April 14 2017

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM-
The place was remote, this was clear. Tall trees rose up around her as she walked down the road, silent black sentinels, lifting to the sky to block out the stars and moon. She was shrouded in darkness, and the cool of the April air was starting to cut through the blood as it cooled on her flesh.

The path she walked was dirt, but she remembered a road lading up here, a paved road, what ever paved would mean.

Over head she saw a light moving through the woods, and the sound of something like the beating of large wings. Something passed over head, Allison knew what it was, a craft, she was familiar with it, even had a memory of riding in one with her sister and mother. It was a good memory, happy, she looked out at a great canyon, so many colors. The world was so pretty high up like that.

The clothing she wore was soaked in blood, and the cold air was starting to cut through and living might prove harder if you could not get to warmth.

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM-
She never made a fire without matches, or a lighter. A fire would warm her up, she had never studied survival, her focus was on helping people, law and working to help those who were homeless and unable to get legal help.

Back at the Farm, they might have those things, but it would mean walking back there. There was also a gas station, about a mile down the paved road, she remembered because they stopped there for gas, at least the guy did, she was bound up in the car. They would have warmth, and a bathroom to clean up in.

The wind was chilled and sliced through the tattered clothing. Sabhaal could not remember such chill before in this world, it was bitter and hard, nothing like in the Abyss, still, to the human body it was harsh. In the dark he could not see clearly with the human eyes, but he could feel the sticky blood, drying and crusting on the flesh of this frame.

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM Sabhaal-

Who knew 20 minuets could feel so long, but that is about all it took for her to walk the rest of the way to the gas station. There was a fog in the woods, and the light of the service station seemed to cut through and make the place glow. Two pumps and a small shop that might have been a home at one point in history stood like lonely sentries in the cold darkness.

The florescent lights flickered and a sign at the side of the road gave the price per gallon for regular and unleaded. As she got closer, she could see the front had two large panes of glass in it and a a attendant was relaxing and reading some magazine. She could see food, but she remembered coffee, something Sabhaal had never had, but really wished to have, for some reason.

They stood at the edge of the light, looking down he could see the crimson of blood that would be hard to hide. But the warmth of the place was hard to ignore, and already the feeling in the fingers was starting to fade.

-place: Shannanigans, about 2 AM Shanna-

Last Call

Friday night was always a good night, and tonight was excellent. Five good bands, four was on the roster, but Speed Bump had just dropped in and they took the mic. Shannan seemed to be doing well, and her staff was hopping. She would need to have to push people out as the night was winding down because things were not doing so on their own.

She was finishing up some orders when a guy at the end of the bar caught her attention. She did not recall him coming in, but she seemed to recall he had been there most the night, with the same beer. Why she had not noticed him she did not recall, he had on a cape, like a Victorian era cape, and a wide brimmed hat sat on the bar, he must have worn it in. A three piece suit made of silk, with a very nice waistcoat with paisley patterns of blue and gold. No neck tie, but a scarf of green, covered his neck.

It seemed no one else was bothering him either, those around him moved about him like they were water just moving about a stone in a river. When she seemed to notice him, he noticed her, and smiled. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when he did.

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM Sabhaal-

There is a bell that goes off as the door is pushed open, an old kind, on a metal spring over the door that is hit by the door as she enters. The attendant is standing up and his blue eyes are as large as saucers as he looks at the thing walking into his shop. The boy had to be under nineteen, he was tall and slender, appeared to keep active.

"Oh my ---" He stops and rushes out from around the counter, only to stop short. "Hold on, we have a first aid kit." He says and rushes back, floundering behind the counter and getting a box out. In his rustling of things he pulls a 44 magnum out and sets it on the counter as well as a box of bullets. "Don’t worry, I was a boy scout." He assures her.

Stepping around he wears a t-shirt with a man fishing on it, wore but nice jeans and some boots. His blond hair is cropped and cut short, and his cheeks are sunkissed and tan. He has the look of someone who is local, a little innocent, and Sabhaal can smell his soul is nearly pure as he comes around. The boy has faith, a lot of it, so much it is practically dripping from him.

"I have a chair behind the counter." he says rushing to the aid, offering to assist. "I have the Sheriff on speed dial, were you in a wreck? Are there others hurt?"

-place: Shannanigans, about 2 AM Shanna-

The man looks up, and as she gets close she can smell flowers off him, something like a mix of roses and lavender. "Oh, I think I am set for the drink." he says with a smooth southern drawl. His eyes are a deep forest green, clean shaven, and with a angular face, skin smooth and light. "I was lured in by the dulcet tones of your fair minstrels, my dear." He says and gives her another winning smile. His hair is black as jet, and slicked with some hair product, cut neat and trimmed, like his nails and almost everything else about him looked manicured and kept up, unlike many of the men who came to the bar.

"I am Jonathan, Shanna, you must be the proprietor of this fine saloon?" She suspected he was someplace in his thirties, perhaps younger, but not by much. He turns and looked over at the stage where the sober members of the various bands were still up there playing some tunes from the Grateful Dead. "I suppose many a fellow is here tonight ending Lent. Though I suspect none have truly forsaken anything for the duration." He turned back. "Is it always so alive here?"

