#you are in a graveyard that is fairly old and each headstone is a bit weathered

[darkmatter-swordsman]

Marluxia dream

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Harold Chasen

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Harold meet through a certain eccentric 80 year old. 

- Maude flitted through life without a care in the world, relishing in things like joy and romance; even if they weren’t technically her own. So when she sees two strange, lonely little souls going through their day to day lives without a certain somebody to make them smile, she decided that she wanted to do something about it. 

- Chances are, she “collected” you first, forcing her friendship upon you until you couldn’t imagine your life without her chaotic influence. And, after you were perfectly comfortable in her presence, she found the pessimistic Harold and decided that he would be perfect for you. 

- So, you were invited over for some tea and introduced to the young man; shaking his hand before the two of you were ushered to sit at Maude's tiny little table. 

- The interaction was probably sprung on the unsuspecting Harold but; unlike when his mother did it: this time he didn’t mind. Perhaps because it felt so natural....

- When his mother invited women over it always felt overbearing and forced, whereas; while Harold had a bit of an idea as to what Maude was getting at, it still just felt like he’d been invited over to meet another friend of the older woman.

- Maude behaved like her pushy self and you were perfectly pleasant; regarding him with the polite interest of a new friend rather than the polished behavior of someone trying to make a romantic first impression. 

- After the two of you meet for the first time, Maude immediately begins to get the two of you closer, inviting you both out with her on her daily adventures and not so subtly pairing you off together while she does something important to her. 

- Because of this, the two of you wind up getting to know each other and developing a mutual attraction fairly quickly. So much so that Maude doesn’t even have to push you together anymore; you just wind up falling into step with each other naturally. 

- Harold definitely goes to Maude to ask what he should do about his growing feelings for you; and eventually how he should ask you out and where to take you. 

- You probably aren’t completely aware that you’re being taken out on a date when Harold first asks if you want to come with him to the amusement park; you just think he wants to spend some time with you or that Maude was busy. 

- So when you’re sitting together and he presents you with an engraved coin that confesses that he loves you, you’re arguably a little surprised. But, regardless of how shocked you are, you can’t help but smile and tell him that you love him too, clutching the coin tightly in your hand. 

- The two of you share your first kiss right then and there, leaning in and pressing your lips together like a vow: a promise that your new relationship starts now and never ends. 

- There’s quite a bit of Pda in your relationship; though you usually stick to rather innocent and reserved forms of it. You’re the first person he’s ever really loved so he enjoys touching you and doing the usual things that couples do.

- Leaning your head on his shoulder. He likes to wrap his arm around you and lean his head on yours whenever you do.

- Interlocked arms or holding onto his arm as the two of you are sitting or walking together.

- Handholding.

- Soft, delicate kisses.

- Long, passionate kisses.

- He usually doesn’t use pet names but he doesn’t mind using them or having you use them on him if it’s something that you like doing. If you do want him to use pet names then he tends to call you darling or sunshine; or something specific that relates to you like sunflower or curly sue. 

- The two of you cuddle a lot; it’s one of his favorite things to do. You usually end up with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you, his hand cupped around your side.  

- Him carrying you on his back. He loves racing down some beaten path with you clutching onto his shoulders, laughing as the wind blows through your hair. 

- Harold sort of just lets you drag him through whatever you want to do. He’s just there for the ride whenever you want him to be; and enjoys seeing you so happy just because he’s willing to go along with you.

- Having your own little adventures and doing a new thing every day.

- Meeting early in the morning and spending the entire day out with each other.

- Tea parties.

- Watching buildings getting torn down together. 

- Picnics; sometimes at your favorite headstones or on the rubble of old buildings. 

- Strolling through graveyards and attending funerals together. 

- Dancing together. 

- Laying in the back of his hearse. 

- Cruising around town and going on road trips; especially after Maude’s death: it’s the way that the two of you honor her and her love of experiencing new things. 

- Random visits. The both of you just show up at each others homes whenever you feel like it; hoping that the other is actually home to answer the door. 

- Stargazing and admiring the world around you together. 

- Carnival and amusement park dates.

