Realistic or Modern 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝.

[idiot]

[ ACT I — A CHRISTMAS SURPRISE. ]

Christmas Eve has settled upon Campton Falls. Tourists and locals alike are abuzz this early morning, braving the icy-cold streets for last minute gifts and excitement to be had. Others take refuge in their homes, settled by the fireplace with a hot chocolate in hand.

Yet, Campton Falls is about to experience a shocking surprise that will definitely put a damper on the Christmas spirit.

Below are tales of just a handful of those who will be unwillingly thrust into an unimaginable hell.

 

[idiot]

A Christmas Surprise.

filler

filler

filler

filler

filler

• .
• 1
• 3
• 4
• 5
• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

• home (filler tab)
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  status of characters

  
  
  

  Alexandra Ell-Kanayuk — mountain trail, healthy.
  Francis Buck — the milk bar, healthy.
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  environment

  
  
  

  Weather: cloudy with snowfall and strong winds.
  Temperature: -19°C.
  Time: 9am.
  Date: 24th of December.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  

  Alexandra Ell-Kanayuk — various tourist goers.
  Francis Buck — Marie Baird (barista).

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  

  bad wolf @frogmilk livingdead @Sostos @; lady @Kovacs purplecowdutch erzulie Maverick. BELIAL. ravensunset
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• home (filler tab)

Lucas King

jingle bells

FRANCIS BUCK.

Normalcy and routine was Frank's ideal comfort; it wrapped him up in a bundle of blankets and sat him by a crackling fire.

His morning always started with a trip to The Milk Bar. The small log café was nestled between a new, flashy restaurant and a glass-panelled rival café that sold overpriced "exotic" coffee. The coffee there was shit.

The rusting pick-up truck chugged to a stop outside the café, Frank yanking the handbrake hard. He really needed to get that fixed.

Janine always struggled with the finicky handbrake. He couldn't help but recall the time she returned home with groceries and it began rolling down the hill, the two of them chasing after it like some damn cartoon. The dent on the pick-up truck's tray was a constant reminder of that day. They laughed for hours after that, Janine even started snorting which only made them laugh harder. Goddammit, I miss you Jan.

Stepping out of the truck, the icy-cold wind welcomed Frank. Thankfully, he had rugged up in multiple layers to survive the harsh weather.

The Christmas decorations that carefully littered the main street were a façade of this magical winter wonderland that the press loved harping on about. The winter in Campton Falls was anything but a wonderland, it was harsh and brutal.

Frank found refuge in The Milk Bar, the study door closing behind him as the all-too-familiar bell dinged above. Warmth was immediate, the fireplace ahead stacked with wood — courtesy of Frank.

"The usual, lumberjack?" Maria's husky voice sounded behind the wooden bar that was older than Frank. Tugging off his beanie, Frank approached the bar, settling into one of the barstools.

Eyeing his surroundings, a few other locals were hunched in the booths towards the back of the café. Frank offered a few nods to familiar faces before replying to Maria.

"You know me to well, Mare." Frank's voice was gruff and deep, almost as though he was in a constant state of grumbling.

Frank looked up to Maria, her greying-blonde hair was pushed back into a neat ponytail, a scar lining her tanned cheek. Her military tags settled between her slender neck. The two were childhood sweethearts, yet Maria left for the military when she was eighteen. Frank always wondered what could of been.

"Anything for the kid?" Maria asked.

"Oh, uh..." Frank went silent, Maria sliding the black-tar like coffee in front of him. He didn't know how to break it to her. Instead he sipped on the coffee.

"I see...the kid's betrayed me too, huh? That fancy fucking shit has ruined business since it opened up. Lost quite a few customers actually." Maria huffed.

It wasn't always like this, The Milk Bar was the busiest place when he was younger, packed with teens seeking both warmth and the delicious milkshakes. Once school finished, Frank would be shoulder to shoulder with his friends in one of the booths, usually sharing a strawberry milkshake with Maria.

That was back when her father was behind that bar. He wondered if Maria ever wanted to replace him after he passed.

"Yeah...sorry to break it to you, Mare. Nathan loves it. But between you and me, it tastes like shit. Ain't nothing beats your coffee." Frank tried to soften the blow, Maria offering a soft smile in response.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna' cry over it. He ain't the first and he won't be the last." Maria shrugged, tossing a rag into a bucket.

"So many people these days...the streets are full of them." Frank noted, his eyes watching the crowds of people through the frosted windows.

"You miss the good old days, huh, lumberjack?" Maria's lips formed into a smirk, teasing him per usual.

Frank missed a lot.

He missed little Katie begging him to take her sledding, her small hand tugging on his coat.

He missed Janine's signature venison curry vindaloo that she would cook whenever Frank was down.

He missed Nathan being able to walk. He would climb the tallest trees when he was younger. Scared Janine half to death.

He missed his goddamn family.

Frank thumbed the worn and faded rainbow friendship-bracelet around his wrist. I miss you too, Katie.

"Shit. You okay, Frank? I didn't—"

A loud crash blared, the door's bell ringing madly.

Frank and Maria whipped their heads over simultaneously; a man kept slamming himself against the door, visible through the windowed door.

What the...

"It is a fucking pull door! Read the sign you idiot." Maria shouted, other patron's heads turning towards the commotion.

Yet, the man didn't relent.

He kept slamming against the windowed door without any restraint.

Some drugged-up tourist?

Frank wished the glass wasn't frosted over so he could get a better look.

The glass splintered, an intricate web forming on the door.

"Fucking hell." Maria easily manoeuvred the bar, cracking her knuckles like some goddamn action-hero.

Frank should have stopped her.

ALEXANDRA ELL-KANAYUK.

"Come on, we are almost there!" The chipper tour-guide sung, two braids sprouted from her beanie, bouncing with each step against her vibrant snow jacket. Christmas Eve always proved fruitful for the Journey through the Falls tour.

This morning tour's was no different, with capacity being extended to allow this couple's child. Alex couldn't say no to a child, especially as one as cute as him. Not that she discriminated, she loved all children! They had this never-ending excitement with everything life had to offer. Alex wondered if she would become dull to life's constant offerings or maybe that childlike wonder would follow her forever.

That meant the seventeen-year-old Alex was in charge of twenty-one tourists. They followed behind her like a pack of ants. Everything had gone well until they started climbing the mountain.

The weatherman hadn't predicted such high winds, with Alex sure she would have windburned cheeks after the three tours planned today. Only two more to go, you got this Alex. Her mother and older brother were responsible for tonight's tours. Plus, it was nothing her auntie's hot chocolate couldn't fix. The mere thought of it warmed her cheeks.

"Mummy, we are so high!" The high-pitched boy's voice rung, his gapped teeth on display as his father clutched him. She could see the cold sweat on the father's face, clearly the incline taking its toll on him. In fact, he looked rather pale. Alex made a mental note to check up on him once they reached the final destination.

The child's observation wasn't wrong, they were halfway up the sulphur mountain, with views that onlooked the entire town of Campton Falls. A few camera snapped, with some tourists trying to take pictures on their phone with thick, woollen gloves. Classic rookie error.

"How much further? My feet are aching!" A whine came from the leopard-print covered woman, her glossy black hair carefully curled under her matching beanie. This wasn't the first time she had complained. Her husband did little to calm her, instead he stood back, too busy on his phone to notice her.

"Well, thankfully we aren't trekking the whole mountain. It is just up ahead, the final spot of the tour!" Alex beamed, despite the irritation of the woman clearly not enjoying the tour.

Ten minutes passed with minimal complaints from the woman.

Alex eventually stood still, hands on her hips. Turning in the thick snow, she faced the tourists who huddled together like school children on an excursion.

"Throughout the tour I've explained how the Inuit were the first humans to inhabit this beautiful town. Well, even before it was a town." Alex begun, the rehearsed words flowing from her mouth, "This is the earliest site known by historians and Inuit families that prove that statement."

