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The Woodland Wounds Read 9466 times

Ara

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #30 on: August 14, 2015, 07:43:34 pm »
Astrid felt a wash of cold ripple through her when he leaned back, drawing away just enough for it to feel like distance in her rotten heart. Somewhere in the woods Lovisa would feel warmer, the cold in Astrid now but only long enough for it to feel cooling, not long enough to chill.

He denied kissing Lo and suggested someone else should. 'Maybe Terry will.' She thought to herself with a smug smirk, not even wondering why. The ghost of Vera was strumming bored fingers against her thigh, watching where Tor held onto Astrid's shoulder, pressing fingers into bruises.

She laughed out loud when he said that she should love Lovisa more. More and she might have to actually kill the girl. She couldn't bare to love her more. “You saved her, didn't you? What more can she ask for?” Vera muttered bitterly.

All amusement drained from Astrid's face when he said that this was why they weren't together anymore. Her head snapped that fraction of a centimeter to the side to stare dead ahead at him. If she'd been a better sister he could have pretended she was a better person? Vera whistled and then laughed but Astrid couldn't share her amusement. The words echoed in her head.

She wanted him to stop but he just kept talking. Her skin was burning hot again, some of her hair at the end of that ponytail of blond twisting in the air, drawn up away from her skin by that heat. He went on and on and she could only stare at first, captivated by the horror of what was spilling out of that mouth. Oh, how she had loved that mouth once. Even Vera had stopped making sounds, sitting up in the sand to stare at him. Astrid's arm came up, palm cracking against his cheek and her skin seemed to glow in the dark. As soon as her hand struck his cheek she moved, straddling his lap to have that hand gripping his neck, pushing up to have fingers gripping at his jaw and holding his face high when hers dipped down. Steam rolled off her eyes, brushed away by long lashes. “Touch her, Tor, and you'll be the one hanging from the trees.” She warned, voice sizzling on her tongue just before that hand shoved him back, hoping to bounce his skull on a rock but not stopping in her storm off to see. Not even stopping when Genna called out for another friend in the lake, waving her arm about to cut the shadows with a pale limb.

-

Lovisa could only scrunch her face a little at his casual response. He thought she'd killed someone but didn't seem overly interested in the details.

Just as soon as she'd caught up to him they'd stopped. She looked down at his hand in front of her, his arm brushing the material of her tshirt across her stomach. She felt a wash of warmth and wondered if it was the butterflies girls talked about. Not to her, of course. But she'd overheard. She used to have a crush on Terrance. Back when she used to scribble hearts in her notebooks. Back before dad left, Astrid's heart broke and Vera died.

She felt cold again and looked ahead through the trees toward the glow of the camp. There were disjointed sounds of chaos. Some laughing and some crying. Songs being sung while others screamed for mercy. Whatever had developed around the camp fire was far from friendly banter and adult supervised boredom.

Lovisa shifted her bag on her shoulder. “Should we go back to the lake, then?” She whispered, uncertain. There had been a group of classmates still at the lake when they left in this direction, they could still be there. Somehow she knew they were, just as she knew that Astrid was angry and moving in this direction.

A bottle broke and someone let out an angry roar, causing her to drag her shoes back a step, watching the shadows moving in that firelight as though they might turn on them at any moment.

Beau

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #31 on: August 14, 2015, 08:29:57 pm »
Lovisa stopped near him and her tone of voice seemed as concerned as his unvoiced thoughts.  He glanced her way, but the scene near the campfire was too odd to ignore.  He could smell the spilled alcohol, that sharp bittersweet tang that often graced the recycling bin at his house.  And something else was burning, although he didn't think it was food.  Cotton maybe, or polyester.  The smoke of the fire was thicker and black where wood smoke would be white.  The air itself just felt wrong.

"Something's not right," he muttered.  It troubled him that he couldn't find the source of the issue, like a whisper just out of range.

Two teens stumbled towards the pair on the clearing threshold.  They seemed not to notice him,  or care they were watched as the girl pulled off her shirt and the boy unbuttoned his pants.  The lake was suddenly starting to sound like a decent idea to Terrance, although what he really wanted to do was go home.

Lovisa stepped back and he mirrored her movement.  It wasn't discretion, but more fear that motivated him to nod and start to retrace his steps.  "Wish I had a car."  Of course that wasn't the first time he'd considered the inability to purchase such freedom.  What he earned from his Youtube posting went to hand-held gadgets rather than motors.  "Really like to go home about now."

Another scream, back at the Lake.  A rip of terror that felt almost physical.  Now he wasn't quite sure where to go.  He had an urge to run, but to where he couldn't say.
« Last Edit: August 15, 2015, 02:16:13 am by Beau »

Verse

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #32 on: August 15, 2015, 01:41:48 am »
At first she laughed. It was poisonous in an introspective way. That self reprimand didn't last very long, his words made sure of that. Her anger was familiar, but amplified with something new. And then she brought her fingers across his face. The explosion in his ear was enough to stun him. A white tear dislodged from his eye when his head was tossed to the side. In truth, it had been part of the lake life, a maggot, the larva overtaking him. It landed on the ground and crawled away from the scene as the eye healed inside the lid before he opened it again. Her hand was lifting his head. She meant every syllable of her threat.

Her eyes breathed with her lips, her anger becoming vapor tails at the corners. And then he was picking himself up, drowning in his own saliva, remembering what her hot thighs had felt like around his just now. Had she always been this warm? No. He recalled blowing on her fingers during winter, and her cold ear against his cheek when she refused to wear a beanie. He watched her go, on his hands and knees, grateful for her temper. At least then.

He put his head back in the sand, trying to forget her skin, and how her scent had been promoted by her raise in temperature. "Guh..." he felt his inner shrink. A very aggressive weakness spread in his torso and gut. He needed something. "Astrid." he tried, sure she'd be too far for his wispy plea. His hand out, grainy with the sand, he reached in the direction she had gone. Genna screamed and it made him hungrier. He gurgled on the thick liquid that continued to moisten his maw. "Austridt..." he tried before he huffed in defeat, burying his face in the sand, biting at the depth to retrieve a mouthful. The storm of crunches in his head was soothing. A painful swallow came before another. He continued eating, crying, until his vision failed along with his arms.

The little alabaster tear that had fled from his eye, courtesy of Astrid's violence, sought out something like the woman who had rocked its host enough to free it, but this new person was cold. And spoken for. The white thing, round and short, stretched until it was needle thin, lengthier, sliding over the forest floor toward the other, clean, fearful ape. It wondered, as it neared the soles of Terrance's shoes, how it might infest him, and if he would be a graceful home.

Torgrim didn't really know how he had gotten to the water's edge, but at the water's edge he was, puking out bloody coils of glass. He became hungrier by the heave. The little twists of clear crystalline sand were surrounded by a pink fog as soon as they hit the lake. When a handful of those strange structures rested on the shallow bottom he waded, he tried scooping water into his mouth to drown the screaming hollow inside. There was other commotions here, he realized. Something was in the water, scaring the others. Torgrim staggered back until he fell sitting onto the beach. He wished that there was something here now, justifying the screams and tearing people a part. He wanted the lake to be a bloody soup. He wanted friends to be, apart, in the water.

Thunderstruck

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #33 on: August 15, 2015, 11:04:29 am »
Der Heinrich had returned, with a vengeance. No more Henry. No more Hanky. No more wondering if this drug deal would get him busted, or that sorry bit of black mail would increase his bank account. He was new. He was free. In some corner of his mind, where old, irrelevant memories lived, contained, he recalled a twitch of recognition. A movie, about a glorious rebirth. It was old. it was black and white. It was...Frankenstein. That seemed somehow both entirely short of the mark, and strangely apropos.
His pale, sinewy, not quite scaled arm with its claw fingered hand reached out to legs, which his instincts told him were familiar, but he couldn't quite place how he knew this. His keen new sight let him see in the murky black of the night water, as though it were mid day, in open air. That wondrously smooth place between the girl's legs, and the musk it emitted filled his nostrils, even from beneath the surface. Yes, he knew her. Well enough.
He knew something else as well. She was not quite human anymore; just as he was most definitely not human at all. Yet a memory of betrayal, shouted out from that place in his mind where old memories were kept tucked away. He burned at it. He grabbed her smooth legs, one in each hand and pulled her under.
They faced each other, though Genna could see him not as clearly as he could see her, she knew enough from the nightmare legends surrounding the lake, that she was in the presence of a monster. Funny, he thought the same thing. For what being of any true sentience used its body to get what it wanted they way its fellow sentients used money.

A weird kinship, warred with a strong betrayal, as he held her, and she screamed, air bubbles stealing her voice.
In the end, he let her go, moving onto the next one in line. Some guy, this time. Der Heinrich didn't waste his hunger on this one, but merely took the boy's throat out with one swipe of his sharp claws.
A second guy was faster, but not fast enough. He had just enough time to turn around before a strange spike, of a tail impaled him through the back.
Next, was a girl. This one was also strangely not quite human, but Der Heinrich, had made a blood sacrifice to the living lake, and how it wanted more. And really, he knew, not all of these people would die. much of them would live on, at one with the water. Just like Vera.

He did not wonder how he knew that. There was so much he did not wonder about now. Somehow, it was just instinct. Like eating, or fucking, as the humans would say.
That settled it, and he turned on Genna once more, He went to her more like an aggressive lover, to his sub, than deadly predator, to its shocked, confused prey. He embraced her, and there did all semblance end. He bit into her throat, first tearing out her larynx, then going for the carotid. He drank deeply of her blood, as it sprayed hotly upon his skin where it was exposed to the open air. The rest went into the lake, which rippled, as if alive with a fury of invisible fish, coming to feed.
He split open her chest, liberated Genna's heart from it bony cage, and dined.
In that sanctuary of memories, he felt an ironic satisfaction. Genna, had once ripped out his heart. Now they two were even.
At length, she stopped squirming,  He looked long at her dead eyes. The idea occurred to him that perhaps he might be wrong about the living on in the lake thing. He shrugged it off, letting the mangled body that was until just now, the cool, hot blooded girl, Genna-and oh, how hot blooded she had been indeed-go. watched as the water swelled into the hole in her chest, filling ruined, punctured lungs, pulling her by her own weight, to the bottom; strange lake ripples, following her all the way down.

Another girl, one named Trisha, but whom everyone called Trixie, because she'd been turning tricks for side cash, since the eighth grade; stood at the edge of the water, half naked. She was totally dry. Had not yet entered the water.
Der Heinrich saw her, and feeling none of that odd kinship, started toward her. For her part, Trixie forgot about the fact that she was down to a bikini top, and a pair of high cut, low rise, jean cutoffs, turned and fled, into the night, a shriek of sheer horror filling the surrounding darkness.

Ara

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #34 on: August 16, 2015, 06:59:55 pm »
Lovisa was still close to his side when they turned back toward the lake. Everything felt wrong. She could taste it. Her heart beat a little faster and she nodded along when Terrance spoke. “Any chance being able to fix headphones translates to being able to steal cars?” She asked, a little hopeful despite the chances. She didn't want to be here either. She knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. Astrid wasn't.

Another scream ahead of them and her body jerked to a new stop, grabbing on to his sleeve behind his elbow. “Do you think they're sick or something?” She whispered now, worried about being heard.

Twigs were breaking and limbs were stumbling sloppily through the woods not too far from them, moving closer only to stagger to a stop.