- Spontaneous gifts. Sometimes sentimental, other times just something he knows you’ve wanted; he’s got enough money to spend on them either way. 

- He thinks of everything when it comes to surprising you. Whenever he wants to celebrate something special or just do something sweet to let you know that he cares, he always manages to come up with an evening that seems like it was pulled right from your own imagination.

- He loves listening to you talk and tell stories. He never gets tired of it and always acts like its his first time hearing them; even if you cycle through the same ones over and over again. 

- Taking turns sharing your interests with each other. He likes getting little glimpses into the things that you enjoy doing.

- Helping to break him out of his shell and inspiring him to enjoy the life that he has.

- Doing whatever you feel like and not letting the world judge you for it.

- Him taking up a hobby to impress you and make you happy, like how he took up the Banjo for Maude; which he plays for you often.

- Picking flowers and making flower crowns. 

- Combing each others hair, zipping up dresses, helping the other put on their coat, etc. The two of you are constantly grooming and otherwise tending to each other. 

- Him complimenting you and telling you how much fun he’s had with you. He can’t help but express how much you mean to him and how much you’ve helped to improve his life. It’s important to him that you know. 

- He’s memorized all of your little ticks and quirks: like the way you lick your lips before speaking or brush your hair behind your ear when you're nervous. Every now and again, he’ll bring it up to you, asking you if you know that you do said thing or telling you that it’s cute. 

- The two of you have made a game of choosing different things that remind you of the other person: types of flowers, animals, etc. Whenever he sees them, it always makes him smile and think of you.

- Him acting like the perfect gentleman: always pulling out your chair, holding doors open, or giving you his coat. His mother probably instilled a whole bunch of etiquette onto him from the minute he was born so it’s second nature to him at this point. 

- Helping him get out of the predicaments his mother gets him into. 

- Dear god, the first time his mother met you, she just about lost her mind. She was ready to throw you in a wedding dress the moment you stepped through his front door. 

- He somehow always knows how to cheer you up and get your mind off of things that upset you; yet he oftentimes only does so incidentally. He doesn’t even know how he manages to succeed himself half the time. 

- Harold tends to stay fairly “blank” when he’s jealous, rarely giving away just how much he’s affected by something with the facial expressions that he pulls. He purposefully tries to appear as nonchalant as possible, putting on a happy face and trying to ask a few questions about the situation to see if he actually needs to be worried. 

- You’re the most important person in his life so he’s obviously a bit protective of you; though it’s more in the sense of keeping you healthy rather than keeping you safe. He’s more likely to tell you to put on a coat or to sleep more than he is to fight someone for you. 

- Harold is; frankly, really bad at fighting with you, so even if the two of you did regularly have something to argue about, they wouldn’t last very long. 

- Whenever you do manage to have a fight, he tries to mend things between you pretty quickly. He doesn't want to stay mad at you and have you mad at him so he’ll just do his best to work things out before the two of you get to a point of being angry with each other. 

- He loves telling you that he loves you. There’s just something so nice about being able to love someone; especially someone as amazing as you, and to be able to show it and tell them that you do every single day. 

- Harold proposes pretty quickly. He knows that he loves you and wants to keep you by his side for the rest of his life so don’t be surprised if he pops the question after a meager few months. 

[knox-knocks]

Timeless ~ Chapter 2

read on ao3 

The clock on the stove told Andrew that it was about time to get ready for work, yet Andrew didn’t move. He tossed around the idea of staying where he was, seated cross-legged on top of the counter, and letting his shift pass him by. He tapped his fingers on his knee as he thought. He could just never show up to his work again, he could call in sick or even say he was quitting and to not expect to see him again, but that wasn’t the problem.

Andrew didn’t hate his job. It was an ordinary job at a non-descript diner much like all the other diners and bars he’d worked in all the other cities he’d lived in. The job wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Andrew has been in this city for three months now, and he’s done absolutely nothing.

He knew that he would make his way back to Columbia again. Every couple years or decades or so Andrew always circled back around to Columbia and stayed for at least a couple months. He wasn’t tethered to the place, he didn’t feel an ache in the center of his chest whenever he saw familiar buildings or the new ones in place of the old. It wasn’t home, no more than it was just another city. He certainly was not attached to Columbia whatsoever. He just preferred to visit the graves of his family every once in a while, no matter how decrepit the stones became. And now Neil’s. A small voice whispered in the back of his head. Andrew squashed it.

