03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Margret once wondered why Alana never painted painted the moon, or the trees, or things from real life or even her family. If her family had moved out here so she could be inspired, then why did she waste so much time painting abstract shapes that floated in white space? She touched her index finger to her thumb, encircling the full moon that glinted like tin foil over a vast crevasse of navy blue. She didn't wonder anymore. These days, only one thing ever crossed her mind.
From the shore the atypical midnight passerby would see the outline of the strange lithe Margret sitting at the end of the dock with two hiking boots dangling over the edge of its perimeter. Beyond the rickety and quite frankly dangerous looking dock there were several flashlights bobbing across the waterway on the side of the lake which was closest to the road.
A dainty profile with her chin tilted up watched with a lambent curiosity. Periodically someone would yell her name into the awning of twilight, their echo bouncing between crooked trees that shivered with life. They were looking for her, as it was a regular occurrence for Margret to just... wander off from time to time. Her parents had likely contacted the town.
"Oh!" her lips formed a surprised circle as the fishing rod clutched firmly in her hand jerked forward, the rod yielding to whatever unlucky fellow had found his or herself on the other end of her fishing line. She lowered both hands to firmly clutch the fishing pole.
Back erected, she leaned back and pulled both of her legs up onto the dock for better maneuverability while careening the rod over her right shoulder. She had terrible fishing form. The line clicked and she reeled inwards, occasionally allowing the line to pitch forward again until the lure broke the waters mirror-like surface with a great swell of ringlets expanding out into nothingness. Over the water a brown trout thrashed about, which Margret admittedly struggled to rein in, the rod oscillating in her grip.
tag; @brodie but this is by all means OPEN to any and all.
The Sheriff was among the search party, of course, with his high quality officer's flash light and a displeased expression that was blessedly hidden by the dark of the night.
This wasn't the first time Margret Sung wandered away. This wasn't the first time Brodie was out looking for her on his night off. This wasn't the first time, he supposed, they'd find her doing something random in a dark place.
It was a sad story, one Brodie didn't like to think or talk about, but the truth of the matter was that Margret wasn't right. Not anymore. Not after what had happened...whatever had happened. It was a mystery to him still, despite having heard the story over and over by friends and family of the victim. He'd tried to get to the bottom of it, really, he had, but at the end of the day she'd been sent away and the town had been better for it. He was happy that her family had her back, but he wasn't happy that he had had to walk away from the football game on TV, put on boots, and go out searching for her. It wasn't the first time.
Brodie didn't bother calling out. He had a good feeling that even if she could hear them she wouldn't respond. Did she ever? No, instead his best course of action was to walk swiftly and go to the last likely place she'd be.
While most of the search party kept to the road, the sheriff took to the woods. When he came to lake he began to circle its perimeter. Before long he found a figure on the dock. Surprise surprise.
"Margret?" He was asking but he knew the answer to his own question. "It's Sheriff Sanders. Your family is worried about you, Miss Sung." He knew to speak gently and approach slowly. She reminded him of a wild horse...or a squirrel.
With a great heave of her twig-like arms she hoisted the thrashing fish up onto the dock. It was a labored effort, but as she gazed down at the spoils of a hard fought battle won, she felt a sense of accomplishment and pity. He (or she) was approximately fifteen inches in length and as fat as can be. It flopped around in desperation, mouthing endlessly into the crisp fall air. As it flopped towards the edge of the dock Margret lifted a sturdy boot and crushed its head beneath her heel with a deadening crunch. Her stomach dropped, but she told herself it was for the greater good. Knowing this town, its life would have been a short one anyway. The thought made her lips curl down into a frown.
She bent over to collect its still twitching body and heard her name. Her hands circled around the base of its tail and she winced from the spindly scales cutting into her skin with a sudden appreciation for a fisherman's resolve. Her hands were neither weathered nor calloused enough to brave the outdoors. She didn't get the opportunity to hike much these days, not with her parents breathing down the nape of her neck twenty-four-seven with a renewed sense of parental responsibility that had never possessed them prior to her episode. She straightened, holding the lake beast with a prideful earnestness. She knew the voice before she even stood.
Margret and Brodie had a history. Every time she saw him she only ever recalled one incident, but there had been several. In sincere, she could never look at the man without the Cops theme song running through her head as she reminisced about the time she had been handcuffed in the back of his car screaming the reggaeton lyrics in a state of total reeling annihilation. That was before she kicked out his rear window in some freakish fortuity of drunk-teenage-girl-strength.
Some fish guts dripped down onto her boot. Gross.
"When I was gone all the fish died. I read about it in the Library archives. Why?" came her cavalier response, ignoring his comments about her family. If they were really so worried they would have been out there themselves. At this point their adult special needs daughter was more of a nuisance. They were just too afraid to say it, but Margret hated herself like this. She hated the medication that stopped making her feel. She hated that no one believed her and insisted she was just high on peyote. She didn't even know where to get peyote!
With a look of skepticism she waved the fish around. "Or am I imagining things again?" she wondered out loud with a sincerely inquisitive inflection, dark eyes moving from the Sheriff back to the fish.
Brodie kept approaching her, hoping she wouldn't do something crazy like jump into the water or take off her clothes. It wouldn't be the first time someone had pulled something on him like that.
"You're very right, that did happen." Brodie said, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. He didn't like talking to her about what was real and what wasn't. She was rather convinced of somethings and wasn't willing to believe others. He didn't know if she really had disappeared, but he knew that her parents were rational people and he trusted their word above hers.
"We restocked the lake." He pointed to the fish in her hand. With his other he subtly began waving his flashlight back and forth, the signal to the others that she had been found.
"You aren't imagining anything...but it's cold and no time to be fishing."