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andreafmn · 3 months

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Running in Circles | Chapter 10

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead

<- Previous

Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.

She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all? Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.

Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”

“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”

“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”

“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”

Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.

“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”

“Did she?”

“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”

“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”

“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”

“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”

“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”

“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”

“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”

“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”

By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.

“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”

“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”

“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”

“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”

As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”

“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”

“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”

“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”

“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”

Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.

But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.

“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”

“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.

“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”

“Honey…”

“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”

“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”

(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.

It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.

“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”

“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.”

“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”

“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”

“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”

“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?”

“As ready as I can be.”

Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.

“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”

“Do you have any of her paintings still?”

“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”

“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”

“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”

“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”

David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”

“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”

“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”

“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”

“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”

“Tiramisu,” they chorused.

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venusstorm · 2 years

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East Coast Ridin’

Driving along the East Coast with Steve Rogers started off okay, but quickly it began to spiral as both of you became agitated with the other.

Warnings: 18+, degradation, slight dumbification, car sex, public sex, teasing, spanking

Masterlist

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

"Mhm I love this song" you smile, the warm breeze hitting your face as the sweet words of your favorite artist came blasting through your old stereo system. You shut your eyes tightly and imagine being back home. The fresh air was like a warm hug. You missed driving down long bendy roads and staring off into the distance at the mountain ranges. Trees were plentiful and each one sprung bright green leaves that cascaded shadows onto the ground. That's exactly what this song reminded you of. Home.

As the song came to a close, you opened your eyes to see Steve giving you a heated stare.

"What?" You laugh.

"You're so beautiful when you're thinking," he blushes. His blue eyes now refusing to meet yours as he focuses on the road ahead.

Did Steve Rogers just flirt?

A wide grin spreads across your lips. Steve was stoic and hardly ever let his thoughts become real life words. You didn’t expect for him to say something so bold.

"So I'm beautiful huh?" you tease.

"Breathtakingly gorgeous. If I turned to look at you I'm sure I'd crash this pretty mustang of yours."

Your breath hitches. "Don't play like that, you’re lucky I let you drive her in the first place!"

"She does ride awfully well. I see why you're so in love with her."

It was true. The light blue convertible was your most prized possession. After driving past your neighbors house and seeing the beauty sitting in the yard with a "for sale" sign attached to the window, you knew that baby was yours. She came home with you a few days later and no matter how many shop visits she requires, you still have zero regrets.

With the top down, the wind attempting to blow through your thick hair, you stare out into the distance. The roads were practically empty and the only sights to see were empty fields of corn and scattered farm animals. You had a long ways left till you reached the mission location in Virginia, and the both of you were exhausted.

You shook your head in annoyance, "not sure why you didn't want to take the jet."

"What? Tired of me already?" He chuckles, reaching over and shoving your knee jokingly.

"And if I am?" You test.

"Then I guess I'll drop you off at the nearest airport and meet you there...with the car," he smirks.

You gasp. "Over my dead body."

Steve erupts in laughter, his head finally turning to meet your eyes as they crinkle from his smile.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

As the bright afternoon began to transition into a purple sunset, the top of your car was pulled back up. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the close proximity between you and Steve in the car much more noticeable.

You watch him drive, his body positioned far back, one hand on the wheel while the other rested on the shift gear. And after hours of wind blowing through his hair, he looks surprisingly adorable. He didn’t look like the clean and tidy Captain that you were familiar with. Instead he truly seemed carefree.

"You keep staring at me," he states, interrupting your gawking and shocking you back into reality.

"What?" You sputter.

He glances at you, a knowing smirk on his stupid face. “I said, you’ve been staring at me for the past five miles.”

“Does it make you nervous?” You question, not wanting to back down and admit that you were indeed staring at him intently.

Steve’s voice comes out shaky, “No.”

You turn your face towards him dramatically, eyes gleaming humorously as Steve becomes visibly frustrated.

“You’re distracting me,” he sighs.

“Am I?” You grin.

Confidence blooming inside of your body, you take your hand and trail it along his pants. Slowly you inch your way upwards, pausing at the waistband.

He says your name, warning you to stop. But you were never one to follow the Captain's orders without a fight.

You slid your hand underneath his sweats, brushing over his hair and letting it rest on top of his groin.

Suddenly Steve swerves right sending you tumbling to the side. “The fuck Rogers!” You shout, eyes wide as he pulls over onto the side of the road and stops the car.

“Get out,” he states calmly. “I’m not gonna tell you twice.”

“Are you forgetting who’s car—"

He shoots you a menacing glare, eyebrow raised as if daring you to finish that sentence.

Standing your ground, you cross your arms against your chest.“This is my car. I’m staying inside of it.”

Clearly you provided the wrong answer because Steve hops out of the vehicle and makes his way to the passenger side. And before you even have the chance the lock the door he was grabbing you, pulling you out and slamming you against the side of the car.

He presses himself against you, nose grazing against your neck as he threatens you to say anything.

“This what you been wanting doll? Wanted me to pull over so I could fuck you for being such a damn brat.”

“Yes,” you breath.

Steve pulls your hair until your lips were only inches apart. “Yes what?” He tests.

You froze, unsure of what to say next. “Yes Steve?” You whisper hesitantly.

He flips your sundress up quickly, a loud slap sounding against your ass. “Try again,” he spat.

Pain and pleasure began to swirl inside of you. The sting still prominent against your skin as you try again. “Yes Captain.”

“Atta girl.” He kisses you roughly, one hand gripping your chin while the other crept its way to your entrance.

You already knew what he would find the moment he pulls down your panties. Being trapped with a man that made you achingly horny for an entire car ride was a dangerous game. One that you had clearly lost because your underwear is soaked completely.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Steve slides his cock out. He knew he couldn’t judge you, not when his own pants had been growing a wet spot after only an hour in of the trip.

You whimper as he began to slowly grind into you. He was thick, veins creeping around his cock making him hypersensitive to every little movement you make. His head was already dripping with pre-cum, the milky substance landing itself between your thighs as he pushes inside of you.

He slid into you with ease, heavy groans escaping his lips from the tight feel. You felt your walls stretch around him, encapsulating him until you withheld everything he had to give.

Steve presses into you roughly, his thrusts quick and deep. He was louder than you expected him to be, filthy words flowing from his lips and serenading you like a song.

A flash of bright lights came into your peripheral vision. Headlights. But Steve had no intentions of stopping. In fact he grips you harder, his mouth hovering over yours as he tells you how pretty you look trapped within his arms.

He reaches down to rub your clit, his grunts growing louder the closer the car approaches.

The car honks loudly, curses flowing from the drivers mouth before continuing to drive off. You wanted to feel embarrassed but instead all you felt was Steve’s cock driving in and out of your sopping cunt. This entire situation was obscene and yet you loved every moment of it.

Arousal floods your core and suddenly you felt yourself gushing against him, screaming out in pleasure as your knees began to buckle.

Steve quickly held you upwards, his pace remaining the same as he sought out to finish inside of you.

“See what you did doll? Came all over me like the little slut you are. You liked being caught didn’t you?” He taunts.

You could hardly speak, words beginning to flow from you mindlessly. “M’sorry,” you babble. At this point, your mind was growing fuzzy and all you want is to feel Steve release inside of you.

“Need you to fill me up Captain. Please,” you beg. “Used to get off on you— fuck— on you cumming deep inside me.”

Steve growls at your confession. The imagery alone sending him into overdrive. He began to picture your fingers dancing along your cunt, thrusting them inside of yourself as you cry out his name.

He pushes deep inside of you before finally letting go. You sob his name as you felt the white ropes being released— and you continued to do so upon realizing that he still wasn’t stopping. Steve was still cumming, his body shaking as he tries his best to continue holding onto your waist.