It was harder to be back in this city after the year he spent with Neil. Even after so much had changed – and a lot had changed in the seventy years since Andrew has seen the place – it still reminded him too much of Neil. And Andrew didn’t want to think of Neil at all; the ache he harbored could not be blamed on illness, considering Andrew couldn’t get sick.

The dim green light from the stove blinked 3:18 PM. If Andrew didn’t hurry, he’d be late to his shift. With a dull sigh, he pushed off from the counter and landed nimbly on bare feet. It was cold in the apartment, but Andrew preferred to save money on the electricity bill. He didn’t necessarily need to eat, sleep, or even breathe, but it was not fun to run out of money and have no place to stay.

Andrew walked to the diner, and even though it wasn’t too far away from his apartment, he was still late by several minutes. He ignored his boss ranting at him as he tied the apron around his waist and clocked in. It was a fairly busy day at the diner – probably because of all the renovations done to make the old place more “modern” – but the trickle of people through the doors was nothing Andrew couldn’t handle.

Andrew Minyard had been alive for a very, very long time. Much longer than most people, he supposed. It was hard to forget how many years passed with a memory like Andrew’s, but Andrew did his best. Even so, he knew that within a couple weeks he’d have been alive for nearly two hundred years. One hundred ninety-four to be exact. Much too long, in Andrew’s opinion.

Although Andrew had lived for many years and the seconds didn’t pass by the same way anymore, his shift seemed to drag on. When it was time to clock off, the night sky was already dark and the autumn air was crisp and chill. Andrew was glad he brought a jacket.

The streets were empty and quiet during Andrew’s walk back to his apartment, despite it not being very late. The dark sky stretched over him like a thick blanket, dotted with stars that peeked through the hazy light pollution. Andrew used to like to find the constellations at night, before all the stars were washed out by the harsh city lights. Now he tipped his head back and counted as many as he could see. There weren’t as many as when he was a kid, or even as many as there was seventy years ago.

Andrew closed his eyes. The last time he tried counting the constellations, he was with Neil. And now Neil was god knows where, if he was even still alive. Andrew didn’t care where he was, he sent Neil away for a reason.

Except Andrew did care. Much like how he always circled back to Columbia, Andrew’s thoughts always circled back to Neil. Even when it had been over forty years since he last saw him.

He tried to stay away, to distract himself, but Neil had been the burst of color in the drag of Andrew’s very gray life, and even that tiny sliver of a year they had together had meant something. (Andrew wanted to regret it, letting Neil in, falling for him. Neil’s death and further absence had torn a hole in Andrew’s heart that he didn’t know how to mend, no matter the years that went by. But Andrew never did believe in regret.)

A couple years ago, Andrew had slipped into a public library (when those were still around) to get out of the rain. He hadn’t meant to, but he found himself at the decrepit mac computer that belonged to the library searching for Neil’s name. Nathaniel’s name, rather. The search hadn’t heralded very many results, and what it did Andrew already knew from Neil, but there was a grainy black-and-white picture of Nathaniel. Neil.

The dark red of his hair and the chilly blue of his eyes didn’t come through in the photo, the graininess obscured his freckles, and there were no scars that marked his face, but it was him. 1921. A year before Nathaniel’s death, nearly one hundred thirty years before. After seventy years, a hundred, a hundred and thirty, Neil’s features had barely changed.

Andrew left the library and never looked Neil up again.

A small meow startled Andrew from his drifting thoughts. He blinked and turned around to find a mangy cat behind him. Andrew stared at it, and it stared back with great big yellow eyes.

“Go away,” Andrew said, but the cat didn’t move. It meowed again, more of a yowl this time. Andrew sighed and threw it one of the left-over chicken strips his manager convinced him to take home. The cat blinked at him with its unnatural eyes, snatched the chicken strip up in its mouth, and darted into some nearby bushes.