Astrid had been cutting a silent line through the dark, not thinking about where she was going but every step bringing her closer and closer to Lovisa. She had not expected the scream, nor had she stopped for it, but then Trixie had come running full tilt through the forest, almost slamming right into her.

With a huff and an eyeroll, she caught the half naked girl by the shoulders. Trixie wasn't the brightest girl around, but she was sweet-- in that naive way that broke your heart when you heard all the dark secrets of her childhood and met her druggy mom who had been turning her out for years.

“The hell, Trix?” Astrid pressed hot fingers into those naked shoulders to hold her steady, the brunnet heaving out sobs and wearing nothing but retro shorts and tennishoes. She didn't look hurt so Astrid was left guessing that she had already had too much to drink.

“Something came out of the lake!” She sobbed loudly and Astrid tried not to roll her eyes, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her on. She realized, now that she was wondering where she'd left her bag in order to get a top on the hysterical idiot, that she was also running around in a bikini. Storming off had so many casualties.

A few more steps and she stopped again, staring at Lovisa and Terrance. Her lip curled in a momentary sneer at her sister before she saw the strap of the bag she carried. She left Trixie standing there to heave out sobs and sloppy words while she crossed those few steps to grab the bag and pull it forcefully from Lo's shoulder. Lovisa let her have it and watched as she dumped it on the ground, pulling out clothes and tossing the half naked Trixie a tshirt before finding a pair of shorts for herself.

“You two sneaking off?” Astrid asked, looking at Terrance rather than her sister for a reply. She got the shorts on and then groaned in annoyance when Trixie was still just hugging the shirt, rambling about a monster. She had to come over and pull the garment on the other girl, not caring how it messed up her short hair.

“It killed Genna...” Trixie heaved out. “It was hideous and it killed them! It's coming for us!” She continued to blubber.

Beau

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #35 on: August 17, 2015, 06:27:07 am »
Sick?  The answer seemed to be yes, but Terrance couldn't say from what.  He wasn't really sure he wanted to know.  As for stealing a car..."Most of that stuff is computerized," he thought aloud. 

But then, he wasn't sure it was the best option.  To get to the bus or cars they'd have to cross the clearing.  The lake seemed like a better choice. He took a couple more steps towards the lake, expecting that Lo would follow. They hadn't gone far before someone else found them.

As an only child, Terrance wasn't sure what to make of sibling rivalry.  It didn't function like binary code with a simple on or off.  There were nuances and reactions.  Even now he blinked curiously at the situation and found it hard to miss the dominant reaction of the elder even as the story of horror dribbled out of Trixie's mouth.  Somehow he knew she wasn't lying, but the idea of a sea monster was too bizarre to believe.

His eyes locked with Astrid as she hinted he was doing something he shouldn't.  He offered her a shrug rather than the denial on his lips.  It seemed they had bigger fish to fry.  And that thought brought him full circle to the quandry they faced at the lake.

Rather than look at the girls dressing, Terrance glanced down.  A white bug was near the toe of his sneaker.  It was too small to have nudged him in any meaningful fashion, but he sensed a nudge all the same.  He moved the shoe an inch and the bug followed. He lifted his foot and crushed it, grinding his toe into the dirt.

"There's no help to be found in the picnic area.  The adults are all...drunk and the kids are acting odd.  Seems like the party is over."

He looked up.  Climbing a tree was a possibility, but how long would that really last?  Calling for help seemed silly, and besides he already knew there was no signal here under the evergreens.  Maybe stealing the car wasn't such a bad idea.  Which way was it to the road?

He reached towards Lovisa, not sure why, but thinking that he'd get her attention by tugging on her shirt.  "This way."  A jerk of his head towards his best guess at the highway.  "Maybe we can hitch back to town."
 

Verse

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #36 on: August 17, 2015, 06:37:46 am »
Torgrim gasped when he saw what was going on. Fear spread like a mushroom cloud on the beach. He'd wished for this, the colored water and the pieces of people. He felt bad now, but also profoundly hungry. He swallowed back the lake water still coating his mouth as he stared with wide eyes at the fleeing people, trying to find an explanation. Genna was undone by the thing breaking the surface. Torgrim watched as the girl expired and fell to be swallowed by the lake.

The reptile man seemed more like a force than an animal. But a man it was. Torgrim wouldn't soon forget how the leaving light still managed to encase the penis in a glorious halo. Eric had lost his throat to the monster's claws before it had done the same to Genna with its teeth. It seemed the creature did all this without hesitation, or hardship. Not a hunter, though it fed, but rather a casual killer, almost recreational. The Avanson boy sat there, staring at the havoc, when others, like Trixie, ran for their lives.

Eventually, through an awakening pang of hunger, he quickened and stood. People were still evacuating themselves from this place. He saw Damien Welles in the water, legs splashed by the ripples caused by the monster. If it became interested in the adorable, helpless Damien, good at math but not at breathing, he even had his inhaler around his neck, for f@ck's sake, Damien would not have a sliver of a chance. Torgrim bit down on his own teeth.

At first he stepped back into the water, but soon halted, every psychological and reflexive alarm pulling him back. He couldn't fight that thing with his hands. Looking around and finding nothing, he felt around on the bottom until something hard hindered the advance of his right foot. He bent down and picked up the smooth rock. Too heavy to skip with, but not too heavy to throw. "Hey, Sublime Cock!" he called, ignoring every screaming warning inside to draw the attention of the scaled behemoth.

He reached backward with his hand, squeezing the rock like the orb of hope it had become. Torgrim didn't see when the veins on that arm grew large and pale, knotting into spinal sections, weaving over his limb to enforce it. When he threw the projectile there was a loud crack, bone and sound barrier, before he stumbled forward from the force. When he picked himself up from the shallow water again, he called to Damien. "Run, man!"

Damien finally took his pale, barely even silver eyes from the nightmare from the deep to look at Torgrim. The colorless boy nodded as he gripped his inhaler for comfort, lifting his legs high to get himself up on land. His breathing eventually became screaming. Motion breeds panic. He stared at Torgim as he passed him, that arm strange, large but slowly receding to be symmetrical with the left limb, the spinal lines shrinking back into the skin. Damien didn't have time to ask.

All Torgrim could do now was watch, and hope the rock had hit something important on the creature. He didn't know he'd sent the rock off with the velocity of a bullet.

Thunderstruck

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #37 on: August 18, 2015, 08:05:04 am »
Adam Weller, had been extremely late getting to  the party. As Christy's younger step-brother, he was often the subject of ridicule, and so tended to shy away from the upperclassmen. In fact he'd not even been certain that he would even go. His reasoning that Christy had gone.
Yet, Christy was home now, which meant that either something had happened, or the party was lame, by her standards. Either scenario was more than reason enough for him to want to be there. And so he had hopped on his moped and whizzed off to join everyone. If he was lucky he might even be able to score a few shots of Jack, from the boozers, and if he was really lucky that Tyler guy, rumored to be the school drug dealer, might have some stuff left over to sell.
His arrival had not gone as planned. His scooter had hit a wayward screw on the road, which popped the front tire.
He was forced to push his scooter to a gas station, and call triple A, only to be told that because the scooter was under 50cc's, it didn't qualify as a legitimate motor vehicle, and so, road side assistance would be able to get around to him until morning. Worse, Adam, had to suffer the gas mart attendant's constant bitching about a weird, and quite foul smell emanating from the dumpster out back, and how he couldn't wait for trash pick up day, coupled with the man's clear distaste for everyone under the age of 35.

About that time a sleek black Camaro had come rolling in, two guys, jock heads Gary, and Joe, to be exact. Adam was more/less cool with them, being that he was the towel boy, and they depended on him to keep them safe from crotch rot. At least that's what he told himself.
The truth was, the jocks looked after Adam, at Christy's request. Sure she tormented him, but he was her geeky step-brother, and she could. And in so far, as everyone else, well being popular with the jocks, gave her a certain power over them. After a while though, the athletics guys came to find having Adam around as being a good idea in general. If they wanted to roid out, before a game, they could always count on little Adam. to cover. Adam was a genuinely as straight cut, as Christy pretended to be. Teachers, coaches, and janitors alike, all trusted Adam, and took him at his word. If Adam said that absolutely nothing suspicious was going on, then it wasn't. Not even if it really was.
Likewise that trust extended to the police department.
So when Adam saw Joe, and Gary, and vice versa, and had explained to them what had happened, the offered to give him a ride home.
After he planted the idea in their virtually empty heads, that Todd Darling was probably back at the party-and in their sex driven minds, it sounded a very plausible scenario-the 3 of them hopped into-the unbeknownst to them, late Todd Darling's-Camaro, and sped back to the party.

Once there, they immediately noticed the whole scene going to hell in a hand basket, very quickly.
Adam did what any normal, well adjusted kid, with a subtle knack for manipulation would do: He called the cops.

Sheriff Joe Tyler, Pineland's Chief of Police was severely unhappy about being roused from his bed, and by proxy, Trixie's mom's backside, to respond to a call about a grad party at the lake gone awry, and so he had planned to make as many kids pay for it, as possible. He raced to the scene, with 3 other crusiers in tow, Dodge Chargers, every one. The three following the chief had a pair of officers in them. Sheriff Tyler's had only himself, and his Pancor Jackhammer-a fully automatic, ten round shotgun.
They arrived on the scene, took Adam, and the two jocks' statements, and got down to business.
Kids got cuffed, kids got maced, kids got tazed, and yes, kids got charged. Further more, 3 teachers were arrested, and charged with everything from public displays of lewdness, to willful endangerment, to contributing to the excessive delinquency of minors, under the drinking age. All Except Mrs. Swenson, who had died in her pill induced sleep.
Once the crazed teenagers had been mostly rounded up-they had had to call in the wagon, which was an extended Sprinter van-Joe Tyler sent his people into the woods, to look for, and round up any stragglers.

__________________________________________________________________________

Der Heinrich ceased his pursuit of Trixie, when a jolt of pain rocked him in his midsection. He looked down, to find something lodged in his belly-ironically in the same place where Darling had stabbed him earlier that night.
He searched for the source. Found it. A rock. A lake rock to be precise. He removed it, and looked at it. The scent on the rock was familiar. He jerked his head around, his eyes meeting those of one Torgim Avanson.
Der Heinrich's mind commanded his body to begin regenerating the wound. His body would not comply. For while Der Heinrich did not-could not-know it, the reason he was still bleeding, instead of being on the mend, so soon, was the contents of the rock. A mineral not found on Earth, but plentiful in space, like, say, in the asteroid belt, separating the 4th, and 5th planets in the Sol system, had the power to nullify the organism which had long ago taken possession of the lake. It was this mineral which kept the parasites in the lake, and it was this very same mineral which now prevented Der Heinrich's body from healing itself.
So he continued to bleed.
The thought of dying did not occur to him. He only felt enraged at this attack upon his person.
He focused on Torgrim, his once Kind-of-friend, the way a sniper would bring his scope to bear on a potential target.
He charged, howling a wordless war cry, of hunger, murder, and revenge all in one. He didn't have a strategy.
He had no plan of attack. He gave no thought to whether to make a death quick, or to make the offending person suffer. He only bore down on Torgrim with great speed. He leaped into the air, poised tail spike, feet, and hand claws to strike, and dove forward; down upon Torgrim.

