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itcowcer · 7 years

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Subject: Pumpkin Patch

Paul Holland [email protected] 2:05 AM (6 hours ago) to Mark

Heeeeey Mark!

So I know it's been a while, and I wanted to give you a quick heads-up on what’s going on and why I haven’t sent any drafts in recent history. Let's be real, it’s been months. But I want you to know that I haven't just been laying around over here, and that I do have something planned to give to you. It's just not ready yet. Sorry :( Now I'm not trying to tease you; I've hit a wall. What I do have is a bunch of source materials which (I hope) will prove to you that I'm building something, potentially pretty big, for my next novel. That's Right!!!! I've been researching Mark!!!! Who would've thought I knew how. Anyways, I thought this might tide you over until the rough draft or, at the most, spur you to send some seed money..... ;) You will find the sources in the subsequent attachments to this email. I think they kind of speak for themselves, but if you need me to elaborate on what I'm thinking just shoot me a message and I will give you deets.

Pleasure as always [?]

Paul

Paul Holland [email protected] 2:56 AM (5 hours ago) to Mark

Whoops! I forgot to attach the sources in that last message. Oh well, I will take better care to attach them this time. I figure I should go ahead and let you know what's going through my head right now, just so we are on the same page. First off, all of this is real. All of this stuff has apparently occurred or is currently occurring, and I've been able to pick up more bits and pieces the longer I've stayed in town (hence the long turn around). Where am I? I don't particularly want to tell you. For that reason I've redacted some information which might clue you into my whereabouts. I'm sure with a certain amount of cyber- sleuthing you'd be able to pinpoint my location, as some of the major points I just cannot change. However by that point I figure it will be too much work for you anyways. DO NOT COME AFTER ME! This story is too good for me to pass up on. I'm only messaging you as a courtesy, and to let you know that I haven't forgotten the money I owe you. I will hopefully be able to pay you back with this novel's completion.

Now onto content. I found this story, of all places, in the newspaper. Yeah it was this grotesque murder which had all of the city community in a hubbub. It was strange too, like ritualistic and such. I've included the short blurb I found in the newspaper, it should be the 3rd attachment. Of course I saved it. I wasn't sure where to go next with my writing and everyone loves true crime or at least a good murder mystery. Then, in the next week, I saw a couple other odd articles (I have attached them as well). One is a letter of resignation from one of the news paper's journalists, due to some kind of journalist ethical concern. Apparently he hasn’t been heard of since. Like completely disappeared. For some reason I was sure that the initial murder, and the later disappearance were related, though I couldn't figure how.

This forced me to dig a little further and I think what I found is captivating at least. Even if I'm grasping at straws I think it tells a compelling narrative, and might sell. I found a small interview, written by the Journalist that disappeared, in regards to a cultural movement within the city. As it turns out this place has a long history of creepy shit, like underground slave prisons, civil war ghosts, a history of catastrophic fires, train accidents, macabre poets, dilapidated asylums turned apartment complexes, and even a vampire legend. No kidding! The guy is entombed down at this old cemetery that overlooks the river. Well the interview is with a member of this group of artists, all of whom were trying to keep this inherent creepiness a part of the city's culture. Though she went by a code name, as all members of Pumpkin Patch do to remain anonymous (in this case kittykat666(=^.^=). I believed that she was the victim in the murder. Having contacted the victim’s parents, I asked if they knew anything about the group Pumpkin Patch. Only the mother would respond, with an invitation to meet with her. Though the meeting was brief, she gave me a series of her daughter's journal entries, a forwarded set of emails between her and her daughter on the topic, and permission to use these things in publishing my next book, so long as I didn't use her daughter's name.

The first attachment is the newspaper interview with kittykat666(=^.^=) It describes really well what the group is about, and how it operates, and it shows you where I'm leaning for main characters (the girl and the journalist). I think it introduces everything well. The second is the girl's journal entries (at least the ones I've deemed relevant). All of these pertain to Pumpkin Patch and they really get you to see who this poor girl was and how she got sucked into this whole mess. The next attachment is the first article blurb I found, the one that describes the murder. The fourth attachment is the letter of resignation from the journalist who interviewed “Kat”. I figure I will just forward those emails that the mother sent to me. There aren't many of them, however there is some character building stuff there. You can see the loving family “Kat” and her mother had before. They also show how the two found Pumpkin Patch. Sorry in advance, the mother has no clue of grammar. I have also included one last attachment, which is unnerving and chilling when you understand how the group finds its inspiration. It's a series of screen shots I took from the group’s auction site. Here, they post a bunch of their work for buyers. They had just posted a new auction when I checked out the site page. Pay attention to the groups shared theme in the artwork.

