#thyselfstarter

[rosierbelle-blog]

setting: yellow book road, 11:22 a.m. availability: open to everyone

Couldn’t the Creator, with all his infinite power, have waited until the workday was over before bringing Earth-shattering news to Hermosa? The key to her father’s mysterious disappearance may have just walked into town, and Belle was stuck working. Customers kept wandering in and gossiping about the newcomers, but Belle knew she couldn’t get any substantial information from eavesdropping behind the shelves. For once books weren’t her escape, but the bars keeping her from running towards the newcomers and begging for information about Maurice. She was antsy, tapping her foot with every purchase and wandering through the book stacks with no clear purpose. 

When a lull in traffic finally arrived, Belle scurried to the back of the store to grab the “CLOSED” sign. Closing the shop in the middle of the day may not have been a good business move, but being her own boss meant she had control over the hours. But just as she grabbed the sign, the bells hanging from the door chimed with the arrival of a new customer. Belle sighed and made a pivot back to the front of the store, calling out, ❝ Hey! What are you looking for? ❞ Hopefully, she could help them as quickly as possible and finally leave. 

[curiovser-blog]

DATE & TIME: June 15th LOCATION: The Ferris Wheel STATUS: Open

The wheel went up and down. The twister spun from side to side. The mirrors lied. People lost at games they knew were rigged. It was the way the carnival had always been, how life had always been. But call it instinct or delusion, but Alice could taste something distinct about tonight, a bitterness on the edge of her tongue. Or maybe you’re just hungry, a doubtful voice interjected, ruining her thought process. 

Maybe that was true. But food could come later - for now, she had work to do.

Work and play. For Alice, they were one and the same - driven by passion and a longing, nay hunger, to know. Tonight wasn’t about the big picture stuff. Tonight was about the people - how they saw Hermosa, how Maurice’s disappearance had effected them. Withdrawing her phone from her pocket, she set it to record, eyes gleaming as she moved to stop the first person in her path.“Hey! Think you could spare a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?”

[witchycoraline]

date: june 15th status: open location: the hall of mirrors

Coraline Jones was not the sort to ignore a good carnival - and Hermosa delivered. Of course, Hermosa had a tendency toward feeling like a carnival any day of the week. Still, this one had the works: a wall of food trucks and their lethal fryers, a ferris wheel climbing the sky, the roller coasters slinking and swirling high as the stars, rigged games galore, and finally, the hall of mirrors. Coraline approached the black box structure - in one hand, a half eaten carton of deep fried mac & cheese - and in the other, a plastic bag, this one containing four smaller plastic bags. Mrs. B had given her some generous spending money, and Coraline had already blown half of it winning these fish. She’d tried her luck ten times, only winning four. “Keep your fish, conman,” she told the kid working the booth. “You’ll be free soon, guppies,” she told the ones she’d managed to win, planning to release them into the nearest pond as soon as she cut out of here.

The hall of mirrors was warm. Coraline almost turned right around and walked out. But, something caught her eye. At every angle, her own face stared back at her - warped and stretched, shrunken and swirled - but there, in the corner, that hair was not hers. She looked around, finding only more distorted versions of herself. It was like a dream. Coraline was no stranger to dreams. She’d had ones like this before - unable to escape her own image, seeing herself from every angle but still unable to see what’s lurking around the corner. “Who and where are you, goose?” she said, outstretching her carton of deep fried food like a shield. She didn’t trust this town of dreams and vanishing inventors.

[ofkingsandshadows-blog]

time: 14:23 location: Moonlight Plaza status: open

It was undoubtedly because of the unbearable fuss that he’d kicked up that morning, but, nevertheless, the police station had agreed to put up a MISSING PET flyer on their public bulletin board. Ram had left the station feeling a pinch more hopeful; unbeknownst to him was the fact that it would soon be covered by other, more important cases and announcements. Despite the remaining dull throbbing in his left arm, Ramón had whooshed his way through Hermosa, pedalling at a punishing pace to get to key places as quickly as possible. He’d littered streetlights around Windsor, store windows in the town centre and poor, poor tree trunks in Little River Park with posters. 

Now, he wandered through the Moonlight Plaza, bothering idle eyes with the sorry sight of his panic as he went up to person after person, offering them a sheet of printed paper. 

He tapped on someone’s shoulder. “Hey, have you seen my Goose?” Consequently, Goose was his cat. Thankfully, the photo on the poster cleared that little detail up. 

[reysclos]

DATE: june 15 STATUS: open LOCATION: the hurricane twister

“I don’t know how anyone can get on this thing!” Rey exclaims, “It’s practically a death trap!” She looks at the way the tracks rattle and shake with every twist and turn a cart takes, and grimaces. Taking a sip of her oversized drink, Rey watches as people shriek with equal joy and terror, and she considers her options. 