Ara

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #38 on: August 18, 2015, 04:47:30 pm »
Lovisa stuffed her bag back together after her sister had ravaged it, no saying much in arguement to the theft of her shorts or her favorite tshirt now being pulled onto a hysterical Trixie. She was on about how something had killed Genna. It made Lovisa feel uneasy because the first monster she imagined coming out of the lake was the only one she'd ever known to go into it.

She had just pulled her bag back up to her shoulder when Terrance suggested they hitchhike. Funny. On most nights hitch hiking would be a scary alternative, tonight it seemed reasonable. There was something in the air. Something off.

“Good luck with that.” Astrid said dismissively to the boy standing by her sister, only looking up in surprise when Lovisa had turned and started to move closer to him in the direction he had gestured.

“You're really going with him?” Astrid demanded, forgetting that she usually didn't talk to her sister. Trixie was still crying and tugging at her arm.

“I don't think she's drunk...” The ever helpful ghost of Vera told Astrid, standing on the other side of the dim girl. Astrid tried to ignore her. No one else saw her, why should she? “Maybe there really is a monster in the lake. Maybe Genna really is dead.”

Lovisa paused to look back at her sister in surprise. There were sirens now, moving up the mountain and toward the site. She turned her head to Terrance. “Is that a good thing or a bad one?” She asked, wondering if they should be going toward the sound of police or away from it. They hadn't done anything wrong. At least, she hadn't. Not tonight anyway.

Beau

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #39 on: August 20, 2015, 03:09:13 pm »
Terrance wasn’t used to being a leader, so when one sister questioned he actions he paused.  He opened his mouth to explain that the road was really the best idea, but then closed it again.  There was a quick glance to Lovisa in a silent plea for support; all the while wondering why he was waiting.  He had no loyalty to these women.  Barely knew them, but for some reason the survival instinct seemed to include them as well with that odd kinship that comes with shared danger.

He heard the sirens at the same time as Lovisa asked her question about them, head turning towards the sound muffled through the expanse of trees.  He could shrug with his usual evasive response.  Instead he stood a bit straighter with resolve, the burden of decision weighing on his shoulders.  His heart was racing and his brain was trying to tell him to run but his feet remained planted.  “Depends on who’s driving.”

Now wasn’t the time to confess how well he knew the local police department and their late night web surfing.  He shouldn’t share his opinion about the Sherriff and his penchant for gambling, or Deputy Green’s obsession with porn. 

“Might be better to stay out of the cross fire for now.”  He could hear yelling and had a suspicion gun fire wasn’t far behind. 

Trixie was still crying.  Terrance wasn’t even sure she heard him as he confirmed. “I’ll take the road.”

And so he turned, silently hoping he was making the right choice.  His feet worked, so he took that as a good sign, even though his lungs ached as he breathed the air around him.  One hand rested on his hip as he walked, massaging the pain in his side.  He felt like he was running a marathon, even though he’d only walked a few steps.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #40 on: August 20, 2015, 06:52:54 pm »
Torgrim realized he should flee while the creature examined the wound. He didn’t. He stood there, legs submerged, watching as the rock was retrieved from the gut of the beast. The scale-framed hole did not close, and continued to leak blood to mix with the water. The creature seemed more confounded by the wound than the object in its hand that had caused it. Eventually that attention turned to Torgrim himself. Fair enough. It did not feel fair, though, when it cut through the water, marking foam and waves, without being slowed by the liquid, barging for the one who still thought he was a person.

Torgrim stepped back, the heavy water slowing him until his body bent over the angel of support of his heels. He fell sitting on the residual water on the wet sand. The monster, not so hindered by the same water, leapt up into the air, limbs fanning out, like some macabre star, talons and thorns ready to do damage. Torgrim thought of Genna and Eric. He didn’t want to become color for the water like them. His mouth dropped to bark some authority or plea at the oncoming judgment. He was mute, he discovered, because you need breath for your vocal chords. His feet kicked the sand, trying to get him upright, trying to get him out of the zone of possible impact.

He found himself traveling toward the night sky soon, with a serenity that almost felt intrusive after the loud chaos he’d left on the ground. Looking down, he saw the billowing mass of particles splashed outward when the heavy thing landed. Torgrim had avoided being inside that explosion, somehow. To get a clue as to how, he looked at his arm, his body. The most notable change was on his legs, his jeans ripped to shorts, the slender stilts that gave him most of his height now bone clad, drinking up and sending out what little light there was. Instead of feet, his ankles held on to cones of white bone. He could see sinew behind some of the plates, it resulted in a red glow behind his kneecaps. As he fell, his stomach turning from having ascended, the serenity kept him from losing control and screaming. So he had weaponized legs now. Better use them. Arms up for dynamics, he pointed the sharp ends of his new appendages downward, ready to skewer the lizard thing that had attempted to kill him.

Whether the improvised attack would land or not, Torgrim would. He’d find himself embedded in the sand one way or another, and he’d make sure to make good use of his new legs, darting back, away from the threat of teeth and claws, probably toward the woods, as it seemed the creature had taken the lake as its territory. The serenity from before - pathological, no doubt, brought on by the immense stress of it all – solidified in his heart, turning into a sharp indifference. Lanterns in his eyes again, swerving by his irises as though racing the lining of his skull. His collarbones reached outward, new vines and lines, making a suit of fibers, not unlike muscles, but, of course, of white instead. The calcium-like cloth climbed his neck.

Damien had found his way to the quartet deliberating in the forest. He came in time to hear Astrid try to shoot down the suggestion Terrance had given. Admittedly, Damien wouldn’t have known who Terrance Knight was, if it wasn’t for the attempt at learning everyone’s names. Damien was probably one of few who still looked at the class lists. Astrid Finnian was a celebrity, and enough like Damien’s mother, towering and blond, for him to have a built-in affinity for her. He would have felt inclined to trust Astrid if she declined the road, the stolen car, but Damien was very much for it, in his heart. He felt more like Tracy than any of them, but she wasn’t really adding to the pool of choices.

When they finally did decide on a route, or at least it seemed Terrance did, Damien finally came out from his hiding place and took a whiff from his inhaler. He passed the girls as he joined with Terrance. “Yes! We should totally go.” He said, as though they had been as aware of his participation in the conversation as he was. He breathed heavy, tongue flavored by the medicine as he looked at them with his large, all but colorless eyes. They stayed on Lovisa, thinking she might be the most likely place to find sympathy, if there were thoughts of excluding him from the group. “Torgrim Avanson is still at the lake. Let’s not end up like him.” He pointed out, heart weighed by the shameless promotion of the plan, at cost of the memory of the person who more than likely had saved him.

Thunderstruck

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #41 on: August 20, 2015, 09:05:03 pm »
Der Heinrich landed in the spot where Torgrim had just been-should have been, but wasn't. Whirling around, he saw his once classmate, who now stood tall-literally-encased in what looked like bone armor. From that confined place of human memory, the beast that was the Tyler kid, thought it funny, how human Tor, had morphed into Skele-Tor.
Through the rage, the agony, the panic, Der Heinrich, realized he was out classed, and out matched. Fear took precedence over vengeance. While he could not heal himself, he could make certain augmentations, and did so. His feet became more webbed than before, additional folds of skin trapping air between slight membranes.
He turned tail, literally, and made a run for it. Running across the water, like Christ, if Christ had had a good pair of track shoes. There would be another time, another place maybe, but definitely not, if he didn't make it out of here, right now. Back to the deep. Yes. If he could make it back to the deep, everything would be alright. Somehow he just knew that.
____________________________________________________________

Adam Welling had been thanked for putting in the call to the police, and was promptly forgotten. 'Better make the most of it', he decided
Adam left the cops behind. Skirted past Gary, who was heading for a group of people who didn't look like they were freaking out. He made it to the lake's edge, where what he saw defied all description. The closest he could come to describing the scene before him, was like a man sized, cross between one of the those frilled lizards from Australia, and Godzilla; having it out with Mecha Skeletor. He should have turned tail and fled, but something in the curiosity family kept him rooted right where he was.
Suddenly, without warning, the lizard man, howled in what sounded like frustration, turned, and fled, running across the surface of the water like Aquaman on speed. The lizard guy, made it a fair distance and then dove into the water, without missing a beat.
Ahead of him, Adam saw the giant skeletal guy. This one seemed rooted in place, and didn't appear to have the agility to do much more than stand there. Adam wasn't taking any chances. He started to run, forgot which way he was going and floundered out into the lake. Fear gripped him. He knew what was in there-in here-and he wanted out. He hoped the giant was gentle, but he wanted to be away, before he had to find out.
______________________________________________________________________________________

From the perspective of the two would be football stars, Gary, and Joe, The evening wasn't shaping up in the way they thought it would. True, Darling was missing, and they usually played off of his lead, but now, in the moment in which they might shine, and be the heroes of the day, the cops had shown up, and stolen their thunder.
Joe, ever the argumentative one, had gone in thinking he would help, the trained officers, whom, according to Sheriff Tyler, had things well in hand; would not accept that as a suitable answer, and had insisted on pressing his point. This had earned him a nightstick to the groin, a new set of matching, nickel plated bracelets, and a premier seat in the back of Tyler's patrol car.
Gary, on the other hand had gone off one his own to see what he could do, apart from the police.
He'd told one officer, that his sister was here somewhere, and that he was worried about her.
Gary had no sister of course, only a brother, who was in the sixth grade, but the cops bought it. That look of false sincerity, didn't just work of girls, apparently, since the cop, to whom he had been speaking, bought the story, waving him through.

At length he ran into a small group whom he recognized as Lovisa, Astrid, that geeky Terrance kid, and what's his name? Inhaler boy.
"Hey guys!" Gary called, as loudly as he dared, not wanting to alert the cops. "Hey, we better go. Adam's missing, Joe got busted, and the cops are busting skulls and taking names, all over Chip and Dale!" (Gary never was the brightest bulb in the box.)
"Like, c'mon. I got Darling's car, it should fit everyone. Let's go!" He turned back, without waiting to see if they followed. In the mind's of guys like Gary, they had to follow. After all this was his hero moment.

Ara

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #42 on: August 21, 2015, 08:15:46 am »
Lovisa felt a strange shudder. She didn't recognize it at first. It was Astrid's gaze against her skin, boring into the side of her face and then her back when she turned away and followed Terrance. The youngets Finnian came closer to the tech savy boy, surprised by the sluggish way he was moving. It might not have been noticeable to anyone standing further away in the dark, but she saw it. She heard the rise of his pulse. She stood close to his shoulder, cold knuckles brushing his. “Are you alright?” She whispered, as though maybe the answer was a secret.

Before Astrid could decide what to do, inhaler boy came from behind them. His voice made Trixie jump and clutch at Astrid's arm. Somewhere nearby Vera's ghost was giggling and saying snide things. She turned to look at him when he mentioned Tor and an end. “What?” Her head snapped to the other side to look at Trixie. Her eyes were puffy and red and she was still dragging in breaths and mumbling to herself. “You knew she was telling the truth.” Vera's specter said coldly, standing there between nearby trees, body blue and clothing wet. “You knew there was something there. Wasn't that one of the reasons you left?”

“I didn't know.” Astrid replied aloud.

“You knew.” Vera continued. “You left him to die like you left me and you went to her instead.”

Gary rolled into the scene, blundered really. Her teeth mashed at his back when he came, spouted nonsense and then started to lead the way back to camp and supposedly Darling's car. “Right, we'll just march on over there, through the cops, to your stolen car. Brilliant, moron.” She watched him falter a step and then sputter, eyes large when he had yet to decide to be hurt or angry. Not many boys would try being angry with Astrid. It was about as clever as playing wicked with the devil.