Whew! That was a lot for an email! Let me know what you think! Paul

Paul Holland [email protected] 2:59 AM (5 hours ago) to Mark

-_____-

Paul

Attachment 1, Attachment 2, Attachment 3, Attachment 4, Attachment 5

Paul Holland [email protected] 3:08 AM (5 hours ago) to Mark

Weird. Someone just rang the door bell to my apartment. I went to go check and no one was there. I'm a little unnerved, especially given what I've just sent you (that subject matter which is still fresh in my mind). I'm not entirely sure it's nothing, but realistically it’s probably nothing so I'm going to get these emails to you and then cool off. Here you go,

Paul

forwarded message

From: [************] To: [email protected] Cc: Sent: [, * *** **** ::**] Subject: opportunities ;)

Hey Kit Kat i hope everything is going better. i know that finding friends can be rough in college but im sure there are a ton of great clubs over there. Just get off your little butt and look!!!! :p only teasing. Also your father should be put that money back into ur college fund. Evidently he needed to buy his new gal pal a car lol. The man's no good! Either way i will make sure everything is all set, u just worry about school work and meeting people and HAVING FUN!!! Let me know if you need anything, im just a phone call away!!!

Love, Mom

. . .

Resp:opportunities ;)

Thanks Mom. Everything is fine, I was just a little worried because the tuition bill is overdue and it needs to be paid in order for me to sign up for classes next semester. He's buying her a CAR!!!!! SMH! SMDH! But my classes are going well. I actually turned in my first couple of paintings and the professor really liked them. He told me I thought out of the box, already had a unique style, and that I should keep pushing myself. He said that I might run into trouble when we start doing other forms, but that he'd help me if I need it. I thought that the class wouldn't like my work or be weirded out, but all in all I got good responses and helpful critiques. Some people in my class invited me to hangout, idk I might go.

. . .

Resp:resp:opportunities ;)

Oh kitty thats great! im glad your classes are going well. And you should SPEND TIME WITH THOSE CLASSMATES!!! Jeeesh!!! Also i am not sure what SMH stands for. i tried to think but cant. :( i did some looking because i knew u wouldnt and i found a club that you might enjoy. They are artists in the area who have auction events, have group meetings and they seem to do a lot in the area. it might be the kind of thing to set u on an art career, if thats what u want to do. i just happened to hear about them and i looked up their site. A lot of their work looks right up ur alley! There is a submission section on their page, and maybe u can send in some of you drawings? i was surprised by how much they were selling for, and i think a lot of ur work is better. I will send you the link. There called the Pumpkin Patch. Thats kinda cute!

Love ya! Mom

. . .

Resp:resp:resp:opportunities ;)

Yeah I'll look it up and send something in. I'll also try hanging out with my class, I'm not sure what we will be doing. Thank you for everything. Love you Too! P.s. SMH is Shaking My Head.

forwarded message

From: [************] To: [email protected] Cc: Sent: [, * *** **** ::**] Subject: Pumpkin Patch

Remember that group you were talking about? Pumpkin Patch. I submitted one of my works and it got accepted. I think you'd remember the one, it had that spider made out of sewing needles and thimbles, strung up in a wire web, the one that I got an award for in school. The group admin sent me an email and wanted to know why I wanted to join the group so I kinda bullshitted an answer and I guess they liked it. I'm supposed to go to a meeting with them, however I have to wear a mask and create an artist name which is kind of weird. I guess they want all the artists to be anonymous even to each other. I told them that that made me uncomfortable, but they assured me that the meeting will be on campus. I'm going to see what it is and drop it if its too sketch. I guess most meetings are online, but bimonthly meetings are in person.

. . .

