Story Investigators of the Supernatural (Aurora Borealis)

[Coyote Hart]

Members of the Investigators of the Supernatural club are all regular students at Spring Valley high school. Some are supernatural fanatics while others signed up for the club because they didn't have any other options. When Dylan, the founder of the club, thought that the club was going downhill, mysterious animal attacks started to pop up around the city. It was obvious that was police were covering up these attacks. Now it's up to Dylan and his crew to find about the truth about these so called animal attacks while not raising the police or their parent's suspensions.

The Investigators of the Supernatural RP was made by my friend Kisaki almost a year ago. The RP was originally intended to have eight chapters, however, we only managed to get partly through the second chapter. Aurora Borealis is my adaptation of the RP into a story-like setting. Feel free to message me with your comments and/or criticisms!

The original RP can be found here: Fantasy - Investigators of the Supernatural (Closed)

Spoiler: Acknowledgements

The following characters were used from the following RPN members:
Dylan Mores: Kisaki
Richard Suzuki/Jessica Silver: H3LLJUMPER_177
Chaelyn J. Turaya/Johnny B.: SidTheSkid ("Aye, yo, it's me, Johnny B!")
Sakurako Nakayama: Seikomatsumoto
Alex Knightwalker: kenchin
Riri Ankomora: Mitchs98
Authoria Michelson: Uasal
Tabemono Ōkabe/Nyan: Sinny The Fool
Titus Redd/Edgar: Solemn Jester


Seymour, Casper, and Aeon are all my own characters

 

[Coyote Hart]

I had just wanted to make a club for people to explore and protect against the supernatural. Now I was going to die.

The lights in the club meeting room flashed dark and a dark, chilling feeling began to crawl up my spine. No, it wasn’t just a chill. It was growing colder and colder and grasped like a cobra trying to kill its prey. Wisps of fog continued to permeate through the unholy vase that my ex-best friend Authoria had destroyed.

I laughed hysterically whilst clutching my desk. My legs felt like they were going to give out under me, and my shaking arms weren’t doing me any favors either. I just wanted to prove the news wrong. That the police did nothing but lie about the strange occurrences in Lain Town. And now I’ve done it! I’ve proved that demons and monsters exist!

But now the meager group of people who were able to attend the grand opening of the Supernatural Investigation Club was going to perish with me. Chaelyn. Tabemono. Sakurako. Authoria. Those who missed club because of the field trip were lucky.

“Hnngh… are you going to kill us?” I asked the demon-monster as the semi-uncomfortable semi-painful cold grasp burgeoned into a flaming grasp of ice-cold darkness. It was too cold. It was too hot. My vision began to darken. I couldn’t die here, not now! Not when I haven’t rubbed my discovery into my cousin’s face!

I heard the demon comment disdainfully, “‘Sprite Cranberry’? What the hell have humans made now?”

“Don’t you dare insult the goodness of Sprite Cranberry,” I said weakly before my world went dark.

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I was hunched over a cup of shitty instant Nissan ramen. A nagging and elusive math question was in my mind. It was unusual for me to eat during lunchtime at school, much less even in the cafeteria. I hated people, and the cafeteria wasn’t lacking in them. But today was an exception. After skipping breakfast, I needed nourishment.

“Hey there buddy!” a warm and cheerful voice behind me spoke. They put a box that was warmed with whatever was inside on my head, and at that moment, I knew who it was. Dylan Mores. Fucking Dylan Mores. No one else would dare put a box on my head.

“I baked some goods for you! I know you don’t like school food,” Dylan said when I turned to him. Dylan was a nerdy boy with dark brown hair that flowed to the middle of his neck and silvery brown eyes. He was also one of the people that I put the most trust.

“Why? You don’t owe me any favors,” I said as I lifted the box off of my head and opened it. Inside were twelve perfectly cute buns that smelled amazingly of barbeque pork and twelve perfectly shaped cakes.