She rolled her shoulder to try to shake off Trixie but the girl kept hold of her hand. Astrid used the other to roll fingers over her head, as though any of that hair had come out of place. “Bring the car down the road and wait for us. We'll cut through the woods and meet you there.” She decided and just like that, the blond narcisit was convince the walk to the road was her idea, pulling Trixie along in the direction Terrance had started them in.

“What about Tor?” Vera whispered in her ear, walking close to the side Trix wasn't monopolozing. “Guess he's getting left at the lake… Don't worry. I'll keep him company.” She promised with a cruel smile.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #43 on: August 22, 2015, 06:27:45 pm »
He was by the trees, waiting for the lizard to attack like the trees were waiting for the water, always. And like the water, after a valiant stretch for the rots and trunks, the lizard retreated into the depth. Torgrim breathed, heads taller than before, on his alien legs, spiked ends stabbed into the change between earth and sand. Like a human heart, no, the heart of a humanity perched on two pillars, he breathed. The adrenaline was the majority of the fluids in his veins. He felt strong the way you feel strong when you're not, but have to be, running on spirit alone, but a strong spirit, because he'd needed it. Now he didn't need it anymore. The direct threat was gone, the new things in his body agreed, letting the armor retreat from his legs.

He was on his knees again, the debt of energy sucking at his stomach and drawing from his muscles. He felt old. With only the shorts of what had once been full length jeans left, he stumbled through the forest. He wouldn't even consider filling up on sand again. Before long he felt their scents, back at the buses. The sweat of armpits, the fire undoing things that it was fed, the sunlit day still caught in long hair. The fear and the glee and the duty. The lust for it bent his knees and stopped him for a while, sent him to the ground again, until he clawed his way up on his naked feet, along a tree.

A second pair of jaws formed around his natural ones, outside his skin. Molars of sharp cusps, even if they were essentially square. The canines were jagged. His eyes turned to milk when he heard pieces of their plan, a group hiding almost exactly between the commotion and the lake. Alcohol, sunscreen, lake-life. They were a cloud of inviting things. One of them stood out because of his purity. Ah, self-richous. Torgrim didn't want the spoiled meat, or the good meat. He wanted the holy meat. In a way, he could eat all of them, every one in school, if he ate Terrance and his judgement of them.

While they were moving, he easily reached out for the sober boy, in between siblings ignoring each-other, and the hormonal, primal male eyeing what he thought to be human loot. The wheezing boy and the blundering girl were too busy with their own miseries to consider those of Mr. Knight. Torgrim didn't have his usual strength, he realized while he was clutching Terrance with one arm, and rolling with him on the ground, trying to mute him with his other hand. Eventually the one of them who wasn't starved and drained between partial metamorphoses got the upper hand. Torgrim had no choice than to push his advantage, which seemed to be his newfound set of teeth.

With Terrance sitting on him, probably ready to deal a few good punched, Torgrim reached up to pull the supposed victim down. It could have become a kiss, by the choreography of it. It became quite a chomp instead, the new jaws lending Torgrim incredible strength in the bite, hollowing out Terrance face. The lack of vitality left in the newly made predator was replaced by a new energy, the flesh pulled apart for nourishment to the alien system before it had passed the entirety of his throat. Torgrim first ate the smart mouth, it was hard because of Terrance's smart words, used for defense, and then he took the eyes, burnt by the screens he spent his life over.

He didn't wonder where Terrance's bones went, or hos his clothes were so slick on the way down. He didn't even notice how the blood from the boy he'd tried to save in a tree by flinging a rock at the aggressor beneath became absorbed into his skin without staining. It was a first feeding, an initiation of a second system of digestion. It was thorough. There was nothing left but memories of the the Knight boy, as Torgrim lay there, bathing in the rush of having fed, savoring the power and completion that came with it as there was chaos around him.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #44 on: August 22, 2015, 08:14:23 pm »
Gary Didn't get far when the Avanson kid, jumped the geeky kid, and....It wasn't possible, and yet there it was; ate him! Face first, then everything on down, clothes, flesh, they seemed to be all the same to this monster, walking around in the apparent skin of the guy whom Gary had only recently helped beat up on. A fear beyond any he had ever known, gave him a speed, he had never known. Not even that time he had sacked an opposing quarterback on the one yard line, when he himself, had started from the sixty-fifth. Not even that compared with the speed with which he turned and ran now, back to find a cop, or a gun.

He found both, colliding with a cop named Tom Hillgar. Hillgar was looking around for any more stragglers. They'd snatched up pretty much everyone else, the stretch sprinter van they used for a paddy wagon now filled to capacity, and the patrol cars, just about there, as well.
Hillgar couldn't understand what the hell this jock kid was going on about. He chocked it up to some bad acid trip, and hauled the kid away, stuffing Gary, cuffed, and tazed into the back of his squad car.
They'd found Darling's car, and called in a wreaker to take possession of the vehicle. With Darling himself missing, his folks having been phoned, the car was now presumed stolen, Joe, and Gary as the likely culprits, since they had confessed-at least Joe had-to having it in their care, as they put it, up to now.

Sheriff Tyler, left tings is the capable hands of Officer Hillgar. Hillgar was probably the only clean cop on his dirty little force. He hated clean cops. Clean cops couldn't be bought, couldn't be blackmailed.
His brother, Henry's dad was like that. The big hotshot city detective, like Elliot Ness, himself, and all that.
No matter, that was a rant for another year.
Right now, Sheriff Tyler was responding to a suspected homicide. He still had that Joe kid, one of Darling's friends in the back of his car.
The clerk at the gas station just before the turn off to go to the lake had reported his find. Had said that he had noticed a strange smell, that was unlike the normal smells you normally associtated with dumpsters. When he went to check it out, he found the body of one football star, Todd Darling, shot to death, apparently.

Sheriff Tyler arrived on the scene. Dragged Joe with him, the latter still in cuffs, to ID the body. Joe not only identified Darling, he went berserk upon the discovery. Sure it could have been all usual surprise and grief crap, they say goes along with finding out your friend is dead, and then actually seeing it, but Tyler didn't think so. He figured Joe probably killed the guy. For what? His car? Yeah, that seemed a plausible reason to him. Joe was poor, to Darlling's comparative wealth-or his family's at any rate.
Well either way, there'd be time enough to get to the bottom of this.

The other half of the force of Pineland, was roused to full strength. Half of them pulling normal Pineland duty, the other half out here, to seal off the area.
These kids-all of them-had made this a most inconvenient night for Sheriff Tyler; and he would not soon forget this.

**************************************************

Chirsty couldn't sleep. She had tried, several times in fact, but memories of her encounter with Henry kept dancing about in her head. Henry wasn't like the other guys. He didn't see her as a trophy to be had, and then discarded. Despite the way she often treated him, he kept coming back for more. It occurred to her then, that perhaps, he might just feel something more than the others did.
She got showered, and dressed, and went out to the garage. sitting in the far position of her family's three car garage was her brand new Audi A-4. Sure, it wasn't a beamer, her folks weren't quite in that category, but it was a thoughtful gesture. She got it, turned it over, hit the remote for the garage door, and took the car out.
She just drove around for a while, not really sure where she was going, just sort of letting instinct guide her, onward.

She found herself on the old service road that led to the lake from the back side. Not the main road, which the bus had taken earlier that night. She hoped, she realized, that Henry might still be there. She felt different. Not the usual way she felt after fucking some guy. She felt better, enchanced, maybe.  Whatever it was, she felt certain she would find whatever it was she was looking for, just up the road.

The thing about the service road, is that it actually led to an old boat landing, right at the other side of the lake. This was an oddity from decades back, around the middle of the nineteenth century, when people for whatever reason would bring wagons to the lake to...to what? She didn't know. She wasn't paying attention during that particular field trip back in the fifth grade, as she had gone off, with Henry Tyler, she now realized, to collect pussy willows. He mother love them, and back then, eleven year old Henry Tyler, had offered to collect some with her, for her mom. God, had he liked her more than the other boys, even way back then?
She blushed. It felt ironic, or maybe more like destiny, that she sought him now. Somehow knowing just where to go, as if he'd lit a beacon for her to follow.
She didn't know it then, or would have even mattered, that during their coupling hours before, Henry had passed more into her, than merely bodily fluid, She was as much of the Lake as he was, just not as far along.

She parked her car at the water's edge, the headlights bathing the landing in that bleached out, ghost white, as only headlights can, the cement slabs of the landing, looking like some ancient set of train tracks, or a roman road partially unearthed, leading into the water, disappearing, continuing into its depths.
She killed the lights, got out, switched off the dome light, and got out. She too a long look at the silent, open water before her. 'This is the place', she thought. No, she knew.
Henry was here.
This place, was home. She knew it like she knew nothing else, save that she was here for him.
She acted on instinct come alive, like a living, breathing epiphany had taken up residence in her soul, for surely what else could be? She had never been more calmly, serenely certain of anything before in her entire life. She was here. Henry was here somewhere. Nothing else in all the world mattered.
She looked to the glove box, where the paperwork was. She took out the ownership papers. Everything had been filled out for her to take full, legal possession of the car. All she had to do was print, sign, date, and take it to the D.M.V. for registration. She dated it alright, but left the print and sign sections blank. she left it on the driver seat.
She got out, turned the car off, killed the headlights, but didn't bother to close the door. Didn't take the keys from the ignition. Why bother? She wasn't coming back, she knew with certainty. She stood at the water's edge, mere feet from the hood. She took out her cell phone, keyed the notes option, wrote down three words: This is right., then deposited the phone on the hood. It would look like a suicide. That was the way it should be, she thought. Her folks would grieve, but they'd have closure.

Back at the house she'd left her most private things on her bed, for all to see, she only now realized; and she was okay with that, it made sense.

Standing at the water's edge she looked down at her mute reflection in the now predawn light. When she had redressed, she had opted for simplicity itself: A simple black tank top, track shorts, flip-flops. That was all.
She slid off the tank, let the shorts fall, stepped out of the flip-flops, and into the water.
She walked forward. Walked until the slimy ground gave way beneath her, and then swam out further.  she waited there, treading water. He would come. She knew it.

