Pet Sematary: An Interactive Horror Event [COMPLETE]
You are college student Ivan Leighton, recently having moved to Ludlow, Maine, to get a better education. He moved with his friends, away from his parents, now at a new life. Unfortunately for him, his new life is going to take a dark turn. The small town of Ludlow holds a dark secret, one that reels you in, and you struggle, and struggle...until it squeezes the life right out of you.
And sometimes, dead is better.
This is a small experiment I'm doing to see if a horror novel like this can be changed into an interactive experience similar to Heavy Rain, The Walking Dead and The Wolf Among Us. The characters you submit will change the story, and the choices you make will change it's course. Remember, this story is not for the faint of heart. If you considered The Walking Dead harrowing, wait until you read this.
Characters go here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1jprpF6X4LKH-MlV14vlPTkErX3f1sN22u3IHIeQs2U8/viewform?usp=send_form
Characters Introduced: Ivan Leighton, Kristine Munthausen, Brendon Venusaur, Martin Hart, Scott Leland, Chris Knapp, Hope Cole, Arild Sundby, Tina Storm, Jeff Brown,
"Mommy! I've got something to show yooouuu!!"
PART 1: THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD - https://docs.google.com/document/d/103KbiwQDTTq1LI_o89nnHCwKUsG0srajJK7lv6bu8_4/edit?usp=docslist_api
STATUS: COMPLETE
PART 2: THE GALLOWS POLE - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fUCxhWAl7ZA060YASUylmlrUT0X5vq3RY23FU5UfxVE/edit?usp=sharing
STATUS: ONGOING
PART 3: WENDIGO - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RwvPO-vJ1avCx9npHwblzhpeFuykfYB-ytuCDlVzIb4/edit?usp=sharing
STATUS: ONGOING
Comments
How exciting!
Submited, Brenden Venusuar
Lol
Submitted Hope Cole, looking forward to seeing this!
Wow, this looks great! Have submitted a character, Arild Sundby.
I'm going to submit a character for sure
Only question I have, because it would matter for my characters backstory: Which year is the story set in? Is it sometime during the 80's, like in the novel and movie?
I'd say it'd be set sometime in the 90s.
I submitted Martin Hart.
I just submitted Scott Leland
“A man named Lazarus was sick. He lived in Bethany with his sisters, Mary and Martha. 2 This is the Mary who later poured the expensive perfume on the Lord’s feet and wiped them with her hair. Her brother, Lazarus, was sick. 3 So the two sisters sent a message to Jesus telling him, ‘Lord, your dear friend is very sick.’
4 But when Jesus heard about it he said, ‘Lazarus’s sickness will not end in death. No, it happened for the glory of God so that the Son of God will receive glory from this.’ 5 So although Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, 6 he stayed where he was for the next two days. 7 Finally, he said to his disciples, ‘Let’s go back to Judea.’”
John 11:1-6
PART 1: THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD
Ivan Leighton, whose family had disowned him just four years before, for running away with some girl he dumped at a Holiday Inn mere months later, and had then been forced to come scrambling back for money, then made to get a job and was shamefully forced to live with his parents and younger brother under angry eye, for two long years, had finally freed himself from their grasps after working up enough money for a scholarship and a house. Ivan Leighton, who had never truly known a loving family, was about to meet one. Somewhat.
His eyes were a blotchy red, and Ivan could feel them slowly closing, slowly closing, slowly…
“Ivan!” A female voice suddenly slammed him awake, as he swerved, just barely stopping himself from hitting a green Sedan in the other lane.“Shit!” He cried out, the honking of horns and the squealing of tires simultaneously bursting his eardrums, suddenly writhing with worry. Him, his girlfriend and himself had nearly just been shattered into a load of bloody chunks of metal, splattered about the landscape. He breathed out heavily, his foot still squeezing tightly on the pedal, his heart pumping blood out a mile a minute, and his fingers gripped around the steering wheel tightly. It was silent for a few moments afterwards, and the two in the front of the car simply stared at the headlights that illuminated the road. Finally, his girlfriend, Kristine, began to speak. "Let's pull into the next hotel we see..."
"Yeah...that works for me..."
And so they rented a room in the next hotel over, a rather mediocre place, but it was a bit dark and they could barely see the place. They ordered themselves a room, and walked into their rooms. Ivan immediately plopped down on the bed, exhausted, but soon realized he had to call him.
There was one other, two, really, on their trip, in another car however. Brendon Venusaur. He, being Ivan's great friend from long ago, decided to join him on his trip. While Brendon himself didn't even have a scholarship to go to college, he insisted he was going to find a job and provide for them, so Brendon was allowed to join. Along with him, the other passenger, was Brendon's yellow tabby cat, Noodlestrop. Noodlestrop was one of those cats who looked you in the eye and when those eyes stared deep into your souls, you realized that cat was saying two words; fuck off. The cat was a ballsy adventurer, not ever scratching or clawing or hissing anything at all, instead walking around like a gunslinger, ready to shoot you down with one of those wicked glares.
"I'm about to call Brendon." Ivan told Kristine, something that didn't need to be told, really. "Yeah. That's fine, hun. By the way, just so I don't forget, tomorrow I'll drive, alright?" She curled up on the bed, fluffed up the pillow, and covered herself with the blanket. Ivan smiled, then pulled out his phone and typed in the numbers to call Brendon. He pulled it up to his ear, and listened to the dial tone ring, and ring, and ring. Soon, Brendon's voice piped up on the other end. "Hey, what's up?"
Ivan paused for a second, until his mouth finally began to work and he said a few words. "Hey, we stopped by a hotel, if that's alright. I was just a little bit too tired."
"That's fine. What's the hotel's name? I might stop for the night too?"
Ivan looked outside the window to get a glimpse of the name of the hotel, then came back to the phone. "Maxine's Best."
"Okay, sounds good. I'll be there in a little bit."
The other end hung up, and Ivan set his phone on the nightstand. He fell back on the bed, and curled up next to Kristine.
In the morning they had all already headed out, passing into Maine and eventually into Ludlow. It was long, agonizing trip, full of complaining that it was too hot and then too cold, and at one point Ivan was ready to say to hell with it all and pushed Kristine out of the car and then drove off, all the way to New York. He would see the Statue of Liberty, go eat pizza, and live in the great city in peace...