A few awes and camera clicks followed as tourists seemingly looked past Alex.

"Behind me is a stone structure," Gesturing to the massive stone structure behind her; stone blocks were strategically placed on one another to reach almost eight feet.

"But...what is it?" A man with a camera in his hands asked, a caterpillar moustache covering his lips. I was getting to that.

"We call them Inuksuk, or if you want to be super specific, this exact one if referred to as a Inunnguaq." Alex answered, "They are typically used to communicate with other people and signify an important landmark. Sometimes it is for fruitful hunting spots or if someone has lost something important." Most of the tourists were intrigued, apart from the fancy couple who were more interested on their phones.

"Is it meant to resemble a—" The same moustached man began.

"Human? Yes! That is why I called it a Inunnguaq." The structure had what appeared to be legs, with stones stacked to form a body and outstretched arms before more stones resembled a head. "They are meant to look human since they are acting in absence of one. If that makes sense? This particular one was used as a landmark to lead hunters back to camp. The camp is—"

Alex was cut off by a shrill scream, the father collapsing to the floor with the boy in hand.

The scream came from the mother who swooped her child up from the snow. Clutching her child in her arms for dear life. Thankfully the snow softened their descent.

The rest of the tourists stared at the father who had grown incredibly pale.

His body twitched.

"Is-s he okay?" The mother trembled, running a gloved-hand against her child's red face. She was knelt by her husband's side, the son's face full of confusion and concern for his father. Poor kid...

"Must be exhaustion!" Alex clamoured, her hands swiftly reaching into her backpack. I swear I packed it in here. Yes!

Fishing out her first aid kit, her boots sunk into the snow, approaching the father.

She was swiftly stopped by an outstretched arm that Alex almost bumped into it. Belonging to the man glued to his phone, he made an announcement.

"Everyone step back, I'm a doctor." Alex could almost taste the narcissism laced in his voice. He pocketed his phone in his too-expensive coat.

"Sir, I am actually equipped to—"

"No, no. I am a trained professional, dear. Let me handle this. You stay back." She could hear the faint French accent now. He approached the father, kneeling down.

Alex huffed, folding her arms over her chest. Whatever, let the insecure man have his moment, Alex.

The supposed doctor pulled off his glove, two fingers reaching under the father's jaw. Checking for a pulse? The man was twitching, he obviously was still alive...

"He is still breathing, now let—" The pompous man's voice was cut short as the father's twitching body leapt up.

His hands dug into the doctor's shoulders, pinning him to the ground.

Oh my god...not on my watch!

Alex dashed forwards, boots treading through the snow.

Yet, she quickly stopped dead in her tracks.

The father's teeth had pierced through the doctor's neck in mere seconds.

Alex stood in fear, her legs feeling weak.

What the fuck was happening?

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[bad wolf]

“We got condiments, a package of hotdogs, and some butter that might not be butter.” Reaching into the fridge, Roy pulled out a red plastic bin and popped off the lid. He was still for a moment as he examined its contents. “Is that… moving?” Gagging, he quickly moved for the trashcan and deposited the whole thing inside. Leaning over it, he heaved once and tried composing himself before turning a disgusted look to Irene. “I don’t even remember what that was before it grew whiskers.”

“Quit it.”

“I’m pretty sure it tried speaking to me,” he went on, horrified.

“Roy.”

“We can’t just create life and then throw it away!” Meeting Irene’s strained stare, Roy looked down into the trashcan before stepping off the lever to shut it. “You’re right. We should burn it. Destroy all evidence.”

“You got the list?”

Roy relented and hummed an affirmation, picking up his coffee mug from the kitchen table. He took a sip and watched as Irene got up to collect her coat. She paused as she stood and rubbed at her back, looking long at the sleeping dog in the kitchen doorway. Straightening, she exhaled and started moving again into the living room.

“You getting old on me, Grandma?” Roy questioned.

Irene’s nose curled slightly and, as she turned, he could practically feel the hard glare she no doubt wore. “Bold, Roy. I’ve got enough youth left in me to kick your ass if you call me that again.” Shuffling, she made it halfway to the coat rack, clutching at the back of the sofa.

“Hey.” Roy set his mug down, stepping gingerly past Bruce, the tired mutt not moving a muscle. “I can go,” he started, picking his words carefully. “It’s probably not best to leave Bruce alone while he’s feeling so bad.”

Irene grunted, not looking at him, instead looking toward the kitchen doorway. “He needs food,” she stated firmly. “Try to get him the same stuff.”

With a nod, Roy pressed his lips into a thin and reassuring smile. “I’ll add it to the list. Be back in a jiffy.” Slipping into his boots, he pulled on his jacket and headed out.

❄ ❄ ❄​

The drive into town was typical, bumpy along some of the backroads from the lack of any decent plow. The heater kept cutting out and though he had gloves on, Roy couldn’t feel his fingers, but at least the tunes were… festive. The radio was constant static broken every now and then by music. It was falling apart like the rest of Irene’s old pickup. As he pulled into a parking space alongside Campton Falls’ more popular grocery store, he picked up his phone from the center console, flexing his fingers as he started dismissing notifications.

Just three missed calls from one Lorraine Ortiz over the past couple of days.

Teeth chattering, he flipped through his contacts and found Jessie’s number. The phone rang twice before he picked up. “‘M a-at the store. Need anything for to-tonight?”

“I should be good. Know how long you’ll be?” Roy heard dishes clanking in the background and running water.

He couldn’t time things worth a shit so he replied with a drawn out, “N-nooo.”

“Perfect.” Gritting his teeth at the irritation clearly evident in Jessie’s voice, Roy looked out the window. This was Jessie’s first Christmas without his mom and he dreaded the thought of making him any more upset than he already was.

“I can text you when I’m in checkout,” Roy offered.

“Sounds good.”

“‘K. See you in a few.”

Just as soon a he ended the call, Roy received another. He stared at his phone for a long moment, debating whether to just pocket it and go about his errand.

He answered it.

There was a long pause, as if the person on the other end was surprised. Hell, maybe they both were.

“You picked up.”

“Yup.” Roy looked out the window, shivering terribly as he watched the lot change around him, others with the same idea, ready to finish up some holiday shopping.

“You- I just wanted-“

“I’m k-kind of busy at the moment, so I c-can’t talk l-long. Just thought I’d wish you a Happy Chris’mas.”

“Happy Christmas! You okay?”

“Just cold.”

There was another longer pause before, “Did- Did you get my gift?”

Without looking down, Roy pinched at the fabric just under his open jacket, a heavy wool sweater, itchy and made with too many colors. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“That’s good! That’s good. I wasn’t sure if you’d get it before Christmas Day and I thought you might want to wear it then. I know it gets pretty cold up there and wasn’t sure what all you brought with you.”

“Not a whole hell of a lot,” Roy admitted rather quickly, louder this time. He placed a hand over his thigh and rubbed, scrunching his eyes and holding his breath before continuing. “H-hey. I got to go. Happy Christmas.”

Ending the call, Roy exited the truck and made his way across the lot, his hands chasing his phone and keys into his coat pockets for warmth. His shoulders rose towards his ears and as he breathed, the air came out in short puffs. As he entered the store, he focused on pulling in deep lungs full of air and rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension. Pulling out a cart, he took to the aisles, plotting a loop that would end him at the front again towards checkout.

The floor was slick with melted snow, and he stepped carefully around a crowd of people darting to and fro. He nearly jumped when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. With an exasperated sigh, Roy answered it.

“Hey.”

“Eggs. You guys got mustard and mayo, right?” Jessie asked.

“Oh, yeah. Like five bottles of mustard. All opened. Irene’s got a problem. Look, it’s pretty busy here, so I might be a minute.”