*****************************************************

Back at the wreck, back where it all began, on this planet, at least, Der Heinrich hovered before the alien apparatus, which had initiated this miraculous change within him. He knew what to do, hands hovering over ancient instrumentation which though old-ancient, in fact-was light years ahead of Earth's indigenous technology. Light, in bands imperceptible to human eyes, glowed The chamber pressurized, water became air as molecules were decoupled. Der Heinrich, was not so much healed, as further transformed. His previous, otherwise mortally wounded form became something even less humanoid, until finally this reptilian shell, as the human one, was discarded.
What remained was by no means a man, by no means human, in any sense of the word. He resembled more a cross between some prehistoric eel from the midsection on down, and reverse to the head, closer to something perhaps out of the mind of H.R. Giger.
He still had eyes, though they more closely resembled shimmering plates of silvery smoked glass, than anything else. His mouth, while still hinged, a needle toothed maw framed by sleek, yet still soft, thin lips. This he knew was for her benefit.
She was here, on the surface. He knew that. He could sense, her. He knew she was coming the moment this second transformation took place. She was here for him, and so now, he went for her.
**********************************************************************
She tread water there, waiting. He would come. She felt sure of it.
She waited a moment. Two. Ten. Her arms and legs were beginning to tire, but still she stayed put. She'd settled her old life. There was nowhere to go now but down. One way or another.
He simply appeared, though she saw no rising bubbles preceding his ascent. He was simply there, before her. Were she not so certain it was him, she would have been utterly terrified, but it was him. She knew it. She had sensed his presence when she'd first pulled the car up to the lake's edge.
He came to her now.
'My love' she thought to him. He didn't respond in any mode of voice, or even thought words, as she used, but she knew he got the message. He offered one clawed, three digit hand to her. She gracefully accepted it, pressing it between her impressive naked breasts. "Yours she said. Forever."
He drew still nearer, taking hold of her with a second arm, then a third, and a fourth. He pressed his lips to hers. The kissed, and dove beneath the surface.
The kiss, though strangely romantic, served a more practical need. For in it, he supplied her with the necessary oxygen to reach their destination.
He took her to the wreck. initiated the instrumentation. Water once again became air. Still holding her close, as her transformation, her evolution began.
In that space of time, they made love in a more perfect harmony than any human poet could have ever dreamed possible.

Ara

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #45 on: August 22, 2015, 09:38:30 pm »
Lovisa felt his loss. She turned her head just as a shadow pulled him away and stared at the space where he had been. A second and then two rolled by before Gary ran off and Damien and Trixie caught up. “Hey. Where did Ter go?” Damien asked when he almost bumped into her.

Astrid had stopped ahead to look back, not at the space or the shadows that Lovisa now watched. She looked back at her little sister, at the terrible knowing on her face. It was the same way she'd looked when the ice broke and Vera disappeared. It was the knowing that in the nothing was death. That in absense was the promise that nothing would be whole again.

She watched her drag in a shaking breath and the second when the younger Finnian made a rush toward the shadows, toward the crunching sounds that tickled the nerves on the back of Astrid's neck. Astrid moved faster, cutting her off and grabbing her by the arm. Her fingers were hot and that arm was cold. Where they touched was normal, cool, perfect. It was the same spot where she'd grabbed her that night and pulled her from the breaking ground. It was the same spot she'd held on to when she'd hauled her back to the car.

Lovisa tried to shake her off this time, unlike that time in the snow. “No.” Lo hissed.

Damien shifted uncomfortably, looking around for Terrance now. Trixie was crying again, grabbing at the inhaler boy for comfort.

Astrid mashed her teeth and pulled that arm but Lovisa only fought harder. “Terrance?” She called, trying to move out into the dark. Astrid hooked her other arm around her sister's waist from behind and pulled her back up against her side. She was taller as well as older and she had always been stronger. She cared about those things. She wasn't all mouth and attitude. She half picked up the other girl and kept moving, forgetting about Damien and Trixie all together. They would either follow or they wouldn't but they weren't her problem. “Terrance?” Lovisa continued to call, voice cracking with confusion.

“Shut up.” Astrid snapped, struggling with her the whole way through the woods.

Vera followed close beside the sisters. “Do you suspect the monster got him? The one that got Genna and Torgrim?” She asked casually.

Lovisa had eventually settled down in Astrid's arms but she continued to drag her roughly, expecting a fight.

“But you're not going to save them, as you? You're just going to save her. Again.”

Lovisa sighed and Astrid felt it through her side. “Again.” Her little sister repeated.

They reached the road but didn't climb up onto it, following it from the treeline instead to watch a few crusiers make their way back to town. Trixies hysterics had gone up and down, telling Astrid that they were with them in their trek through the trees. She stopped when she saw the car sitting at the stretch of lake side near the road. Her arms loosened on her sister, her head turning only slightly to bring a hot cheek close to a cold one. “Run, and I'll leave you behind.” She warned before letting Lovisa go.

“Hello?” Damien called as they neared the car, looking around for someone.

Trixie sniffled.

“It's Christy's.” Astrid said as she neared it, going straight for the driver's side. Damien started calling for her by name. “She's either been picked up by someone or she's having a toss in the bushes.” Astrid explained with a drum of boredom. Chris wasn't exactly a hard nut to crack. Girl had shallow aspirations and a body she liked using to get what she wanted. Astrid and Vera might have been impressed once upon a time, if the things she wanted had been more than pot and the chance to make other kids cry.

Astrid picked up the cellphone off the hood and then opened the driver's side door, grabbing up the papers and sat herself down. She looked them over breifly before scrunching her face and tossing them into the back. The keys were in the ignition. Astrid tapped the phone to life. She knew the code. She knew everyone's codes. Lovisa got into the passenger side. “What is it?” She asked, voice low and sedate from the last half hour.

Astrid read the three words twice while Damien shuffled Trixie into the backseat. “Don't know. Either Chris had some secret depth or, more likely, she's tricking another kid into the worst night of his life.” She tossed Lovisa the phone. “Call the house, see if mom's home.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

Damien hummed in unease. “What about Christy?” He said, leaning into the open backseat door.

Astrid sighed and started the car. “She's either dead or should be, so get in.” She realized it was harsh and wondered if she should have cared. If she would have cared yesterday or if it was just the truth.

Damien didn't seem to like it but he got into the car.

Lovisa swallowed hard, feeling cold where she sat.

Astrid turned on the air and pulled away from the lake, driving down the road toward town. When she looked into the rear-view mirror she saw Vera there, wedged between Damien and Trixie, arms spread across the back to cradle her new friends. “You don't want to go home, Astrid.” Vera reminded. “You want to go someplace else.”

Astrid let her eye stray to Trixie. She wasn't crying anymore. In fact, she was finally looking calm. She could pretend that it was exhaustion, but Astrid knew it was something else. Earlier that night, when she ran into her in the woods, she had clawed a hand down the other girl's back. She wasn't sure why. She might have said it was for balance or out of surprise if Trix had complained, but she hadn't seemed to notice and Astrid had been quick to get a shirt on her before anyone else saw.

She had infected her. She knew it now, driving that car and meeting her gaze for a fleeting second in the mirror. But what she had infect her with, what she was infect with, she did not know.

Astrid felt Lovisa watching her when she hung up the cellphone and let out a sigh. Already she knew that mom wasn't home. She never was. And simultaneously the Finnian sisters wondered if anyone would ever be home again, knowing that they would not.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #46 on: August 22, 2015, 10:39:23 pm »
Damien stayed calm in the backseat. Trixie was nervous enough for him. He looked at Astrid through the mirror and wondered what she was thinking. Their leader. The confident girl everyone wanted to be. He tipped the inhaler into his mouth and breathed its healing concoction again. He wasn't sure he'd needed it for his lungs, but it felt good to soothe him, and quite frankly, it wasn't a bad bet on the breathing either. From where he sat, in the center, he could see the side of Lovisa's head too.

They knew they'd left Terrance in the woods, but Lovisa seemed to be stuck on that fact. He was gone, the way things get lost in stressful situations. Damien wouldn't trade places with him, but sitting here, in relative safety, he thought he could see how it had to be this way. They couldn't very well scower the woods hoping to find him, even if this plan had sprung from one of Terrance's ideas. Damien realized it was very unlikely Terrance Knight wasn't here because of his own descission. Damien didn't really care. Not like the Finnian girl who had just called home.

He reached out for Lovisa's shoulder, and then caught Astrid's stare. Always looking out for the sister she ignored. He realized it was awkward to pull back now, so he decided against his better judgement to press on, through that created thickness from the power of rejection that seemed to Astrid's gift. Eventually, when his skin was tingling from the rejection in the atmosphere, he was cupping Lovisa's shoulder. He didn't know what comfort it could give, but he accompanied it with a smile. "I think we're going to be alright." he said. It might as well have been a question, witht he uncertainty in his voice.

Torgrim saw the oangle light on the ground. When he looked at his palms they were illuminated by the same, exotic hue. He realized it was his eyes. Lantern on the green. There were people in the forest of the night. He quickly slaped fingers over the beaconing orbs to silence their tell-tale. Boots were moving closer. He would look suspicious in only his shreded shorts. Or would it be so strange? Grad night, after all. When they shone a light on him he quickly took his hands away from his face. Hopefully the glow would be drowned out by their artificial one.

Hillgar. Ah. it was going to be one of those nights, as though it wasn't already. The adult reached down to pull Torgrim up by his shoulder. "Hey, there, hearbreaker. Calm down." he started. Before Torgrim could underline that he was not doing anything to warrant that kind of advice, a fist visited his stomach deeply. Torgrim folded back onto the forest floor. Mrs. Hillgar was a sloppy kisser. He was sure Tom wouldn't like to hear that, despite obviously having suspicions.

"In the lake. Something." Torgrim said as he stood, strangely unaffected by the punch. Hillgar feigned being impressed. Then he pulled the boy along to a car and shoved him inside. Torgrim assumed the company, Greg, had seen the crackling end of an electrical tool, judging by his watered down pernsoality. For some reason or other, Greg seemed terrified. It was better than chatty or hostile, probably. Torgrim felt strangely content when he was driven toward the town again.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #47 on: August 22, 2015, 11:41:46 pm »
They merged, the pair of them, down in the depths. metaphorically, at first, as two people, or rather, one person and one...something else, making love beneath the waves in ways that had to be illegal in most states, hell in most countries. It became more that merely metaphorical, though. As the lights pulsed. The girl, that was Christy had seen nothing but darkness, and felt nothing but cold, and this sense that somehow the cold thing fucking her, was somehow Henry Tyler. But then, as she began to transform, her eyes changed, now able to see more than the previous visible bands of light. She stopped being cold.
As she neared the most perfect orgasm she had ever fantasized about, she became less human, until, her back arching, her head tossing back to scream out in ecstasy, she passed from human, altogether.
She became like him.
First as he had been prior to his flight from Torgrim-which she now knew about, from a shared memory link-to the way he was when he had come for her. She didn't regret the change, for there was no hint of limitation in it.
She became as he was.
Then the two of them, became one. marching, literally, this time. Morphing into one perfect, being. Lager than both of them, sexless, of one mind, one purpose. To feed, to kill, to delight in blood. 
Perhaps the creators of the organisms had never thought of this. Perhaps they had feared it. Perhaps this was a strain that they had meant to destroy, but had yet, lived.
It didn't matter. Heinristy, was complete.
Complete, but hungry.

The part of it that had been the mind of Christy, sensed a pseudo familiar presence at the lake shore. Because of that familiarity, the part that was once Henry wanted it dead.
So off it went, to kill and feed.

******************************************************

Adam watched the distant lights of the car fade further into obscurity. He thought he'd look for a cop to take him home, but they'd left too, ending with Tom Hillgar, taking that freak that turned into Avanson, into custody.
"What about me?" he shouted into the predawn grey.
"What the hell about me? What am I supposed to do?"

He was so caught up in his tirade, he did not see the nightmarish thing that approached, multilimbed, from the water, it had oh so siliently vacated.

Adam didn't see it, intil a twig snapped, causing him to turn around, then he saw it, but it was upon him before he could issue a sound.

Despite the cruel ferocity of the attack, or the sheer number of slicing teeth involved, not a drop of Adam's blood was spilled, as it devoured him, before returning to the depths, to rest.

*********************************************************************

Tom Hillgar, had pretended to be unphased by the wimpy Avanson kid shrugging off his best sucker punch, but in truth, it got to him. So much so that he had adjusted the rearview mirror just so he wouldn't have to look at the kid. There was something off about that one. A look in his eyes. a knowing. Knowing what, Hillgar, didn't want to know. Hoped not to find out.

