frustation.

“Mr. Vance! Mr. Vance! The jerks are back and they’re threatening your customers!”

“Whine all you want, what’s that old geezer even going to d-“

“Come over here, Mr. Arrow. There’s a bit of vandalism I think you ought to look at.” A much older man in black stained overalls came seemingly from out of nowhere, seemingly gesturing for the chief of police to follow. Jacob’s face dropped.

“Scram!” Jacob said, not even waiting for his friends before booking it straight out of the alley. They were generous, at least, if only in the fact that they threw Michael’s money back in his face.

Mr. Vance watched them retreat and let out a long, drawn out sigh. “You kids okay?”

“As good as can be, I guess.” Mike said.

“Thanks for pretending for us, Mr. Vance.” Karen said.

“A little lie goes a long ways sometimes. I only wish I could convince an officer to hang around here. Could do with a little less thieves. Those three are gotta get their comeuppance sometime.”

“Yeah?” Mike grabbed his keychain. “I’m still waiting for that to happen.”

“Might come sooner than you think. Well…come in then. I’ve got your package in.”

Mr. Vance took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow; the wrinkles that lined an otherwise middle aged face seemed particularly discernable that evening. Coupled with the silvery threads of his hair, anyone who didn’t know any better would have had the man pegged for a senior citizen. But he was very much in his thirty’s, at most, and the reasons for why he looked so aged had often been the subject of discussion in town.

Especially considering that his store was easily one of the most important places around.

The big retailer shop that lay in the heart of town was nice, but they often didn’t carry specialty items (and didn’t appreciate you asking to order them). That was where Mr. Vance and his store came in. Sure, it was tiny and cramped, and there was always a heap of unsightly broken bits of rusted metal in the corners near a large creepy portrait of a woman holding a skull, but there was so much of the place that was filled with mysterious and old objects, books galore, and more candy than you could ever possibly eat in your entire lifetime. The man had no organization to speak of, so whenever a person cared to carouse the shelves they were almost guaranteed to find something wondrously unexpected.

Karen loved it here. As much as Mike liked old nick-knacks himself, it was mostly for her sake that he stepped foot inside time and time again. Whenever she would examine a row of clocks or ancient utensils or even the words on the spine edge of a book, her whole demeanor would brighten up. He loved watching her when they were here, she would always hold a smile on her face as she delicately traced a finger over things that were several times her own age.

Currently, she seemed distracted with an old timey animation device. He couldn’t remember for the life of him what the things were called, but they consisted of a cylinder with slots for viewing, and had an image painted all around the insides. The images were slightly different, so that when the cylinder was turned quickly it would simulate movement. Animation.

Unfortunately, the one that Karen found seemed to be broken. She couldn’t get it to spin, the painted crows were forever stuck in place…

“M-miss Jackson? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. You’re here….early.” Mr. Vance said.

Mike looked up….the air somehow felt…colder as his eyes fixated on the lone figure standing in the middle of the room.

The strangely dressed lone figure standing in the middle of the room, who was most certainly not in the middle of the room a few seconds ago.

A deep green dress like a thick moss on a dark forest floor, with a pinstripe blouse and matching apron. Dark brown hair and vivid blue eyes were part and parcel of a face that oddly looked both amused and bored all at once. And the bit of frill and bow on the top of her head seemed to so wonderfully match her attire yet be so terribly out of place in a modern day setting.

She looked like a maid. An old-fashioned maid. A very lost old-fashioned maid, considering that there were no buildings nearby that were large or rich enough to need to hire one.

“My….employer…” There was surprisingly nothing strange or unusual about her voice, “…is rather anxious tonight, so I had hoped to present to him the items I had ordered. If you happen to have them ready, of course.”

“Y-yes…Yes. You…you wouldn’t happen to have come alone, Miss Jackson, would you?”

The girl smiled wistfully. “Are we ever truly alone?”

Mr. Vance visibly gulped. “Right…of…of course not. I-I-I got your package right here. Oh..Michael?”

Mike tore his eyes away from the woman back to the shopkeeper. Mr. Vance’s demeanor seemed….suddenly different. His face had gone a little pale, and there was an almost imperceptible waver in the way his voice cracked.

“Would you…would you mind waiting a bit while I wrap up Miss Jackson’s items here?”

“Uh...Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks.”

Mike headed over to where Karen had been curiously watching the whole exchange.

“Is there a costume party we weren’t invited to?” He asked her jokingly, earning a smile.

“She looks…kind of familiar. Like I’ve seen her around…just…not in that getup.”