After he came back down to earth, he rests his head against your shoulder before slowly sliding back out. Both of you shuttering at the action.

Steve turns you around to face him and magically all the confidence he withheld vanishes. He felt small underneath your gaze. Vulnerable.

“Do you actually think about me in that sense?” He questions, referring back to your sex drunken confession about getting off to the thought of him.

You nod. “Yea. But I don’t just think about you sexually Rogers…I like a lot of things about you.”

He blushes at your confession. “I like a lot of things about you too.”

Grinning, you press your lips against his. It was slow and meaningful and neither of you want to stop. But eventually the two of you pull away, sighing in content.

“But if you ever swerve my car like that again Rogers I will kill you,” you point.

“Counting on it,” he smirks.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x woc!reader #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x smut #chris evans character x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve rogers captain america #marvel smut

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sinnerclair · 2 months

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wip of goose chase

It was a cool morning in Norfolk, Virginia. The folks were conversing among themselves. Today was the day that the Dreamcatcher would be arriving and departing at 5pm. In his house, Charlie Taylor was talking with his mother, Betsy Taylor.

“When you get back, make sure to help your sister Bess with the cows,” his mother said.

Charlie nodded as he rummaged through his bag for his train ticket, eventually finding it and placing it neatly in his pocket.

“Alright, ma. I’m leaving for Ellsworth.” He approached the front door.

“Stay safe, dear. Northerners are nasty folk sometimes.” Betsy warned. Charlie glanced at her before leaving.

The Norfolk train station was packed, which was unusual. Charlie squeezed through the crowd to the front. There was the Dreamcatcher, a large steam locomotive. It was quite an old model, dating back to when these machines were first being used, roughly 30 years ago. People soon began piling into the train, and Charlie soon followed suit. As he got in, he gave his ticket to the men at the doors and sat down in one of the leather seats which were damaged in some spots. The train’s horn was heard, signalling the train’s departure. Charlie kicked his legs at the metal floor as the train left the station.

The train ride for the most part was quiet, long, and boring. Some folk talked about shopping, their children, or plans they had for when the train stopped in Maine. The train soon went into a dimly lit tunnel, the only light being the sparks that came off the wheels from the train tracks. However, the train car began to feel unusually warm. Charlie shifted uncomfortably around in his seat as he picked at the buttons of his tweed sweater.

The heat only got worse as the train ride went on. Eventually the train’s windows went dark. Charlie coughed as the air began to fill with light smoke until an explosion went off and Charlie immediately blacked out.

Everything was black for Charlie still. He felt disconcerted, nauseous, and dizzy. He laid on what felt like sand for a few minutes before being poked by someone.

“Hello? Are you alive, sir?” They had an accent that seemed to originate from the Carolinas.

He squinted to regain consciousness, staring at the person who pulled him off Death’s doorstep. It was a woman with a pastel pink Southern belle-style dress that reached to her ankles.

“Oh! You are alive. Good to know I didn’t just poke a dead body!” She chuckled.

Charlie got to his feet and held his head, which was pounding. His ears rang badly.

The woman had introduced herself as Florence Ward. She was from North Carolina and also was on the Dreamcatcher before its untimely demise. While she rambled, Charlie could only worry about his mother back home. She was going to be worried sick.

“Hello? Are you listening, Charlie?”

“Oh, uhm, yes.” He lied.

Florence glared at him. Charlie sighed.

“Where even are we? Are we even in Virginia anymore?” he said.

Florence shrugged, “I would say I knew where we were, but the only sign I found had worn out paint and I could barely read what it said.” Charlie facepalmed.

Florence and Charlie wandered through what seemed to be an endless desert until they spotted a group of gentlemen looking around in confusion. Florence raced over to them. Charlie stumbled after her. The two men had introduced themselves as Edward Louis Gray and Claude Ellis, both from Pennsylvania.

“Were you on the Dreamcatcher too?” Charlie inquired. They both nodded.

“I don’t quite understand what happened. An explosion just suddenly happened. The train seemed fine.” Edward, who had a slight British accent, said.

“I knew something was wrong the moment the train got uncomfortably warm.” Claude added. Everyone else nodded.

“Do you at least know where we are?” Charlie desperately asked. Florence snickered at him.

“Are you going to ask everyone that in hope to get an answer? I don’t think anyone recognizes where we are.”

Charlie sighed, “I guess you’re right.”

Edward eventually spoke up, “There’s nothing bad about having a look around. Let’s see if there’s any towns around.” Claude nodded in agreement as Florence pouted. Eventually, all four of them headed North in a desperate attempt to find anything in the desert wasteland they ended up in.

After almost an hour of searching, everyone was about to give up. Even Edward, who kept insisting the group keep moving despite their many protests and groans.

“Are we even going anywhere? My feet are killing me.” Florence complained.

Nobody responded to her as they were all equally exhausted. As if miracles existed, they began to see a sign up ahead. When they reached it, it turned out to be an entrance to a town by the name of Harpsville, with a population of forty-five.

“Quite the small town.” Claude commented.

“Never heard of it either.” Charlie added.

When they entered the town, it was like they were back in Virginia again. Townsfolk were talking everywhere, kids were playing, and Charlie swore he could hear an auctioneer babbling on. Florence soon went out of sight and so did the others when Charlie realized he had slipped into a daydream while analysing the town.

“Guys? Where did you go?” He looked around in worry.

“Charlie! Get your butt over here before I drag you over here!” Florence was heard.

“Hold on, jeez.” He replied as he speedwalked over to her.

The group had wandered to the heart of Harpsville, known as the Harp.

“Let’s try to find a mayor. Maybe they know how we got here.” Claude suggested. Everyone agreed as they looked around for some type of local mayor’s office. But, before they could move, they felt a presence.

“What are you non-locals doing here in Harps?” Someone growled behind Charlie. They had a Southern accent that Charlie only ever heard when his mother was mad. They nervously turned around to a woman who was two times Charlie’s height, towering over them. She was clad in cowboy wear with a rifle on her back with the initials SM carved in gold on the forestock. Charlie felt himself shrink a few inches as he quickly chose to hide behind Edward, who raised an eyebrow at the woman. She merely laughed at Charlie’s cowering.

“Don’tcha worry, partner. I ain’t going to hurt ya. Unless you give me a reason to.” She chuckled.

“Stop scarin’ him for God’s sake!” Florence snarled.

“I ain’t tryna scare. I’m tryna warn.” The woman replied, “Name’s Scarlett Morris. I’m the bounty hunter of Harpsville. Nice to meet y’all.” She tipped her hat at them.

“Bounty hunter? So, you kill people for money?” Florence gasped.

“I kill the bad people for money. It’s how I keep nonlocals like you out.” she nudged Charlie with her rifle.

“But we didn’t even mean to be here!” Charlie protested.

“Still, it’s my job to keep this town safe.” Scarlett said. “And she does a darn good job at it! So, I recommend you stay outta her way.” A woman nearby added.

“So, you seem to be liked by this town. But we need to know where we are. We were just in New Hampshire a few hours ago.” Claude said, cutting into the argument. Scarlett scoffed, “Wish I could tell ya. This town’s considered in the middle of nowhere. Never really knew either.” She shrugged.

“Are there any other towns nearby at least?” Charlie piped in.

“Not for another three hundred miles.” Scarlett replied. Florence whined.

They eventually settled near a ranch to get food. Florence hadn’t eaten because she wished to make something with the vegetables she had bought and that she had a few caramel candies in her dress pocket to snack on. Scarlett had decided to tag along with the group to keep them safe, but Florence seemed to completely disregard her motives and stayed a fair distance from her.

“Do you think we could find a post office? The seal could tell us where we are.” Florence suggested. Scarlett looked over and shook her head, “Our seal only says Harpsville. We aren’t an established town in Texas yet.”