He got the Avanson kid, and the other one to the police station. He didn't have anything on Torgrim, and told him as much, that it was all just some routine questions.
So be it. Let the desk Seargeant deal with that weird kid. Tom, had other, better, less freaky things to do, right now.  He left, the station, got back in his car. Alone this time, and headed off into the early morning light.  Somehow he had this awful feeling, that despite the growing daylight, things for Pineland, were about to grow darker.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #48 on: August 23, 2015, 11:16:58 am »
Astrid took a turn down the side of the mountain. She'd taken a long route to keep clear of the patrol. It wasn't hard to know their routes in a small town. As they rounded down the last turn the lights of the city added a new hue to the overcast. She looked over her shoulder to shoot Damien a warning glare when he reached out toward the front, toward Lovisa.

Her teeth clicked when he pushed ahead to touch that shoulder, her eyes turning back to the road as they neared the city. Lips twisted into a cruel smile when he said things would be alright. Nothing was going to be alright. Nothing had been alright in a long time.

Lovisa looked back at Damien. She wanted to smile and thank him but she couldn't muster it. Vera was sitting there beside him, smiling at her with cold blue lips. “He thinks we're going to be alright.” The apparition said and both sisters heard. Lovisa drew a slow breath. It was so cold. “Terrance is dead.” She said flatly, staring back at him, refusing to look at Vera. “Others are probably dead too, right?”

Trixie nodded beside him, eyes glassy now and a shade darker.

“Lo.” Astrid's tone warned.

“Did you see it too?” Lovisa asked the boy, ignoring the sister that had once upon a time ignored her.

They were pulling onto one of the few main roads of the mountain town. Everything was closed, lights out and roads empty.

“Did it eat Grim too?” Lovisa whispered.

Astrid hissed and jerked the steering wheel at the sound of that name on her sister's tongue. So much worry for a boy she didn't know. So much worry for people that didn't love her. She had cried for weeks when dad left. Weeks. She still kept pictures of him. She still loved him even though he didn't love them back. The wheels locked and the car hit the curb, rolling. Trixie screamed. Lovisa inhaled. Astrid sighed. Crushing metal and burning rubber became the flavor of the night.

There was a stillness in the wreckage. Wheels still turning, airbags deployed. Astrid didn't bother to move at first, knowing somehow that she was alright. A little car crash couldn't hurt her. Nothing could hurt her. Vera was laughing somewhere, close enough to hear. She looked to the side when she heard Lovisa cursing, pushing at the airbag to get it away from her while working her door open. It fought her and Astrid looked on, expecting to see her little sister give up, but with a sharp shove it gave, breaking off the hinges to roll inelegantly onto the pavement. Astrid saw the flakes of ice left on the hinges when the younger Finnian half fell out of the car. “Fuck you, Astrid!” She snapped angrily, and Astrid realized that she was the one laughing, not Vera.

Lovisa crawled in the thick chunks of broken glass to the backseat door and opened it, already asking Damien if he was alright.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #49 on: August 23, 2015, 12:49:47 pm »
After having been left by the officer Hillgar, Torgrim got the feeling Tom did not know about his run-ins with his wife, after all. Why else would he had left Torgrim at the station, relatively unmolested. The kid of the Avanson household had even concidered describing to Tom how the scent of Elena Hillgar's sweat mixed with that of her bodylotion if you had a mouthful under her sweater, but decided the husband would probably not want to know another male's thoughts on suckling his wife.

Instead of getting his face repainted and rescuplted, he kept quiet, and was now being set free in a standard issue police t-shirt, turned inside out, because for some reason, they didn't want their department logo on the back of the boy who was taken from the woods in just his shorts. They let him wait outside. The police station was brimming with more valid cases than his. They'd even left his phone call to his parents up to him, since they knew the Avanson couple were at their cabin halfway to the city and wouldn't be able to pick him up, anyhow. He shrugged in the stark light from the one mounted lamp hanging off the front of the station, meant to illuminate the sign but instead flooded most of the front deck.

The walls padded him from the noise inside, the chaos only slipping out every time someone opened the self closing doors. It was odd that he wasn't bothered now, by what had happened. Terrance was still fresh on his palled, but the death of Knight was a lifetime away. Torgrim chalked it up to late night catatonia, which should have been a clue to his own insanity. Back in the day, Astrid could just about say anything to him at this hour, and he wouldn't mind. She learned quickly what kind of conversations to have. He wasn't really scholar material at this hour.

He took out the bottle he'd gotten from Hank and poured enough to blanket his tongue. It felt decadent to drink outside of the police station. Torgrim and his newly awakened eyes, full of blossoming embers again, looked up at the light without crying. He could see the vibrations in the pipe. He thought he could count the fluctuations in the energy caught inside the glass cylinder. Torgrim hung his head and put the bottle back into the remains of his favorite pants. He stood and started walking, hands locked behind his head, barefoot. He laughed to himself. It wasn't the worst thing, walking home from the police station in the rags of what you wore at the beginning of your grad night. He supposed many of the stories he had now people wouldn't believe, though.

Damien took some comfort from her skin. He hadn't realized he was hot until her chill soothed him. The air coming from Astrid was also cold, but not so pleasant. He took the hand back when Lovisa started talking. He nodded. He'd seen it. Now, he would always see it. A creature from nowhere dressed partially in something he'd seen before. Reptiles, dragons, but made fluid. A suit of fairy tale villains. Fitting that someone called Grim should complete that scene. He didn't want to be the one to tell her yes, but he was the only one who could. "Yes." he sniffled and grabbed his inhaler again, but this was crying, it was a different kind of breathing distress. "Grim threw a rock to save me and I ran." It was cathartic to deal with that guilt so openly.

He turned to look at Trixie then, for the undoing of gravitation. He barely had the sense to be afraid until the flips of the car had concluded. He was bleeding from his forehead, being dragged out by Lovisa. Uselessly he pulled at Trixie, who came along, all thanks to Lovisa's efforts. He saw the ice, and his brow furrowed, which made the bleeding worse. His hand came up to touch the wound beneath his hanging, almost white bangs. "How could ice had formed this time of year?" he asked. He looked at Lovisa then, remembering the cold of her skin, as though it was an explanation.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #50 on: August 23, 2015, 01:56:39 pm »
"Tor, is that you?" Elena Hillgar called from the bedroom of her an Tom's small cottage, on the other edge of town. The little house was just enough in town, to where you could have access to all of the town's limited facilities, yet far enough out, to where you could see the stars at night, apart from the glow of the street lights.
Torgrim Avanson was only a few years younger than she was. He'd been a freshman, when she and Tom had been seniors. Tom had gone to the local police academy, and she'd stuck around, back then, taking on a teacher's assistant job, so a not to lose the magic that was high school. To that end, she had, over time, made a touch and go, love of Torgrim Avanson. She didn't know what his plans were now, whether college-probably college-or what, but she was going to miss his style. To that end, she had planned to make this day a good one for him. Tom was supposed to be out all day. She had feigned disappointment, when Tom got called in, during the wee hours of the morning, but in reality, she had hoped that Tor would have been watching, and just sort of stopped in.
So it was with great surprise when she beheld her husband, standing in the door way, looking at her, his mouth agape.
"What's that you're wearing?" he asked. "And what did you just call me?"
Elena Stammmered, I said...um...Thor, darling your home, from slaying that vile tree serpent!"
She thought it a nice save.
He did not.
"What do mean Thor? You're not even dressed like a Viking. you look like...like....What the hell are you supposed to be?" He saw her lingerie costume's box lying on the sofa, nearby. "Anime School Girl, Naughty Nurse, huh?"
He looked back to his wife. "So Thor, is greeted by a slutty nurse in training, is that it?" Tom wasn't into role play, in or out of the bedroom. It was not something he understood. What he did understand, was that his wife had just called him a strange name, and then made a badly failed attempt at covering it up.
He was shouting by this point.
"Tom, please, it's not what you-"
"Not what I think? Just like all the other times, weren't what I think?"
He crossed to the bedroom, and what he saw enraged him further. The bed sheets; his bed sheets had been replaced by something in zebra stripes, and these were covered in various sex toys, and several containers of lube.
"So you were actually counting on me not being around today, weren't you, Mrs. Hillgar?
"Tom wait!" Her attempted intervention did no good. Tom had already gotten his bug out bag from the closet, stuffed in his clothes, grabbed his ditty bag, his guns-If he couldn't trust her to be by herself, he certainly wasn't going leave her lovers access to his hardware-he grabbed his notebook backpack, stuffed his computer into it, and headed back out the door; Elena trying to explain, what didn't need explaining. The Lady of the house turned out to be the Mistress of the house, and the Mr. had had enough.
They didn't have any neighbors, immediately nearby, but if they had, it would have looked funny to see a grown woman dressed like an anime school girl, wearing a nurse's hat, chasing a policeman, down the walk, to his car. This was Tom's car, not his patrol car.
He might not have been the kind of husband who could keep a faithful wife, but he was a cop who could keep his job, by not abusing the car privilege.
He sped the his car-a Camaro, naturally, in reverse, to get away from his wife's pleading. Enough was enough. He knew about the mail man, and the cable guy, and the pool cleaner, but there was only one guy in all of Pineland whose name, or rather nick name even remotely sounded like Tor; and the thought that his wife was, or even might be boning that cocky, male slut Avanson kid, was over the top. It was too much. If that was the life she wanted to lead, then she'd have to do it without him in the picture.
He had alternate digs anyway. He'd discovered them a year ago, while doing the big Meth stakeout.

On the way, he passed the Avanson kid walking home, apparently.
Oh, Tom had thought of stopping to offer the kid a ride, taking him out some place far away, taking him out and burying the body, but no. That wasn't Tom. He was still a good cop, even if he wasn't so good a husband. He did slow down though, just to let the Avanson kid know he knew. "Yo, Tor!"! he called out to get the kid's attention.

He slowed down, just enough, to get the muzzle of his sawn off shotgun, clear of the car's frame, and fired, a load of 10 gauge bear shot, at Tor, and tore off, speeding into the growing day.
« Last Edit: August 23, 2015, 03:25:01 pm by Thunderstruck »

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #51 on: August 23, 2015, 04:15:45 pm »
Astrid crawled out of the upside down car, standing and stretching. She was stealing wearing that black bikini top and those denim shorts she'd nabbed from her sister's bag. Her hair was struggling to remain in that ponytail but her skin didn't seem to know it had been in a car accident. Not a scratch.

She snickered at the question on Damien's lips but took a few steps away, up the sidewalk, to leave her sister with answering the impossible. Vera followed her, running fingers along her naked arm. “Do you remember that time we stole my daddy's truck and drove it all the way to the city?” The dead girl whispered to the living, smiling around the memory. “He's still looking for me, you know. He thinks I'm out there somewhere.”

Astrid sighed, shoulder straining under the weight of that guilt. Her head snapped to the side when she heard the clear sound of a blast tearing through the morning. Quick steps brought her up to the corner just as Tom Hillgar's Camaro approached, tires leaving tracks and a cloud of gun smoke twisting in the air on the sidewalk around a boy. “Torgrim.” Vera breathed.