However, those words that were all waiting for, that they had always wanted came eventually. "We're here."
They looked at their beautiful house, just absorbing it all in. Ivan took a breath in, then the two began bringing stuff in. Eventually, Brendon and Noodlestrop drove up, and Brendon began pulling things inside. Noodlestrop was rolling around in the grass and jumping onto flowers. "Go get'em, killer." Ivan told him when he was sure no one was watching, then continued carrying a cardboard box full of video games into the house.
They had finally gotten every last box inside the house, and were resting on the couch. Brendon had let Noodlestrop inside, and was watching Friends on his old Panasonic television. Ivan and Kristine had eyes on the screen, but weren't really paying attention to the adventures of Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Chandler, Joey and Ross. They were more focused on the new life they had just been given. The few dollars they had left, the house they lived in, the cat and the man they now lived with, and this town of Ludlow. This was their life now.
Their heads suddenly swerved at a knocking on the door, Ivan's eyes squinting at the door knob. He began to sat up, but just before Kristine bolted up and away. "I got it." She said, then swiftly walked to the door. She wrapped her fingers around the golden globe, and twisted and pulled. Ivan walked over, and Brendon stood up. A man with dark hair and brown, gleaming hair stood in the doorway. He looked worn out, maybe a cool forty years old. "Hey, there guys. I had just noticed you guys moving in across the street, and I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Martin Hart, a detective, here just..." Martin clicked his tongue, looking up at the door frame, then returned to the new residents in town. "Investigating."
Kristine smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Martin. I'm Kristine Munthausen. The one with the stubble is Ivan, um, Leighton. The other guy is Brendon...oh, hey, Brendon, what's your last name?"
Brendon, seeming slightly offended and taken aback for a few seconds, finally heaved out a sigh and responded. "Venusaur."
Kristine smiled again, then turned back to Martin. "Venusaur."
Ivan pulled his hands from his pockets and greeted Martin. "It's nice to meet you detective. If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?" He held a hand out too as a friendly gesture. "Thirty-nine." Martin replied, and firmly took his hand and shook it. Damn, well, you were close Ivan. Thirty-nine. Not forty. Thirty-nine. Ivan immediately thought as his hand moved up and down. "So, Ivan, I came here not just to greet you, but also since I got told by some of the residents in town that, well...they always do this thing for any new people in town, they take them out to the bar just down the street, Boulevard Beer. Cheesy as fuck, I know." Instantly the detective closed his eyes as if he had done a terrible thing. "I'm sorry, I just swore, right?"
Ivan smiled. "Hey, it's fine. We don't care."
Martin seemed relieved. "Great. Thanks. Anyways, so on to the point. I was the closest to you guys, so...you want to head out and get a beer tonight?"
[Sure thing.]
[Can't, we still need to get unpacked.]
[Sure thing.]
I don't like where this is going... Which makes it all the better
[Can't, we still need to get packed.]
[Sure thing.]
[Cant, we still need to get packed]
[Sure thing.]
[Can't, we still need to get packed.]
Since the votes were tied, I flipped a coin and got...
[Sure thing.] for heads.
[Sure thing.]
Ivan nodded. "Sure thing." Martin smiled, and tipped his hat. "Then it's settled. See ya tonight, around 9:00 PM. Good?"
"Good."
With that, Martin left the house, taking a quick glance back, only to see that the front door was closed. He smiled, lit a cigarette, and walked back to his car.
It was 7:00 around the time the trio was getting ready. Kristine was currently angry at Ivan for his rash decisions. As it turns out, she didn't want to go drink with unknown people after driving for over ten hours. Brendan and Ivan were sitting on the couch in the living room, the group somewhat having finished getting unpacked, but stopping about ninety percent into it to sit down and watch TV.
The two were watching the local news. Nothing in particularly special was happening, there was just talk of fall coming up, the college nearby getting ready for school starting, shit, shit, and literal shit. There was a segment about the cow manure used on some of the farms. Ivan yawned and stretched his arms out, then stood up. "I'd better go and talk to Kristine." He said with an exasperated sigh, and Brendan soon chimed in. "Hey, what's wrong with her today?"
Ivan smirked. "She's just a little pissy about me wanting to you know, socialize at a bar." Brendan shrugged and turned back to the news. Ivan nodded, and patted Brendan on the back. "Have fun with your cow shit."
Ivan grasped the railing with his right hand, and began the eighteen steps up to Kristine. His leg felt a soft whoosh and fur bristling against him. Ivan looked down to see the orange fur ball Noodlestrop staring at him, "Go fuck yourself" and all. "Yeah, fuck you too cat." Ivan said when he made sure Brendan wasn't listening. Noodlestrop waved his tail about in the air, then climbed down the stairs to find someone else to flip off.
Ivan got up to the second floor of the house, and slowly creaked over to his bedroom door. He took two of his knuckles, and lightly tapped on the door. "Kristine? You okay?" He whisped into the door, and heard the bed squeak, followed by loud footsteps, getting louder, louder...
He nearly fell over when the door opened, but he caught himself before he went face first into the floor. He came face to face with the scarlet haired, green-eyed scowling face of Kristine. "Hey, babe, listen, I didn't mean to make such a quick decision, I just thought it would be best if we, well, got to know some of the people around town..."
Kristine solemnly nodded as if she understood, but it became obvious that she was still pissed. Ivan stepped inside the room, and Kristine sat down on the bed. "Yeah. That's right. You come in with your sad 'I'm sorry' act and I tell you 'No, it was my fault, I'm sorry I was such a bitch.' Just like every time."
Ivan shrugged. Yes, just like every time. Just like everytime.
It was a mere hour and a half later when they were out the door and in Brendan's car. Noodlestrop had decided to take a stroll outside while the three college kids were going to be getting drunk until they passed out. Brendan drove, and Ivan sat in the passenger's seat. Kristine had said she wanted to sit in the back anyways, as she needed a small bit of time to herself, apparently. They had searched the roads for what seemed like hours (thanks for the directions, Martin) but when they finally found the bar it was only 8:54. "Right on time."
Ivan quickly jumped out of the car, as did the other two. Multiple cars and trucks were parked out around the bar, and their windows glowed pink in the neon sign that read Boulevard Beer. Ivan stepped on to the porch, then stepped through the doors of the bar.