“I can’t just be nice? Friends do nice things for friends,” Dylan pouted momentarily before he commanded with a smile, “Eat up”

I tentatively opened the box and took out one of the perfectly shaped buns. It was still warm to the touch. I pushed aside the ramen noodles and took a bite out of the bun. The bouncy ball was warm and fulfilling, unlike the cup of chemicals and fried noodles. The rich pork flavor intermingled with the starch, creating an authentic taste that gave me a sense of nostalgia.

But the amazing taste just made me more suspicious. “People” were horrible beings who would rather hurt others than get hurt themselves. They took everything that they could but didn’t give anything back. They were greedy bastards that did everything to profit for themselves. No matter how much Dylan masked this act of kindness as just kindness, I knew that he had to have an ulterior motive.

“Thanks. These must have cost quite a lot,” I said as I turned around to face Dylan, “Why did you get these for me? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Dylan’s eyes widened at the accusation. I knew it. He had other motives.

“Cost? N-no I cook these.” Dylan stuttered, waving his hands in a panic. He looked down to the table then back at me. “ Well...I do have something I want to ask you,” He pulled a piece paper that was folded inside his pocket. “I want you to join my club! Pretty please, steamed buns on top!” Dylan pleaded with a nervous toothy smile.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Dylan was a hell of a good cook if he was able to make steamed buns of such good quality. I took one of the mini-cakes and took a bite. Like the steamed buns, they were also bursting with flavor. I took a moment to swallow and also to buy time to decide. If Dylan was willing to go so far as to make me lunch, I knew that this was a favor that Dylan absolutely needed. “Alright, what’s this club of yours?”

Dylan eagerly clamped his hands together. “ It is called the ‘Investigators of the Supernatural’ club. It's not really a creative name but it's straightforward,” Dylan started, sliding the invitation toward me. “It's just a club where we explore and investigate creepy things. We mainly try to gather evidence on the possible supernatural creatures in our town," he said.

After his exposition, Dylan gave me a look that seemed like a puppy pleading for his favorite toy, “ Will you join?”

I looked over the paper. It advertised in Dylan’s neat but scratchy handwriting a club dedicated to ‘protect from the monsters that lurk around the corner’ and ‘unveiling the truth of the world.’

In all honesty, there wasn’t much reason for me to join. Colleges would think I was a conspiracy theorist if they saw ‘supernatural cult’ listed as one of my clubs. Besides that, there wasn’t a thing such as the supernatural. It was just illusions of the mind and natural phenomenon. In the eyes of scientists and detectives, out-of-the-world events were just that-- out of the world. They simply didn't exist. Doors opened and closed on their own because of a discrepancy in the ground slope and a kink in the door screws. The impression of a ghost knocking on a window was likely just a bird. What you saw whizzing past in your bedroom was only your own shadow.

However, there was the fact that colleges really like if someone’s been in a club. I took another bite of a pork bun. Damn, it was good. Casper knew that he owed Dylan for this. Living below the poverty line was not an easy task. “Alright, fine, I’ll join up.”

“Yay!” Dylan shouted with joy. Several people around us turned their heads towards us, and I glared at Dylan. Immediately, Dylan turned towards the onlookers and mouthed a ‘sorry’ before turning back to me, “The club won't disappoint you. It will start after school, capiche?”

“Ka poodle or whatever,” I said, already turning away from Dylan, “You can count on me being there. Now leave me alone.”

“I know you will. You are always there to help me.” Dylan softly chuckled before he nudged me playfully with his elbow.

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Oh, what a load of bull.

I didn’t make it to the first meeting. I didn’t have the time. Instead, I was at home in my shitty apartment, boiling an egg for a physics experiment at the balcony. Apparently, it was to measure the convection throughout the egg, but I didn’t really understand it. I didn’t understand how to do it, how it was important, or why it was projected to take more than two hours. Worst of all, I didn’t know how to boil an egg.