Andrew stared after it before he continued on to his apartment. Maybe tomorrow he’ll make a trip to the cemetery, since it was his day off.

~

It was a sunny day, the sky streaked with only a few fluffy white clouds and the air pleasantly warm despite the winter months approaching. It seemed inappropriate considering where Andrew was going. He thought it should be dark and gray outside, stormy with a hint of rain and thunder. It should have matched how he felt inside.

The cemetery was a lot farther than the diner, so Andrew took the bus. He generally tried to avoid this part of the town as much as possible. No matter how much it had changed, everything still reminded him of Neil.

At least the entrance to the cemetery still looked the same. Aside from the shiny iron-gate fencing it in, it looked untouched. The fields were green and lively, pockmarked by various marble headstones. The newer tombstones were closer to the front, Aaron and Nicky’s graves were in the back, shaded by large, knotted oak trees that had been planted sometime in the late 1970’s. Not a lot of people chose to be buried anymore, there just wasn’t enough room, but the city took good care of the land already reserved for the dead.

It was bright, sunny out. Not a lot of people were milling around the paved pathways in between the fields of graves, so Andrew would have plenty of privacy. And yet he couldn’t quite make himself walk past the gate. He had walked these paths many times before, and he knew exactly where his family was buried, but every time Andrew thought about entering the graveyard, something stopped him.

It might have been because Neil was in there too, or at least some iteration of him was. It had been over seventy years since that day, but Andrew still remembered Neil’s death oh so clearly. He remembered Neil’s sharp yell, cut suddenly short, the loud thud, and Andrew’s pounding heart as he ran to the bathroom. Most of all, he still remembered the keen panic that tore its way through his body when he found Neil bleeding out on the floor, the showerhead still dripping water.

It was stupid. Neil came back. He didn’t stay dead, but Andrew never wanted to go through that again. He could never watch Neil die and just be okay with it afterwards. Still, he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss his mouthy red-head with every inch of his being.

Andrew stared out past the white marble headstones, the flowers and photographs adorning each grave, and turned away.

~

The cat was waiting outside Andrew’s apartment when he got back. Andrew glared at it, but the cat just blinked its yellow eyes and swished its fluffy tail. Now that it wasn’t obscured by the dark, Andrew could see that it wasn’t even that old, but its gray fur was clumped and mangy and one of its ears had a chunk bitten out of it. The cat twitched its whiskers expectantly.

“Go away,” Andrew said. “I don’t have any more chicken for you.”

The cat meowed and batted at Andrew’s shoes. When he didn’t react, it twined itself around his ankles, nearly making Andrew trip. Andrew cursed and caught himself on the door before he could fall face first into the “welcome” mat. The cat didn’t look the least bit guilty.

Scowling, Andrew unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal his empty apartment. Before he could get inside and close the door again, the cat streaked past his feet and darted into the dark apartment. Andrew snarled and kicked the door closed.

The cat was a good hider, even when Andrew’s apartment was completely bare except for a mattress and a couple blankets. Andrew found the mangy thing hiding behind the shower curtains in the bathroom. He briefly debated turning on the water and flushing it out, but the cat gave him an inquisitive meow? and Andrew decided to leave it be for the time being.

“One night,” Andrew said, wondering why he was talking to a cat. “You get one night and then I put you back outside.”

Three days passed and Andrew came back with his arms laden with bags of cat food and litter. He’d even gotten two food dishes and a dumb toy he only bought because it was discounted. He didn’t need much; the cat was only staying through winter after all. Then Andrew would release it back into the wild and he’d sell everything and get ready to move on again.

The cat did have its benefits, Andrew could begrudge it that. It was easier to get out of bed everyday when he had an animal to feed and look after, and when it grew cold at night the cat was a small heater curled up next to Andrew’s side. The bed the cat doesn’t use and the toys scattered around made the apartment seem a little less empty. Andrew had to take it to the vet to get shots and the mats cut out of its fur, but otherwise the cat was easy to care for.

Suddenly, Andrew’s life seemed a little less gray.