Inside were tables, chairs, beer, drunks and the strangest music for a bar ever. Playing across the intercom was a Christian song, proclaiming that it was a beautiful day. Ivan ignored the music and led his party of three off to the bar itself. They sat down on three stools, Kristine in the middle. Directly next to Ivan was a bald man, with a muscular build. His right earlobe was gone, currently a nasty looking scar. There were beer bottles surrounding him, and right now he had a glass of whiskey in his lips, guzzling the brownish liquid into his stomach.
He sat the bottle down, and began to tap his fingers across the table. A gentle rapping at my chamber door. Ivan began to think, Edgar Allen Poe being one of the main authors he had studied in high school. "You're the new kid, right?"
Ivan looked around suddenly, finally realizing it was the man drinking the whiskey. "Were you...were you talking to me?" He asked quietly, and the man grinned. "The fuck else would I be talking to?"
Ivan nodded. "Yeah. Right. I'm the new kid. That's me."
The man beside him drummed his fingers on the table again. Only this, and nothing more.
"I'm Scott."
"Ivan."
Scott waved a hand to the bartender. "Hey! Can I see the remote to the TV? And another shot of...whiskey." The bartender complied, hanging over the remote and a small shot glass filled with alcohol. Scott paid the man, then began to flip through the channels, finally landing on The Wizard of Oz, where the Lollipop Kids were doing their part. "Good enough." He said, then drank his glass of whiskey. "Hey...there's this place, Ivan..."
He hiccuped, then wiped his mouth. Ivan grew uneasy. Maybe it was time to leave. Whenever someone tells you about this place, you should probably leave.
"This place...it's a pet cemetery, just so you know...it's a great tourist attraction...you and your friends wanna ditch this shitty bar and check it out?"
Ivan raised an eyebrow. It was never a good idea to do something like that. You do not join drunk, bald men to have adventures in pet cemeteries at night. Yet, for some reason there was something oddly compelling about the offer. Ivan looked at the TV screen. "Follow the yellow brick road!" The Munchkins cried out, and Ivan turned back to Scott.
[Follow the yellow brick road]
[No way.]
[Follow the yellow brick road]
[Follow the yellow brick road]
What could possibly go wrong?
[Follow the yellow brick road]
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Might as well [Follow the yellow brick road] to our possible imminent demise!
[Follow the yellow brick road.]
Ivan swallowed, and let a gasp of breath away from him. "Yeah. We'll come with you." Scott smiled, and patted Ivan on the back. "Good. I'll head outside while you get your guys all ready." He stood up with a loud creaking from his back, and stumbled off, out the door. Ivan coughed into his hand, then turned his head slowly towards Kristine and Brendan. What the fuck did he just do? Now he was going to get another fit from Kristine. Brendan probably wouldn't care, the dumbass was either high or drunk all the time. Fuck fuck fuck. Ivan thought through his mind, then stood up and looked at his party of two. He decided he would break it very slowly to Kristine. Currently she was looking around the bar, waving to any drunkard who waved at her. Her eyes shifted as she saw Ivan looking at her. "Some welcoming committee, eh?" She smiled, and Ivan's mouth curved into a slight grin also. Maybe this was going to be easier than he thought.
"Well, uh, Kristine...I just told some guy...we'd uh, we'd go to some tourist attraction by Ludlow with him now." Ivan stammered out, and Kristine's face changed into a look of absolute indifference. She licked her lips, and dropped her shoulders on the bar. "Listen, earlier, Ivan...I was a bitch. I can say that fairly. But now...I think I have the right to be a bitch. I mean, what about Martin? What about the whole welcoming committee?" Ivan scratched the back of his head, and sighed. "I know, but, you know, it's not like that whole welcoming committee is actually coming. Do you think they're coming? They're not! Martin played us!"
Kristine looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell is up with you? Why would anybody tell us to go to a fucking bar just for shits and giggles? And why are you arguing so desperately for this place you want to go to? Jesus Christ, Martin probably got caught in traffic or something." Her full attention was on her nervous boyfriend, and Ivan swallowed again. His eyes were shiny, his brow was sweaty, and dear God did he hate living right now. "Kristine, listen to me. Listen to me. I have to go there. I have to. We have to. I know, it sounds crazy, I know, but I'm getting this feeling, this feeling that we have to go there. That something wants us there."
Kristine gulped in air, and shook her head. "I don't know what's wrong with you Ivan...but...I'll go...I don't like seeing you like this...I don't know what it is about this place but...I guess if you go you'll stop acting like you're crazy." She hadn't realized that Ivan was already gone and convincing Brendan.
They had been driving in silence for these past fifteen minutes. The place they were going was about a mile away from the brand new house. They drove past, Ivan in the passenger seat, Scott driving, and Kristine and Brendan in the back. Kristine appeared to be quite worried about Ivan, and Brendan was just quite worried about his dumb cat. Ivan was in a full state of unrest and curiosity. His heart was pounding, blood was flowing and adrenaline was pumping. He was sweating profusely, and he kept thinking. His mind was racing past him, himself not even being able to accept the thoughts inside his brain.
Why are you here Ivan? You shouldn’t be here. Don’t go beyond. Don’t go beyond don’t go beyond don’t go beyond
These thoughts were not his own. It was as if there were two beings there with him, one propelling him forward into whatever cemetery this place was, and another warning him of this place. He suddenly imagined two cartoonish figures, a devilish version of himself on one shoulder, and an angelic version on the other. Should he listen to the warnings, or should he keep on going? The car suddenly came to a jolty stop, and Scott jumped out almost immediately.
“We’re here.”
Ivan decided he was going into the cemetery. It was a goddamn tourist attraction, for Christ’s sakes. Nothing was going wrong at all here. Nothing would ever fucking go wrong. Hundreds, if not thousands of people had come to this place and he had never even heard a single thing about it. Nothing was going to happen. Besides, it wasn’t like Ivan was superstitious anyways. Unless, of course, his mind was trying to warn him of something Scott would do, but the man didn’t seem like it. Scott was a well-built man, standing at almost 6 and a half feet tall. He looked depressed and like a drunkard, which to be honest, is one of the best kind of people to be around in the dark. No, Ivan’s thoughts were not worried about Scott at all. He had known Kristine for two years now, and Brendan he had known for half his life. He was in good standing.