“How did we end up in Texas?” Charlie tilted his head.

“Now that’s a question I don’t know the answer to.”

Meanwhile in Norfolk, the news of the missing Dreamcatcher had been the talk of the town for a few hours now. The parents of the 5 missing teenagers were huddled around a nearby church.

“The train shouldn’t be too far from the border of New Hampshire and Maine. Maybe they could look around there?” Harvey, Charlie’s father, suggested.

“They already checked near Conway. Didn’t find anything there.” Fleur, whose son James was one of the missing, said.

Betsy hadn’t spoken. She had a worried look on her face. Eventually, the group had a moment of silence to hope their children were alive and well.

Charlie and Edward had decided to explore more of the town to see if any other passengers of the Dreamcatcher had ended up in Harpsville. They eventually found a man named James Silvester.

“I thought I was the only survivor. Everyone here seemed to be as confused as I was when I explained the train, I was on exploded to smithereens.”

“We thought too. This place looked desolate until we found this town. I don’t quite understand how we ended up in Texas out of everywhere.”

“We’re in Texas? How did we end up going South?” James seemed dumbfounded.

Edward shrugged. They brought James to Florence and Claude who were quite happy to know there were other survivors of the possible derailing of the Dreamcatcher. The group noticed it was getting dark, so they looked around for somewhere to stay, eventually settling on an inn named Sunrise. Claude and Edward fell asleep quickly. Florence had gone back outside to see if she could buy more candy despite the late hour.

Charlie was up trying to think of ways the train could’ve ended up in Texas, but alas he came up short. He decided to go to bed once Florence had come back inside.

Meanwhile, while Florence was outside, she had noticed someone. It was a woman in her mid-twenties walking around the Harp as if she was confused. Florence stared in confusion as well, wondering why someone was out here at such a late hour. She walked over to the Harp, only for the person to disappear into the saloon. She stopped and shrugged, turned, and walked back to the inn. Maybe they were just getting a late-night drink.

In the morning, they were awakened by Scarlett firing a ‘morning shot’ as she called it to wake them up. They groggily walked outside to meet Scarlett, who was grinning at them. Florence, grumpy as ever due to being tired, glared at her. Scarlett chuckled at this.

“Why do you need us this early?” Charlie yawned.

“Because y’all ain’t living here if you’re going to be walking around in the middle of the night and goin’ to the saloon. Aren’t y’all like seventeen?” Scarlett scowled.

“No one went outside but Florence, though.” Charlie said.

“That wasn’t me either! It was some woman! I saw her.” Florence retorted.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow before walking up to Florence, “What did this woman look like, exactly?” she asked with a low tone, as if accusing Florence of being the individual.

“I couldn’t see her due to the darkness, but she was wearing a dress. White, and like mine.”

“I will investigate it tonight. You five can go explore, or somethin’. I don’t know what you non-locals do.” Scarlett said before walking off.

An investigation in Norfolk was opened about the missing train a few hours ago. Detective Burns, one of the investigators on the case, was huddled in a small interrogation room with one of the workers at the local station where the Dreamcatcher had been seen before its departure, Madison Smith. The room was dimly lit and slightly uncomfortable due to the incoming summer heat.

“The train was headed towards Ellsworth, correct?” Burns inquired as she looked over, taking a red push pin out of her bun.

“Affirmative. It was carrying a lot of paperboys and girls as Ellsworth had lost most of its own ones due to a mass job shortage, so they needed support from the other newspaper areas across the South and East.” Madison said.

Burns nodded at him and placed a red string in between the two points. She kept the string in place by putting two push pins on Norfolk and Ellsworth. Before they could continue any more questions, a knock came at the door. Burns got up and walked over, answering the door. One of the local newspaper deliverers was there at the door and held a small paper envelope. Burns thanked the person and closed the door.

“Looks like we got a letter coming from Texas.”

As she opened the envelope, there was a small postcard inside that explained that they had reportedly found the remains of the Dreamcatcher in a ditch 300 miles away from any civilization, which had at once made Burns’ face contort to one of skepticism.

“What does it say?” Madison piped in, leaning back in his wooden chair.

“Apparently some folk found the remains of our train in the Texas panhandle. Don’t believe it in the slightest but my gut is saying we should ride down there. Borrow a stagecoach, maybe?” Burns said, fixing her bun.

“Let’s wait it out a bit. We still need to check around, there’s blind spots, y’know.” Madison said. Burns nodded.

The group of five had been spending hours trying to find any source of how they ended up in Texas. But they came up short.

“Are we going to be stuck here forever?” Florence complained.

“I hope not. I’d hate to hear your whining every day.” Scarlett snickered. Florence growled at her.

“Anyways,” she continued, “y’all are going to stay at my family’s ranch until the sheriff can find out how to get y’all back in Virginia.”

Charlie was relieved. Finally, somewhere he was familiar with, a ranch. When they got to ranch, which wasn’t too far from where they walked from, Scarlett left back to the Harp, Florence shooting her a glare before she got out of sight. There was a homestead in front of them, its brown paint seeming at least a decade old with how faded and chipped it was. It had two gray windowsills with faded lilac curtains adorned on each side of the windows. A white portico hung above, providing shade for two chairs set outside. They entered the homestead, which at once alerted a younger child as they ran over to them, tugging on Florence’s dress. She looked down and raised an eyebrow at the child. It was a girl who looked easily five or six, nothing more. She was small and wearing a white dress patterned with sunflowers and trimmed with lace at the sleeves and bottom hem of the dress. She wore small white Mary Janes with frilly ankle-height socks. She was pale and blonde with freckles around her arms, face, and legs.

“Are you the people my sissy is letting stay? She told us a lot about you!” She giggled as she stared at them with large, round hazel eyes. A subtle southern accent laced her voice.

“Yes, we are.” Claude replied, ruffling her hair.

“My name’s Carmen.” she replied as she tilted her head.

James crouched to her level, speaking gently, “Where is your parents?”

“Oh, they’re upstairs. I can get my mom!” she gleefully said as she beamed.

Claude smiled, “That’d be wonderful. Why don’t you fetch her right now? We could use another adult.”

Carmen nodded vigorously and skipped upstairs. As the group waited for the young girl to return with her mother, James started to analyze the place. The homestead was decorated with painstaking detail. The wall was faded with a Norwall wallpaper, which displayed bluebonnets against a beige background. The floors were wooden and mostly spotless. Many papers were framed, congratulating Scarlett and two other individuals on their performance in all sorts of weapon-related activities.

“Looks like this family has a history of bounty hunting, eh?” he commented.

“My family were assassins before we moved here, so not always.” A voice said, a rough southern drawl going with it.

Charlie jumped slightly at the sudden voice but turned around. A woman was standing there. She looked to be in about her 50s or 60s. Carmen was hiding behind her legs, peeking out at them with a smile. She was pale with sunken eyes, short gray hair that barely grazed her shoulders. She had a long pink scar going vertically down her left eye, and some minor scars on her cheek.

“Assassins? So, you are the people who kill for money?” Florence said, her skeptical attitude returning.

“Were. You’re makin’ me sound like a horrible person. Use the correct tense next time.” She growled, her southern accent intensifying.

“But you did used to do it, yes?” Florence spat.

“Only ‘till me and my husband John moved here about 30 years ago. Folk here didn’t quite agree with the term ‘assassin’, so we were labelled as bounty hunters instead. Except we don’t necessarily have to be humane anymore.” she replied.

Florence blinked at the unexpected response. She was used to having the upper hand in arguments. Guess not today.

“Name’s Charity Morris,” the woman continued. “Mother of Permelia, Scarlett, Carmen and Pierce.”