“That’s fine. See you later.”

“See you.”

Roy ended the call.

ROY BOUCHER.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[livingdead]

CASEY FLETCHER.

A tightly compacted snowball crumbled upon impact, tossed with just enough force to send Casey stumbling to regain his balance. The winter snowfall and frost-bitten air had always been his least favored part of the holiday season. Where it proved dreadful, it made up for in cheery, colorful atmosphere—lights adorned on every rooftop, bustling streets, Christmas songs playing seemingly wherever he went—the town carried a sense of nostalgia so strong that it almost warmed the air in its own way.

Casey brought his hand back to graze the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“Shit, that didn’t hurt, did it?” Madelyn’s worried tone was followed by a rush of footsteps in the snow.

“Yeah, a little.” Casey turned to face his sister, her concerned frown faded in the next moment, when a pile of stray snow was tossed carelessly in her direction.

“Hey, I wasn’t aiming for the head! I’m sorry!” Maddie exclaimed between bursts of lighthearted laughter.

“You were,” Casey gathered snow from the ground, shaping it between his hands. The snowball landed on her shoulder with a far more merciful throw compared to Maddie’s.

“C’mon, we still need to find something for Finn.” Maddie sighed brushed the snow from her coat and hair; her hair’s natural waves nearly obscured the scarf hung neatly around her neck. Their relatives would say the two most resembled their mother, though Casey had always thought Maddie was more like their father in every way.

Casey reached up to adjust his beanie, quickly catching up with Maddie, who’d already began walking. He knew this town better than he anticipated, and she did, too. Even after several years passed, he could still point out he and his siblings’ favorite places to go when they were younger.

“We can still go back and take the car, y’know.” His cheeks flushed in the cold, he held his gloved hands to his face in attempts to warm it.

“So you can what, show off?” Maddie spared him a disapproving glance. “Like when you drove into a pole and dented Mom’s car? It’ll do you good to leave your room every now and then.”

“You sound like her,” Casey remarked.

“Fine, next time you can drive,” she nudged her brother’s shoulder, “just don’t fuck up.”

Campton Falls didn’t initially sound like an ideal place to spend their Christmas—Casey would rather take refuge indoors, huddled by a fire and maybe with a mug of hot chocolate in hand—than he would wandering the main street as if he were seeing everything for the first time. The longer he stayed, the more he missed his time there growing up.

Often the two would send Christmas gifts straight to the door of their father’s home. He would’ve forgotten if not for the carefully wrapped gifts tucked under a blandly decorated Christmas tree. Casey recommend a simple gift card for both their father and brother, but Maddie insisted they find something specific.

Casey took in their surroundings while he navigated the main street, Madelyn just a few feet ahead of him. Across the street, The Milk Bar—his father had always brought him there on weekends, preferring it over its competitor. I’ll stop by on my way back.

Their destination, the supermarket—he was sure even if they couldn’t find anything suited to their brother, there were a number of stores left to check. The boy was far from spoiled to begin with, but that was no reason to put in minimal effort, even if their gift was last minute.

Automatic doors shutting behind him, the warmth indoors was a stark contrast compared to the chilly winds just outside. Picking up a basket on his way inside, he unfolded the handle to carry at his side. Wasting no time, they searched each and every aisle that’d possibly carry what they needed. Pencils, paints, overpriced markers, and for some reason poster board—simple, but a young artist’s dream. Casey would feel the same way if he were in a record store. In truth, they knew so little about their own brother that his hobbies were the only direction they had in gift-giving.

Maddie grabbed up a sketchbook off the shelf, turning to Casey. “He needs these, right? These are the good ones?”

“He’s probably getting a ton of those already. What about—“

A horror-stricken scream echoed throughout the store.

DAVID FLETCHER.

“You made these?” Freshly baked and warm, a batch of vaguely person-shaped gingerbread cookies lined across a scorching pan. David lifted a cookie from the tray and took a bite, nearly burning his mouth in the process.

Unamused, Finn stared blankly in his direction, “I thought Casey and Mads might want some.” He set the tray of unfrosted cookies aside to cool on top of the oven.

In no place was holiday spirit absent from the house—besides the scent of gingerbread quickly wafting its way into the other room, early gifts were laid carefully under the tree, labeled by name. Yet, despite Dave’s higher efforts compared to the last several years, Finn had no intention of decorating the tree. It only wore color-changing lights this year, not an ornament in sight.

“Oh, you’re right. They’re really good. Save those for later.” Finishing the cookie in his hand, David exited the kitchen. Pausing in his step, he added, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? Hot chocolate? A snack?” No Christmas Eve morning was complete without a hot cup of coffee, though he was sure the boy would find something he liked at the local café.

Wordlessly, Finn shook his head. He didn’t take a moment to look at him, instead focused on his baking. He prepared various colored frostings—always he seemed to want to perfect whatever he made. Earlier that week he’d asked his father for ingredients without once mentioning his plans, however obvious.

“Well…” Dave tried to construct his next words, “Don’t leave the house. And Maddie will be back soon.” Regardless, he intended to bring something back for Finn. “I’ll be back soon—“

Finn looked up, a smile forming in his expression, likely due to his father’s antics. “I’m fine,” he insisted, “I’ll try a coffee, I don’t care what I get.”

“I thought you hated coffee?” Dave reached for the coat hung to the side, preparing himself for the weather outside.

Finn briefly raised his shoulders, turning back to the sheet of cookies. He began frosting them like any other gingerbread man could be expected to look. An evenly drawn smile that surely defined a joyous holiday spirit.

“Got it.” He fitted another layer to be extra sure he’d survive the cold. “Hey, call me if you need anything,” he reminded, finally shutting the door behind him.

Upon starting the car, loud music blared. Frantically, David removed the unfamiliar disk, placing it in its matching case. Kids must’ve left this here.

He’d nearly forgotten when they were together. All three of them would spend the morning outside in the snow after they’d unwrapped their presents, before they left to experience the same holiday joy at their mother’s house. A visit was long overdue, but inevitably in just a couple days Madelyn and Casey would be miles away, almost as if nothing had changed at all.

Holiday tunes accompanied the drive to the old café, and the heat provided by Dave’s vehicle could have anyone forget the dreadful temperatures this time of year. Exhausted by the repetitive Christmas radio, he bothered to try the CD left playing earlier.

He spotted someone at the door of the café upon arriving. Though nothing caught his attention, he stepped out of his car, observing the odd tourist from a distance.

He wished he’d stayed home.

fletcher.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[erzulie]

DEMETRIUS JOSEPH.

mood: joyful, playful.
location: campton falls; downtown.
interactions: andres (npc)
tags: n/a

“You ain’t shit for this.”

He could have sworn that they’d agreed to visit the downtown area to start their day in order to check out all the tourist traps that the small town had to offer. His mama had been on his ass about taking pictures for her. But there was no way that he was going to take pictures with his legs shaking like a newborn deer. Though, he cut his eyes at the figure a few feet away from him. Mirth was shining as bright as day in his eyes while a phone was aimed in his direction, clearly recording.

“Ay don’t be like that Meech. Give us a smile or somethin’, ya moms told us to get everything.” Andres was cheesing while he recorded, color of his teeth the same as the snow below them. He was dressed in his own skiing gear, but was far more graceful than his struggling friend. Demetrius was beginning to question his friendship with him once again.

There was a solid “THUD!” from his attempt to ski over to grab the phone. Demetrius groaned from his new place on the ground. Snow covered the parts of his face unprotected by his goggles and helmet. Mumble curses spewed from his lips once he hurriedly spit it out. He turned on his back, trying to decide if he really wanted to get up. Lifting his goggles up he just stared at Dre, clearly done with the whole thing.

“Alright alright, chill with the evil eyes. Ya ass is too big to be struggling on this kiddie hill.”