Astrid's eyes narrowed, looking right at Tom as he drove closer, speed pushing him past even as her lip curled and heat rolled over his vehicle, bubbling the paint and making the tires stick to the pavement, leaving behind clumps of sticky rubber.



Lovisa held onto his shoulders to keep him upright when she saw the gash on his forehead, her face scrunching in a sympathetic cringe. She almost ignored his question, reaching up to push that now stained hair away from the freely bleeding wound.

“Should we take him to the doctor?” Trixie asked, standing close by and rubbing gravel and glass off her shirt and shorts. Pineland wasn't big enough for a hospital. It had a doctor and two nurses. Lovisa and Astrid's mother happened to be the doctor.

“It'll be fine.” Lovisa said with too much certainty, as though she needed it to be true and then before she could think on it, she was up on the toes of her sneakers and running her tongue over that gash, cleaning it with saliva.

Verse

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #52 on: August 23, 2015, 04:34:56 pm »
Torgrim unlocked his hands from the back of his neck when the car drove close. He'd seen that car parked on Elena's driveway when Tom was out with work. Back during those times, the car had been a vechile of safety, an insurance. As long as they could see it through the bedroom window, and it wasn't moving or catching light from the returning work vehicle, they were safe to practise her breaking of vowvs. Now, though, moving and inhabited by the husband, it felt more ominous. He did not seem as perfectly unaware as before.

The shotgun said so.

Tor was surprised to see the orbs. They were black, like the night behind them, but somehow he could read their number, and clock their spins. He could see the slight expansion of the pipe as it breathed the little things and then its expulsion of smoke. It seemed right that they should find their way into the borrowed t-shirt, shredding the emblem on the inside, blasting the cotton with the print of the shield Tom was supposed to stand for. Torgrim Avanson kicked up dust when he fell back from the road to the ditch.

The metal confounded the being that wanted Torgrim to survive. His body convulsed while it tried to figure out what had invaded its host. The body turned on the grass and gravel, arms flailing like crecent splashes of water. And then, when the creature had found clarity in what it should do, learning from the iron already in Torgrim's blood, he stilled on his back. Slowly, thin spines grew from his chest, as many as there were buckshots inside him. His torso, the hole in the shirt, became a garden of calcium stems, reaching upward, each holding one ball of metal.

He pulled at air again as he was allowed to wake up. His lungs lifted around those spines, and deflated, as though the holes they grew from had no consequence. Then he tensed. Then he stilled. This continued a handfull of times. Torgrim died plenty before the body and the new creature had come to an understanding, and could revive him fully. He breathed deeply, looking up at the stems protruding. He remembered what had happened and laughed, shaking the crooked and twisted sticks that held the buckshot. Eventually, when he'd had his glee, he drew his palm over the top of the spines to gather up the metal. He sat up as the stems grew back into him, and left a whole chest inside the shredded shirt.

"Can't keep your clothes, TeeGee." he mumbled to himself where he sat, rolling the things in his palm. "Ain't that always your problem?" He stood and dropped the little objects into the pocket not holding the flask. Somehow Tom had found out about Elena. Torgrim patted his pocket. Maybe this hadn't been an overreaction.

Damien had heard the shot, and seen the car running. He was completely flabberghasted by how it seemed to react to the road, the bubbles on the vehicle unnatural, as though it was exploding slowly. That surprise was cut-off completely when Trixie worried about him. And then all other things in his mind were gone when Lovisa came, and then taste the gash that was making his pale hair pink. His silver eyes fluttered as he moaned, a sound drawn from agony and a sudden pleasure. He hooked his hands around her waist to stay upright.

"I-I'll be alright." he said, head still tingling from the touch of her slick muscle. He swallowed as he looked at the younger sister. How could he be anything but enamored, when she'd smeared one corner of her lips with his blood.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #53 on: August 23, 2015, 07:57:19 pm »
"What the fuck!" Tom Hillgar snarled, as an intense wave of heat hit his car, like a burst from some impossible, invisible flamethrower. The tires were compromised, surface layers sticking to the asphalt-this he glanced out of the rear view mirror-then burst altogether. He wasn't at freeway speed yet, but the four simultaneous blowouts were enough for him to lose control of his car's direction.
Vector changed, though velocity held more, or less constant. The tight turn he'd been executing at the time, went wide, sending his car into a skid, up a curb, sliding, half forward, half sideways into a nearby park. The car kicked up dust and mulched the grass where it dug in. The car kept sliding. He'd tried the brakes, but it was likely that the heat wave had ruptured the rubber gaskets for the brake fluid tank, under the hood. He could only mutely wonder what else had blown.
As if reading his mind, the radiator started steaming. Now his car was in motion, out of his control, and smoking, and steaming. He had no idea where he was going until his Camaro came to an abrupt halt, half way up a flight of concrete steps, of the town library. The airbags deployed, and he waited  a good several minutes, before he dared to move.
When he felt sure all was as well as could be expected, he unhooked his seat belt, popped the hood, and got out.
His worst fears were confirmed. Everything under the hood that wasn't metal had either melted, or ruptured. The practical part of his mind hoped he wouldn't have any trouble with the insurance company over this.
The rest of his mind knew he had to get out of here.
He called in to the station, asking for Danny. Danny wasn't the straightest cop in the land, but he and Tom were tight. Danny would help him do what needed to be done. Not just about the car, but about the powder burns.
He did not-could not-know that Tor had survived his assault, so he was fretting about the implications of that as well.
**************************************************************

Pitooey!
It hated fish. Had lived on them in one capacity or another for decades before this, before it had found hosts to enable its evolution; and now that it had, it hated fish. Humans tasted better.
It went back to the wreck. the power cells were low, they had enough juice for two, maybe three more tries. It only needed one. It keyed for the gift of metamorphosis. Yes it could achieve this slowly, over time, but damn it all, it was hungry, and fish were awful, almost to the point of intolerable This process accelerated the process.

This having been done it went to the surface, It exited the lake on legs. Human legs, though it was not human, and would never pass an MRI scan. The human appearance was camouflage, and that was all. It took on the guise of Henry, its first victim, though the human was no more. Henry Tyler, apart from a collection of memories was naught but a heap of generic, genetic material, which it used to further its own ends, to give voice if you will, to its sentience. Likewise with Christy. This thing call love which seemed to be all Human's greatest weakness, had proven the best lure, both on the female, and to get the male to further the process back at the wreck.
It knew what Henry knew. Knew where to find his motorcycle, knew how to drive it
It rode it into town, in the guise, and approximate body type of Henry Tyler...

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #54 on: August 24, 2015, 10:25:37 am »
Lovisa swallowed the blood her tongue had collected from his face, it spread warmth through her chest for a moment before giving way to the ceaseless cold. Her dark eyes, once light blue, looked back at the boy. Her heels sank down until they connected with the pavement again. Her hand came up to thumb the corner of her lips, tongue coming out to meet with the digit and finish off her meager feast.

She took a step back and then another, looking up the road to see where Astrid stood and smoke still curled off of the rubber on the street.

Astrid watched the car on it's destined path to the steps of the Library. Tom got out and if he looked back in the direction of his crime, he would see the witness standing their, staring back at him before she turned away. She would have gone back down the street she'd emerged from to her sister if she didn't see the boy standing up in the ditch nearby.

She narrowed her eyes, dark that had once been stark blue. “Is that the third time you've died tonight, Tor?” She asked, voice raised to overcome the space between them. It drew Lovisa and subsequently Trixie closer out of curiosity.

“Shot by a cop.” She said loudly, boldly, not even sure what she was calling him out on now. “Eaten by a lake monster.” Were they lies? His deaths? Close calls escaped by fortune?  What fortune could Torgrim have? “Drowned by your ex.” He was loved by Astrid. There was no fortune in that.

Lovisa came close to Astrid, emerging from the street onto that fateful road of bear-shot and tire burns. She turned, chin first, to see who Astrid was talking to before sucking in a breath. Astrid could hear the relief on it, she could feel the mix of confusion and gratitude ripple through her sister's chest at the sight of the boy alive as though they were her own feelings. As though she felt such delicate things.

“Grim!” Lovisa called, worry in that voice and legs starting toward him.

Astrid caught her by the arm, always that same spot and held tight, those sneakers scuffing at the pavement. Lovisa twisted to look back at her, wanting an answer, but Astrid wasn't even looking. She might as well have been invisible again, they way those eyes passed her to watch him. To see if he would walk and talk like the boy they knew.

It wasn't hard to imagine what would push supposedly good-cop-Tom to shooting a teenage boy on the sidewalk. Elena hadn't exactly been subtle. Of course, Astrid would rather the man shoot his own wife than the boy that never made him a promise to break. But she was biased, just like Tom.

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #55 on: August 24, 2015, 06:03:06 pm »
"What is going on with you?" he asked himself, hand on his chest, where the shot had hit him. The stems were gone, no trace. He was going to take advantage of the adrenaline to do some deep introspection, and perhaps get some headway on this entire situation. As soon as he thought back on Terrance, and the taste of his life, his mind was flooded again. It felt like math. He couldn't be bothered. "Ah. I see what you did there." he muttered to himself, one step faltering because of the sudden onset of indifference. He became suspicious, of course, but the nature of the phenomenon was that he didn't really care. He made a note to remember this. The chemicals erroded that note.

He wasn’t alone for long on the road. The air was crowded by the death of a car, by visitation of the sun. So many pretty things, through his nostrils. Rubber burnt, oil spilled, paint boiled. He was propelled forward, his sense of smell the foremost advocate, followed closely by his greedy sense of sight. The gray of the smoke bound together the black notes with the warmer ones in this night bleeding to morning. Hillgar was a good enough driver, even in the dark. Something other than lack of skill had to be the reason for this sudden motor mayhem. Torgrim’s naked feet moved him faster to find out.

Damien watched Lovisa gingerly put an end to his treatment, savoring it with her fingers. His eyes were wide as he burnt the scene into his memory. It might be the epitome of his sensual awakening. And she had done it as though it was natural, as though she’d been a mother cat, finished with him, that now had to move on to the next kitten. When she moved, he reached for her back. He didn’t have the courage to stop her like her sister did later. His forehead wound gently beat to the rhythm of his heart. His left eye was at half-mast thanks to that deep drumming. He felt intoxicated by whatever her saliva had deposited into his bloodstream. Mercury life reached through his veins, getting familiar with his anatomy, and his memories.

Damien saw as Lovisa moved to go to Torgrim. Torgrim. Even the left eye was strung wide when Damien saw the outlines and then the features of the boy who had saved him at the lake. How was this possible? Had Tor defeated the angry reptile man? Or rather, had he outrun it somehow? Damien couldn’t concoct a scenario where either were possible, but here it was, the truth of Torgrim’s survival. Why was there a weight in his guts at how Lovisa wanted to go there? He hurried to Astrid’s side. “He’s a ghost.” He said, voice clear, free of the wheezing he should have had, courtesy of his weak lungs. Astrid would listen to reason. She wouldn’t let Lovisa go, would she?

Torgrim stopped. There was the cop with at least one resent crime, passionate or not. Beyond him was a collection of people Torgrim knew. The one he knew the most spoke first. “I suppose I am the kind of monster that needs a specific kind of death to stay in down.” He said with a wink she would be familiar with. He waved, posture high on his bare toes as he started toward them. “It’s about your turn in line again, isn’t it? It’s kind of gone around.” He continued. The scent of the accident became stronger.

