thinking i might do this occasionally to gauge how The People are feeling! 

we're approaching the end of chapter one of act 2. not sure why i feel the need to break everything into headings and subheadings but whatever! this chapter won't have a Dreaded Cliffhanger Ending (probably.) This bit kinda lost some steam because of the whole chatterbox crash thing, not to mention the minor retconny stuff, but overall, i'm happy with it i guess. sam's fun, tracy's fun, ryan will probably be fun to write, less fun for you folks to read though! 

a few friendly faces haven't really been active in a while, hawkstar, lyric, peri, moon wolf... are you still with us? reading but not sending in commands? (i'll be honest, i'm bad, thats generallly what i do on other text adventures.) i miss you! am i being too clingy? yes? this whole bit was creepy? i should move on? 

ok moving on 

a bunch of kinda awful family stuff really just hasn't stopped from keeping to happen, so that's kinda hampered my writing, but i'm pluggin away, like a mine worker or a cartoonish living train. that sentence got away from me, but the point stands: i'm doing my best, which is all a person can do.

anyway send commands your writer-type-person commands you.

peace. 

bit of a longer one today i guess

its my birthday next week

~~

CHECK OUT THE EMPTY CLASSROOM==>

YOU: Okay, look, we've got twenty minutes, easy, why don't we go and hang out in that classroom? 

Tracy: Why?

YOU: Nobody goes in there right? We could make it, like, a safehouse, pass it off as a club meeting room. Long term, I mean. For now, we can just mess around. 

Alex: Sounds good. Messing around is always nice.

Diana: My dad always says "Messers Can't Be..." No, sorry, my dad says nothing of the sort, and I cannot think of a punchline.

YOU: ... Okay, come on, you dork.

You and your friends re-enter the classroom, and gee, it doesn’t actually look that bad. The scent is acrid, to be sure, but on the whole, it looks about how you imagine it had looked in 1970 or whenever the last few students left.  The colors seem to have faded out of the posters, but still. Not terrible. You notice a blackboard and chalk, and you smile.

CHALK :) ==>

YOU: Draw?

Diana: Okay, yes, I am here for this.

YOU: What should I draw?

Tracy: Something obscene, I hope.

YOU: Okay, we’ll save that for later. Just think, this chalk hasn’t been used in decades. Right now, it cries out for a teacher’s hand to guide it, for a master to return it into it’s sacred purpose, it yearns for-

Alex: Dude, just doodle or whatever. 

You: Hm! All right… 

You decide to just let your hand guide you, your subconscious mind or whatever can fill in the gaps. Honestly, you can’t draw anyway, so… Yeah, whatever. Tracy talks in the background. You listen passively.

Tracy: What I don’t see exactly, is how exactly you ended up in the situation you’re currently in. How did you start, just, being heroes or whatever? 

You realize you’re probably gonna have to participate in this discussion.

Diana: Really, it started with the horrific nightmares I had my entire life, I guess.

YOU: Yeah.

Diana: But, um, really it started when Wren took me and Alex into the woods to distract me. We met somebody who was missing their girlfriend. They needed help, and we helped, and…

She trails off.

Alex: And boom, nightmare life.

Tracy: Okay, that’s very interesting, but… Okay, I’m coming along with you because… Because I am very curious about all of this, and also… I have… Trouble. Talking to people is kinda hard for me, because I’m strange, and you guys are probably the coolest people I know, so. I like. This.

You smile at them. 

YOU: You’re pretty cool yourself, man. 

Tracy: Thank you. But I want to know why you, as people, are willing to do horrifying things for little reward. Because, again, I’m curious.

You keep drawing, not looking at the board, just the lines you’re making. It’s curved. Neat.

Diana: I was always kind of odd. I had nightmares. I still have them. And I had.. Strange ideas and theories about things. Like I saw things, and read an alphabet nobody else could see or read. And It turned out I was right, and now there are these big terrible secrets, and I know them, and the person I love does too, and… And I guess that’s how I want to live. Learning things, and fighting demons with my girlfriend, and my best friends. And evil is real, and it just takes things. It took my dad’s arm, and it took all my good dreams and left me nightmares, and if it thinks it can just do that, then it is my job to dissuade it of that notion.

You nod. Hardcore.

YOU: For me, I guess, um… I don’t really have a speech prepared, guess I have to freestyle. Uh, yeah. Deen is buried up to her elbows in this, and I’m not gonna make her do it alone. And, I guess, I’ve always had a strong sense of right and wrong, not in the sense of, like, a deep heroic commitment to ideals or anything, I just feel like crap if I do bad things. So, I could ignore all this, but, that’d suck. I’d suck. And-

You step back from the chalkboard you’ve been subconsciously scribbling on. Obscenities and epithets you certainly have no memory of writing line the board in jagged all-caps text. And in the center, you’ve drawn a massive, unmistakable eye, its pupil vivid in fury.