His words were met with a kiss of teeth and an outstretched hand. “Nah, this slope is lil bumpy. I swear I felt these things lift off the ground a lil bit.”

Finally, Dre made his way over. Grasping Demetrius’ hand he pulled him up with all his strength, making his friend scramble while he tried to get his footing. He landed awkwardly, facing Dre when he caught him. For a moment things were silent between them, the amused smile of Andrés’ face fading.

A child zooming past, nearly colliding with them seemed to start the world up again. The sound of their environment replaced the thumping of his heartbeat within his ears. The two of them parted, though not completely as Dre helped him keep steady.

“Let’s check out them shops.”

“….Yeah.”

​

Demetrius tried to soak up as much warmth as possible when they’d made it back to the cabin, because as soon as they were dressed to go out, they’d left. He had been expecting a crowd when they’d arrived Downtown. The town was buzzing with excitement as people shopped and children dragged their parents to whatever toy had caught their eye. It made him smile.

“If you keep staring and smiling like that, these people are gonna think that you’re weird.” Came a voice from beside him, accompanied by a playful nudge to the shoulder.

“I’m not even staring that hard. You dramatic as hell.” When he nudged back, maybe a little harder than necessary because Dre stumbled a little. A little shoving match started between them, stopping when one of them came a little too close to bumping into a little old lady. As childish as ever, Dre pointed at him before speed walking away.

The first shop that they’d entered held all of the things any tourist would be interested in. The two of them walked around, taking a look at anything that caught their eye. Demetrius knew that his mama would want a shirt or some type of candle while his pops would settle for a mug. The man had a whole collection of the things, dating back from before he was even born.

His search was brought to a fault when Dre suddenly appeared in front of him, arms full of merchandise. He looked like a kid in a candy store. There was no way of keeping the smile from his lips, happy that his friend was enjoying himself.

 

[ravensunset]

“There’s a cafe over there we could try,” Zoey pushed herself up onto her toes to get a glance through the crowd. The inch or so didn’t really help her see, but Campton Falls was just about full of places to sit down and grab a bite. The three of them had been walking most of the day, and Zoey’d figured it would be nice to sit down before heading back to their hotel. It was Christmas Eve after all, they were in what Zoey was convinced was the most beautiful city on Earth, and she was going to make the most of it. Besides, as per usual, Zoey was cold. A lifetime in Alberta, and still, Zoey had never gotten used to the cold; a coffee or hot chocolate had been slowly bumping its way up to the top of her current priorities.

“What do you guys think?” Lowering back down, Zoey suddenly realized there was no one by her side, “Uh, guys? Allison? Blaise?” Her words rang out to no one, a crowd moving around her. God, why had they been in the busiest street of town on Christmas Eve? Zoey stopped still, hands turning into fists inside of her gloves. Just stand still, you’ll be found. No, that was stupid, what if they were standing still waiting for her? No, Allison would never stand still. Blaise was smart, though, maybe he’d talk her into it? Maybe they’d just left her? Maybe they’d found a cafe themselves. They couldn’t have been kidnapped, right? Not in a busy street in broad daylight? “Allison?” The name rang out again, her voice now high pitched and urgent.

Zoey moved sideways, leaning back against a building on one side of the street to push herself as far out of the crowd as possible. She pulled out her phone, and it refused to turn on. Right. It had died taking pictures of the mountain barely half an hour prior. Zoey shoved it back into her pocket, her gloved hand shaking as it moved up to tug on a strand of hair.

Zoey had arrived back in Canada a week ago that day. Plane rides were, frankly, not her thing, even with how rare an accident was it was all she could think about, but she’d been home, finally home. She hadn’t quite realized how much she’d missed it. The air had been ice cold, and nothing could have been quite as comforting. Her parents had instantly locked her into a barrage of questions, something she’d missed just a little bit less, asking every detail about college they could think of.

“Yeah, mum, it’s good. I was doing good,” She’d said as they ate dinner together, “I told you this over the phone last week. Yes, of course I’ve been eating,” She’d answered, taking a demonstrative bite of food.

“By the way,” She’d said, taking in a deep breath and scraping her fork across her plate, “I’m going to Campton Falls for Christmas.”

Her father had almost dropped his fork from the surprise. But when Blaise had suggested the trip, Zoey couldn’t have said no. Well, she hadn’t had to put off telling her parents until the very last moment, but that was a different story. And it didn't change much, did it?

“We always spend Christmas together.” Her father had frowned at the suggestion. It was no doubt that Zoey had gotten her like of plans and routines from him, and there was the routine in question he was so stuck on. Her parents conceded after a far too long discussion, perhaps realizing they wouldn’t change her wants that year.

But Zoey had been nervous too, as much as she’d pretended otherwise. With leaving for college, she’d already broken plenty of routines that year. And there was so much that could go wrong. Blaise was a good driver, certainly, but a four hour trip, partway through the mountains? Planning a trip, food and accommodation, on her own? Sure, with her friends’ help, but Zoey still couldn’t quite get the realization of being an adult, capable of travelling on her own, through her head.

Back in her hotel, Zoey had twice the amount of clothes she needed, three flashlights, and an extra fire extinguisher, yet somehow she’d forgotten to have a foolproof plan for being separated from them in a crowd without her phone.

She knew something had to go wrong that day. Maybe she could ask someone for help? Zoey looked out into the crowd in front of her, and. And oh, it was a crowd. Passing faces, cheeks red from the cold, all with their own direction to go.

Zoey took a breath, and pushed open the door to the cafe she found herself in front of. And immediately closed it. It had been completely crowded, a steady line-up in front of the counter, in a way that overwhelmed Zoey just by looking at it. Instead, her eyes fell on the building beside it, a little smaller, only a couple people visible from looking through the window.

The door’s bell made a small noise as Zoey pulled the handle open, but thankfully, no one turned to look, the barista speaking to a customer at the bar. Pulling off her gloves, Zoey blew air into her hands to warm them up even a little before taking a seat at the bar, just a few chairs away. The man seemed friendly enough, and surely it wouldn’t be unsafe to ask, with the barista right there? Zoey practiced the phrase in her mind a couple times over, hello, do you happen to have a phone or portable phone charger I could quickly borrow, I’m trying to reach someone, but before quite working herself up to do anything, a loud ringing sounded behind her.

Almost everyone there turned to look at the man, banging his head repeatedly into the door. The barista shouted at him, then, as the glass cracked, moved to confront it. Zoey’s eyes were wide, unable to quite stop watching. God, Zoey, why choose here of all places to enter?

Zoey.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[purplecowdutch]

Mood

freezing cold, curious

Location

home sweet home

Outfit

a warm fleece sweater, boxers and a bathrobe

Tag

n/a

Benjamin

His hands were frozen, the tips of his fingers red and painful. Benjamin rushed inside, holding his hands eagerly in front of the fireplace. The warmth feeling overwhelming as seconds later he sunk into the couch, the brown leather couch his wife had picked out and actually reclaimed again. He couldn't believe it, Benjamin rather put flames to this ugly, old thing than ever give it back to her. Benjamin remembered what she said when she brought it home: 'It's vintage, Benjamin. You wouldn't understand.'

Even just the thought of it made Benjamin grip the couch a little tighter before leaning forward and drawing on a cigarette, it costed the same as any regular couch and he had made that very clear before she bought the damn thing. It was like she did things out of spite, to get him so angry that she would finally get a reason to leave.
His phone rang seconds after he had opened up an old newspaper, Benjamin recognized his brother's voice immediately and he mumbled a quick merry Christmas followed by a cheers.