“We’ve met Carmen and Scarlett. Where’s the other two?” Edward asked.

“Pierce doesn’t come out to have a chat usually. He’s out huntin’ right now. Permelia is out in Kentucky fulfilling a bounty offer she was given due to the lack of skill in the own town’s hunters.”

“Ah. Understandable.”

For the day the group stayed at the ranch, not daring to move anywhere else. Everyone was content, except Florence who kept complaining how hot it was. Charlie and Claude were talking with Charity and her husband, John, while Florence helped Carmen with feeding the animals. Scarlett eventually came through the door.

“Did the sheriff say anything?” Claude asked.

“Unfortunately, the sheriff doesn’t know how to get y’all back without a train. He’s sayin’ we don’t have any railway systems either. So, I don’t know what to tell ya.” Scarlett shook her head. Charlie frowned.

“Florence isn’t going to be happy.” he replied.

“I don’t think anyone is going to be happy. We’re stranded.” Claude added.

Meanwhile, Scarlett had gone outside to tell the news to Florence and Carmen. Carmen ran over to Scarlett and hugged her leg. Florence gave her a scrunched-up attempt at a frown.

“Bad news. The sheriff has no idea how to get your group back to Virginia.” Scarlett said as she ruffled Carmen’s hair. Florence whined and kicked the sand in frustration, storming back into the homestead. Scarlett rolled her eyes as she picked up Carmen and headed back inside.

The investigation in Norfolk was coming up devastatingly short. All clues lead to dead ends, and nothing made sense. Betsy was endlessly pacing in the town square, it was only a day since the Dreamcatcher had gone missing, but it felt like weeks to Betsy without her son. Detective Burns and the rest of the investigators on the case had finally decided to listen to the letter sent and headed down south to Texas where the remains supposedly were, and once they got there, they realized the letter wasn’t lying about its condition. It was already rusting and very damaged.

“Do you remember seeing any…corpses inside?” Burns reluctantly asked the question to the men who had sent the letter. They shook their heads. Detective Burns dusted off the side of the train to confirm the authenticity of the remains, and although most of the paint had been scraped off in the accident, the Dreamcatcher’s golden nameplate stood, glistening in the sun.

In Harpsville, Charity was talking to the sheriff. She had her suspicions the man was purposefully lying to them to keep them there, which she was not happy about.

“I thought we had a workin’ train system near the Smith’s ranch? Are ya demented or somethin’?” she hissed.

He blinked at Charity, pursing his lips as he tried to lie his way out of this. But she saw right through him, and it made her even more furious.

“You’re lyin’, aren’t ya? Answer me, goddammit!” She slammed her fists on the table, making Oakley flinch. He could barely respond as he tripped over his words, trying to find an excuse that would diffuse this woman’s ticking bomb of anger. It only resulted in her grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to look at her. He squirmed in her grip as he panicked, sweat dripping down his temples.

“You’re lucky I ain’t an assassin anymore, Ellison, because I would’ve already beheaded your stupid self.” She dug his nails in his arm.

Elison stared at her with wide eyes. He was petrified.

“Don’t try to run, Ell. Because I won't be afraid to go back to my old ways.”

Tension was high in Harpsville as Charity’s threat seemed to echo throughout the town like an old church bell. When the group had exited the ranch and entered the town square, they noticed the town was quiet and still, completely unlike the liveliness they had met the day before. Folk was gathered outside their homes and ranches as they clutched their children and spouses close as they could. The group sauntered awkwardly past the people. They felt eyes all over them. They eventually found Scarlett near the Smiths’ ranch and approached her.

“Scarlett? Why is everyone actin’ as if they saw ghosts?” Florence asked.

Scarlett shrugged, “Don’t know. Been tryin’ to get an answer all day. Nobody’s darin’ to speak. It’s like a darn vigil.”

One of the townspeople, a young woman, eventually walked up to the group. Her eyes were sunken. She spoke, her voice laced with fear.

“Sheriff Oakley’s dead. He was found deceased this morning.”

“…What?” Scarlett said, her tone dropping dangerously low.

“He was found with a bullet hole through his chest. Murder, I say! Murder!” she cried.

The entire town began chanting ‘murder’ before Scarlett silenced them and ushered the five back to the Morris’s ranch. Once they had got there and the door closed behind them, Charlie wasn’t the first to notice Charity staring at them with a skeptical expression.

“The hell’s goin’ on out there?” she asked as she approached them.

“Apparently, Sheriff Oakley was found dead this morning. Nobody’s sure who did it but they’re sure as hell it was a murder.” Scarlett explained.

“Sheriff Oakley was murdered, and it wasn’t me? What a surprise.” She said, handling the situation as nonchalantly as one could muster.

“Is there any way you can get us home yet? I want my mom.” Florence butted in with a whine.

“There’s a railway near the Smiths’ ranch, but we still need to see how far the track goes. We know it ends somewhere in Virginia, though.”

“So, are we just going to completely ignore a murder just happened?” Claude said.

“The law will deal with them; we don’t need to be involved more than we are.” Charity replied.

When night fell, Charlie was having a hard time sleeping. It was 2:08 AM, and all he could hear was the chirping of crickets and the others shifting in their sleep. He got up and silently exited his room, staring at the front door. Charlie carefully walked over to it and peeked outside, a soft chill brushing up against Charlie’s face. He grabbed one of the kerosene lamps near the fireplace, lit it, and exited outside.

Despite having his tweed sweater, the cold night air made Charlie shiver. He began heading towards the entrance to the Harp when he saw a figure walking around. He froze up as his breath hitched in his throat. Who was out this late? He watched the figure appear again, peeking out from behind the local post office. They looked left and right before disappearing behind the building again. Charlie took a cautious step into the Harp, not seeing the figure anywhere and assumed he was just seeing things due to how cold it was. Despite the figure not being anywhere in sight, Charlie felt a sense of dread. He swallowed down his fear and continued further until he heard a noise from the saloon nearby.

He looked over. The noise sounded like bottles clinking together and corks being popped. Charlie walked over, pushed back the swinging saloon doors, and inside. In front of him was a woman who looked to be in mid-twenties. She was holding a large bottle of whiskey in her hand and was visibly tipsy.

“Uh- ma’am? The saloon closed five hours ago.” Charlie tried speaking to her.

“I know…” She trailed off, blinking. It was as if she was trying to form a coherent thought.

“Then why are you here?” He asked.

“Just gotta lay off some…stress. Yeah.” She smiled crookedly, revealing a snaggletooth.

“Do you know anything about the recent murder of Sheriff Oakley?” Charlie hesitantly asked.

“Oh, yeah. Him.” She snickered a little “I killed ‘im. But if ya say anythin’ about me to the investigators, I’ll do the same to you.”

Her words sent a chill down Charlie’s spine before he backed up and bolted out of the doors and ran towards the homestead. He knew one thing, and it was that he did not want to be here anymore.

Charlie hadn’t been able to sleep since that encounter. He wanted to tell Scarlett and Charity about it, but both had left the house by the time he had left his room. When he did, he saw Florence handing out brownies to everyone in the living room, where he saw an unfamiliar figure.

“Oh! Charlie! There you are!” Florence smiled and walked over. “Do you want a brownie?”

“Oh, sure. Thank you.” He forced a smile before grabbing the brownie from the silver baking sheet.

The unfamiliar figure looked over at them and got up. She looked a lot like Scarlett, except her chestnut brown hair had blonde streaks, presumably due to the sun, and had freckles all over like Carmen.

“Howdy!” The woman waved.

“This is Permelia, the woman that was out in Kentucky. She just came back after the news of the murder spread like wildfire.” Florence explained.