Resp:Pumpkin Patch

Kit Kat. Idk this sounds a little scary. i wish i had known all that before i sent you the link. Be careful there are a lot of weirdos out there and i dont want u to get hurt. u are a grown women and i hope you will use you best discretion. There is always your classmates, and maybe starting a group with them would be better for you. How did that go with them? I expect you to call me soon.

Be safe, Mom

. . .

Resp:resp:Pumpkin Patch

Please don't freak out but I ended up going to that meeting. It was cool though. We kind of just sat around, discussing what the next theme will be, what scary movies we like that kind of thing. We also planned a little get together at a museum. There are a couple other girls there so I think it's fine. I kind of know one of the people in the group too, although I'm not supposed to. He was actually one of the guys I hung out with last week. He's not in my art class but he is a year above us so everyone knows him. He sort of let it slip that he was in the Pumpkin Patch when we were all hanging out. He assured me that it wasn't going to be weird and that the mask thing was more like a gimmick than anything else, to make the group interesting. That night with my class was fun too, we just sat around a fire pit talking, eating hot dogs, sharing stories. Somebody had a guitar and they all started singing these old songs. They are a good group. I'm going to spend time with them again.

. . .

Resp:resp:resp:Pumpkin Patch

Well im glad that you had a good time. Just remember to be careful, and that u dont have to do anything u dont want to, and CALL YOUR MOTHER. Also im glad you met some nice people. Is there anyone I should be meeting anytime soon? ;)

Please call, I worry Mom

forwarded message

From: [************] To: [email protected] Cc: Sent: [, * *** **** ::**] Subject: What's Up!!!

Hello Kathryn? Im not sure if you remember me, however im YOUR MOTHER! What's been going on? u haven't called me in a while. I hope you've started thinking about housing for next year. Dont worry about the price its all being paid for by ur father. Also I see that you have another exhibition thingy coming up with your Pumpkin Patch. Im thinking about coming down and rooting u on, seeing as u failed to mention the last one. What do you think?

. . .

Resp:What's Up!!!

Yeah I've been looking at some places. Some friends and I are thinking about getting an apartment together a little off campus. I will let you know what we find. Also that first exhibition wasn't a big thing, and I didn't think you'd want to miss work for it. This next one's not a big deal either and I'm not even going to be there, we aren't supposed to associate with or present our work in order to retain the whole aura of mystery. We can still check it out if you want, we just can't let anyone know that I'm a collaborating artist. Also I can't tell you which work is mine, sorry. :/ We can go to this nice little french restaurant after. I just went there recently with a close friend of mine, it just might be my favorite place in town now :3. Let me know when you're in the area.

forwarded message

From: [************] To: [email protected] Cc: Sent: [, * *** **** ::**] Subject: New Exhibition

Hey Mom, I know that there is another exhibition coming up, however I'd prefer that you didn't come to this one. I had fun last time, it's just that I don't think I'd be comfortable with you being there. Also I've decide to leave the group. I just didn't like where it was going and it didn't feel the same as when we first started. That's part of the reason why this latest exhibition would be no good. Also things are falling through at the apartment so I'm trying to find another one for the rest of the semester. I'll send you the places I've found. So far the rent will only be slightly more expensive. Also my roommates already have someone lined up to sublet so we don't have to worry about paying for two places. I will call you soon, and I love you.

Kat

Mark Gergich [email protected] 7:13 AM (1 hour ago) to Paul

Paul,

I just read through everything you’ve emailed me. The forwards, the attachments... everything. Paul Pick up the phone, let me know where you are, I am concerned. I think you may have stumbled onto something that needs to be taken care of by the police. Please Paul. Do not write this book. Don't worry about debts you think you owe me, I'm not worried about that I just want you to come out of this safely without a target on your back. You need to STOP writing this book.

Your friend and publisher, Mark

Paul Holland [email protected] 8:06 AM (3 Minutes ago) to Mark

Mark,

He says I can’t.

Paul

#pumpkinpatch #PP #itcowcer #writing

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itcowcer · 7 years

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Greed

half a thousand times

I’ve dreamt of you being by my side

and now that I have found you near,

nestled, restful against me

I can’t help but wonder why.

