Heather Mason (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolishwren) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
route_10652011-08-31 11:55 pm
foolishwren) wrote in route_10652011-08-31 11:55 pm
Between the kindness of strangers and the rumble of the road
Who: Aoko Nakamori, Crow Hogan, Harry Mason, Heather Mason, Henry Townshend, Kaito Kuroba
Where: Route 38
When: Nighttime, August 31
Summary: Campfires are interesting places. Even more interesting when the people sitting at one are a detective's daughter, a guy who plays card games on motorcycles, an internationally-wanted jewel thief, an agoraphobic photographer, a ... Heather, and a mild-mannered novelist who's probably the only mature adult there.
But you can't have a campfire without stories, and with such a crowd as odd as this one, there's sure to be a few worth telling...
Rating: PG for spooky stories
Log:
The dog days of summer are a special time of year, regardless of whether or not you're young enough to still associate them with the last days of freedom before fall and academia set back in. And while Johto's pace of life seemed to stay the same year-round regardless of season, there was still a little something in the air on that last night of August.
The sun had long since sunk below the treeline, leaving in its wake a warm night that still held the barest hint of the autumn ahead.
But the fire chased that little ghost of a chill away nicely, small though it was from where it flickered in the center of the little hollow they'd set up camp in, and what the fire didn't do, the sleeping bags would. It was a small site, hardly more than a pine-needle-and-root-floored clearing walled in by thick trunks.
In fact, the fire's flickering light hardly even extends through the gaps between the trees.
... Which is why Heather's got a staticky, softly-glowing Pichu held in the palm of her hand like some kind of squishy, living lantern as she squeezes her way back into the fire's light, stepping carefully over friend, Pokemon alike before dumping a pile of sticks next to the fire.
"Boom. That's enough for the rest of the night, I think. Outta the way, Cooj."
Shoveling the fluffy canine monstrosity that had (along with a few puffy bags of marshmallows) been taking up most of her sleeping bag aside, Heather flopped down with a hearty huff, still holding her father's Pichu and looking around at the rest of the travel party with a wide grin.
"SO! We still gonna do the stories?"
Where: Route 38
When: Nighttime, August 31
Summary: Campfires are interesting places. Even more interesting when the people sitting at one are a detective's daughter, a guy who plays card games on motorcycles, an internationally-wanted jewel thief, an agoraphobic photographer, a ... Heather, and a mild-mannered novelist who's probably the only mature adult there.
But you can't have a campfire without stories, and with such a crowd as odd as this one, there's sure to be a few worth telling...
Rating: PG for spooky stories
Log:
The dog days of summer are a special time of year, regardless of whether or not you're young enough to still associate them with the last days of freedom before fall and academia set back in. And while Johto's pace of life seemed to stay the same year-round regardless of season, there was still a little something in the air on that last night of August.
The sun had long since sunk below the treeline, leaving in its wake a warm night that still held the barest hint of the autumn ahead.
But the fire chased that little ghost of a chill away nicely, small though it was from where it flickered in the center of the little hollow they'd set up camp in, and what the fire didn't do, the sleeping bags would. It was a small site, hardly more than a pine-needle-and-root-floored clearing walled in by thick trunks.
In fact, the fire's flickering light hardly even extends through the gaps between the trees.
... Which is why Heather's got a staticky, softly-glowing Pichu held in the palm of her hand like some kind of squishy, living lantern as she squeezes her way back into the fire's light, stepping carefully over friend, Pokemon alike before dumping a pile of sticks next to the fire.
"Boom. That's enough for the rest of the night, I think. Outta the way, Cooj."
Shoveling the fluffy canine monstrosity that had (along with a few puffy bags of marshmallows) been taking up most of her sleeping bag aside, Heather flopped down with a hearty huff, still holding her father's Pichu and looking around at the rest of the travel party with a wide grin.
"SO! We still gonna do the stories?"
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Sometimes I wonder why I even bothered with that.
[A small smile though.]
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But c'mon, how about that story?
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Alright, alright. What story was that....right the babysitting one.
[Just give him a moment to think back. Right...that one. He takes a breath and enters story mode. So suddenly less awkward.]
Well, that one's actually one of the stories I collected for one of my books. It was a little bit before you were born Heather. Your mother and I drove quite a bit to hear it.