YOU: Lame.

Diana: Stuff like that happened last time we met Apophis too. The effects linger, I think. 

YOU: Well, yeah. Still, Lame.

Tracy: Well. Alex? Do you have a secret backstory? 

They say it teasingly, but Alex nods, to your surprise.

Alex: Well, yeah, but it’ll probably read more as trauma-dumping, I dunno.

Diana: You do not have to share anything you do not want to.

There’s a long pause. Then-

Alex: Huh. I guess I kinda do want to.

YOU: By all means.

Alex: I dunno. I know I did that reluctant hero schtick, but that sucked, didn’t it? I dunno, knowing what we know, I couldn’t make any other choice, really. Because, It’s just evil isn’t it? Listen…

His voice is dry and cracked now, but his eyes are shining with that familiar realization: That something needs to be let out, now.

Alex: When I was, I dunno, fourteen or fifteen, probably fourteen, it was around halloween, and I was with a couple friends in an old haunted maze type attraction. You know, college aged kids in pricey costumes, freaking out teenagers. Fun for everybody. 

He coughs, not a genuine cough, an affectation, done for the story’s sake.

Alex: Anyway, I got split from the group. I was walking through the maze, alone now, and I’m freaked out. Well, you know, obviously. And then… I see these guys. And, I dunno, calling them bullies would make me feel like a little kid, and would give them more power than I want. But… Suffice to say, they don’t like me, and honestly, I can’t say I love the guys either. And.. I Don’t know if it’s something about teenage boys that make them go completely lord of the flies the second adult supervision vanishes, or if that’s been ingrained in human nature from the moment prehistoric man saw his reflection in a pool of water, but when I say they made my life miserable, that is an understatement. 

YOU: … What did they do? 

Alex: Well right then, they looked at me, and every one of them got the same vacant, cold, empty look in his eyes. A look that said, We’re going to do what we want, and there is no way you can stop us. And they really only got a couple dozen good hits in before we ran into a guy in a clown mask and the whole thing felt ridiculous, but it was those few moments before. The “You can’t stop me.” That was terrifying. And, like, at school, teachers saw that and thought “boys being boys,” y’know? But in the maze, that was gone too. The mask was off, and I guess I saw what evil was.

There’s a long, long pause.

Alex: And, you know, that’s what evil is. That’s all it is, from those stupid kids, up to the literal God we’ve faced down. And so, Tracy, to answer your question, the reason I’m doing this is that I looked the God of evil in the eye, and He told me with that same, cold, cruel, idiotic look those boys gave me, that I was alone, that there was nothing but Him and me and that I was forever, totally at His mercy. And next time that happens I’m gonna be standing with you guys, and I’m gonna look back at you, and I’m going to say to Him, this right here is my crew, and we’re gonna punch you really really hard.

He stops, breathing like he’s winded, and for a second you look at this weird, pissy little guy in an oversized coat and an orange beanie, and think he could very well be a hero.

Then, anticlimactically, the bell rings.

What do you do?

oh, thanks for asking, it's the big one seven. not for a week, y'know, but i love birthdays

thanks, i'm catching all this confetti, specifically, in my mouth. and then just chewing. it's honestly terrible, and people won't make eye contact with me. i can't say i blame them, but i just. won't. stop.

~~

 WRAP UP CONVERSATION==>

YOU: Look, dude, if you ever wanna talk or whatever, I’m pretty approachable, okay? 

Alex: Yeah. I appreciate it.

YOU: And Deen’s parents set me up with a therapist a few years ago when I was, I dunno, quote-unquote “going through it.” I don’t wanna speak for them, but they’re good people, and I think they’d do the same for you. 

Diana: Yes, I am certain they would.

Alex: Okay, that might be nice.

You leave the classroom, and find a few people lingering around the halls, walking slowly toward their destinations.

Alex: Okay, how exactly do we know which class to go to? Like, we don’t even necessarily know we’re in the same class.

Tracy clicks their tongue.

Tracy: Poor, sheltered, foolish Alex. Perhaps at your fancy schools there were an assortment of classes for your grade level to be shifted around in.

Alex: Fancy? I… I lived in Lakewood. 

Tracy: But, here in Emerald Springs, there are, like, thirty people in each grade. We just all go to the same four classes every day.

YOU: Yep. And that’s Kevin Lee, we’ll just follow him.

Diana: Hello Kevin Lee!

Kevin Lee: Dude, do you guys gotta call me my full name every time?

YOU: Yeah.

Diana: It is what the people want. 

Kevin Lee: Hey, where were you guys last period? It’s literally the first day of school, man. Could you… Couldn’t make it on the first day? Really?

YOU: None of your business, Kevin Lee.

Kevin Lee: Dude, whatever.