#poem #writing #manic poetry #itcowcer

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itcowcer · 7 years

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Zora Ghamiel Qorrar (Part 1)

Part 1

In the village where I grew up, we had very little save the sand and our stories. As a boy, my favorite had been this legend of an ancient ruin, within which lay an ancient tomb, which housed a mythical urn. This urn, it was said, provided it’s wielder with immense powers, and had the ability to grant his every wish. Being a poor boy, with very little family to speak of, I set out into the desert with the hopes of finding this treasure. I was young then, rash and impulsive, and I had not prepared for the journey ahead of me. After the second day of travel I had lost my camel when we stopped for camp. A storm had swept through that night, destroying my tent and scattering the beast to god knows where. The third day I had run out of water. I was not prepared to make the journey on feet, and thus had but a small skin to hydrate myself. By the fifth day I had been dieing of hunger and thirst. I had been surviving on very little but the beetles and lizards that I found on my path before me, and even those had become sparse. The only hope I could see was a small mirage which played out before me. It was a mere trick of the desert, a frothy sea always several leagues ahead of me me. But as I said, it was the only hope I had. And so, tired, sunburnt, and dieing of thirst, I ran.

The first time I ran I was not fast enough. I chased it long and hard, but that brilliant oasis had always glistened just beyond the horizon. I had to stop as I could feel the rush of heat choking my breath as I went. When I tried the second time I closed my eyes. Swearing I could feel the cool wind flowing off the pool before me, I ran harder and faster until I passed out. When I awoke, I was again on the sand with the pool just beyond the horizon. And so came my final try. Even then I knew it would be my last. If I could not catch the mirage, then I would surely die in the oppressive heat. Therefore I ran as though it were the last thing I would every do. I ran long and hard and blindly. When I could feel myself tiring I forced myself to continue, and when I knew I was about to fail I flung myself, rocketing forward and expecting in that moment to crash into a wall of sand. But instead I felt the cooling crash of water. I had chased a mirage and won.

And so I had been saved. I had found myself in a beautiful oasis. A small miracle in the wastes. But this was no mere desert pool. It was the home of a water nymph. Her name was Nara. She and her father ruled this place and protected it from outsiders who would do it harm. I pleaded with her and begged her to let me stay, if only for as long as it took for me to regain my strength. She had never met an outsider before and was quite intrigued by me, so she obliged. I had stayed there for many weeks, gaining my strength from the waters and ever-basking in the presence of Nara. I shared with her the stories I had heard as a boy, and she repaid me by providing fish from the pool and fruit from the banks. These weeks soon turned to months, and eventually years passed by. I had grown fond of Nara, and so to had she of me. In time we would share these feelings with one another, and our hearts had become set on marriage. The problem came from her father, the King of the Pool. When I asked him for his daughter's hand, he gave me a remorseful look, stating that only a wealthy and noble man would have his daughter. Thus beaten, I returned to Nara to share with her the news. But she would not surrender, and so she was determined to make me a wealthy man.

This she did through an ancient secret of her kind. Her mother had learned to call gold out from the earth. And so she summoned forth these precious things to flower forth from the ground. She gave them to me, stating that I should never tell anyone where my wealth had arisen from; To say that it had come from my hands only. And so before long I had amassed a great cache of wealth and was quite certain that Nara would become my wife. It was at this time that a man had come to the oasis. He was a passing merchant prince by the name of Vishar Draxes. Occasionally Nara and her father would entertain such merchants so that the bounty of the oasis could be shared with the surrounding villages. One night, while I was feasting with the prince and his men, partaking in the pipe and other libations, I heard him mention a familiar tale. Draxes had claimed that he had stumbled upon an ancient ruin in the desert, within which was an ancient tomb, which he believed housed a mythical urn. I asked him if he knew where the place was and whether he had taken the urn with him. The noble merchant said no; He could not quite reach the urn, and he would not reveal the ruin’s location without some compensation.

That night I had spent a long time thinking about my situation. On the one hand I had become quite wealthy, and I loved my life with Nara. But with the urn I could have so much more, plus I could satisfy my precious Nara’s every wish. That morning I had gone to Draxes’ tent, offering him all I had for the location of the ruin. It was quite the risk, but I was determined to get it all back, with interest, using the power of the urn. I had ventured forth, reaching the suggested ruin just at sunrise. The urn, however, was not to be found. Feeling filched, I made my way back to the oasis to confront the thieving Vishar Draxes. Only the oasis had vanished and I could not return.