'Cheers to you too Benji,' his laughter rang through the speaker. 'So, what are your plans? Is Claire there?' Benjamin shook his head while he doodled on the old newspaper, 'she's not Walter, decided that she wanted to stay with you know who. It's said that if you say her name three times she'll take everything you love,' Benjamin answered as he let out a soft chuckle and heard Walter do the same. Their conversation got interrupted by a hard knock on the door, followed by an even harder knock on the window. On Christmas Eve? Who could that be? He crossed his fingers hoping it wouldn't be any caroling. 'Tell the kids I said hey Walt,' Benjamin concluded as he got up slowly, walking to his front door, the cigarette bungling in the corner of his lips.

Benjamin glanced through the curtains and let out an annoyed sigh by the sight of his neighbor, what was he doing here? Would he be able to not complain on Christmas just this once? He unlocked the front door, facing the older neighbor in front of him. Benjamin didn't quite remember his name though they've been living next door for about ten years now.
'Benjamin, I'm sorry to bother you on Christmas Eve but we wanted to tell you we're having a small Christmas gathering and it might be late, we don't want to cause any trouble or complaints.' Benjamin shook his head as he stepped outside on his bare feet, 'no, I'm ecstatic,' he sarcastically answered while he looked at something else going on about two houses down. 'Do you have any idea what's happening over there?' Benjamin asked, pointing at the ambulance and a group of people circled around someone. The neighbor looked over his shoulder and shrugged while he fluttered the smoke away. 'I have no clue but I think those are the Roy's, maybe Meg, did you know she turned eighty this year?' Benjamin looked at his neighbor with a clueless gaze, 'anyway, thanks Duinkerk. Have a good Christmas, alright?' The neighbor spoke with a friendly smile before he turned around, stepping over the little fence that separated their homes. As the two neighbors were about to close their front doors, they both froze after hearing a bone chilling scream, looking at each other hoping it was just their imagination.

© weldherwings.

 

[Maverick.]

mood :

calm, thoughtful

location :

Campton Falls; mountain trail

status :

healthy, though fatigued

interactions :

npc

tags :

none

Wagner

;; sean

Every day, Sean Wagner raced the sun into the sky. And every day, he lost.

His nose had gone numb by now, as though the wind had stolen it. The chilly gusts teased him, whistling in his ears where the ends of his hair peaked out from under the woolen fabric of his beanie. His chest, however, was warm, his beating heart acting as a bellows to keep his hot breaths steaming from his lungs like a plume of smoke.

Hours earlier, just before the stars had faded away along with the moon, Sean had placed himself at the foot of the mountain. He’d come straight from the local Campton Falls museum, where he worked night shifts as a janitor. The town had still been asleep then, with the fog that hung over the empty streets still having yet to be replaced by the smoke from lit chimneys.

No matter how hard he tried, he had never yet made it to the top of the mountain in time to see dawn break over the horizon. But, just as the sun continued to rise without him, Sean still climbed in spite of it. It was his Sisyphean struggle, but it was one that he’d come to accept, as well as enjoy.

With the morning well underway by now, Sean had already begun his descent, having spent less time at the top of the mountain than he usually would’ve. It was Christmas Eve, and although he’d only been staying in Campton Falls for six short months, he’d come to recognize the pull that the town had on tourists. He couldn’t blame them, but he still wanted to get off of the mountain before the trails became full with tour groups.

The section of trail that he was on right now, however, was empty. The path was dusted with fresh snow, stretching out before him clean and white, like a sun bleached bone. The frost crunched beneath his boots as he walked, a rhythm that he hardly heard anymore now that he’d been listening to it for so long. His footprints from his earlier trek upward had already been covered up, but he still tried to find them, his gaze focused on the ground in front of him while he let his thoughts drift.

It was then that his phone buzzed in his pocket. The sudden noise startled him, nearly causing him to lose his balance as he jumped, his foot sliding out from under him midstep before he lifted his arms to catch himself. His hands fumbled through the folds of his jacket, searching for his phone. He fished it out, hastily pulling off his gloves so that he could tap his screen to answer the call.

“Hello?” he asked in a puff of breath, standing still with his phone to his ear.

“Sean.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“What—”

“So that’s it? You just weren’t gonna call me? Is that it?”

“I—”

“On Christmas?”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t give me excuses. You’ve broken me. You’re gonna make me sing that song.”

Sean knit his eyebrows together, glancing around to prove that he was still alone on the trail. The silence surrounding him seemed much more palpable now that it had been broken, and had he been someone who didn’t welcome such a thing, it would have almost been eerie. “What song?”

The man on the phone began to sing, “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…”

“Oh fuck, please no.”

“But the very next day, you gave it away…”

“Hank.”

“This year…”

The man on the other end of the phone was Hank Brewer, an old sponsor of Sean’s who he’d met two years ago, at the very beginning of his recovery. Despite Sean’s multiple moves and his tendency of losing touch, he’d never been able to shake Hank, and the two had remained friends. They’d continued their habit of calling each other at least once a week, something that Hank, a man who had fifteen years of sobriety and a phone line that was always open to anyone who wanted it, took very seriously.

“Okay, alright,” Sean said in a rush, a smile creeping onto his face. He brought his free hand to his mouth, blowing on it to warm it. “Jesus. Sorry, I forgot you were this clingy. You know it’s only the twenty-fourth, anyway, right?”

“I’ve got three kids,” Hank reminded him, his voice crackling over the phone. “It’s been Christmas for two months.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s true,” Sean laughed. He began walking again, phone still to his ear. “They excited?”

“Oh yeah,” Hank answered, and Sean could hear the other man’s smile over the phone “They miss you, you know. It’s been a while since you’ve visited. You still in Alberta?”

“Yeah,” Sean replied, looking out over the side of the mountain. Even as he continued his descent, the town below still looked far away, spread out before him like a miniature model that one might put out as a seasonal decoration. It was a view he’d come to recognize well enough, and yet every time he’d looked out from the top of the mountain, he still struggled to pull his gaze away. “It’s alright here.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying,” Hank said, his tone verging on triumphant, obviously pleased with Sean’s response. Hank had been trying to get Sean to plant himself somewhere since they’d first met, encouraging him to get a place that wasn’t temporary, find a steady job that put him in the sun, establish a routine and some relationships. Sean, though still finding his way, had yet to fully concede. “Alright enough to get you to think about staying yet?”

Sean shrugged before he remembered that Hank couldn’t see him. “It’s not bad having a job that offers medical insurance.”

“Amen,” Hank replied with a sigh, his gust of breath creating a burst of static over the phone. “Anyway, what’s your schedule tomorrow? Any traditions I don’t know about? Plans?”

“Nah,” said Sean, shaking his head. Holidays weren’t big on his radar these days, and he didn’t have to mind about spending them solo if he didn’t think about them too much. He didn’t slow his pace, but after a quiet pause he added, “I got invited to a Christmas Eve party or whatever, though, by a coworker.”

“A girl?”

“Relax.”

“So it was.”

“I said ‘no’.”

Sean had learned to keep that word poised on his teeth, ready to be thrown without hesitation right before retreat. He’d said it every day, even if only to himself, over and over, before anything else inside of him had the chance to speak up. Hank knew this, as well as enough about the implications of social gatherings labeled as parties, so he didn’t have to ask why.

“Yeah,” Hank muttered, sighing again. “And how are you feeling about that?”

Sean didn’t want to talk about it, because he didn’t know.

“I feel cold,” he answered, and he shivered, his skin agreeing with him. He quickened his pace, hunching his shoulders. “I’m on a mountain.”

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yeah, almost halfway down,” Sean replied. He knew that he would reach the Inuksuk stone structures soon, something he’d learned about from both exploring the town and the information that he’d picked up from his time working inside of the local museum.

“Alright, man, I’ll let you get off that mountain,” Hank said, punctuating his sentence with a soft chuckle. “But call me later, and we’ll talk more about what you said, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sean murmured, his voice lowering, though he was able to keep his tone light. “Talk to you later.”