She could just stand there and watch the people as they had fun, or she could be the one having fun herself. She feels the plastic of the wristband she’d bought in place of tickets, giving her unlimited access to any ride there, digging into her wrist and she lets go for a second, and allows herself to move into the line with only a sly smile on her face. 

“I take it back, it looks fun. Come on, let’s go together!” 

[lincolnikenna-blog]

Date: June 15th Location: Food Truck Alley, pre-earthquake Status: OPEN

Dedicating the summer carnival to a man who had allegedly disappeared seemed a little misplaced for Lincoln’s taste, the blatant encouragement to have fun and carry own everyone’s merry ways in the face of danger was almost laughable. But who was he to say anything against the well-intentioned townspeople of Hermosa? Moreover, who would he be if he didn’t show up to the event itself and show his face as well as his support for the poor man? Sympathy was a curious thing, one that he often found lacking in himself, but a part of him did feel a vague tug at his emotions at the thought of losing his mother the same way.

He had every intention of leaving early, but with the way everyone greeted him and stopped to speak to him, he found himself more occupied than not. Though mildly irritated at the constant conversations, he knew better than to let himself show it and answered each question with a practiced sort of precision that could only be associated with a politician. Life was a competition to see who could claw their way to the top the fastest and he would make sure he’d be the one to do just that. 

He’d stopped for a drink at some food truck he’d forget the name of five minutes later, water in hand as he spun a little too quickly. Colliding into someone, he managed to both spill some of his drink on his immaculate suit and them as well as accidentally elbowing someone in his haste. Almost immediately, he began to run damage control. The last thing he needed was to lose his temper over something so little. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve made sure no one was behind me.” His words were sticky sweet, filled with faux regret as he moved to grab napkins. “It’s just water, but I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

[yveolaluz-blog]

different smells filled the air as laughter echoed through the evening, the food truck alley being crammed with unknown faces all eager to try the different types of food that had made it to the carnival. everyone seemed busy in their own world, the blonde’s curiosity piquing as she couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversations she’d pass: a group of high schoolers debating where they were off to next, a child begging it’s parents to go back to the petting zoo, a couple jokingly critiquing which food truck was the best, middle aged women talking about the disappearance of maurice. 

the latter conversation catching gemma’s attention as her focus shifted from curiously trying to hear glimpse’s of conversations as she walked over to the next food truck, to softening her pace as she walked behind the two trying to make out their not so subtle whispers. she’d heard about the missing man from her mother as she warned gemma about the dangers of the outside world, using it as her newest example as to why the blonde was safer trapped in the walls of her own house. it was something gemma had tried to protest, refusing to believe that things were as simple as that. 

her determination to find a fact to prove her mother wrong causing her to become distracted, failing to realize where she was headed and who she was headed away from. as the conversation faded into something else, gemma’s focus returned to the environment around her. she was nowhere near the food trucks, her closest recognizable landmark being the entrance to the hall of mirrors.

“oh, no,” she gasped, green eyes widened as froze in place, head whipping frantically from one side to another trying to find kingsley. “no, no, no, no!” she cried out, a little voice in her head telling her not to panic yet gemma was about ready to start running. there was no way she’d be able sneak back in let alone get back home without his help. no, she was done for. her mother would never hear her out, she’d lock the door then throw away the key and never let gemma see the daylight again. without giving it another thought, she let instinct take over as she began to run — or more like shove her way through the mass of people. a small scream leaving her lips as she crashed into another body as she turned the corner, causing her to stumble backwards and look up in fear. “oh, no. oh, no. i’m sorry. i didn’t—i was just—i wasn’t trying—i just,” she stuttered, trying to find the right words.

[princessrebcrn-blog]

location: the ferris wheel 

date: june 15th

status: open

          This was the year Stacie Volkova would conquer the Ferris Wheel — or so she reinstated in her mind time and time again, en route to the grounds where the summer festival was held.

          It was that of a man on a mission — the expression donned on the girl’s face. Summer after summer since she first arrived, no ride stood hand-in-hand with Fear, save one: that dreaded Ferris Wheel. She attributed it at first to its size — colossal and daunting, taking the hearts of even the bravest of mortals. With her stature, the ride’s greatness seemed only to multiply. What was she except a girl who still explored the world with naivety and fear? A few years passed and — though massive the Ferris Wheel remained — Stacie’s consciousness grew tired of placing the blame on its size. She grew in numbers measured only by age now; and fear was no longer as valid an excuse as it once was.

         Of late, Stacie has rationalized her avoidance of the ride as one, simple thing ( how could she not have seen it before? ): she’s not used to heights! That was all — an innate unfamiliar feeling that created discomfort. She’s probably never even flown in a plane before.