That’s right. Shame on me, I didn’t know how to boil a fucking egg.

It was one of the practical skills that I never learned. Ever since mother’s death, I had no time for anything but studying. And it was not like father could tell me how to boil an egg. He was so destroyed by my mother’s death that he completely broke down. Most days, he would just go to the bar. He wouldn’t-- no, couldn’t help out in the family.

Like today. The small, dank apartment with its cheap white kitchen tiles, scratchy couch, and cheap plastic plants was empty and silent save for the sound of the egg boiling. If I didn’t want to get into the same situation as my father, I knew that I would have to work my ass off-- even if it meant dealing with weird science projects like this.

I swished the cup of tea that I had in my hand. A few people walked by my outdoor cooking contraption which only consisted of a portable stove and a tiny pot rattling. The people promptly left after looking at my cooking stand for a few seconds-- and if they didn’t leave, I glared at them until they did. So what if I didn’t know how to boil an egg? So what if I didn’t know if the pot was rattling violently enough?

I turned away from the science experiment for a few moments to read on my phone. Reading was the only respite that I ever gave myself.
And that’s when it happened.

Bang!

A striking noise comparable to a gunshot sounded, and the pot trembled. Egg bits flew everywhere, splattering me in the face. I found myself covered in hard-boiled egg bits, screaming like a fucking child, and throwing my phone off the balcony. Then I screamed some more because I just threw my phone off the balcony.

"By Satan's Left Nipple! What was that horrendous noise?" I heard a familiar voice say from below. I leaned over the balcony railing with dread inside my stomach, hoping that the person below had caught his phone. It was Aeon, his face lit by my phone's screen.

Aeon was one of my school friends who lived in the same apartment complex. In all honesty, Aeon was one weird guy. He had these strange violet eyes and equally strange salt-and-pepper hair that was obviously dyed. He openly practiced Satanism. He carried an Amazon Kindle everywhere he went, and from what I’ve seen from it, it had the strangest of texts. The Satanic Bible. Satanic rituals. 120 Ways to Cook a Plantain. The entire Wikipedia page on the Pastafarians. It was all bullshit. The compassion ritual did nothing to boost my test scores.

“Oh boy oh boy, what do we have here?” Aeon said, smirking devilishly (which was fittingly considering his religion). He scrolled through my phone, which made dread wound up in my stomach. I didn’t want him reading what I was reading.

“Twilight?” Aeon asked, “Why are you reading Twilight out of all books?”

“No no no, it’s not like that!” I yelled. My face felt as if it were on fire.

“You have a lot of convincing to do if you want me to believe that,” Aeon said with his cheerful smirk, “Why are you covered in egg bits? And what was that explosion?”

“It’s for a science experiment,” I replied, hoping that the laconic answer would be enough to appease Aeon.

But of course, it wasn’t. Aeon gazed up at me and asked, “You have Mrs. Atwood, right? Could we work together? Please?”

“No,” I said stiffly.

“But I really need your help on it,” Aeon pleaded, “Friends are supposed to help each other out in their strong suits, right? Please?”

God damn it. He was using my own philosophy against him. I wanted to say no because I needed to use the time I took from Dylan, and Aeon wasn’t usually much of a help to me anyways. But I couldn’t tell him that. Instead, I sighed with resignation.

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​

It was a mistake to allow Aeon into my room. I had spent more time explaining the lab to him than I did actually working on it. So in the end, it was another sleepless night working on my homework.

The next day when I was waiting at the curbside for the bus, I struggled to properly blink the sleep out of my eyes. I usually had no problem skipping sleep, but when I decide to only sleep a few hours, I felt horrible the next day. And to top it all off, there wasn't any more instant coffee left in the house.