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM Sabhaal-

It was not long before he was on the phone, walking with the receiver in his hand. "Yeah, she is here, looks pretty bad but she walked in. I will keep her awake, she may be in shock, sir." He said as he poured a cup of coffee from the carafe that was sitting on the counter.

When he handed it to her she could smell the aroma of the coffee, it smelled strong, the cup was burning in her hands but it felt good to have the heat against her flesh. "She looks pretty shook up, and… something is up with her eyes." He said in a softer tone. "I do not know, cannot explain it." He says over the phone. "Yes, bring the EMTs."

He hangs up the phone and picks up one of the bear claws. "Drink up, you need to keep awake, you may be in shock, and if you pass out you may not wake up." He offers her the food. "I think I have some wake up pills here…" he starts to look around. "I am Nick, by the way." He said taking a packet of trucker pills off a rack.

-place: Shannanigans, about 2 AM Shanna-

"I do suppose my accent is a bit telling, yes?" He says with the smooth drawl like a fine whiskey. "I am not in point of fact from here, as you can see, I hail from below the Mason Dixon, as my caracteristice accent will reveal. The real question is, are you from around here?" He asks her with a look that seemed to say he was hinting at something. His head canted a bit to the side and those eyes fixing on her with attention she had not rarely seen outside the tabletop game when the players.

"I am not, however, new to these parts. I have spent a good many years here, a transplant so to speak." He tells her leaning back a bit, the smile on his face gain, looking self assured and dapper. "So, if I may be so bold, if this is last call, what might you be doing after you close. The night is still fresh, dawn is an age away, would you be looking for company?"

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM Sabhaal-

*Point of clarification, he called the Sheriff he did not have him on the phone originally*

He pauses and looks Allison in the eyes. "Nothing… just, something different about you, is all." He says and gives her a smile, one someone may give if they were trying to reassure them of something.

In less then a half hour the Sheriff arrives, followed closely by the EMT in an ambulance. The Sheriff steps out of the car, a tall man with a rough face, he had the sort of look that told you had been a warrior.

Sabhaal could see it in the man, his soul was that of a man who had seen his own shares of hell. He was likely in his 40’s, though one may guess older as life seemed to wear on him. When he looked at Allison, he could see the anger and the concern on his face. "Nickky." he said to the boy as he came in. "And who are you miss?" He asked and gave a polite nod of his head.

The two EMT’s however did not seem to be waiting to stand on ceremony or waiting for introductions. The first was an Asian, Japanese or something, a mix, he stopped setting a bag on the counter and opening it to get out tools. The uniform said Nathan, and had the name of St Herra’s Hospital.

The other was an older woman, nearly 60, and she took out a pen light and went right to work checking on Allison. "Call in and let them know we will bring her in, Nate." The woman told Nathan, her uniform said Delores.

How will she handle this?

-place: Shannanigans, about 2 AM Shanna-

He laughed, a sort of bemused laugh. He leans forward, lowering his voice and forcing her to draw near as he speaks in a conspiratorial manner. "You willing to put yourself in my hands, eh?" He says and leans forward. "I know a place, on the docks, only open to a select few, and I happen to be invited. Music and libations as you have never seen, my dear. If you do not like it, well, no harm no foul." He tells her and slowly leans back, waiting for her response.

-place: 2 miles south of the Farm, about 2 AM Sabhaal-

Nathan shook his head. "Superficial, nothing even needing stitches." Delores told her and seemed to be looking at her wrists. "We need to get you to the hospital for a full investigation." She looked at Allie. "Do you know who did this to you, Sweetheart?" She asked.

The Sheriff was just taking notes, and Nick was wask keeping out of the way and on the phone to the shop owner it seemed.

"Anything you could tell us would be helpful." The Sheriff added in a deep voice. "Anything at all."

-place: Shannanigans, about 2 AM Shanna-

He looked at the napkin, then retrieved a note pad and fountain pen from his coat. "Very well, if you will meet me there, I would be more than happy to oblige you in this request." He wrote down an address. "In forty five minutes, I will be waiting." He tore out the paper from the leather bound notebook and stood.

He left, leaving the beer and putting on his hat as he departed out the door.

-place: two blocks from Shannanigans, about 2 AM Wiki-

Danger, as most humans know it, is something that can be categorized, quantified, and given a limit, a risk, so to speak. Horror, however, never tells us the risk. Humans have lived with horror all through time, it is what has kept most humans safe, this pure dread of that which is horrific. Most humans can face danger, but none face horror and live.

That feeling, of dread, of malic un-named, started to sink into Wiki as she walked home. The sounds of the city were all around her, like the music of a jungle. She could hear Closing Time, playing in the distance as she rounded a corner, another bar, she had never visited but it was usually playing at this time as she went home. Just four more blocks.

Something though was not right, something chilled her to the bones, and each step she took she felt it more. Something was watching her, or, something was following her.