The car was parked on the side of the road, and out behind the car was a large pasture. On the other end of the pasture however, was a forested area with one small spot in the middle of it; a trail. Their small group began walking on, still silent with Kristine rubbing at her sweater. It was the early days of Fall, but it was much colder up here in Maine then they were used to. When they finally reached the path, Ivan was perfectly calm, Scott was too drunk to care, Kristine was shivering, and Brendan had already broken into a sweat. Scott chuckled at Brendan’s out of shapeness, and looked at the path. “If you thought that was bad, wait until what’s ahead.”
They had traversed over hills for what seemed like hours. There were so many goddamn hills on that trail. One of them showcased the marvelous landscape, rising above the trees, where Ivan sat down with Kristine for a second and looked at the stars. They had continued on, until the fateful sign was above them. It was crude, obviously having been written on with black paint by somebody with horrible handwriting, a vicious scrawl as if from a child. The sign read PET SEMATARY, and had a small cross beside it, also painted on, The entrance way was overgrown with vines and plants, which had overtaken the hastily made wooden planks that served as the entrance. Kristine was silent, and Brendan was tired but obviously terrified, as shown through his gleaming eyes that were darting back and forth. Scott seemed cool and collected, either from his drunkenness or himself having been here multiple times before. Ivan guessed the former. There was no way, even if you had seen this place a million times, could you not be scared of this place without some mind-altering substance. Once more, Ivan had the thoughts that were not his.
Stop right now. Do not go further. Do not go further.
Ivan hesitated, but his curiousness was gripped tightly around him, and sucked him. The second Ivan put his foot into the cemetery, the feelings of dread went away.
“What’s the story with this place?” Kristine asked shakily, her eyes moving on Ivan as she walked closer to him. Scott stifled a cough, and looked around. “Bunch of kids got bored, I guess. Their pets were dying, and they didn’t want to remember them as a trash bag at the side of the road. They made this place. Damn kids couldn’t spell either.” He laughed at this, but it didn’t seem to ease anyone else. Ivan looked at the various headstones made of wood and anything the kids could find. He rested on one, a crude wooden marker with jagged edges and faded blue paint. SMUCKY HE WAS OBEDIANT. Ivan smirked. This place wasn’t harmless. It was humorous, in a dark sort of way.
BIFFER BIFFER A HELLUVA SNIFFER UNTIL HE DIED HE MADE US RICHER 1971-1974 on a chunk of warped crate.
IN MEMORY OF MARTA OUR PET RABIT DYED MARCH 1 1965 on a wide flat board.
GEN PATTON (OUR! GOOD! DOG!) APRIL 1958 on another board.
HANNAH THE BEST DOG THAT EVER LIVED on an old Chevrolet hood.
POLYNESIA, 1953.
There were a few markers that were unreadable, and Crisco can’s, peanut butter jars, and other food containers were littered about with dead flowers inside them. Ivan looked about, his eyes finally resting on what appeared to be a deadfall in the back. Fallen trees everywhere, and Ivan had the brief thought of climbing it. He then imagined falling, one of the sharp limbs piercing his skull as he died of blood loss. Ivan was suddenly struck with the thought of what was behind the deadfall. Maybe there was more of this pet “sematary”? He looked over at Scott.
[What’s behind the deadfall?]
[Forget about it.]
[What’s behind the deadfall?]
[What’s behind the deadfall?]
What's behind the deadfall?
[What’s behind the deadfall?]
[What’s behind the deadfall?]
[What’s behind the deadfall?]
[What's behind the deadfall?]
"What's behind the deadfall?" Ivan quickly let loose from his lips, as he stared down Scott from afar. Scott stared ahead, an audible sigh coming from his mouth. It was quiet for a while, just the four, the dead animals, and a group of harmonizing crickets. Finally, Scott reluctantly spat out the word. "Nothin'."
Ivan cocked and eyebrow at him, as Brendon turned around. "What the fuck does that mean?! Nothing? That's supposed to stop us from being curious?!"
Ivan stepped up. "Brendon, calm down. What's the matter with you?"
Scott pushed Ivan aside and began storming up to Brendon. "Listen, you want to know so bad what's back behind the deadfall?! You want to go see a bunch of druggies getting high on heroin? No! You don't!" He turned around and started heading away, while Brendon crossed his arms and frowned. "What's his deal, Ivan?" Brendon said, and Ivan shrugged. Kristine was frowning, her hand resting on top of Smucky's grave marker. "Listen, guys, let's...leave. This was a bad idea." They all looked at each other, taking one glance back at the deadfall. "Druggies." Ivan repeated. "Druggies."
Brendon turned around and headed down the path way, off towards the car again. Kristine lifted her hand from Smucky's final resting place, and began to walk off. Ivan stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, turned around and looked at the deadfall one last time. He did a two finger salute, then began walking after the others, muttering under his breath "Druggies."
They made it to the car eventually, after a long exasperation. Kristine and Ivan conversed with each other, but the other were quiet, even Scott, who normally seemed too drunk to hold a grudge. They climbed inside the car, and Scott started up the engine. This time, Ivan jumped in the back with Kristine. Brendon seemed reluctant to join Scott in the front, but he did sit down. They drove off, and Ivan stared outside the window, watching the trees and and pastures pass by, until he saw his own house fly by. Getting high on heroin.
Sirens were blaring, and red and blue lights were reflecting off of the windshield. A cop was driving directly behind him, and Scott coughed into his arm, pulling over to the side of the road. Much to his surprise, the cop stopped behind him. The sirens suddenly switched off, and the door opened. Scott began to roll down his window, then looked out his window, poking his head out. "What's the matter, sir?" As he calmly looked out, the officer began walking up. He didn't look like your traditional cop, and that car didn't seem like your traditional cop car. Kristine gasped, and grabbed Ivan's arm. "Ivan...it's..."
"Martin." Ivan finished, as he looked as Martin stepped up to Scott's window. "You seemed a little bit...tipsy there, huh?"
Scott raised and eyebrow, and shook his head. "What do you mean?" Martin sniffled, and stuffed a hand into his pocket. "You were swerving all over the road." Scott swallowed, then looked down at the steering wheel. He directed his attention back to Martin, and frowned. "I'm not drunk."