That wasn't the worst of my problems though. I dug my phone and checked my text messages. All that greeted me was the text message I sent to Dylan at three last night: "Sorry that I didn't come to your club opening yesterday, I was a bit gunked with homework." Dylan would usually reply to them when he found time in the mornings. But this time, there wasn't any reply. It was unusually weird.

When I got on the bus and took my seat at my usual spot behind the bus driver, I dialed up Dylan's phone. I knew that he usually got on the bus at an earlier time than I did, so it would be unfathomable that he would be too busy with getting on the bus to answer. But after two or three rings, I gave up.

I was really worried about Dylan. What sort of mess did he get himself into? Was he dead in some alleyway somewhere? Or did he just simply oversleep?

It was probably just Dylan oversleeping. Right? But then why did I have such a bad feeling crawling up my back?

Dylan had added everyone's phone numbers into a group chat at around three o'clock the previous day, so I gave that chat a try.

"Did I miss anything important yesterday at the meeting?" I texted, "And also, Authoria, since you ride the same bus as Dylan, can you tell him to respond to my text messages?"

"There was club yesterday?" Riri asked, "I couldn't find it, so I just went home."

"I had a doctor's anointment, sorry," Jessica wrote. While the typo seemed weird on paper, I knew that Jessica was blind, so she probably had to use voice typing. And anointment did sound like appointment.

"I had errands to run," Richard, the vice-president of the club said, "So I didn't go. But I know that both Dylan and Authoria were there."

"I did see them with this weird glowing vase," Seymour wrote, "But I didn't go. Sorry."

Seymour's mention of a glowing vase continued to send shivers down my spine. I didn't believe that something bad had happened, but I was afraid that they might have done something stupid. If the vase was glowing, it was probably made to by some toxic chemicals. And if it were filled with liquid, that liquid would, in turn, be toxic.

"Please tell me that nobody did anything stupid," I texted, "Please tell me."

"imataredlight," Alex wrote, "whatsgoingon?"

"Don't worry about it and concentrate on the road." Richard texted admonishingly. Alex was well-known in the school for driving around in a motorcycle. And in the foggy mornings in Lain Town, there was a high chance that the congested traffic could turn deadly for any biker.

There weren’t any text messages from any of the five remaining club members for the rest of the ride to the school. Dylan, Authoria, Tabemono, Chaelyn, and Sakurako. I prayed in my heart that they didn't do anything incredibly stupid.

As soon as the bus stopped, I walked off and went towards the club room. It was best to check to make sure that Dylan hadn't died from toxic chemical ingestion after drinking apple juice from a glow-in-the-dark vase.

But when I pushed through the door and went into a strangely cold room, I found something much worse.

The five non-responding members of the club were collapsed on the floor. The shattered remains of the vase that Seymour had mentioned were scattered around the floor.

Immediately, I went towards Dylan's crumpled body. But there was something wrong about it. Was that really Dylan?

At closer inspection, the person there was definitely wearing the clothes that Dylan was wearing yesterday. But he looked... dare I say, more handsome? His facial features seemed a bit different from Dylan's, in a good-looking sort of way. And his arm. Oh God.

Dylan's right arm was the color of dried up blood, and it was a twisted and gnarled mess of muscle and veins. It looked like some sort of demon's arm from a horror movie. His fingers were laced with wicked-looking talons.

"Dylan? Dylan? Wake up please?" I said, shaking at him. When he didn't wake up, I moved on to Chaelyn, who was the closest body. Chaelyn was known to be an outcast that usually rudely rejected any sort of invitation towards anything that involved people. It was a surprise that she was one of the five people that came to the club meeting, but what was more surprising was that the tips of her long hair were a deep, bright red. And that there were demon horns sprouting out of her head.

"Hey, Chaelyn, can you hear me?" I asked. No response.

I moved to the rest of the members, but they were all similarly nonresponsive. The broken vase gave me no answers other than that it might have knocked someone out. And the dreadful atmosphere just added questions rather than giving answers.

"Just what the hell happened here?" I thought out loud.