You walk with your friends, and Kevin Lee, down a hallway that has that trademark Dogman High scent of vomit and sawdust. Eventually you reach a classroom, and take your seats. Alex sits beside you, sharing your last name and all. Diana is all the way in the back, due to her last name starting with a Z. Ryan walks in, late, of course(hate that guy)and sits a couple seats away from Alex. You realize you’ll probably have to do something about him at some point, and decide later will be a good time to do that. 

The teacher starts talking, but you’re not listening, because Pete’s sake, you almost died today, a couple times, and you just remembered you have a second girlfriend now, and also there’s a God, Capital G, that wants you dead, and really now, let’s be honest, it’s just class. You barely paid attention before, and how are you supposed to even pretend to do it now?

And in the Puget Sound, miles away from Stanwood, the closest area resembling a town, positioned in just the right place for there to be an unusually lively conflict about whether it is technically part of Island County or Snohomish County, there is an Island. The island is called Emerald Springs, and that is also the name of the town on the Island. The Island is many miles away from Bellingham, where a pair of outwardly normal college-aged kids share an apartment and think about their friends, wondering when an opportune moment would be to facetime them.

The Island, and the town, are both named what they are due to the color of the rivers that wind across the moss covered hills that line the area. The current theory is that the coloration is due to algae. 

On one of the aforementioned hills, a guy is driving the friend and the clone of his daughter to see a doctor named Enoch. The guy has one arm, but he still drives fairly well.  The radio is playing some old gospel hymn, and he’s swaying to the music.

And in a classroom, you’re sitting, and you’re so, so tired. Your cousin is beside you, your first girlfriend is behind you, and your new friend is tipping you on the shoulder and saying they had fun today, and you think, cool, that’s one of us. Because this isn’t fun, not to you, it’s work. But somebody probably has to do it, and you don’t trust anyone but yourself, and your Quote-Unquote Crew. 

It’s not going to rain today, but it might tomorrow. 

It's up in the air, really.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

~~

honestly, you guys know the drill. select a character! 

azalea, look, the confetti was tempting. i'm sorry. i'd like to actually offer a public apology for my crimes against paper, and against you. i'm going to eat confetti privately from now on. but i am going to be eating it. yeah. know this.

and yeah, i try not to make my characters too autobiographical, because stuff gets kinda weird, but most of my characters still have some of my flaws rattling around in there. so yeah, wrens whole thing with her self-flagellating desperation to both recieve punishment for percieved "sins" while simultaneously trying to avoid any wrongdoing to mitigate the pain she's utterly convinced she wholly deserves is pretty indicitive of me in my most self-hating moments. whee! 

anyway uh i just said a mouthfull

~~ 

BE TRACY==>

You're lying on an air mattress.

Technically, that’s unnecessary, completely unnecessary. There are, as your most illustrious guests pointed out, repeatedly, plenty of beds. You responded, correctly, you add mentally, that it was really the principle of the thing. 

Your name is Tracy Peixoto, and you’ve never been to a sleepover before. 

To put it frankly, you’ve never really had friends before. That sounds very sad, but you’ve never really thought of it that way. You’ve had people in your life you’ve liked, but you’ve never had a group of people who you felt comfortable with. This is a new experience. They painted your nails. You can’t sleep, you’re too excited.

You check a clock. Six in the morning.

You get up, looking at the other people in the room.

It’s been a couple weeks since your first big adventure. Nothing as exciting has happened since then, which is sort of a relief. You probably couldn’t handle stuff like that happening every day. Antimony got a wheelchair, which is good. Aberdeen’s arm seems to be healing adequately, which you are privately relieved by. 

Antimony hasn’t been going to school, because it’d be hard to stop people from noticing that she’s clearly another Diana. According to Wren, Terrance had paperwork made that states that Antimony is Diana’s cousin, just in case. It’s not entirely clear how he got this paperwork, and he apparently got tetchy when Wren asked. Huh.

Antimony and Diana both agreed that one of them should start dressing differently and change their hair, to differentiate the two. Both of them wanted to do it, so they did a coin flip. Diana won, so she’s started dressing a little more butch, and she dyed her hair purple. She says she might grow her hair from the pixie cut into a mullet. That sounds neat. 

There, that’s something else cool about having friends. You’ve never had anyone to talk about with hair, or clothes, or anything like that. It’s totally sick. 

Your group has done some research and stuff. Nobody at the school has even mentioned the Janitor’s disappearance. They probably know. The school officials probably know. You have a distrust of authority, but your group agrees, so, yeah. Probably! 

Okay, there’s no way you’re gonna be able to go to sleep. That special sort of early light that feels brighter than the midday sun has begun to filter obnoxiously through the window. You’re up. 

What do you do?

sorry guys, i'm probably going to take a short break, i'm just really stressed, and tired, and i need a break, so i'll be less active. but i'll be back! in a couple weeks maybe