It was in the fall, in a fairly average sized town in the next state over. The girl who told us this story. Her name was Anna, she was sixteen and she was babysitting in a house with three kids. Two little boys and a girl who was almost a teenager herself.
Now the girl, Marie. She didn't want to have a baby sitter at all, so she spent most of her time sulking in her room. This left Anna to play with the two little boys. She didn't mind though, she liked kids. So they played games in the backyard until it started to get dark. Going inside, they set up a movie to watch.
They were watching the movie when the phone rang. Now this was before they had caller id, so, assuming it was the parents calling. Anna picked up the phone.
However before she could say something, she heard a man laugh on the other end. It was a cold cruel laugh and she hung up quickly.
One of the boys asked her what it was and she just told them it was a prank call. And she thought so too.
Half an hour later the phone rang again. Anna picked it up and this time the man on the other line spoke.
'I'll be there soon'. It was the same shrill voice as before and the laughter that fallowed was just as disturbing. Anna hung up the phone and then making a quick excuse made sure to check the doors were locked. Going back she continued to watch their movie.
Half an hour later, the phone rang again. This time Anna picked it up quickly. It was the same voice.
'One more hour', the same cold laughter.
[Lisa curls up on Harry's lap as he talks. Harry's a quiet speaker but he's been adding voices to the story as well.]
Anna was starting to get scared but the parents should be home soon so they went back to the movie.
Half an hour later, the man called back.
'Pretty soon now'. And there was more laughing. Anna demanded to know why he was doing this, but this time the man hung up first. She was getting scared and the children were starting to realize something was wrong as well. So she made a big deal of being tired of the prank calls and called the operator to complain. The operator told her to call back if it happened again and they'd trace the call.
So they went back to the tv. Sure enough, half an hour later the phone rang. Anna picked up the phone.
'Very soon now' the man laughed and Anna hung up the phone and called the operator.
[Harry pauses for a moment.]
The operator and almost seconds after she had the phone rang again. This time however it was the operator. 'We've traced the call. It's coming from inside the house. Get out of there and I'll call the police.'
Anna dropped the phone and grabbed the now frightened boy by the hand. She ran to the door when one of the boys yelled. She looked behind them to see a tall thin man with a narrow grin slowly walking down the stairs. He wasn't in a hurry, he just slowly walks towards them. There was a long thin knife in his hands that he played with as he walked.
Anna managed to unlock the door and almost dragged the boys out into the night. The man didn't follow them as they ran to the neighbours.
The police arrived at the house to find the older sisters dead body in the room upstairs. She'd been killed with a long thin knife. On the wall there was a drawing of a clock in blood. With a two small scratch's on every half hour.
[Another pause.]
The man though, was nowhere to be seen.
They caught him a month later. In a similar house. With a similar murder.
They boys family moved away and Anna stopped babysitting. She says she doesn't like to be alone still. That she's still afraid, that one day she's going to pick up that phone and hear that, horrible, cold, laughter.
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[When he's finished, she turns to the rest of the group with a serious nod.]
That story?
Made me turn down every single neighbor who ever tried to get me to babysit for them when I was in high-school.
[... NOT... THAT THERE HAD BEEN MANY. Mostly folks from the church trying to reach out to those shy quiet people in the Daisy Villa apartment who didn't get out much.]
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I told you not to read them.
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[Since coming to Johto and spending a year in the company of a Growlithe, dog metaphors spring to Heather's mind a lot more readily than before.]
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[... She doesn't really mind that much, judging by her too-serious-to-be-serious tone.]
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Oh course not. Just because you came running in claiming the pillow was trying to eat your head. I'd never dream of joking about that.
[Actually he would. It's the nightmares about fire and burning and memories that he wouldn't joke about, much less bring up. Convinced that your bed is actually the monster you saw on tv though? That is fully up for grabs.]
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Da-aaaad! You said you'd never tell anybody about that!
[... Of course, she knows he wouldn't joke about those nightmares... or the ones where she dreamed of something inside her, moving around and making terrible little noises. To be fair... she can't bring herself to joke about those, either. And she's Heather. The girl who can joke about virtually anything.]
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It must have slipped out.
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... Right, guys?