Martin shook his head and sighed. "I'll be the judge of that."
Scott failed the test. He was immediately handcuffed for driving while under the influence, and he was sitting in the back of Martin's cop car. Martin looked at the three before him, then smiled. "Hey. So, this is where you guys were, huh? Didn't see you at the bar, so I decided to head out on patrol. Fun stuff."
Ivan scoffed. "Detectives go on patrol?"
Martin clicked his tongue, and suddenly walked around and grabbed Ivan's back, slamming him into the hood of the car. "Shit!" Ivan cried out, as his face was forced into the hood. His arms were placed behind his back, and his wrists were firmly handcuffed, as he squirmed around for a few seconds before realizing it was useless to resist. "Ivan Leighton, you are under arrest for disrespecting an officer...and then resisting arrest." He clipped the handcuffs on, then angrily turned to Kristine and Brendon. "What the fuck?! This is police brutality!" Kristine cried out, as Martin began yelling at them. "You two are under arrest for associating with criminals. Now you stay there, or I'll force you to."
Ivan closed his eyes on the hood of the truck, while Martin spoke into his walkie-talkie for another squad car to show up. Why...why....druggies...heroin....high on heroin....Smucky....deadfall....
What was happening to them?
TO BE CONTINUED
Oh my....
To keep this thread running around for a little bit, I've decided on a few questions to ask you guys!
Who is your favorite character so far?
What do you think will happen this part and beyond?
It is really hard to choose a favourite character. So far, I found all of them extremely enjoying and I especially like that there is a small cast of characters so far. Plenty time for characerization. I think I can't choose a favourite, I just find them all very fascinating so far.
Scott is exactly how I imagined him when I submitted him. Brendon has probably the most badass last name ever (though I'd rather be named Charizard). Normally I like Non-POV characters more than POV's but I actually start to get fond of Ivan. Kristine is totally awesome and probably the sanest person so far. And after that last chapter I am totally excited for what you have planned for Ludlow's resident dirty cop, Martin.
And I find it hard to make predictions on this one. I think Martin will cause some trouble. I hope Scott does not get an "accident" while he is under arrest. And Brendon has a cat, right... Hm, I think I can see a possibility where that particular plotline could be going
Ivan was sitting up against the cell wall, and sighed.
That dickhead Martin...had to come at the worst possible time. Why was he being such an asshole, anyways? Ivan quickly thought through.
He peered over to szee what Martin was doing, if anything. Martin was gone from his previous table he had been sitting at. Ivan sighed, and looked across his cell at Kristine and Brendan. Brendan was pacing back and forth, and Kristine was looking at the floor. Ivan scoffed, and angrily looked at the doorway that Martin must have left through. Son of a bitch.
Once Martin's cop buddy had gotten there, they were arrested and thrown into a rancid cop car. It reeked of vomit and possibly other bodily insides. Ivan shuddered at that thought. He remembered he had almost puked himself, as did Kristine. Brendan seemed to handle it quite well, but Ivan remembered seeing his eyes grow red and start watering. When they finally got to the sheriff's department, they were thrown inside a cell and left for a few hours. The three had no idea where Scott had been taken, but it wasn't really their problem.
Ivan was still thinking about how much he was beginning to hate Martin, when suddenly the door he had been scowling at creaked open, and in walked Martin himself along with another man. The other man held a hand up as a wave, and Martin approached the jail cell, fumbling around with keys in his hand. "What's happening?" Brendan suddenly stood up, staring down the detective. Martin looked up, and quickly opened the cell door. "This man here is paying your bail. You're free to go." Martin said, then turned around to leave. Ivan was sure he had seen Martin do a quick glance at him. He then guessed that it was probably best to stop thinking about Martin for a little bit, and instead devote your attention to your newfound "ally." The trio looked at the man, who smiled and held a hand out. "Chris Knapp." He said, rubbing the five o' clock shadow embrazoned on his face. "And no, you don't know who I am." The man led them away, and Ivan coughed into his hand. He nearly said something, but saw Kristine opening up her mouth to speak, and immediately closed his. "Why did you bail us out?"
Chris smiled, but kept walking. "Because's Martin's full of shit. So is Scott. Every year or so I come down here to bail some guy out, because Scott was being his old fucking drunk self and told some new kids on the block that, 'Hey guys, let's go check out this pet se-mah-tery, it'll be fun.' It's fucking idiotic. Of course, there's always some sort of detective watching him and his new buddies. Last couple years it was Randall, this year it's Martin. The detective always catches that drunk son of a bitch and takes him to jail along with his buddies, because he thinks they're doing drug meets up in the cemetery. Of course, the detective doesn't have any actual evidence of this, so they make up bullshit excuses so they can take you to jail. The first time I ended up in that cell, I decided that I had a shit load of money and nothing to do with it. So I bailed myself out, and decided whenever anybody else got put in there for the reason I was put in, I'd bail'em out."
They stepped into the sunlight, Ivan holding up an arm to shield his eyes from the harmful rays. Blinking, he put his arm back down and looked at Chris, and saw that Brendan was walking up to him. "You never explained why Scott was, uh, 'full of shit.'" Chris smiled and Ivan then noticed that he had something gleaming in his hand. It was a silver metal definitely, and as Ivan looked at it, he noticed something very familiar. It was his keychain! A fiery orange and bright blue rubber band, that read Miami, Florida on the side. It was tacky, yes, but it was certainly recognizable. Before Ivan could mention it, Chris interrupted him. "What did Scott tell you was behind that old deadfall?"
Ivan looked up at him, and squinted. "A bunch of druggies. Why?" He soon realized his lip was quivering. He was positively shaking. He was absolutely certain that the answer Chris was going to give wouldn't be a good one.
Chris pulled the gleaming object up, and stuffed it into Ivan's hand. Unsurprisingly, it was Ivan's car keys. He pressed the unlock button quickly, then hit the lock button again. A car honked across the street, and Ivan looked up to see his own car in the parking lot. He sputtered for a second, then watched as Chris turned to leave. Before Chris climbed into the backseat of a large, black limo, he turned and smiled that smooth, cool grin once more. "He told me it was a homeless camp." He called out, and jumped inside his car.