         But after all that had come to pass during these few previous weeks, with Maurice’s disappearance  — coupled with her own bouts with existentialism and the search for a greater meaning  — vigor awakened in Stacie, pushing her to abandon all other notions. She stood now, at the bottom of the mundane thing that instilled fear in her the first time she properly called Hermosa home, wondering if this very ride would be the beginning of something else — euphemism for something else, perhaps? A step forward was all it needed for her to take her seat, buckle in safely, when —

        ❝Stop, no!❞️ The words arrived out of nowhere ( they sounded unwelcome, almost ); still, they rung clearly amidst the music and noise. Existential crisis or no, the girl was not going to risk everything because of a simple urge. ❝You are going to let me get off this thing right now and — no, I don’t care if I’ve paid, or how long it will take you to give me a refund!❞️ A collective groan came from the already lengthy line laying in wait for Stacie’s dramatic fit to be resolved.

[witchycoraline]

status: open location: hermosa county animal shelter

“C’mere, slug,” she said, pulling the smokey colored cat back to her lap. “You gotta look pretty if you want some old crow to take you home one of these days.” Coraline sat crisscross in the middle of the small room, brushing this conniving cat’s long, somewhat matted fur. “Of course, I’d take you home just like this,” she mused, running her fingers along the slowly smoothing coat. “But, you know Mrs. B hates cats.” Something in her said red flag, something louder said IGNORE IT. Coraline was half-cat herself, she figured. She seemed to occupy the same wavelength as these sneaky, slinky little guys: their eyes and tails alert, their little legs always poised to run. Coraline knew about running.

The cat relaxed in her lap, succumbing to the kneading motions supplied by Coraline’s brush and fingers. “Maybe you can be my psychic’s assistant,” she whispered. “What kind of witch doesn’t have a cat?” The handful of other cats in this small room continued on ignoring them. They slept like the dead on cat towers in the corner, they investigated their food bowls like they were considering the threat of poison.

Something opened the glass door then, and her psychic’s assistant went bounding for the exit. She couldn’t blame him, but there was someone she could blame. “What are you, some kind of vigilante whose idea of justice is letting cats loose in an overcrowded and understaffed animal shelter?” Of course, the rest of the cats had only ignored the door and the gray blob running toward it. Still, Coraline had spent the better part of the hour trying to brush this cat’s hair, and as soon as she’d managed to keep him still - voilà. “You better have a good reason,” she said, standing from her spot in the center of the room, and stepping forward in attempt to grab the cat back.

[reysclos]

DATE & TIME: Tuesday & Noon STATUS: Open  LOCATION: Little River Park

Rey was just finishing up her morning run, the cool air becoming thick and making the sweat stick to her skin. She stops, sipping drinks from her water bottle and taking a seat on a park bench overlooking the river. It’s scenic, she’ll give the park that, even if a bit of sadness still sits in her stomach when she remembers the good times she’d had there with her father. Her mind wanders from there, and she walks towards the restaurants that line the park, trying to find someplace to eat before she returned to Solo Automotive for her afternoon shift. 

She pauses outside a restaurant, and asks another person who’s standing around, “Is this place as good as the Sentinels say?” 

[yveolaluz-blog]

while the friendly smile on gemma’s face suggested otherwise, the truth was that the blonde was at her wits end. it was one thing to sell her art from the safety of her own bedroom. it meant no face to face interactions, no chance of gemma feeling vulnerable or judged for what she created. but bringing her art to the festival for others to see? to judge and hold right in front of gemma’s eyes? that was a completely different story. gemma may have been naive but she wasn’t stupid. she could tell when someone didn’t like her art and as much as she tried not to take it personally, she couldn’t help otherwise. everything she made had a little piece of her in it, she always put her heart into what she made from sketches to paintings, it all had some sort of meaning. 

said meaning that left gemma feeling vulnerable, only able to smile and watch as people walked by, curious eyes critiquing her work as all she could do was watch. arms wrapped around her chest as she leaned back on a table that displayed her paintings. green eyes trailed as new figure approached her stand, eyes following theirs as she tried to think of something clever to say. she had nothing — “great weather, don’t you think?”

[ofkingsandshadows-blog]

STATUS: open LOCATION: food truck alley

“C’mon, man.” It was a whinge that was well-known throughout Hermosa. Some found it endearing; others (the majority), irksome. Either way, Ramón didn’t care. He’d done it as a kid– hell, sometimes he still felt like one –and he’d carry on doing it now. Whining usually got him what he wanted. 

He flashed his puppy-dog eyes at the poor, nervous girl standing behind the hot dog stand. She was glancing around, looking for somebody to save her. Ramón pushed on. “I saw you give that guy a beer. Can’t you do me a solid? Please? Pretty please? I’m dying here.” Nothing. At this point, Ramón would flash his money, slide a few bucks across the surface between him and his prize, and get what he wanted. Just as he was reaching for the bulging leather wallet in his pocket, however, he felt someone’s hand slap onto his shoulder. With raised eyebrows, he turned to face them.  “Tell me you know where I can get a drink in this place.”