“Yeah…I feel like I’ve seen her around, too. But I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her before…”

She turned back to the animation device….and found it….spinning. Ever so gently.

The painted crows began to flap their wings, rhythmically in time with the cylinder.

But then…faster. And faster. And furiously faster still, until the image was a seamless representation of the act of flying.

“Mike….” Karen said, the nervousness clear in her tone. The device was not electronic, yet seemed more than willing to move completely on its own.

Even he was a little hesitant to touch it, yet his mind was made up when he could feel the warmth of her fingers clinging to his.

Clap. His hand clamped down on it. When he let go, the device obediently remained still.

“Heh.” Mike’s laugh was more nervous than amused. Karen’s hand squeezed his again. “Must be off balanced or something. Speaking of spooky, though, did you check out the way Mr. Vance was- ”

“Are you going back to the cliffs?” The voice behind him interrupted.

Mike spun around to find himself face to face with the strange woman. Up close, it was more obvious that she couldn’t have been more than a few shades older than either of them, despite her rather timeless attire.

“Yes….we are…” Karen anxiously responded, “But how did you know that?”

“I’ve watched you go up there. The house I stay in happens to be nearby.”

“Where?” Mike butted in, “The only buildings up that way are all abandoned or mostly destroyed. It would be kinda hard to live in any of them. It’s pretty much a ghost town.”

“Yes…” The woman said, a faint smile on her lips. “Yes, you’re right.”

He couldn’t tell what she meant by that. Was she saying that she wasn’t living in any of those buildings?

Karen coughed. “Um. Well I like your dress. The green looks very pretty on you.”

“Oh thank you. I think so too. It also makes my employer uncomfortable and likely brings up awkward memories for him. Which is the other reason why I wear it.”

He and Karen exchanged a funny look. He couldn’t tell which was odder, the fact that she purposely wore something just to make her employer uncomfortable or the fact that she just casually dropped this information to complete strangers like it was a normal subject to talk about.

“Miss Jackson? Your items…” Mr. Vance interrupted.

“Of course.”

The shopkeeper seemed to hesitate as he handed her a bag full of several individually wrapped parcels.

“One of these…you do know one of these things on your list is…”

“Illegal?” The young woman didn’t mince words or even flinch, which is more than what Mr. Vance did in response, “Technically it’s not, if people only bother to read the law anymore. But yes. I’m well aware. But as you are quite aware, my employer is not concerned with legal matters…Anymore.”

“…I’m well aware.” He softly said.

“Will I see you later then?” The young woman said as she turned to leave.

But Mr. Vance kept his head turned away from her and firmly on a broken clock in front of him, eventually squeezing his eyes shut as though he could will her away.

“…Have a good evening then, Mr. Vance.”

“…Same to you, Miss Jackson.”

Before she left the shop proper, the woman turned one last time to Michael and Karen.

“By the way…Tom Sawyer’s road is the faster way back to town if you’re coming from the cliffs. And if you’re ever caught in an unfortunate rainstorm, please do stop by. You’re more than welcome to hide under our awning.”

“We...never go to the cliffs on a rainy day.” Karen said.

“Never say never,” With the twist of a tiny smile, the woman left the shop.