He swallowed dryly and spoke, “Something happened last night. I went outside, which admittedly was a very stupid decision, and saw a figure walking around. I followed them and heard a noise from the saloon. This woman was inside. She was very visibly drunk, swaying and all. I asked her if she knew anything about the murder and…she admitted to being the culprit.” Charlie’s voice fell quiet at the last part.

“She…killed the sheriff? What did she look like?” Florence asked.

“…White dress, like yours. Blonde hair. Sunken eyes. Which was weird, she didn’t even look that old.”

“I saw the same woman! She was wanderin’ around the Harp before I saw her enter the saloon. Now you’re sayin’ she admitted to killing Oakley?” Florence’s voice was laced with bewilderment.

“And she threatened to do the same to me if I told anyone.”

“I swear to the Lord if that woman puts a single finger on you, it is on.” She growled. Charlie smiled at her boldness.

“I wanted to tell Scarlett or Charity about it, but I don’t know where they went. Do you know where they are?” Charlie inquired with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I believe Permelia told me they were going to the sheriff's office to meet with the investigators that came down from Virginia.” She explained.

“Virginia? That’s where we came from. Do you think they’re here to pick us up too?”

“Maybe. I hope so, though.”

Charlie and Florence had gone to the sheriff’s office, and sure enough they saw Scarlett, but no Charity. The cowgirl saw them and smiled.

“There y’all are. Where’s the other three?” she asked.

Both shrugged.

“We could get them if you’d like.” Florence suggested, pointing back with her thumb.

Scarlett shook her head, “No, no, it’s alright. You two are the ones the investigators need the most anyway. C’mon. I’ll show you where they are.”

Scarlett began walking. Florence and Charlie seemed confused why but decided not to argue with the girl with the gun. When they had entered the office, there were people lining the halls with muskets in hand. Charlie had recognized their uniforms—they were the Richmond sheriff! One of the deputies started ushering Florence and Charlie over to the interrogation room. When they got inside the room, Charlie froze. There was the woman from the saloon. She did not look happy to be there in the slightest. Florence glared at her and moved Charlie closer to her. Eventually the detective told them to sit down.

The woman was revealed to be Prudence Calloway. She had a history of charges in the past, but nothing as big as murder, mostly just assault. She was left off the hook, which was a decision Florence heavily disagreed with, saying she should ‘burn in hell for all eternity for threatening Charlie’, and all sorts of expletives before the detective settled her down.

Charlie had talked to the officers and, unfortunately, they could not bring them back to Virginia, but could send messages to their parents in Norfolk to let them know they were okay.

When they left, Florence and Charlie began to head back to the ranch.

Florence broke the silence, “You know. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, Charlie.”

“Huh?”

“I know we’ve only really known each other for like, a few days or so, but I like you.”

“…” Charlie stopped and looked at her.

“I know, it’s- stupid. I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh, no. I would be fine…with it. Just surprised. I’ll have to tell my mom, though. She’s weird when it comes to relationships. But it’s just more of a ‘want me to be treated right’ thing. I’m sure she’d approve though.”

Florence smiled.

Chapter 2

When they got back to the ranch, everyone was waiting outside. It was getting late, so everyone went to bed. However, as Charlie tried to sleep, he heard whistling outside. It was quickly interrupted by a woman shouting—which sounded like Florence to Charlie’s tired ears. He got up groggily and looked out the window.

He saw Florence yelling at Prudence, who had somehow found her way onto the property. A whiskey bottle was clutched in her hand. It was clear by the way she was swaying that she was intoxicated. Scarlett must’ve heard the commotion because she had come out and begun ordering Prudence to leave, which was only coherent due to how mad she sounded. Prudence ultimately refused to, leading Scarlett to smack her with her rifle, which made Prudence yell out an expletive and leave. Both Florence and Scarlett went inside, and Charlie finally fell asleep.

Another morning shot was done, except Permelia had fired it. The group walked out front to meet Scarlett and Permelia, who were smiling at them.

“Good news, y’all. The railway systems were fixed, and you all can go home soon. However, the journey is going to take a while, so you’ll be jumping trains to reduce stress and to give y’all time to stretch.” Scarlett explained. Everyone had relieved faces.

Permelia spoke up, “I think I should introduce myself properly now.”

Everyone looked at her.

“The name’s Permelia Morris. I’m the sister of Scar here and the oldest daughter of my momma Charity.”

Charlie smiled, “You have the same name as my aunt. She’s not from Texas, though.”

Permelia grinned, “Alright, ya scoundrels. Let’s get y’all back home.”

The Harpsville train station was much cleaner than the Norfolk Station, at least as Charlie remembered it. His memory was still quite fuzzy. The train they were going on, named Starlight—which Charlie immediately didn’t trust due to the incident with the Dreamcatcher that made the five get into the situation in the first place—had arrived about ten minutes after they had got to the station.

Before everyone left, Scarlett spoke up. “Be safe out there, y’all. It’s been a nice time with you folk. Come back sometime. Just not by some crazy train accident. It’s been enough already for the first time.” Everyone chuckled at that before the train’s horn went off, signalling its departure.

It was only twenty minutes into the journey that Charlie began feeling uneasy. Edward had noticed this.

“You alright, mate? You look as if you swallowed arsenic.”

Charlie looked over at him and fiddled with the buttons of his sweater, “I don’t know. I’m nervous something is going to go wrong again. I think it might just be because of what happened with the Dreamcatcher.” He responded, forcing a smile.

Florence must’ve seen through him because she looked at him with a disappointed look before scooting closer to Charlie and squeezing his hand. Charlie’s face flushed and he looked away. Edward ultimately was feeling uneasy as well. He didn’t want to admit, since he was the oldest of the group. He shouldn’t be feeling uneasy. He sighed and looked out the train’s window, which was slightly blurry due to the speed of Starlight. He noticed the terrain had slightly changed to less desert and to a more rural country area of Texas.

Florence had fallen asleep against Charlie’s shoulder, and he hadn’t moved since. He didn’t want to disturb her sleep. In Norfolk, the messages had arrived, and the parents were much more than relieved.

“Your tellin’ me my Charlie is okay?” Betsy said. She could feel tears in her eyes. It stung in a good way.

“Oh, thank the Lord. Is she going to be okay?” Elmira, Florence’s mother, asked.

Back in Harpsville, the engineer of the Starlight, Edward Simons, had noticed an error in the design of the Starlight and was pacing around in the town square. Lillie Smith, one of the bounty hunters, approached him.

“What in the Lord’s name is goin’ on with you, Simons?” she said coldly. It almost sounded like a snarl.

“You know those folk goin’ on that train back to Virginia?”

Lillie paused for a minute, “Sorta. Permelia has been talkin’ to me about them.”

“Well- I designed the train they went on. I just noticed a design flaw. It can’t go the full way to Virginia. We need to get them back. Before it’s too late.”

Florence had woken to a rather violent shaking of her. She looked up to see a panicked Charlie. He immediately clung to her as Florence looked up, confused about what had happened. The train had stopped, and they were in the middle of nowhere. Again. Florence hugged Charlie and saw Claude was approaching them. Florence nudged Charlie and got up.

“What happened, Claude?” she asked.

Claude shrugged, then sighed.

“I’m unsure. Edward told me to go find James and was wondering if you knew where he was.”

Charlie seemed to have calmed down and spoke up.

“I think he went out for some fresh air right before I started panicking.”

Claude nodded and left.

Back in Harpsville, Scarlett and Charity were getting the horses ready to retrieve the five.

“I’m still mad at Simons for lettin’ that design flaw go through. The kids could’ve died if he realized it any later than this.” Charity sighed in frustration.

“Why don’t you just get the mayor to fire him?” Scarlett asked.

“I would but the mayor hasn’t been seen since those folk had come here. We might have to get them and find out where he is. Unless we’re dealing with a double murder. Wouldn’t be surprised if Prudence murdered him as well.”