Ivan was madly driving down the street. "Ivan!" Kristine said in the passenger seat, looking at him. "Stop driving like a maniac!" She cried out, and eventually Ivan slowed down to the speed limit. "What?" He genuinely looked at her, asking this question. She looked astonished. "You were driving thirty over the speed limit!" Ivan turned back to the road and looked out, trying to catch his breath. "Okay...okay, I'm sorry." He said, and he heard a loud snarl from the back. "We need to talk about what the hell happened out there." Brendon coughed out, glaring at the rear view mirror into Ivan's eyes. Ivan glared right back, then looked back to the road. A large Orinco truck sped by, going at least seventy miles per hour. "Yeah Brendon, what should we talk about, huh?" Ivan sarcastically spat out, smirking into the rear view mirror. "I'm serious Ivan, we just went to jail! Some guy then proceeded to steal our car keys from Martin, then drive our car to the police station, then bail us out for no other reason than because he had been through a slightly similar experience."
Ivan sniffled a little bit, and his eyes darted back and forth from the road to the rearview mirror. He laughed a little bit, and then began to speak. "You think he stole our car keys from Martin? Is it too hard to believe that he just asked for the keys and Martin gave them to him?"
"You think Martin would just give him our keys? Besides, that guy had gangster written all over him!" This time Kristine laughed with Ivan. They chuckled, while Brendon steamed. "Do you think I'm stupid?!" He fumed, and Kristine quickly composed herself to talk to him. "No, but 'That guy had gangster written all over him!'" She mocked, once again laughing at Brendon. Ivan grinned, and Brendon crossed his arms. When Kristine finally composed herself again, she began to speak rationally. "But in actuality, there was something fishy about that guy...can't put my finger on it but he was just...off-putting."
Ivan coughed into his arm. "Guys, let's just be glad that someone was nice enough to come and bail us out of jail and get our car for us. And listen, we have college tomorrow morning, we need some rest."
The rest agreed, but Brendon still seemed a little bit hot-tempered. Kristine even had raised an eyebrow at Ivan.
Tap tap tapping at my chamber door.
"Thanks for that."
Scott and Chris sat in the limo, now finally away from the sheriff's office and all. Scott had said the aforementioned thanks, but despite it Chris was scowling. "You need to stop getting so drunk and driving. You have a job to do. Get people to that pet cemetery, and let it take them in."
Scott coughed. "Listen, I've got it. I told you this. I'm pretty sure the guy with the beard is already feeling it. Don't like the other kid. He's a bit of a dick."
Chris licked his lips, and looked back at Scott. "Just make sure it happens."
Scott was growing even more annoyed. His mellow mood was soon replaced with anger. "I fucking got it, okay?!" As soon as he yelled it, he realized his mistake. Chris reared his head and stared into Scott's eyes, his own full of a sudden fury. He grabbed Scott by the shirt and shoved him into the door of the car. He began to speak, his voice now contorting into that of some sort of serpents, and it sounded as if multiple voices were crying out, not just one. "You do what I say...and I let you live...that's the deal....Scott...and you're running out of time..." He released Scott from his grasp, and suddenly calmed down. He smiled, and returned to his normal voice as the limo pulled up to it's curb. Scott's house waited just outside the window. Chris' voice returned to normal, and he held out a hand. "Pleasure doing business."
Scott reluctantly shook Chris' hand, one of his fingers going across Chris' cold wrist.
There was no pulse.
TO BE CONTINUED
(I know, another to be continued. The only reason I did was the part that happens next would likely cancel out the "what the fuck" from this one.)
Ivan was packed up and ready for college the following morning. He was leaned up against the door, his eyes slowly dropping down, and just as soon as his eyelids closed he'd hit his own wrist to wake himself up. Kristine was taking what could possibly be the longest shower in ever. Ivan's eyes darted back and forth across the house, looking at the empty couch just mere feet away from him. He would go and sit on it if he did not fear he would fall asleep. Brendon was still upstairs in a daze, sleeping and likely drooling all over his own pillow. Noodlestrop had climbed down the stairs for a few seconds, walking by Ivan with that gangster drawl, then spun around and ran back up the stairs. Ivan coughed into his hand, a br saddened as he lost the company of the cat. He chuckled to himself, and stretched a hand into the air with a loud yawn. His sleepy gaze was interrupted as suddenly he heard the water above turn off, and footsteps pounding on the floor above. "Thank God." He muttered, waiting another five minutes before Kristine came rushing down, a white jacket pulled over herself and jeans, along with thick black snow boots. She waved, and Ivan smiled back, but did no hand gestures. He was too tired for that.
The two exited outside and out towards the car, and Ivan hopped in, Kristine beside him in the passenger seat. They say there for a while, Ivan contemplating the car key before he stuck it in and cranked the car. Suddenly, Kristine fell forward into the dashboard of the car, and Ivan's eyes widened suddenly, as he reached over to her shoulder and shook her. "Kristine? You...okay?" She lazily looked at him and shook her head. "Take me back inside."
Ivan grinned and laughed, opening his door and walking over to her side of the car. "Aw, all tuckered out?" He teased, and he pulled her up and began to walk towards the door. "That's cute. Have fun on the couch tonight." She stabbed back, as Ivan stepped inside smiling. "You first." He said, placing her on the couch and doing a mock salute with two fingers. "Too bad you'll miss college."
"It's just the first day. I'll live."
Ivan coughed and shook his head. "You're decision." He stepped out the door to leave Kristine behind in her little sorrowful sleep. He knew she was tired from everything that had happened yesterday and the day before, but not this much so. It was as if something had wanted her to stay home, to try and get Ivan all alone, to try and make him fear something...
"Shut the fuck up." Ivan exclaimed out loud, stopping himself and looking at his car. His eyes widened for a second, before he turned back to normal. Why did he say that? He was talking to himself now. He had never done that. Something had affected him greatly at that goddamn cemetery, and it was making something else talk to him...something had gotten into his brain, and the "shut the fuck up" was his own retaliation. Perhaps. Maybe he was going crazy. There was nothing to worry about. There was nothing to worry about.
Ivan closed his eyes and pursed his lips, then opened the car door and stepped into the warmth. He was just being paranoid. Yes, he was. He was nervous, of course. He had just gone to jail for the first time in his life and today was his first day for college. And he was going alone. He was just nervous and it was making him paranoid. That was it. Ivan smiled, then backed the car out of the driveway and sped off. A large Orinco truck sped by him, a red and silver blur. Today was going to be a good day, and he could feel it.