The atmosphere grew quiet.

~~~

And it remained silent for a solid minute.

“…Hey Karen? You can get our stuff, right?”

“Wha-?”

Before she knew it, Mike had just thrusted the twenty in her hands and ran out the door.

“Hey…Mike!”

“What’s he doing?” Mr. Vance said, his brows furrowed in concern.

“I think he’s trying to catch up that woman. Who was she, anyway? I don’t see her often enough around.”

“That’s because she doesn’t live in town. That’s Eleanor Jackson. ‘Nell’ for short. She’s up near the cliffs.”

“Where near the cliffs?”

Mr. Vance handed her two glass bottles of crème soda and a heart shaped package. “I’m sure Michael would be very insistent that you don’t open it until you’re together.”

Purposefully changing the subject.

“…And you said that women asked for something illegal…”

“Now don’t you repeat anything you’ve heard here…”

“I…I won’t. But is everything alright? If she’s forcing you to do something illeg-“

“It’s not like that.”

It was said so forcefully and emotionally that Karen took a step back.

“…It’s not like that.” Mr. Vance said, softer this time, “But you should go and stop Mike. Nothing good will come of him following after Nell like that.”

Package and soda in hand, she started to do just that.

“Karen.”

She paused.

“…Don’t always trust Nell. She often only gives you half of the truth.”

With that statement freshly turning in her head, Karen went out into the alley looking for Mike.

He didn’t get very far; right around the corner he looked up at her sheepishly from the ground, while a friendly face tried unwind a long bit of fishing line.

“I tried catching her, but…”

“I think I ended up catchin’ a young ‘un instead.” Mr. Mortimer flashed a grin at her before untwisting the hook from Mike’s jacket, “You ain’t quite the fish I be looking for, lad.”

Mr. Mortimer was a fisherman. Probably by trade, too, as that’s the only thing she’s ever seen him do. He always had a fishing pole in one hand, his trusty (but peculiar looking) tackle box in the other, a smile on his wrinkled face, and a song on his lips. Very few people in town could ever say that they hated the man, even though he did always smell like fish.

He was also frequently wet, as he claims he never had good balance and constantly fell in. She had no doubts about that. The sight of him trudging around soaked in the frigid air….She often felt freezing just looking at him….

“Are you alright, Mr. Mortimer?” Karen said, offering to help him up. His hands were cold as usual.

“Aye I’m alright, I’m alright. No harm done,” With Karen’s help, he stood steady on his feet again, “But tell me young ‘un, what had you such ‘n a hurry? Who were ya chasin’ after?”

“Some lady we saw at the shop.”

Mr. Mortimer flashed him a joking grin. “Chasin’ after another while you got your young lady here?”

Karen snorted.

“Hey! No! That’s not what I meant! Karen!” Mike didn’t find it as amusing as they did, and gestured her to help him out.

“Mr. Vance said her name is Eleanor Jackson.”

Mr. Mortimer’s eyebrows rose in recognition.

“You know her?” Karen asked.

“Aye.”

“Did she come down this way?” Mike said.

“Sorry, young ‘un, I didn’t see anyone but yourself.”

“But I could have sworn she turned here…”

“She be a sweet girl, no doubt. But you’re best off not followin’ her home, for your own good.”

“Mr. Vance said something like that…” Karen said.

“He be a smart one. Is he in today?”

They nodded. Before they could say anything else, Mr. Mortimer bid them good day and went off to the shop.

“Mr. Vance didn’t want to answer any questions about her either…”

“Everyone’s acting funny about her. I don’t get it.”

“Well…let’s not worry about it anymore. I really want to go to the cliffs tonight before it gets too dark,” She shook the heart shaped parcel slyly, “What’s in the box?”

“Three guesses,” Mike grinned.

“Hmmm,” She held it up to her ear and closed her eyes, as though she could somehow divine the answer, “Caramel chews, sour worms and…black licorice gummy bears?”

“Right on all three counts!”

“Do I get a prize?”

“Do I count? Or are you still mad at me because I went ‘chasing’ after someone else?”

“I guess I can forgive you,” She said coyly, giving him a peck on the cheek.

They walked off together, hand in hand, too distracted with each other to notice the growing storm clouds overhead….

Storm clouds the weatherman never predicted.

Storm clouds that never moved from their position above the woods that led up to the cliffs.

#chapter 1

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geisternatur · 7 years

Text

twitter & unlatch.

i guess it's time to get a gun permit & gun, then buy some bullets & shoot myself in the head.

this job robs me of all life juice, but it's the only thing i thought i was good at. & now life shows me that the branch becomes futureless.

it's all about profit & the people who suffer most under the economical cuts are the working ones. mental & physical health are affected.

the pay is lousy in comparison to what u are performing & still u try to make ends meet even tho u are running on lowest battery life.

& then the managers come to u & tell u you have to make more cuts, moremoremore, & there u are, dieing inside, cause there's no other option.

u know in other companies it's the same, there is no exception anymore, & no 1 values ur knowledge & education. all they want is low wage.

meanwhile the last 1s standing are working their asses off, loose every bit of mental stability & break down their bodies for nothin'.

& u wonder, when's ur turn, when will u be 2 expensive for them, & what are u gonna do when u are the 1 without a job. i personally never...

want 2 work in retail ever again, but it's all i know & perform well enough in. i don't have no escape plan. i can't start a new path...

2 much liabilities & commitments are on my plate. when i think of all the pressure happening in the future. i don't work well under stress.

so i guess it'd be better to just end all of this... just freedom awaits me after my death, no consciousness - a blissful thought...

/////