As soon as he hung up, Hank’s voice was replaced with others from up ahead, signaling the presence of people that Sean could hear but not yet see. He let out a breath, shoulders sagging. There would be no stopping to admire the Inuksuk for him today, as he opted to shuffle past instead of grouping himself in with the crowd of people.

Sean rounded the corner, expecting to see a herd of interested tourists with their families, their eyes and cameras trained on the stone landmarks while a tour guide or two answered their questions.

Instead, he witnessed a murder.

coded by reveriee.

 

[BELIAL.]

Samantha Owens

Location	Milk Bar
Company	Cafe patrons, Frank + Zoey + Marie (NPC)
Health/Mood	Healthy / Weirded out
Tags	No tag for opening

Silence was becoming, but it addled the senses. Betraying sense from a lack of it, silence had its way of making hours stretch into days. In Sam's case, she didn't mind that. Usually she would have. Exciting things excited her, and keeping her neurons firing with constant stimulation was the best way of keeping her sane. She'd been lacking in sanity lately, and the cure seemed to be more of a sensory deprivation. Away from the town, away from the people. Arriving in Campton Falls, after so long since she'd been there, she didn't want to see anyone. Cold Turkey to avoid getting into trouble.

Plenty had already come her way. She didn't need to make it worse.

Midnight heading into Christmas Eve, she'd gotten pings on her phone from her parents. Money transfers to her bank account: Merry Christmas Eve Hon Phone Later, and obligatory Facebook posts that lamented a Christmas without their daughter. Indeed, to the untrained eye, it would appear that her parents did care-- substantially in fact. But there was a sure lack of that; Sam wouldn't fool herself. The call wouldn't come until the next day anyway, while she'd eat a cold dinner that lingered on the tongue until it turned into mush. Tasteless, really. But that was normal.

No alcohol. The family cabin was dry, though when she'd arrived there'd been a few bottles. Sam had dumped them into the snow, watching the piles cave into themselves like a skull met to the end of a mallet.

Cigarettes made her warm, though her fingers protested. Colder, with the pressing temperature drop. Snow would be imminent.

And that morning, on Christmas Eve, there had been. The nip of the winter laced through the floorboards, a lingering and festering chill next to the cold glass of windows.

She needed to leave. Having already been there for a few days, the silence was too becoming at this point. The cold longed to play with her hair, to settle on her harsh lungs. Negative teens hinted that the night would bring a much darker freeze. Winter was a bitch like that. Pressing makeup onto her face, faking normalcy, she'd popped a weed gummy and made to leave. It was an insane day to be out, but a gut feeling told Sam she'd be better off anywhere else than at home with nothing but boring schoolbooks to keep her company, or some stupid game on her phone that she'd bought on a whim.

Opting by foot rather than trying to brave finding any parking, Sam wandered her way down, humming a song under her breath as she held her toque tightly over her head. A few gusts threatened to blow her warm confines aside, but it was no match for her. Arriving to see people, and already gravitating toward the thick of it, she quickly dipped into a cafe to grab a drink and breakfast. The Milk Bar. Cute enough.

It was only for about ten or so minutes that she'd been there, sipping on a hot coffee black, when her attention had been shifted to the door. The man there, banging his head against it. Her immediate thought was someone cracked out. It was a typical sight to see back in Calgary, and though Campton Falls seemed a lot cleaner than the big city, drug addicts were always aplenty. Though recovered, she was one herself.

But he wouldn't stop. It became less of an amusing, albeit offputting, act. Sam's gaze flitted among the other patrons, wondering if anyone else would do anything. She stared with abject horror, transfixed, almost unable to move. The barista, Marie had been her name, went forward to deal with him. Sam felt a ball lump up in her throat, wanting to shout out that it was a bad idea, especially if the guy was tripping out and it was a bad one. She wasn't one to sit quietly, letting others move, but this particular action froze her entirely.

 

[idiot]

A Christmas Surprise.

filler

filler

filler

filler

filler

• .
• 1
• 3
• 4
• 5
• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

• home (filler tab)
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  status of characters

  
  
  

  Alexandra Ell-Kanayuk — mountain trail, healthy.
  Francis Buck — the milk bar, healthy.
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  environment

  
  
  

  Weather: cloudy with snowfall and strong winds.
  Temperature: -19°C.
  Time: 10:38am.
  Date: 24th of December.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  

  Alexandra Ell-Kanayuk — Sean Wagner and various tourist goers.
  Francis Buck — Marie Baird, Samantha Owens and Zoey Calvert.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  

  bad wolf @frogmilk livingdead @Sostos @; lady @Kovacs purplecowdutch erzulie Maverick. BELIAL. ravensunset
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• home (filler tab)

Lucas King

jingle bells

FRANCIS BUCK.

Marie approached the door, a flannel shirt hung loosely off her muscular, built frame. Frank could see a glimpse of the tattoo on her shoulder blade. A list of names?

His gaze lingered on her bare skin before glass shattered, Frank's eyes glued back to the door.

The damn bell kept ringing non-stop.

"Fuckin' hell! Now I've got to get someone out here to fix that." Marie grumbled to the crazed man, his teeth snapping through the glass panel.

Frank had never seen anything like this. Sure, Nathaniel had shown him some viral videos of drug-addicts who were high on who knows what. But this...this was different.

Frank stood up from the stool, glancing back to the handful of patrons. Most were locals but two young girls stood out like a sore thumb. He had never seen them before and wondered why they weren't at the fancy joint next door.

"Uh, Mare...you need help dealing with that?" Frank asked but Marie turned her head to him; blonde wisps escaping her tight ponytail, a smirk across her lips.

"Oh, I've got this handled, don't you worry. I've been waiting for this." Marie didn't skip a beat as she sent her leg into the door with only power Frank had seen in Nathaniel's video games. The door almost flew off its hinges, sending the man into the freshly-scraped pavement.

"And don't come back!" Marie turned around, theatrically dusting off her jeans, "Sorry about the commotion folks."

Instead of a round of applause, a loud crack resonated behind her.

Wooden splinters flew towards Marie; a bone-chilling gust of wind erupting from the doorway.

To Frank's surprise, the intruder's final push had ripped the old wooden door off its hinges.

Frank had no time to react as the man dived on top of Marie, the two tumbling to the ground. Oh, fuck!

The man's mouth kept snapping, teeth slamming together in an attempt to bite Marie's face. She kept him at bay with her forearm pinned to his neck.

Frank took a step forwards.

"M-My daddy's gun! Under the bar, Frank!" Marie managed, her forearm shaking viciously.

Shit okay. The gun.

Frank turned on his heels, bending over the bar.

He peered around, glass bottles staring back.

"Frank, hurry!" Marie yelled.

Then he saw it.

Frank yanked the double barrel shotgun from the bar, sending a few glasses smashing into the wooden floor.

"Shoot the fucker, Frank!" The man's teeth only an inch from her face, her forearm about to give way.

Raising the gun, he stared down the barrel, finger hovering over the trigger.

He thought of his brother and then his son...lying on the floor, blood seeping into the snow.

The gun swayed slightly, Frank's vision blurring.

Marie must of sensed the hesitation as she tucked her legs into her stomach and rolled forwards simultaneously. The momentum gave her the power to send the soles of her boots into the man's stomach and barrelling into one of the tables.

People screamed, scrambling into the deepest corner of the establishment.

The gun was swiftly taken from his hands by an angry Marie, as she approached the disorientated man, tangled in an overturned table and chairs.

"Marie, I'm sorry, I—"

She whipped her head around, her face scrunched up in an ugly sneer, "Frank, just shut—"

One of the local's shrieked. Frank could see Larry, an old trucker, dragged to the ground by the intruder.

Unlike Frank, Marie didn't hesitate, an ear-deafening shot rung throughout The Milk Bar.