~

Eden’s Twilight had barely altered since the last time Andrew had visited the night club. Neon lights flickered and flashed, cascading errant shadows on the walls and the frenzied bodies dancing to the loud music pulsing through the nightclub like a sickening, heavy heartbeat. Inside, the music smothered every thought in Andrew’s head; but as soon as he stepped outside the music was dulled to a muffled beat, low vibrations Andrew felt from where his back was pressed against the wall. From around the corner, Andrew could see the line queued up outside, black-clad bodies adorned with chains and buckles milling around and waiting for admittance as the club was at its peak for the night.

Even after three hours spent amidst the sweaty bodies and crushing music, Andrew wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. Eden’s was an easy place to find someone to hook up with if needed, but the thought of his hands on someone, or someone’s hands on him put him on edge. Andrew had needs, but he attended to them with a quick hand, no one else was needed. He hadn’t truly been with anyone else since Neil left, nor did he want to, but Andrew had entertained the thought for the past couple days, juggling it around in his head before catching it and dissecting it from every angle. This could be good for him, if only to blow off some steam.

Andrew dropped his finished cigarette and ground it out with his foot. He bought new clothes for tonight, tight black jeans with rips up and down the legs and a mesh black shirt that clung to his arms and shoulders. He kept his armbands on, and he still had the same black boots he always wore, familiar and comfortable on his feet. Andrew stuffed his carton of cigarettes in his back pocket, secured against his wallet, and turned to go back inside.

A loud pop and a crash, nearly swallowed by the crunch of the bass inside, made Andrew pause. He was alone when he stepped in the alley, but someone could have followed him out the door since left it open a crack so he could get back in. Andrew expected to find a drunk couple, maybe someone who stumbled out alone, but instead the sight made his stomach drop.

It was dark in the alley, and the figure was shrouded in a gloom, but Andrew had no problem seeing who it was. Andrew could never forget a face, especially not this one, with the scars and the blue eyes Andrew had tried so hard to forget after so fervently committing to memory.

Neil Josten was doubled over a trashcan, his chest heaving like he’d run a long distance. When he tried to move, the metal trashcan tipped over with another loud crash. Andrew stood frozen as Neil stumbled around, looking as his he was trying to regain the use of his legs. Behind them, the noise attracted the attention of some of the people waiting.

That was when Andrew noticed the blood on Neil’s face.

The murmur of voices behind Andrew snapped him out of his trance. Right when Neil dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, Andrew was at his side in an instant. Neil’s eyes were closed and blood dripped from his nose and ears, smearing when Andrew brushed his hair back to better see his face. Every breath he took was a struggling rasp in his chest. Andrew had never seen Neil come back from the void, but Neil never said it was like this.

“Oh my god, is he alright?” Andrew clenched his teeth as a couple people surrounded him and Neil. He pulled Neil closer, easing him onto his lap, as his hands tightened in his shirt.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” a girl with heavily-black lined eyes said, phone in hand.

“No,” Andrew snapped. An ambulance would only complicate this. He needed to get Neil back to his apartment and figure out what to do from there. Neil’s eyes were still closed, but his breathing was starting to even out.

The girl and her friends looked skeptical, but Andrew leveled a glare at them. “He’s with me and this happens a lot. Mind your own business.”

With that, Andrew heaved one of Neil’s arms over his shoulders and pulled him up. No one protested when Andrew passed by, Neil’s feet trailing weakly behind, more dragging than walking.

It was a long walk back to the apartment and at some point Neil passed out entirely, forcing Andrew to hook one arm under his legs and the other under his shoulders and carry him like that. He couldn’t take the bus or hail a taxi, it would look too suspicious with Neil unconscious and bloody. When Andrew got to his apartment, he shifted and eased Neil down so he could free up a hand to unlock and open the door. The cat greeted Andrew when he walked in, still carrying Neil in his arms, but Andrew ignored it and deposited Neil on the mattress in his bedroom.

Something was wrong, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. When Neil explained how he left the void he mentioned that sometimes he crash-landed, but he’d be up and walking within minutes. This was different; there was too much blood and Neil had barely stirred since he appeared in the alley.

Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor next to the mattress. This couldn’t be real. Andrew hadn’t seen Neil for years, decades, what was the likelihood of Neil popping up in the exact spot Andrew was in? Neil had to have done this on purpose. Even after Andrew told him to stay away, Neil was here and it hurt all over again. He thought he should be angry, but all he felt while he looked at Neil’s prone form on his mattress was shock, and below that, the slow throb of fear and hurt. Andrew took a deep, steadying, breath and shoved all of that away. They were unhelpful and unnecessary.

When it was clear that Neil wouldn’t wake up for a while, Andrew fetched a wet washrag and cleaned the crusted blood off his face, careful around the bruises and cuts. Under the dirt, Neil’s face was gaunt and battered. His skin shone pale and sickly from the ceiling light. His clothes were dirty and stained with blood, the same blue shirt and raggedy jeans Neil was wearing when Andrew found him in New York over forty years ago. The entire time Andrew cleaned him, Neil barely moved.

Andrew sat there, his arms wrapped loosely around his legs with his chin propped up on his knees, hardly daring to blink in case Neil disappeared or died again, while he waited for Neil to wake. If he woke. At some point the cat wandered in and pressed its body to Andrew’s back, blinking suspiciously at Neil from under Andrew’s elbow.

By the time Neil’s eyes cracked open, the sky outside was already lightening to a dull gray. Neil blinked a couple times, his brows furrowed in confusion or pain. He shifted on top of the sheets, turning his head until his gaze caught on Andrew. Neil froze, his eyes widening. Andrew wasn’t expecting it when Neil jolted upright, clawing at the sheets around him and kicking them off.

Andrew moved and caught Neil’s arm but Neil yanked it away. “I need to go,” he said, looking wildly around the room with his too-wide, frightened eyes. “I didn’t mean to come here, I promise. I’m leaving now.”

“Neil,” Andrew said through his teeth. The name tasted bittersweet in his mouth. “Lay down before you hurt yourself.”

Neil stopped struggling, but he wouldn’t meet Andrew’s eyes. “You told me to go,” he whispered.

“And now I’m telling you to stay,” Andrew said before Neil moved to leave again. He didn’t mean to say the words, but he realized they were true. He’d rather cut off his own hand than watch Neil walk out the door again. Neil’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Finally, he dragged his gaze up to Andrew’s, his eyes haunted and bloodshot, like some of the blood vessels had burst.

Neil sunk back against the mattress, his body deflating. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said, his voice a thin thread between them. Andrew grasped it.

“Why are you here?” It was the one question that had been circling his brain since Neil first showed up in the alley. Seeing him again after so long hurt, but seeing him weak, dying was worse. This was what he had been trying to avoid, this was why he had sent Neil away and spent the last forty years alone.

Neil shook his head. His face scrunched up, the way it did when he was thinking hard about something. “I’m regressing,” he said. When Andrew said nothing, he took a breath and continued. “I can’t control where I’m reborn anymore. It’s like I’m going backwards. Before this it was Chicago, before that it was the city we last met…New York, I think. And that’s not just it. I’m reliving all of my deaths in the void, over and over again until I’m reborn again. It hurts, Andrew. It hurts so much.”

Neil broke off with a sudden coughing fit. His nose started to bleed again so Andrew passed him the towel he used to clean him up. His hand brushed Neil’s when Neil grabbed for the towel. The touch of his skin sent a jolt down Andrew’s spine. He allowed himself to linger for a few more moments than strictly necessary.

“Do you know what caused this?” Andrew pressed when Neil’s nose stopped bleeding.

Neil shook his head, chewing his lip. There was a furious wrinkle between his brows. “I don’t know. When I was reborn before, it felt like being pulled through a long tube. Now it’s all jerky, like I’m being yanked around in different directions until it spits me out somewhere. And it gets worse with every death. I don’t know how many more times I can keep doing this.”

Andrew clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together until it hurt. Now that Neil was here again, Andrew wasn’t sure he would be able to let him go. But if Neil were dying, and was going to stay dead…Andrew didn’t want to think about it.

“Get some sleep, Neil.” Andrew said, despite the sun sneaking over the horizon. “We’ll figure this out when you wake up.”

Neil eyed him warily and didn’t move. “Are you going to leave?”