#zora #dnd #itcowcer #writing #lore #characters

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itcowcer · 7 years

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Vrashka Kahl

I remember how my city burned. Those black towers, many built by my own hand, now smoldering in a fount of ash and smoke. It was all in the name of “The Master”. He was once a broken man, a slave and an outsider brought to the city to serve as a servant to one of the many guilds. He was soon captured by the thieves guild, sworn in to be their lackey. Those miserable whelps. They could not hope to staunch the roaring fury within his belly, and they could not perceive the terrible brilliance behind his rigid brow. Before long he had risen through the ranks, thrown off the yoke of servitude becoming grand adviser to one of their most infamous thieves guilds, but despite all of this he found it was not enough. So he murdered his master and silenced all his rivals toward his ascendancy, again finding that this was not enough. Therefore he drove out the other gangs, the mobs, and the hoodlums; giving them order and consolidating their power together under one massive cartel, all working under his iron thumb. They, and the other denizens, would refer to him only as “The Master”. He was their oppressor and their savior, giving order to a city floundering in chaos. And yet, this too was not enough. He found it all boring.

There came a time when he was challenged by a great Sheriff of the realm. A mighty paladin by the name of Sir Lamark. He alone stood against the Master’s rule, bringing hope to the innocents that lived in the crime lord's shadow. Lamark’s death was as easy as two knives in the dark. Yet the man had a daughter. A precious dove whose beauty and purity drove out whatever corruption it touched. The Master saw her, and loved her, and decided that he must have her. And so she was his, his precious caged dove, and the Master felt content to be her guardian. Her name was Vanessa. She was his joy, his treasure, and his ruin; for in the light of her grace, the Master had lost his edge. His rule was plagued by enemies both within and without. Friends and Rivals alike saw that she was his weakness.

Though Lamark’s death was easy, his legacy lived on. This through the upstart vigilante known as “the Swan”. The Swan had disrupted many of the Master’s smaller operations, and had caused many of his underlings to cut loose with their tails between their legs. These were all minor annoyances to the Master, hardly worth his attention, until the day his precious Vanessa had been kidnapped. He spent all that he had in a relentless campaign, burning down the city in his wrath to find the Swan and his darling dove. His general’s began to lose faith, planning and scheming for the chance to dethrone him but none with the courage or insight to follow through. Not until that day he saw her again. That day by the docks.

They had cornered him, found the Swan’s hide out. He was trapped and certain to die having been beaten badly by the Master’s own hand. But before the trap could be sprung, the Master’s men betrayed him. They lashed upon him, ready to see him and the Swan both thrown into the bay. Together, the two fought off the ingrates, but the Master was near-fatally wounded. Thus sundered, he awaited the Swan’s final deathstroke. But he was saved by the voice of his love, the delicate Vanessa. And so it was decided that he would leave the city as it burned, never to return, never again to plague its citizens with his genius. Never again to see her. Oh he begged her to go with him, begged her to be again by her side. Told her all sorts of trite about how for all his evil, she was the one bit of light in his life of mire and muck. But she turned away, turned to the arms of the man known as the Swan. And so the Master was an exile, watching his city burn as he drifted alone in the bay; his boat drifting further and further away.

That had been some years ago. Though many do not know the name of Vrashka Kahl many still remember his legacy. In the worst and seediest parts of town many a blackguard and pickpocket still whisper of the days when the thieves guilds were unified. When their power dwarfed that of some of the mightiest kings. Yes, though history has forgotten the name Vrashka Kahl, there are those who curse and praise his days as “the Master.”

Name: Vrashka Kahl “The Master” (Formerly though now forgotten)

Race: Goliath

Class: Barbarian

Height: 8’6”

Eyes: Jade

Weight: 400 lbs

Alignment: True Neutral - Lawful Evil (Somewhere on the “Angst Spectrum”)

Background: Noble

Goals: Vrashka Kahl is currently on a soul searching mission. He’s trying to rediscover/reinvent himself. Maybe make some friends on the way. He’d like that. Though he’s never met anyone ingenious or intriguing enough to suit what he needs in a friend....

#Dnd #itcowcer #writing #lore #characters

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