Frank dared to look at the aftermath, the intruder's chest had exploded from the shotgun's impact. The intruder's hand had a literal death-grip on Larry's ankle.

A silence almost as deafening as the shot filled the establishment, Frank's eyes unable to pull away from the scene.

The silence was short-lived as multiple, piercing alarms blared around them. What now?

Frank fished one of the sources from his pocket...my phone?

The screen lit up to reveal a notification:

EMERGENCY ALERT / ALERTE D'URGENCE
A DEADLY DISEASE THROUGHOUT CANADA.
This is an alert from the Alberta Ready System. This is not a test. Citizens have been exhibiting high levels of violence from an unknown cause. Please stay inside and lock your doors. Be ready to defend yourself if necessary, but please avoid contact with these individuals for your own safety. Details are scarce but we will be updating you with further instructions to protect yourself soon. // Ceci est une alerte de l'Alberta Ready System. Ce n'est pas un test. Les citoyens ont manifesté des niveaux élevés de violence d'une cause inconnue. Veuillez rester à l'intérieur et verrouiller vos portes. Soyez prêt à vous défendre si nécessaire, mais évitez tout contact avec ces personnes pour votre propre sécurité. Les détails sont rares, mais nous vous mettrons bientôt à jour avec d'autres instructions pour vous protéger.
​

Frank peered up from the notification, spotting Marie and others on their phones.

"What does it say?" An elderly woman asked, a plume of white hair framing her heart-shaped face. Her hands were empty, Frank surmised she didn't own a phone.

"An alert about some disease affecting people, making them go crazy or some shit. I guess it explains this guy." Marie explained, hands still gripping the shotgun.

Frank could hear other noises now, screams and commotion from outside. It was distant but not distant enough for his liking.

"I have to go home..." Frank mumbled and reached into his coat pocket, leaving a crumpled ten dollar note on the bar.

"Home? I'm sure there are more like this fucker. He was strong, Frank. Very strong. Could rip us to shreds if outnumbered." Marie tried to reason with him but her face softened, "Shit. The kid. Right." Marie huffed and opened her mouth to speak once more but was interrupted by a howl.

Larry was the source, his face contorted in unimaginable pain.

The corpse of the intruder was no longer unmoving....his teeth finally tasting flesh.

ALEXANDRA ELL-KANAYUK.

Alex was trained for a number of scenarios during the tour. A broken arm from a fall? A sling and a few painkillers until help arrived. Signs of frostbite? Her handy thermos bottle and a strip of gauze would do the trick.

But this...

Screams echoed from the mountain's heights, some of the tourists tripping on their own feet as they raced down the hill. Others like Alex stood frozen, as though the icy winds had slowed her heart to a complete stop. Yet her heart was doing the complete opposite; pounding against her chest and threatening to rip through the layers of clothing.

"Someone do something! P-Please! Jerry, s-stop!" The mother screamed, arms chained around her crying son, snot running into his mouth.

The father, Jerry, continued to rip into the man's jugular, bits of flesh hanging from his bloody mouth. The liquid had begun to flow onto the snow, painting it a dark red.

Move Alex. Move!

Alex took a deep breath and without thinking, charged forwards.

Sending her heavy boot into the side of the father, the incline sent him rolling down the hill and barrelling one of the tourists down.

"No!" The mother's voice was hoarse, yet she remained in place, weeping into her son's shoulder.

Oh god. What have I done? I didn't mean to...

Focus, Alex. Save him first.

The tour guide dropped to her knees, fumbling open the metal first aid kit. You got this, Alex!

"I need your help!" Alex announced, her brown eyes settling on the leopard-print clad wife.

"M-Me? He was the d-doctor, not me! Well plastic surgeon..." Of course he was...

The wife's face was unmoving despite the sheer terror in her voice. Alex only now realised how striking her blue eyes were.

"You can do this, we can save him." Alex reassured, unsure if it was aimed at her or herself.

A small gurgle came below, the man's eyes blinking faintly. He was still alive.

The woman hesitated, her heeled boots causing her to stumble as she daintily dropped onto her knees in front of them.

Alex forced herself look down at the chunk taken from the man's neck; ignoring the rising sensation burning a hole in her throat.

That was when Alex realised...

I have no idea what to do...

"W-What now?" The woman's voice was shrill, her carefully applied mascara beginning to run.

The remaining tourists who hadn't fled looked to Alex for guidance, as though she was some messiah.

Alex noticed someone else as well, off in the distance, a man who wasn't from the tour stood watching.

"He is fucking dying! W-What do we do?" The woman roared, spit flying from her mouth as she stared intently at Alex.

All of her confidence dissipated. Alex had never felt so small as she muttered the words, "I...I don't know..."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You are meant to know—you bitch!" The woman's talons could be felt through her gloves, pushing Alex to the side. She didn't fight it, falling ass first into the snow.

"H-Honey, come on...you're okay? Y-Yeah? Think of the twins? R-Remember, we've only got the babysitter until twelve," The woman chuckled, choking on tears, her voice evidently softened. A hand to his cheek, she stroked it gently, "Please don't leave me...please."

Alex could hear screams further down the mountain, most likely from the other tourists. She didn't even want to imagine what was happening down there.

"Oh my god! Yes, don't move too much, okay ho-" The plastic surgeon had begun to rose despite the critical wound, but Alex could already tell by those eyes. The same as Jerry's.

"Get back! He isn't-" Alex yelled but it was too late, the woman's striking eyes widened; her husband's hands tore off her expensive scarf, teeth ripping into her flesh.

Shuffling back in the snow, Alex felt her back up against the stone structure.

She barely heard the alert on her phone over the commotion, her hands trembled in front of her. Where are my gloves?

Alex's head spun.

I can't do this...I can't.

Alex shook her head violently, holding back the tears.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[bad wolf]

Roy stared at a stack of decorative paper plates as though it had the ability to look back and taunt him, the red cursive adorning its face a glaring reminder of his phone call.

Merry Christmas. It's Merry Christmas. Merry, merry, merry...

Why was he so hung up about saying happy instead of merry? It was the small things. Everything could have gone right except for one small detail and that's all he could focus on for days. There wasn't even any real need to feel upset by it. He wasn't wrong for saying happy instead of merry, it still meant the same thing, but no matter how hard he tried to make himself move on from it, something in the back of his mind shouted NO and BAD and FUCKING IDIOT over and over and over again until he stood like he was now, fixated and hating himself for shit that didn't even matter.

He shouldn't be angry at himself anyways. He should be angry at her for daring to even call in the first place, for pretending to care too little too late. Jesus... His hands were sweaty and the pressure pushing flat over his chest made him want to grab fistfuls of something and shake hard. For now, he balled one hand into the fabric over his stomach, the knitted fibers coarse between his fingers.

What was he doing? Right... The list. Admittedly, it was taking him longer to get through it than necessary. He didn't have half the things needed to put together the banquette everybody had in mind. There was the ham and the ingredients for some casseroles, boxed stuffing, canned vegetables, a couple pre-made pies. Roy squinted at his phone even as a scream tore through the air.

Children screamed. Addicts screamed. All of New York at night screamed if you listened hard enough. Unless it repeated itself or people started running, he saw no sense in panicking. Didn't mean he wasn't going to take his cart and start steering it away though. Roy cast a glance behind him even as he tried relaxing his shoulders and watched as a couple people scurried around the corner of an aisle.

Why were they laying out all the trappings of a king if there was only going to be three of them and a sick dog? For Jessie maybe, but he doubted Dan went this hard even when she was here. There was still just the four of them. Her, Irene, Jessie, and Bruce. Why the splay of food? To sleep these wintery weeks away while sustaining themselves solely on leftovers? Roy contemplated how many times mashed potatoes could be reheated when another scream sounded behind him, still distant but somehow louder and more... desperate.