The smart thing to do was leave, find another city and a new apartment. It wasn’t likely Neil would find him a fourth time, at least not before he passed completely. Andrew wouldn’t have to live through Neil’s death again. But he couldn’t leave Neil like this, not when he was scared and in so much pain. Andrew didn’t care if he got hurt anymore; he wanted Neil, and he wanted to be with him. For as much time as he had left.

“No,” Andrew promised. Neil didn’t respond but his eyes started to droop shut. Andrew stayed where he was until Neil’s breathing evened and slowed, then he got up and shooed the cat from the room, closing the door on his way out.

~

Neil slept for nearly the entire day. Andrew tried to busy himself around the apartment while he waited for Neil to wake, but there wasn’t much to do. He’d already cleaned the kitchen and loaded all the dishes, and the floors didn’t need to be swept. He did the laundry and played with the cat for a while, taunting it with a toy before snatching it out of reach when it leapt.

After Andrew folded his clothes and put the neatly in the closet, he was starting to feel cooped up. It was an unpleasant sensation; one Andrew didn’t feel very often. He’d spent hours, days, weeks lying in bed in small apartments just like this one as he let the seconds wash over them like they meant nothing. Because really, they didn’t. But now every minute spent pacing in the living room and resisting to check if Neil was still breathing was another scratch under his skin. He was antsy and anxious, like he was when he needed a cigarette.

Andrew decided to go to the grocery store.

He debated leaving a note for Neil in case he woke up to Andrew’s absence, but ultimately decided against it. He made a promise to Neil, and if Neil knew him at all he’d know that Andrew would keep it. Grabbing his wallet and cigarettes, Andrew left the apartment in a rush.

It was a Thursday afternoon, so Andrew didn’t expect the grocery store to have very many people shopping. Andrew preferred it, he hated walking around, picking what he needed and dropping it in the cart, when the aisles and check-out lines were crowded. He liked to buy his groceries in peace. As he walked up and down the aisles, absentmindedly placing items in his cart, Andrew was thinking about Neil.

Neil, bloody in the alley. Neil, reliving his deaths over and over. Neil, closing the door behind him in New York. Neil, bleeding to death in a porcelain bathroom. Andrew shook his head. This wasn’t helping.

When he got home, Neil was still asleep. He’d rolled over onto his side, no longer on his back like a corpse but his body curled like a cat. With a flash Andrew remembered how nicely Neil had fit against him when he slept like that, his back pressed to Andrew’s chest, Andrew’s arm thrown over his waist, pulling him closer, their legs tangled up between them. Andrew pushed the thought away and retreated to the kitchen to unpack the food he bought.

When Neil woke, Andrew found him sitting up against the pillows, the blankets draped around his waist. He looked up when Andrew poked his head in the room, his face relaxing.

“I have food,” Andrew said. He felt unsure of himself, even though he had lived with Neil for a year and knew what he liked to eat, what he didn’t. He knew everything about Neil, but Andrew still felt like he was treading unfamiliar water.

“Can I take a shower first? I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Andrew said so he could hear Neil’s faint snort. When it never came, Andrew moved from the doorway to the closet where he kept his clothes. He nudged the dirty shirts and jeans away with his foot until he found a clean pair of sweats and a dark hoodie he’s had for years. He grabbed a spare towel and threw them at Neil. “The bathroom’s down the hall. Don’t slip.”

While Neil was showering, Andrew heated up some soup in the kitchen. He wasn’t very hungry himself, so he nibbled on a chocolate bar and waited for Neil to get out of the shower. He’d have to call in for work today, maybe tomorrow too, at least until Neil was feeling better. It wasn’t a problem, Andrew had rarely called in sick from work so his manager should let this slide.

Neil looked better after the shower; his skin was clean and his hair was shining, water droplets still clinging to the ends. The sweats were a bit short and the hoodie was too big around the shoulders, the sleeves falling over his knuckles. Andrew had to tear his eyes away from the exposed skin of Neil’s clavicle where the fabric had slipped. While Neil was still too thin and his face was lined with fading bruises and dark circles under his eyes, it was an improvement.