Scarlett sighed, “She’s a difficult gal, ain’t she?”

“Yep. Alright, horses are ready. Let’s go find those kids.” Charity hopped onto her Pinto Thoroughbred, and Scarlett got onto her Mustang. They both flicked the reins, and the horses began moving.

Meanwhile, Claude had been looking for James around the area where the train had stopped, but he so far was having barely any luck. He had checked around the train but hadn't found him at all. He was beginning to get worried as he readjusted his fedora.

“James! Where are you, mate?” He called out. There was no response and Claude sighed.

Edward peeked out from the other side of the train, “Any luck with finding him?” he asked.

Claude shook his head and Edward let out a disgruntled sigh.

“Where could that chap be? I told him not to stray far away.” Claude frowned at that. James didn’t seem like the type of person to just wander off like that. Claude only assumed this due to how close he was with James.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you all.” James popped out from the front of the train.

“Christ, mate. I told you to stay nearby. We all thought you left without us to continue the journey to Virginia by foot.” Edward said with an annoyed tone. James shrugged.

Detective Burns and Madison Smith had eventually across Harpsville, and Burns immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Since when was this a town?” she asked. Madison looked up and stared at the sign for a moment.

“No idea. I’ve never been to this part of Texas.” he admitted.

They walked inside and were greeted by a group of bounty hunters. They looked over in their direction, all having mixed reactions. One of them glared, another waved, and one just simply stared at them.

“Hello, folk—do you perhaps know where a group of five teenagers would be? They’ve been missing for a few days now.” Burns asked.

One of them, a woman with brown hair with bleached streaks, had stepped forward.

“What are their names?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow at burns.

“Charlie Taylor, Edward Louis Gray, Claude Ellis, Florence Ward, and James Silvester.”

The bounty hunter nodded, “Yes. They came here for a few days before getting on another train to try to get back to Virginia. But our engineer who made the train, damn him, made a design flaw and were pretty sure they’re stranded again.” she told Burns.

Detective Burns sighed, “Do y’all know if anyone tried to find them?” she asked.

“We have two folk who just left right now to go find them. You may stay here if you like until they return, hopefully, with the kids.”

“That’d be wonderful.” Burns smiled.

The five had been stranded for about twenty minutes but it felt like hours. Luckily, it was bearable since Florence and Charlie had fallen asleep and were curled up together in the corner of the train cart. Nobody bothered them.

Meanwhile, Claude and James were out watching in case anyone rode by that could help them get back to Harpsville. Edward was trying to his best to try and fix the problem with the train, whatever had happened. The sun was beating onto them.

Scarlett and Charity were still riding along the train tracks, looking for any sign of the train. They eventually stopped for a moment and walked their horses to the side and got off them.

“Damn, where did that train go?” Charity sighed.

“Language, ma.” Scarlett said. Charity rolled her eyes.

Smokefall was approaching. Claude and James were beginning to become restless and hopeless, while Edward was beginning to think the train had stopped for no reason. However, explorers Jasper and Almaretta Smith had taken notice of the train and Claude and James who were standing outside, seeming relieved. But—Almaretta had recognized Claude.

“Hold on, is that you, Claude?” she asked.

Claude perked up, “Wait, you’re my mum’s friend, right? Were you sent to look for us?” he inquired.

“Oh, no, we were just exploring. Your mom has been so worried. We would bring y’all back but we’re too far and we don't have enough resources for five more folk to join us.” Almaretta said, her tone filled with regret.

#goose chase (story)

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catchingbigfish · 1 year

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wip intro | decomposing gods

a collection of short stories

summary: Gods have always occupied the land, but when they're forgotten, they die and rot like mere human beings. Across the world, various gods of place are beginning to seek notice however they can -- some more kindly than others.

genres: body horror, eco horror, magical realism

stories:

* The Priestess of Bones: A reanimated filmmaker is beckoned home by the backwoods of West Virginia, where the god of bones and dirt waits for her to take her rightful throne as his consort. Inspired by found footage horror films. * word count: 9.2k * status: drafted

* Garden of Gethsemane: An anchoress -- a woman who confines herself to a cell attached to a church as a living saint -- in medieval England comes to suspect the priest has gone mad as she overhears him holding conversations with no one, until the church burns down and she escapes into the woods, where she discovers the other party to the conversations. * word count: 15k (projected) * status: researching

* Subterranean: A cave diver discovers the legends of undersea caves which look like homes is true. Flash fiction. * word count: 1k * status: drafted

* Narcissus: A nouveau riche suburb is stalked by a burglar breaking into homes just to cover their reflective surfaces with black cloth. At the same time, their pools and fountains are under siege by unknown plant matter. * word count: 5k (projected) * status: outlined; drafting

* Stainless Steel: Rust has begun encroaching on homes like mold. A local mechanic's livelihood is threatened when cars crumble under his touch and it's realized his hands are causing the rust. * word count: 2k (projected) * status: plotting

* Sunlit: A new high-rise in the city boasts an ecosystem into itself where you can work, live, and shop all in the same building. It suddenly closes itself off and fires begin lighting at random while insiders try to get out and outsiders try to get in. * word count: 5k (projected) * status: plotting

#wip intro #wip: decomposing gods #wip: found footage #wip: garden of gethsemane #wip: subterranean #wip: narcissus #wip: stainless steel #wip: sunlit #elle's

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ofuntamedhearts · 15 days

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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME. Tyler James Lockwood

NICKNAME. Ty, Disappointment (his father)

GENDER. Cis Male

HEIGHT. 5′9″

AGE. 18 (Born on February 10th)

ZODIAC. Aquarius sun (independent, assertive, critical), Libra moon (charismatic, relationship-oriented, artistic), Leo rising (attention-seeking, passionate, image obsessed)

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. English, fluent Spanish

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR. Black

EYE COLOR. Brown

BODY TYPE. Mesomorph

VOICE. Tenor

DOMINANT HAND. Right

SCARS. He has a scar on his right leg from when it had to be surgically fixed after he broke his femur during a soapbox derby when he was nine. Various scars over his hands and arms from exploring the woods as a kid/teenager.

TATTOOS.

PIERCINGS. None

BIRTHMARKS. One on the back of his left thigh that he thinks looks like a rubber duck,

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Smile, physique.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

HOMETOWN. Mystic Falls, Virgina

SIBLINGS. None

PARENTS. Richard and Carol Lockwood

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION. Student; trust fund child.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. Mystic Falls, Virginia

CLOSE FRIENDS. Matt Donovan, Caroline Forbes (past version), Elena Gilbert, Vicki Donovan, Bonnie Bennett, Jeremy Gilbert (secretly).

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single

FINANCIAL STATUS. Baby boy is rich rich.

DRIVER’S LICENSE. His license is suspended for not getting his car registered for three years in a row and this man is quite literally not even aware.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Bisexual

PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. Prefers to be the shoulder to cry on, the protector, and the financial backbone.

PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. Tyler thinks he is a top. Tyler is wrong.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. Very committed, but quick to be the person that says they need space (he means for the moment, not for good). His anger makes it easy for him to get into arguments, but he is usually the first person to apologize. He is terrible at communication but is slowly getting better. He is the kind of person to see someone looking at something they want in a shop window or on their phone and just buy it for them, leave it on the table, and never bring it up again. He doesn’t want to be applauded for the things he does for other people, he just wants them know that he cares.

LIBIDO. Very high.

TURN ON’S. Protectiveness, intimacy after emotional moments, being fed from, random acts of passion. Very into sex in public places. Thinks drug use with his partner is romantic.

TURN OFF’S. Forcing him to open up when he said that he wasn’t ready, talk about the future, talk about his parents, nagging, tickling (he gets so damn mad so damn fast), certain songs.