Ivan had already finished his classes in what felt like minutes. He hadn't really taken in much from the whole ordeal, but he remembered that his books had been stacked high, and he had been sweating a lot, evidenced by his now soaked shirt. Luckily it hadn't spread to his jacket, so he didn't go walking around in Autumn with sweat-soaked clothes. He remembered he had thrown-up in the bathroom. Yes, he had "tossed his cookies" into the handicapped stall's toilet as every other one was in use. He had stumbled out of the bathroom in a blur, everything looking hazy and fuzzy. He was doing much better now, however, and was headed back for his car. He coughed into his arm repeatedly. Was he sick? Had he gotten an illness from that shitty bar back in Ludlow?
No, he didn't get an illness. What was he talking about? Ivan weakly smiled, then reached his car and fumbled around in his pocket for his keys. He opened the back door and tossed his backpack in, then reached for the front car door. But...
Something was making him look behind him. He didn't want to, he knew he didn't want to. But he had to. He absolutely had to turn around and fucking look a the goddamn road!
It was enough to drive a man insane, the utter fear he was in. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to look, but he had to he had to he had to he had to he had to...
Ivan turned around, eyes wild and his breath heavy. It was nothing. His sense calmed. It was just some kid crossing the street. Ivan smiled, somebody about nineteen years old was just crossing the street. It was fine. Ivan relaxed and leaned up against his car, almost chuckling. Paranoia's a bitch. He should have stayed home with Kristine, he should have known he was too nervous for the first day of college. Ivan laughed, then watched the kid crossing the street again. The teenager was happily walking across the street, a skip in his step. He probably had a great family he was returning home to. "Remember when you were like that?" Ivan found himself saying, and nearly slapped his own face out of fear. There it was again, talking to himself. Ivan sighed, and looked back at the kid crossing the street.
It was oddly serene, almost perfect in a sense. It made Ivan sort of consider his own past life, what he had done wrong and what he had done right. "Heh. A fucking kid crossing the street has made me reconsider my life more than...than..." Ivan stopped in his tracks, heading the familiar him of a red, silver, gigantic Orinco truck.
"Get off of the road!" Ivan practically screamed at the kid crossing the street, who turned for a second to look at Ivan, as if in a "who's that crazy guy?" glare. It was too late. Ivan couldn't do anything to help him. He saw the red and silver truck speeding down, it's horn blaring. The kid suddenly disappeared, an audible thump pounding through Ivan's mind. He watched the truck swerving around, then finally speeding off. He didn't have time to get the truck's license plate, nor did he even try to. He rushed for the kid's body, now on the side of the street. He whipped out his phone and dialed 911, going over the standard procedures.
He finished the call, and finally got a good look at the teenager, dying in a ditch on the side of the road. Most of his teeth were gone. His right eye was mangled beyond recognition. Ivan would have vomited had he not already done it today. He reached into the teenager's pocket, pulling out a wallet. He checked it, rubbing the blood away from the soaked driver's license. HOPE COLE was embrazoned on it, and he looked at the dying teen. His left leg was a broken mess, twisting in ways no body part should bend. Ivan shuddered, and gripped the kid's blood-soaked sweater. There was so much blood, it was everywhere, covering the grass and the pavement, covering the kid's body, and likely now Ivan himself.
"Hope, listen to me. Listen to me. You're going to be okay, alright? You'll be just fine. I promise." His own voice was drained out as the whining ambulance pulled up behind him.
One long, flat, green line.
He was dead.
Hope Cole, the previously happy boy crossing the street, with a family, friends, thoughts, actions, fears, memories, and a life was dead. Approximately two minutes ago he had left the Earth, and was dead. Ivan had climbed on the ambulance as the paramedic had suggested, in an effort to keep Hope calm. Hope was far into an unconscious state, but Ivan confirmed to the paramedics wishes. And now the kid was dead.
The nurse monotonely walked over to the electrocardiograph, ending it's incessant noise. She looked at Ivan plainly and nodded knowingly. "I'll go tell his parents." She stepped away, headed for the waiting room, where Hope's poor parents were waiting. Ivan moved his head and eyed the floor. Everything in his day seemed fucked right now. Everything was fucking insane. Suddenly, Ivan's thoughts were interrupted at the sound of a voice.
"Ivan."
Ivan looked up, thinking the nurse might have come back, but saw nothing had stirred in the room. Maybe he was just hearing things.
"IIIIIIIvaaaannnn..." The voice cooed once more, and the man peered around the room once more, his heart suddenly beating rapidly. It pounded on and on, as if it were about to burst from his chest and straight out the hospital window. Finally, Ivan's eyes rested on Hope's dead body. The kid's eyes were closed, and his head was still lolled back. It couldn't have been him speaking, could it?
No, Ivan decided. Hope Cole was as dead as a doornail. The kid didn't even know Ivan's name. He knew this. Ivan scratched at his own throat, feeling the sweat inching along it now. He looked back down at the floor, waiting for the voice to come back.
"Ivan."
Ivan looked up suddenly this time, staring at the dead body laid out on a stretcher. Hope's one good eye was open, and his mouth was curled into a smile. "IIIvaaaannn..." Hope coped out, still revealing his crooked grin. Ivan wanted to scream, but he couldn't speak. He couldn't even move. He was locked into fear and a sense of dread hung around him.
"The pet cemetery..."
How the fuck could he know about that?!
How the hell could he know?!
Ivan tried to cry out, to try and speak. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything.
"Don't go beyond. Don't do anything you won't like. Ivan..." The crooked smiled faded and the eye closed back down as Hope went back into his own eternal rest.
Ivan watched in astonishment as the family members of Hope rushing inside, in tears and sadness. They gathered around their dead family member, crying and bawling over the death. The nurse entered in after them, and looked over at Ivan. She looked him up and down, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you okay?" She asked quickly.
[He was talking to me...]
[I'm fine.]
[I'm fine.]
Damn, this is getting really creepy. Great part!
Anyway, no need to tell a random nurse about that. Most likely she'll see it as a result of stress at best, or at worst as a sign for a mental illness.
[He was talking to me...]
Holy fuck, this is amazing!
[He was talking to me]
Yes, the moment I have been waiting for.