It was enough to make his arms feel numb and the hair stand tall at the back of his neck. Roy stopped and fully turned to look back, his phone buzzing and loudly sounding an alarm. He looked down to read the text: EMERGENCY ALERT. A DEADLY DISEASE THROUGHOUT CANADA. Clicking on it and reading further, Roy sharply inhaled and scrunched his brows in confusion.

High levels of violence... Like a riot? Was there a protest going on? On Christmas Eve? In Campton Falls?

One hand on his cart, Roy wondered suddenly if he should leave it there and just head to Jessie's place. A few hotdogs and some beer could be a feast with enough enthusiasm.

Maybe he should call his mom back and explain that he meant to say Merry Christmas instead of Happy Christmas.

Roy very slowly started walking towards the aisle everyone had run from, abandoning his cart completely.

I'll look and decide then. Look and decide.

Merry, merry, merry.

Down the aisle, he saw someone reaching and scratching and trying to pull themselves away as another jumped to straddle their back. Their attacker tugged at their coat, face angry and unsatisfied until they reached up and pulled back one of their arms. Their mouth gaped and latched onto the person's pinkie and ring finger. The bite was so quick and it looked so simple, so easy, that when the hand fell with only three fingers still attached, Roy's first thought was something about Irene needing carrots to cook with her ham.

The attacker didn't spit them out, they chewed even as the person cried and struggled underneath them.

Roy was frozen, white-knuckling his phone.

The victim's wide-eyes met his own. She was a girl his age, and as she opened her mouth to scream again, her plea was cut short as her attacker pressed her head sideways into the floor. They bent down as if to tell her something and-

Roy saw more red and ran.


( livingdead - for a possible interaction if casey & maddie are in the same store)

ROY BOUCHER.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[livingdead]

CASEY.

Casey turned his head, the hair sprawling from his beanie swayed and brushed along his shoulders. His lips parted, and he would be finding himself staring at the precariously stacked boxes of Coca-Cola cans just in distant sight down the aisles. Ordinarily, nothing caught his eye. Nothing but shoppers reaching for the carbonated drinks. Like Casey and his sister, they were puzzled, but hadn’t paid mind to the isolated shriek. Perhaps a pickle jar shattered. A child didn’t get their way. An unwelcome insect roamed the polished floor, beneath the shelves. Something.

“You okay?” His thoughts were interrupted, he must’ve zoned out. Maddie’s voice radiated some kind of protection, a sense of comfort that he’d not known from anyone else.

“Yeah. Yeah, that was just weird.”

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” She dropped the sketchbook into the basket held loosely by Casey’s side. He took note, but didn’t stop her.

A lot of people had the same idea—shopping on Christmas eve, whether it was to pick up a present, or to prepare Christmas dinner. That many people in the same space could’ve created any sort of conflict.

Just as Casey convinced himself there was no reason to panic, a similar, shrill scream filled the air. A painful shriek. An agonizing, piercing scream that caused him such discomfort it tugged at his chest with irrational guilt.

Casey’s legs carried him before he could think, wandering to find the source of the sound. Behind him, his name was called, and Maddie followed. In every direction, alarms blared. People abandoned their shopping, they dropped their gifts bags and wrapping paper; a boy slightly younger than Casey chased after a runaway shopping cart filled with ingredients, snow still nestled in his hair and coat.

He turned the corner.

Only a few feet in front of him, the perpetrator was leaned over a woman. Her flesh, still fresh, bloodied, stretched and snapped from her distorted and mangled face, hung from the teeth of the attacker, as if they were a predator snacking on their prey.

The attacker tore into the woman’s neck. Red splattered from the wound.

Blood puddled on the reflective tile, snaking its way down the aisle.

The basket in his right hand clattered on the floor, the sketchbook fell face down, its textured pages absorbing the color.

He wiped the back of his hand on his cheek. Crimson smeared on his knuckles.

Casey felt his stomach churn. It burned his throat. His lip quivered.

Run. Run, run run run.

He trembled, his feet planted to the floor.

The alarms had stopped almost completely now, but a different sound emitted from behind him. A generic ringtone, not from his pocket, but Maddie’s.

The attacker, previously focused only on its victim, eyed the two at the end of the aisle.

Casey stumbled, crashing into the shelf. Several cans of soup and other commodities lined the shelves, placed haphazardly and threatened to collapse like a set of dominos. He latched onto the shelf, shoving the cans. A few rolled and clattered onto the floor with his momentum, some bounced from the blood-thirsty man’s head.

That didn’t stop him.

“Move!” A half-full shopping cart rattled passed Casey, an unaligned wheel caused it to swerve out of line. It crashed and fumbled into its target.

Maddie tugged his arm, the phone in her hand was ringing nonstop. Displayed on the screen, a contact labeled simply as Dad. Casey sprinted from the scene, crimson-tinted shoe prints trailed behind him.

Ahead of them, a man ran. People ran. He couldn’t imagine what went on by the entrance. The emergency exit wasn’t too close, either.

He finally reached for his phone, skimming over the notification through a cracked display. A deadly disease? What’s going on?

Before Maddie had a chance to answer the call, Casey’s phone rang instead. Though he slowed his pace, he still shivered. He answered the phone.

Between unsteady breaths, “We need a ride.”

DAVID.

Two cups of coffee ordered to-go from The Milk Bar was the least of his worries.

The café, he recalled, was a perfect spot to start his day, quality surpassing that of the newer establishment next door—and if he’d not convinced the kids the same, they’d likely choose to spend their time somewhere else. Finn sometimes did, anyway; his friends disagreed which was better, Dave surmised. All in all, not much happened here. At least nothing like this.

From outside, the commotion wasn’t entirely too clear. It alerted not only himself but the locals and tourists collectively that were close enough to notice something was out of place. Half continued on their way, some kept watching. His next decision was a tie between investigating and simply going home. It wasn’t unusual in the slightest for Dave to believe he could help, somehow, though his expertise was far from anything that related to this situation.

David stepped up onto the concrete from beside the parking space where he stood, shoving a small pile of snow from the curb. Briskly, and politely paving the way between every puzzled window-shopping tourist, he took to The Milk Bar. The familiar door—or what was left of it—lie missing from his view.

Dave peered through the fogged glass, catching a glimpse of the commotion.

A shot rang from inside. Before he could think, alarms rung along the streets, from inside the establishment, and echoed nonstop in every direction.

Picking up his phone, he read the notification.

Emergency Alert…

…Be ready to defend yourself if necessary….

Finn.

Dave turned from the window and dialed a contact. Seconds passed. A minute passed. No answer.

He gave it another try, holding the phone to his ear. Colliding with an onlooker or two on his way, he departed from outside of the establishment.

Still nothing.

Pick up, damnit.

David slammed the car door shut. Warm air filled the vehicle, a relief from the stinging cold. On low volume, played the unfamiliar CD his son brought with him to listen to. The phone kept dialing, to no avail. Not now.

Defeated, he pressed his forehead against the wheel. Several missed calls later, he dialed up Maddie. When that didn’t work, Casey—

“We need a ride.” Finally.

“Can you call Finn?” David lifted his head and focused to the window behind him. Whatever that alert was for, it was certainly close.

“What? Dad, listen there’s-“

“Can you reach Finn,” he repeated sternly. “Is your sister with you? Are you okay?”

“Uh, I don’t—yes. No. I don’t know. But we need—“

A sudden pang shoved against the window in David’s peripheral view. The figure slammed on the glass desperately, jaw unnaturally widened, its nails scraping. Phone in one hand, wheel in the other, he paused, locking dead, wide eyed stares with the crazed tourist. Could this be what happened at The Milk Bar?

“I’ll… I’ll call you back.” Never breaking eye contact with the attacker, he backed the car out slowly from the parking space.

fletcher.

♡coded by uxie♡