i am just so tired of it all, trying to find a compromise, trying to find something i’m good at which would help me find a new job. but all i come up with is this fucking job, i don’t have any other options, except change to the same job at an equally awful company or generally the sales branch. i don’t want to serve others anymore, there’s a lack of humanity that’s increasing every year, & customers are awful, HUMANS are awful, but there’s no job in which you don’t have to deal with them.

i just want to work at a place where the work you are providing is still honoured adequately, where you don’t have to fear employee cuts & other stressors, where customers are understanding, not difficult as fuck and lashing out their own inscurities onto the ‘minor sales clerks’. i want to not be under continual stress anymore, wondering about how you will possibly manage all the work, not ever doing any breaks. wondering if you will have to do all the work all on your own soon, as your colleagues either have to go or just simply are so fed up with everything they decide to give up and move on.

i would do that, too, but i KNOW, i just KNOW, that no matter where i go, the same problem is EVERYWHERE, and it won’t get better. there’s no new blood coming, no one wants to work in an underpaid environment, where pressure’s put on you constantly, everyone wants to earn money without having to get their hands dirty & their backs strained & having to endure the constant nagging demands of customers & bosses. people want to study easy things, want to make art, want to live off of their brain content, they want to sit down & do as little as possible for a high wage.

i’m so sick of it. but i’m trapped.

i have to pay off a new fucking car ( i was almost done with my old one until it broke down ), i have to pay insurances, i have to pay food and a roof above my head, and i can’t just simply quit my job, and risk an unstable one at a different company. but i also cannot stay where i am now. i’m going to loose my mind sooner or later. and there is no way i could do something totally different, as i am a saleswoman, & only good in this profession, nothing else. i do not have a talent or special thing that could warrant to try myself out in a completely different field. i cannot afford starting a new educational path, apprenticeships don’t pay my rent & all the stuff i have to pay for. academic studies don’t pay that either.

i really am at a loss of what to do. i want to go so badly, i want to leave it behind, but i see no solution.

and then i get that sense of freedom when i think about death, and not having to worry anymore, because, duh, there are no feelings, everything is inexistent. it feels like a very appealing thought. but what kind of person am i then, especially to the people who brought me into this world, or the very few people that i call friends, even though i am a terrible one. should i leave them behind just like that? what sorrow would i bring upon them, if i killed myself.

i just know 1 thing. i feel helpless. i feel terribly alone. i have no idea anymore how to continue without losing my nerves & mind completely, while trying to complete my work with less & less support, but more requirements from ‘above’. i don’t want to end up on the street either, and who knows how long my current employer will be a pawn in the game of retail chess, until they finally tell us, hey, it’s been okay, but we are out of the game, we cannot sustain anybody anymore, buh-bye.

because it is starting. the signs are clear. people are being removed.

and above all, the hypocrisy of it all makes me want to throw up. don’t you tell people you are a company who wants to be a fair player in the corporate world, and then be unfair to your employees. don’t you DARE telling people, you want a green world, a world without deceits & more sustainability, but then go a whole different path in your company culture. fucking liars.

and i look at all companies in this country. they are all not very different from each other.

see, it is a problem for me, to ‘just go and apply for something different’. it’s a hurdle for me. because all i have to offer is the education & experience i have, but i lost all faith in the branch i work in. everything. and seeing the bigger picture, oh lord, it isn’t that far off either.

so. what am i supposed to do? give up and giving in to sweet inexistence, or fight, but still coming out incredibly bruised & battered & wary of the world, not trusting a single soul out there? what life is that, i ask you? a life in which you are made even smaller than you already are?

there’s nothing, really, there’s nothing else i can hold on to. i don’t want to underperform, it’s against my own pride & ego. but inherently, this will be what i’m going to do, because i cannot & don’t want to work myself to death. i’d rather kill myself than do this. i’ve had enough. i don’t want to show them anymore what a good worker i am. i am fed up with their nasty schemings. i am fed up with people treating you as some kind of inferior stupid sales person who has to serve them gold & silver on a plate, and if you don’t do that, you are THE persona non grata forever and always.

i am fed up with this society.

fed up with myself, as i also can’t seem to attract any blessings into my life... fed up with myself for not giving in & accepting my life as it is, being thankful for the things that i have ( which is not very much, when i think about it, even though it might be enough for others ). fed up with myself for wanting more & less at the same time, for being a ‘privileged white person’ with first world problems, that at the same time are problems i cannot find a solution for.

i want to scream. and never stop. and die while doing so. i feel like i need to go berserk, run amok, or just end my life quietly.

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unto-myself-together · 7 years

Text

Of Stories and Songs: A Haunted Mansion Fanfic Ch 1

Ok. If I keep going on fretting about how imperfect this chapter is, I’m never going to get it out.

I have now edited a TON of stuff in this chapter.

~~~

Table of Contents:

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7