LOVE LANGUAGE. His preferred love languages to receive are physical touch, words of affirmation and quality time. His preferred love languages to give are gift giving and physical touch.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONGS. Boyfriends by Harry Styles / Golden Hour by JVKE / Rock Your Body by Justin Timberlake / 18 by One Direction / Son of a Sinner by Jelly Roll / Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus / Jealous by Nick Jonas / Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros / Bad Habit by Steve Lacy / Mi Gente by J Balvin

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Sketching, target practice, aimlessly driving, working out, graffiti art, super into conspiracy theories.

MENTAL ILLNESSES. Intense rage blackouts

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. None (shout out to good genes)

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. Tyler is so weird because he is incredibly confident in his sexual ability and his ability to attract both romantic and platonic relationships. He is just not confident at all that he can maintain those relationships and he just assumes that everyone will leave him. Knows he’s not the most intelligent when it comes to school, but prides himself on being street smart. Excellent in a fight, has incredible instincts and is confident going into physical altercation.

#hellsmouth.intro #muse: tyler #tw: parental abuse

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ledenews · 5 months

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An OPEN LETTER to … Those Afraid of Downtown Construction Barrels …

Dear Scaredy Cats: The roads are bumpy and there are detour signs. Be warned, too, a portion of Market Street is closed for the installation of a new, overdue stormwater separation system. That’s it. That’s the horror of it all, and despite all of the inconvenience and exaggerated complaints, there’s not an automobile-eating monster waiting to devour your car or truck. Now, there may be a few frustrated folks in downtown Wheeling, but they’re the good people trying to make a living who are really exhausted with all of the untruthful negativity unrighteously preached on social media platforms. For example, it is NOT impossible to navigate Main and Market streets, your vehicle’s alignment is not at risk UNLESS you fail to follow well-posted instructions, parking IS available within a short trek of your destination’s front door, and yes, it is true – WHOLLY MOLY! – walking a block or two IS good for the human body. We’ve complained a long, long time about downtown Wheeling – “it’s a ghost town,” “there’s nothing there anymore,” “there’s nowhere to shop,” “it’s not like it used to be” – but now, thanks to the taxpayers of state of West Virginia, a path for future economic development is literally being paved before our very eyes, and instead of being happy about it, some local residents have chosen to act like an NFL receiver who feel they’re not getting the ball enough? You’ve quit, and worse, you’ve spread frightful and fictitious tales without real experience and that’s just not fair to the people who have dared to do business during this from-scratch makeover we’ve all been begging for over and over again. So, we hope to see you soon, Your Downtown Neighbors https://ledenews.com/an-open-letter-to-fans-of-the-former-downtown-wheeling/ Read the full article

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prnews-press · 9 months

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Adult Real ID Reveals Four Vital Campus Safety Tips for Students Heading to College This Fall

As students prepare to head off to college it can be exciting and stressful for both parents and kids. There are a lot of things to consider from dorm assignments to navigating the campus. In fact, one of the biggest concerns parents have as their child heads off to college revolve around safety since college comes with a new-found freedom for students who are meeting new friends and classmates. However, there is an unfortunate dangerous side with this new collegiate community since not everyone is who they say they are and it’s often discovered too late.

Thomas Kopec, a Co-Founder for the smartphone app, Adult Real ID, understands the danger all too well, “My son’s friend, Taylor Behl, was just seventeen when she was starting a new life as a freshman at Virginia Commonwealth University and disappeared two weeks later. Taylor had met a 38-year-old photographer named Ben Fawley when she was visiting the campus and had no idea he had nefarious intentions. One night, she left her dormitory room at VCU, got into her car with Fawley, and she was never seen alive again. Her body was discovered over 75 miles away from campus one month later. This is just one reason why safety for students is personal for me and why I wanted to create an app like Adult Real ID.”

Kopec’s business partner is a former FBI agent, Jay Kanetkar, and the smartphone app is designed to keep users safe when meeting online connections and strangers. He says, “As an FBI agent, I saw first-hand the risk that online predators pose to both children and adults. That’s why I knew I had to do something to address the threat.”

Kopec and Kanetkar have some vital campus safety tips for students heading to college this fall.

1. Get to know neighbors in the dorm or in off-campus housing. Living alone or away from home for the first time can be overwhelming and becoming friendly with neighbors can create a sense of community and support while looking out for each other.

2. Share class schedules with roommates and parents. Students are encouraged to disclose their class timetables to roommates and parents so that they are able to detect anomalies or discrepancies, should they arise.

3. Stay aware of surroundings and avoid walking alone at night. Students should remain mindful of their environments, especially when they find themselves alone. It is crucial to avoid distractions including being absorbed in texting or talking on the phone when walking to and from the car, class, or coffee shop. Criminals often target people who appear distracted or confused. Also, whenever possible, travel with a friend or a group, especially after dark.

4. Communicate whereabouts to roommates and family. Students are advised to inform their roommates or trusted acquaintances of their intended destinations and anticipated return times—whether they are heading to the library, class, gym, or to meet up with dates or friends. By doing so, these acquaintances can remain aware of their schedules and respond if returns are delayed or if they need to check on their well-being.

“One of the advantages of Adult Real ID is that it allows users to add an event that includes who they are meeting and facilitates the incorporation of verified acquaintances who have successfully undergone a verification process,” according to Kanetkar. “Events can be monitored and tracked until the successful return from the event through the app’s Meeting Tracker. The goal of this feature is to prevent abductions or possible violence.” This approach fosters secure interactions by connecting with other validated users, thereby mitigating the risk of counterfeit profiles and deceptive relationships.

A number of college campuses have already added the app as a new layer of security for their students according to Kopec, “Several universities including Princeton, Texas A & M, and Rutgers have seen the value of Adult Real ID and have secured app subscriptions for every student returning to college this school year to help them stay safe on and off campus.”Everyone concerned about safety when meeting strangers masquerading as ‘friends’ on the Internet or even in real life meetings needs a powerful tool that ensures their well-being. Adult Real ID sets a new standard for responsible online connections and users can get a subscription for as low as $3.00 per month. The app goes beyond identity verification by prioritizing user safety during face-to-face meetings, secure meeting arrangements, emergency assistance features, and fostering a safer digital landscape for everyone.

#AdultRealID #Family&Parenting #Lifestyle #Services #Technology #U.S

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sunsetfell · 10 months

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Beyond the Meadow

TW: sexual violence.

Somewhere in West Virginia, 2017.

I strolled side-by-side with Carson through the meadow. It was a painful hot day in July.

“Cry some more for me, Diana,” Carson said to me. “Your tears will feel cool on my skin.”

But I had no more tears.

At the edge of the meadow, we passed through the backyards of houses and stepped onto the road. From there, it would be several blocks to the warehouse, then hours and hours of work till nighttime.

It was when we rounded the corner at Hollow Road that we saw the woman.

She was lying in the road, sprawled out on her back, unmoving. She looked to be about my age. Strands of hair obscured her face.

I let out a small scream. Carson walked up to the woman and tapped his foot on her shoulder. There was no response.

Carson stared at the woman and shook his head slowly.

“I don’t like this, Diana,” Carson said. “Even if she were just sleeping, the heat would kill her.”

“But she’s not decomposing,” I said from a few yards back. “And it’s such a hot day.”

“Maybe she’s just in the process of dying.” He continued to stare at the woman’s face.

“Can we pour some water on her?”

Carson reached into his backpack and took out the plastic water bottled he’d filled from the tap that morning. It was nearly empty. He poured the remainder on the woman’s face. My own water bottle was empty and I looked longingly at the water as it fell.

Still, the woman did not move.

“I’m going to call 9-1-1,” I said.