[I'm fine]
[I'm fine.] - Well...I know the story of the book, so...I think something's going happen...Hmm...
[I'm fine.]
"No...nothing's wrong. I'm fine. I need...I need to get out... Ivan kept his calm, or really, gained it back. He knew however that he was going to go ballistic if he stayed in that room any longer with the dead kid that had just spoken to him, and that family crying for He quickly grabbed the door and headed out of Hope's room. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck." He muttered to himself, stumbling through the halls. He reached the elevator quickly, sweating horribly now. He unzipped his jacket and threw it on to the ground, fearing it having been tainted just from the dead boy's gaze. He could still see that grin whenever he blinked, and he forced his eyes to stay open, until they would start hurting again and he'd blink and see Hope's bloody smile and one eye, the other still smashed in but wiggling around in it's socket all the same. Ivan slapped the first floor button inside the elevator with the palm of his hand, where it slipped off and hit his pants leg. He rubbed his face and began coughing, as he fell on to his knees and grabbed the handlebars that lined the sides of the moving car. He huddled into a ball, his eyes staying open, darting back and forth. He could see movement in the shadows, everywhere, he could see them everywhere.
Follow the yellow brick road!
"Get out of my head! Get out of my head!" He screamed, the elevator concealing his horrid yells and screeches. Ivan could feel something working it's way through his own mind like a worm, eating and devouring his brain as it swirled around as if mixed by some sadistic housewife, mixing the batter and then putting it in the oven, then beat the flour and cook the batter and beat it and cook it and mix it and beat it and cook it and mix it and cook it and beat it. The thing, the monster, the demon holding that mixer had it notched up at five, and it was Scott Leland, it was the nurse, it was Hope Cole, it was Chris Knapp, it was Martin Hart, it was Kristine Munthausen, it was Brendon Venusaur, it was that goddamn fucking cat!
Follow the yellow brick road!
The munchkins' shrill voices screamed in Ivan's head, follow the fucking piss-yellow road! All the way to Oz, the Great and the Terrible. It was driving him crazy but he wasn't crazy it was driving him crazy but he wasn't crazy it was driving him crazy but he knew he wasn't crazy he knew he wasn't crazy he knew he wasn't crazy he knew he wasn't crazy he knew he wasn't crazy he knew he wasn't crazy he knew it he knew it he knew it he knew he knew it he knew it he knew knew he it!
Follow the yellow brick road!
The soft ding of the elevator interrupted Ivan's mad thoughts, and he watched as the elevator doors began opening. He quickly jumped to his feet and stumbled out of the elevator, heading for the door. He could feel the eyes of confused and scared people on him. He knew that feeling. His family members always had that look on him. He could hear them now.
Mr. One Night Stand over there.
Follow the yellow brick road!
Can't believe what he did.
Follow the yellow brick road!
He's not a Leighton anymore, that's for sure.
Follow the yellow brick road!
Fuck'em and leave'em.
Follow follow follow follow follow the yellow brick road!
He couldn't take it. He shoved his way through the door and began walking back to the college, a good twenty miles away.
It had taken him five hours, five full hours, making it 10:00 now. He had steadily driven home at a pace of about sixty miles per hour, in a forty mile per hour zone. He didn't see any police cars, but he had seen plenty of Orinco red and silver blurs, followed by the distinctive diesel smell and a roar of the engine. Everytime Ivan saw one he gagged. He eventually pulled into the driveway of his house, at approximately 10:24, normally having been a forty minute drive away, now shaved almost in half. He fumbled away from the car, just barely turning the engine off and pulling the key out, and then clumsily walking towards the door. He almost ran into the white wood, but caught himself just in time and turned the door knob.
Just inside pacing back and forth was Kristine, who looked at him worriedly and then rushed over and hugged him. "Oh my God, Ivan, where have you been?!" She said, anxiety in her voice and her arms tightly grasped around Ivan's back. He sobbed into her shoulder, and she pulled back to look at him. "Jesus...you look horrible...what happened? Are you okay?" She quickly hugged him again, and he cried into her shoulder again. "Orinco truck...hit a boy, hit a boy, I went to the hospital and he, and he, and he..."
Kristine interrupted him as pulled back from the hug. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She said multiple times, looking at the poor man. He was hurt. He was hurt bad. She cried again, and then sneezed suddenly. She had a cold, as it turned out. A bad one, indeed. But Ivan...he was under more stress than one should get in just a small weekend...
She helped him upstairs and assisted him to bed, then headed back downstairs to sleep on the couch. He was already stressed enough, he didn't need a cold to go with it. Kristine wondered what had happened to his jacket, but she supposed it didn't matter now. All that mattered was that her boyfriend, the man she loved, was in a lot of pain, and she was trying to help him overcome that pain. Truth be told however, she was scared. Not just for him, but of him. He had been acting strange lately, stranger then normal. Not strange in that endearing way he had always had, but strange in...fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Kristine laid herself out on the couch. She was selfish, wasn't she? Was she? She was. She knew it. Others had told her it. She knew she was selfish. Kristine snuggled up to her blanket and closed her eyes, finally drifting off to sleep. She could have sworn she heard the door creaking open, but had driven it off as a trick of the mind. Just seeing shadows. And hearing them too.
"Follow the yellow brick road."
Thump.
"Follow the yellow brick road."
Thump.
"Follow follow follow follow follow the yellow brick road."
Thump.
Ivan repeated it to himself again, then slammed his head into the bed once more. He stuffed his head into the pillow, and just stayed there for a second. Until he began laughing. He turned over on his back, holding on to the sheets, laughing and crying. Fucking Hope Cole. Fuck that guy. Fuck that fucking guy.
Thump.
This was not him. He was thrown out of his craze for a second, and then looked at his door. Just behind it, on the steps, he could hear something coming for him. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was walking up the steps. He shivered in fear. Maybe it was Kristine. But it had sounded too heavy to be Kristine. Brendon was likely asleep. The man could sleep through anything and probably still hadn't woken up when Ivan had come home. So Ivan stared at the door, and the door stared back at him.
Tapping at my chamber door.
Ivan swallowed hard, and uneasily stood up. Tear stains still strung across his face, and his eyes were in bags. He stepped to the door, and reached a hand out to it.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
[Lock the door]
[Open the door]