Lovisa was more welcoming, executing the kind of sound that should be expected. Her eyes were darker too, though. Were the sisters like him? Did they also eat things they shouldn’t eat? “Genious!” he replied to Lovisa as he was almost to them now, throwing an eye at the officer to the side. There was a warning there, for Tom. Tor stopped when Astrid held Lo back. “What’s this now?” The boy, mostly undressed, thrice dead asked, with the still dark forest as backdrop, his skin every now and then cut by the light of the eager day. His eyes were full of arson and his mere existence in the forest questionable. He was a monster in a human suit. And perhaps he looked it now. “You’re not afraid of me are you?” He thought about what he’d said to Astrid about Lovisa before, and wondered if it were those words that was the cause of this distrust. He grinned and took another step. “Let her go, Astrid. She’s still my friend.” He could see Damien’s hand squeeze Astrid’s shoulder harder. Grim’s hand reached for them, a couple of more steps and he’d be able to touch the youngest Finnian.

Thunderstruck

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #56 on: August 25, 2015, 09:53:10 am »
Down the street, around the corner, across the park, and up the library steps, Tom Hillgar grabbed the rest of his stuff from the ruins of his prized 1969 Camaro. Danny was already on the scene, having seen it all go down-all of it-while making his own bleary-eyed way home.  Danny didn't question any of it. He'd known about Elena and the Avanson boy, for about two years now; ever since he'd gone over to get a little piece of Mrs. Hillgar's ass for himself, to find that she liked 'em young, apparently. He'd agreed to keep his mouth shut, because hell, Blowing her secret would blow several of his. Elena Hillgar, moonlighted as a cam girl, and Danny had V.I.P. membership to her site. On the day he'd caught her in the act with the Avanson kid, he had figured, that since he knew where she lived, knew who she was, and what she was all about, he might be able to get an exclusive spot, in her tight little corner of the internet.

'Poor Tom' he thought, 'if only he knew what that woman he married really was, and how long she'd been at it.'

Danny said nothing as he helped get Tom's things into his car. Tom would go to the station of course, get himself a patrol car, and use that while the insurance company conducted the claim investigation. Things might have been different, if Tom's shot had actually hit the Avanson kid, but he'd seen the kid get back up, as if nothing had happened, so clearly Tom's shot must have missed completely, and maybe it was the wind of the blast that knocked the kid down.
Danny didn't really believe that, yet. It would take a lot of retelling it to himself, that that's the way it happened. Because that's the way it had to happen, because the alternative was too weird to even consider...

************************************************************************
Having grown weary of politics, Arnold Schwarzenegger, had moved to quiet Pineland, to get away, and write his memoirs.
However, sometimes the words for the needed chapters wouldn't come. When that happened, he'd go for a run. 10 miles. 5 out of town, 5 back in. This morning he was at mile number 4, out of town, when the sight of what looked like a naked man on a motorcycled caught his eye. "Hey now, dat luks fumhulyar." he mused, half astonished, as the modern, Lord Godiva, closed on his position. more familiar still was when the nude man stopped, got off the bike, and approached the former Governor of California.

The thing that looked like Henry Tyler approached the washed up Austrian actor, and said: "I need your clothes, your shoes, and your...Oh fuck it!"
The creature's mouth opened, and out shot a gigantic proboscis, which impaled the once celebrity through the forehead. it liquefied the old man from the inside out, and ingested him like a milkshake, on a hot summer's day. Then all that remained was the man's sweat suit, running shoes, and mp3 player. It dressed in the black clothes, put on the red and yellow shoes, but left the player lying on the side of the road. The creature reformed to look like its newest kill, then got back on the bike, and rode on into town.

Ara

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #57 on: August 25, 2015, 03:17:32 pm »
Lovisa's mouth quirked with a smile while Astrid's pulled with a frown when Damien declared Torgrim a ghost. The sisters watched Vera dance over to meet him, twisting and turning, droplets of water raining from her fingertips as the frost of her skin melted. They never painted the street, though both Finnian's could hear them falling. Vera smiled and reached out to Torgrim, running fingers over his shoulder, circling him and bringing that hand around him until she landed on his other side, palm to the new shoulder and chin to her knuckles. She looked up at him in that close proximity. “If he is a ghost, what in the world am I?” The apparition asked, rolling her head to the side to look through lashes at the haunted sisters.

Astrid pulled at Lovisa's arm. No care for her shoulder or the hand shaped bruise developing on that arm with every time she grabbed it again. She shoved her back, again not bothering to look at her. She only had eyes for Tor. “She's not your friend.” Astrid said, taking steps closer to him to match the ones he had taken toward her. Bare feet advancing on bare feet. Had he left his shoes at the shore of the lake too? She had stormed off because of his words but what words would send Tor running? “And I am not afraid of you.” That dark voice promised, almost amused at the thought.

Astrid could count on one hand the times she'd felt fear in her teen life. If only she had enough fingers to count anger and hurt. Close to him now she reached out, touching the ruins of his shirt. “A lot of holes for a boy walking.” She noted with a hum of skepticism. What was she accusing him of? Immortality? Maybe. She had rolled that car and known that she and Lo would walk away.

Looking at him now, close up, she knew there was something wrong. Something about him wasn't quite Tor. “Are you… you?” She asked, voice low. It was an honest question even if it was a stupid one. She knew the answer but didn't like the taste of it.

Trixie had come to the scene tentatively, grabbing onto Lovisa when the youngest was dejected from the back, catching her arm before she could stumble. Trixie needed contact for comfort, a product of certain flavors of abuse. She inhaled at the cold of Lovisa's hand, soon rubbing at her arm to try to warm her. Her skin only got colder and soon the air rippled with heat where Astrid's breath curled past her lips and toward Tor's jaw.

Verse

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #58 on: August 25, 2015, 06:03:17 pm »
The sisters followed something over to him. He did not see what, but he thought it was odd that both of them suffered the same illusion. At first, when their eyes were directed at him, he didn’t feel as though they were really looking. Not until Astrid’s threat. She was focused then, after having shoved her sister back. Lovisa, Astrid’s ragdoll. He liked Astrid’s reaction. She wasn’t afraid. “Good. Then maybe you won’t mind if I crash this party of yours.” He looked at Damien quickly, calling on that debt. Damien was not about to let Torgrim collect. The whole point of being a coward is that you’re, well, not so very brave. He would not speak up for Torgrim, whether it be for what he’d seen the boy do, or because of fear for Astrid, was unclear.

Torgrim watched her as she reached for him, and liked the touch she provided. It almost made the shot worth it. She had some knowledge, he saw, or some certainty, at least. That was enough for Astrid Finnian. And she was right to wonder about him. He’d been a monster a few times tonight. Terrance was gone because of it. Why couldn’t he conjure the proper soul searing guilt for that? Her breath was hot, like the billowing air released when opening the hood of an overheated car. A fleeting thought on Hillgar. The thing inside Torgrim also liked Astrid, and slithered between the skin and the bones of his ribs to cuddle up against her touch.

“No. Tor died when he took a sip of amber from a flask of silver.” Torgrim said, without knowing why. “And Grim died enjoying the Knight.” He slapped his hand ontop of hers as digits grew from his chest to lock her palm tighter to his skin, until the skin became soft, petitioning to meld with her skin. He didn’t know why he wanted that, to practice vore with Astrid. It wasn’t the same as it had been with Terrance. His eyes, their usual stark spring, again hosted a flight of lanterns as he looked at the darkness that had become of her summer skies. He reached to take hold of her head and pull it to symmetrically face him, so she would be able to see the vertebrae growing to replace the bridge of his nose when no one else could. “But he can come back, Hotness. For that kiss, back when you didn’t know if you wanted to love or hate him, and decided to love him.” All the components were there, mingled with the monster. It would be very little trouble to take refuge and just watch, if she did want him back.

Damien took hold of Lovisa’s other hand, where the three of them stood, watching the scene unfold. Hard to see anything beyond Astrid, when she stood straight in front of Torgrim. “H-he saved me.” He said, to him it had become a traumatic memory, a shame. “he threw a rock at the monster and he survived.” He continued as he squeezed Lovisa’s hand harder. She wasn’t Astrid, but she was of the same blood, so she was the second best thing in this gathering. His other hand fed his mouth the inhaler and he took a drag. “He can’t be with us.” He said with the exhale.

The Bone Wyvern tried inviting some of the things that had taken hold in Astrid over, through the connection of her arm. It liked how Torgrim had spiced his thoughts of her, it would make her taste marvelous. Good word. Astrid liked certain things, and Torgrim knew them. She also knew certain thing about the host of the Bone Wyvern. It wanted her to arm herself with those things and challenge it and its host. The lake had done something different with her. The Wyvern wanted to know. It would be marvelous.

Thunderstruck

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Re: The Woodland Wounds
« Reply #59 on: August 26, 2015, 09:06:58 am »
Tom Hillgar sat at a computer terminal in the police station logging the incident report on his prized car. He hoped the wreaker would be gentle with what was left of it, because, if the insurance check was enough, he'd like to re-restore it.
He also kept expecting somebody, at any minute to come over and arrest him for the murder of Torgrim Avanson. He hadn't been thinking at the time, or he'd have remembered that Pinieland wasn't so big a place. Unlike in the city, you couldn't do a drive-by and expect nobody to notice.
Still, he was yet a free man. No one had come to finger him as the Avanson boy's murderer, and none of his fellow police officers had come to replace his badge, and gun with a pair of nickel plated bracelets, and a prisoner I.D. number.

The paperboy who always stopped by every Saturday morning to drop off the weekend edition, and pilfer through the morning assortment of donuts, had been talking-Tom caught snippets here and there-of a group of kids over by the old playground just kind of hanging out. One of them matched Torgrim's description.
Tom didn't understand how that was possible, given that there must be a gooey gore pie where the boy's face used to be.
The paperboy must be mistaken, but hell, if it kept the heat of the law off of his back, then sure, why not? Let them all believe whatever they wanted to believe.
He finished the incident report, and was about to take his borrowed squad over to his alternate digs, when sheriff Tyler came up to him.
'Shit, here it comes.', he thought.
But no. The Sheriff, just wanted him to go do a daylight follow up on the lake site incident. See what he could see, that they might have missed in the dark, and after that, he could go crash for the day.
Then, after that, they'd talk about that transfer to the city, which Tom was constantly playing around with.
That would serve everyone just right. Tom wanted a new scene. Tyler wanted him gone. Danny wanted Tom's slot on the force; and probably his wife too.
'After what I saw this morning, that's just fine with me, but poor old Danny's going to have to compete with that Torgrim, kid, if the punk survived.', he thought.

*******************************************************

"Hi Mr. S!" called out a group of kids, as the thing which looked for all the world, like the Terminator, on its way to the gym rolled by on a vintage motorcycle.
It knew not exactly where it was going, only that it had to get to a nice, isolated group of people, where witnesses would not be about, to see it feed, and raise an alarm. It wasn't strong enough to feed openly. Not yet, at least.

It found the fire station. A few cars were parked outside. Personal vehicles, not municipal ones. If the car, to person ratio remained constant, then there should be at least 8 people inside.
It dismounted, from the bike, and walked inside. There were indeed, at least 8 people about. Its count put it at 13. A nice amount for a moderate meal. It thought it humorous how the fire crew all wore that same expressionless, glassy eyed mask as the lake fish, which it so disliked, as to leave the lake, in search of more tasty prey. It hoped they wouldn't taste, well, fishy...