Maybe it was the heat, the bright sun, or my shaking fingers, but I couldn’t find the place in my phone to dial a number. After a few minutes of watching me struggle, Carson called 9-1-1 himself and told the operator where we were.

What seemed like ages passed. Then a small patrol car appeared, carrying a middle-aged police officer with a shaved head, no expression on his face, and no intonation in his voice. Not that he spoke much.

“Yep,” the officer said, looking at the woman on the ground from the window of his patrol car.

“What do you mean ‘yep’?” Carson said.

I shushed him.

“Medics’ll be here soon,” the officer replied.

The medics were not there soon. As we waited in the oppressive heat, I could not take my eyes off the woman’s partially covered face. There was not a hint of movement, yet still no scent of decay.

My phone rang. I was feeling too ill to answer, so Carson took it from my hand and put it on speaker.

“Where you kids at?” said the voice on the other end.

It was the shop manager. He wanted to know why we weren’t at the warehouse.

“We stopped to help a sick person,” Carson told him.

“How sick?”

“She might be dead.”

“If she’s dead, she doesn’t need help.”

The manager hung up. He did not tell us to head over right away, or that it was okay to be late.

Eventually, an old, deteriorating ambulance drove up along Hollow Road. The woman was loaded into the back, and it drove off.

When the ambulance was out of sight, the stoic police officer opened the door to his patrol car and motioned for us to get inside.

“Why do we have to go too?” I asked.

But Carson took my hand and led me into the car without speaking.

As we rode, Carson spoke to the officer:

“I guess I won’t have to go see Diana’s constantly nagging parents this Wednesday.”

“What?” I said to Carson, slapping his arm. “What did you say about my parents?”

But Carson did not reply. He just stared out the window to his right, watching the grassy fields go by.

The officer parked at Presbyterian Hospital and led us inside. In a small room in the basement lit by fluorescent ceiling lights, the woman was lying on a table. Her hair still covered her face.

The officer left, and Carson and I stood alone in the room with the body. After a few minutes of silence, I spoke to Carson:

“What did you say about my parents in the cop car?”

But again Carson did not answer.

We stood in silence for what seemed like a very long time. Then a small man, maybe in his sixties and wearing a white coat, walked into the room. He carried a metal toolbox.

Carson left the room. I tried to grab him, but I was still feeling too ill to move swiftly. As Carson closed the door behind him, my body felt cold, like I had just stepped out of a pool. I stood motionless in the middle of the floor.

And there was the man with the toolbox.

He set the box on a counter along the back wall, removed some unfamiliar-looking items, and arranged them next to the box. Then he walked over to me.

“Let’s get this ring off you,” he said.

He reached for my left hand that bore the hefty brass ring Carson had machined for me. I tried to pull back but my muscles were too weak.

“What are you doing?” I demanded to know.

Saying nothing, the man wrenched the ring off my finger and placed it on the counter. He then picked up what looked like a pair of scissors and approached again.

Working slowly, yet with an air of diligence, the man cut the clothes off my body. He started with my jeans, slicing the heavy fabric until they fell to the floor. Then my shirt and bra. Finally, he snipped off my underwear, leaving me naked, still standing in the middle of the floor.

I had given up trying to move.

“Legally speaking,” the man said as he gathered the scraps of clothing and placed them on the counter, “you’re dead. Heat stroke, to be exact. But sometimes I wonder. Human bodies don’t always conform to the law, you know?”

The man finished gathering the fabric and turned to face me.

“What if actually you can tell what’s going on? Some neuron still firing away in a lifeless body—like playing music for the crew aboard a sinking ship.”

He undid his belt and began to unbutton his pants.

“If so, that will make what’s about to happen just a little more… authentic. A touch more real. Because right now, you’re not just a dead body. You’re my dead body.”

I started to cry as I saw what was about to happen. Naked from the waste down, the man walked toward me. Although I could barely make out his face, it seemed to have a look of abject desire.

There was a clapping sound—like fists striking flesh. The man tumbled to the floor, and I even thought I heard him moan in pain, although the sound felt distant and muffled.

“Carson, is that you?” I tried to ask.

But of course he could not hear me. The world around me was fading.

“Carson, you will never know how grateful I am for this. I don’t care what you think about my parents. This makes up for everything.”

And all faded to darkness.

#story #fiction #short story #horror

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sinnerclair · 3 months

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here. have a wip.

“When you get back, make sure to help your sister Bess with the cows,” his mother said.

Charlie nodded as he rummaged through his bag for his train ticket, eventually finding it and placing it neatly in his pocket.

“Alright, ma. I’m leaving for Ellsworth.” He approached the front door.

“Stay safe, dear. Northerners are nasty folk sometimes.” Betsy warned. Charlie glanced at her before leaving.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Everything was black for Charlie still. He felt disconcerted, nauseous, and dizzy. He laid on what felt like sand for a few minutes before being poked by someone.

“Hello? Are you alive, sir?” They had an accent that seemed to originate from the Carolinas.

He squinted to regain consciousness, staring at the person who pulled him off Death’s doorstep. It was a woman with a pastel pink Southern belle-style dress that reached to her ankles.

“Oh! You are alive. Good to know I didn’t just poke a dead body!” She chuckled.

Charlie got to his feet and held his head, which was pounding. His ears rang badly.

“Hello? Are you listening, Charlie?”

“Oh, uhm, yes.” He lied.

Florence glared at him. Charlie sighed.

“Where even are we? Are we even in Virginia anymore?” he said.

Florence shrugged, “I would say I knew where we were, but the only sign I found had worn out paint and I could barely read what it said.” Charlie facepalmed.

“Were you on the Dreamcatcher too?” Charlie inquired. They both nodded.

“I don’t quite understand what happened. An explosion just suddenly happened. The train seemed fine.” Edward, who had a slight British accent, said.

“I knew something was wrong the moment the train got uncomfortably warm.” Claude added. Everyone else nodded.

“Do you at least know where we are?” Charlie desperately asked. Florence snickered at him.

“Are you going to ask everyone that in hope to get an answer? I don’t think anyone recognizes where we are.”

Charlie sighed, “I guess you’re right.”

After almost an hour of searching, everyone was about to give up. Even Edward, who kept insisting the group keep moving despite their many protests and groans.

“Are we even going anywhere? My feet are killing me.” Florence complained.

“Quite the small town.” Claude commented.

“Never heard of it either.” Charlie added.

When they entered the town, it was like they were back in Virginia again. Townsfolk were talking everywhere, kids were playing, and Charlie swore he could hear an auctioneer babbling on. Florence soon went out of sight and so did the others when Charlie realised he had slipped into a daydream while analysing the town.

“Guys? Where did you go?” He looked around in worry.

“Charlie! Get your butt over here before I drag you over here!” Florence was heard.

“Hold on, jeez.” He replied as he speedwalked over to her.

The group had wandered to the heart of Harpsville, known as the Harp.

“Don’tcha worry, partner. I ain’t going to hurt ya. Unless you give me a reason to.” She chuckled.

“Stop scarin’ him for God’s sake!” Florence snarled.

“I ain’t tryna scare. I’m tryna warn.” The woman replied, “Name’s Scarlett Morris. I’m the bounty hunter of Harpsville. Nice to meet y’all.” She tipped her hat at them.

“Bounty hunter? So, you kill people for money?” Florence gasped.

“I kill the bad people for money. It’s how I keep nonlocals like you out.” she nudged Charlie with her rifle.

“But we didn’t even mean to be here!” Charlie protested.

“Still, it’s my job to keep this town safe.” Scarlett said. “And she does a darn good job at it! So, I recommend you stay outta her way.” A woman nearby added.

“Are there any other towns nearby at least?” Charlie piped in.

“Not for another three hundred miles.” Scarlett replied. Florence immediately whined.