Neil devoured the soup. When he was done Andrew took the bowl away to the sink. When he turned, the cat scampered into the kitchen and meowed loudly by Andrew’s feet until he pulled the can of wet cat food down from the shelf, opening it and setting it down for the mongrel to eat. When he looked up, Neil was watching it with a soft upward quirk of his lips. Andrew’s heart quickened. He didn’t realize how much he missed Neil’s smile until that moment.

“You have a cat?” Neil asked, scooting his chair over so he could pet the cat’s head. “What’s its name?”

“Cat,” Andrew replied. Neil gave him an unimpressed look.

“You have to name it something.”

“I did, I named it cat.”

Neil rolled his eyes and stroked the cat’s fur as he thought. “King Fluffkins. Because its fluffy.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, and it definitely isn’t royalty,” Andrew said. Tired of the subject, he asked, “How do you feel?”

“Better. It doesn’t hurt as much,” Neil said. Andrew hummed and studied the slope of his shoulders, the easy way he held himself. He didn’t seem to be lying, but Andrew looked for all his tells anyway.

The entire time Neil slept, Andrew had been thinking. Once he had his back safely turned away to rinse out Neil’s bowl, he said, “I’m going to find a way to fix this.”

Neil was silent behind him. The only sound was the cat’s noisy chewing and its loud purrs. When Andrew dared a glance over his shoulder, Neil was studying his hands in his lap. He didn’t look up when he said quietly, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Andrew had had the hope bled out of him a long time ago, long before he even met Neil. But Andrew was tired of watching the people he loved die and leave him behind. If there was even the slightest chance that he could help Neil, he was going to take it. Nothing in the world could stop him.

“I don’t care,” Andrew said and placed the bowl in the dishwasher. Neil was still staring at his hands, but Andrew didn’t wait for him to respond. He turned the dishwasher on and left Neil at the kitchen table.

~

For a week after that, Andrew and Neil carefully gravitated around each other. Andrew went to work and kept himself busy while Neil wandered around Columbia, seeing what was new, what had changed. On nights when Andrew got home and Neil was asleep, curled up on the mattress, a hand tucked under his scarred cheek, Andrew would leave him be and wait in the living room for the sun to come up.

On one such night, Neil wasn’t fully asleep and his eyes opened before Andrew could retreat.

“We can share the bed, you know,” he said. Andrew paused with his hand on the door. “There’s room for both of us.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” Andrew felt tired the way he felt hungry, a lasting impression from when he was mortal, but eating and sleeping weren’t necessary. It made him feel better, yes, but it wouldn’t kill him if he went without.

“Still, the offer’s open.” Neil’s eyes were unnaturally bright in the dark, lit only by the light falling across his face from the streetlamps outside. When Andrew took a careful step forward, Neil shuffled back to make room.

Taking off his boots and trading jeans for sweatpants, Andrew lowered himself to the mattress beside Neil. He had never noticed how lumpy it was before, or how flat his pillows. But now it was all he could think of. Well, besides Neil, only a couple inches away, his hands tucked safely away.

“Goodnight, Andrew,” Neil whispered. He was already struggling to keep his eyes open. Andrew knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. It was a long time before he answered.

“Goodnight,” he replied.

[outhereontheprairie]

Zion Lutheran Church, ND

Coming to this place was definitely providence after being in Arena. It was sort of an afterthought and our last stop of the day. 

Below: Dad asks if I’m finally coming inside - I had been trying to find a decent angle on the outside for awhile. 

This church isn’t really too near any town. And there’s something about it that makes me think it’s not completely abandoned. It’s not in great shape (although it does have a nice metal roof!) but I couldn’t help but wonder if they didn't sometimes occasionally have services here. The cornerstone said it was founded in 1917 which means the year previous was their 100th anniversary. Pretty neat!

I was happy to find that the place was open. Well, dad found out it was open - as always haha. He usually beats me to it.

I believe we signed the guest book - or at least I probably did. I usually try to remember to sign it if the place I’m exploring has one. 

Ladder up to the belfry. And I’m guessing that rope goes right to the bell! 

Time to see the sanctuary...

The sanctuary took my breath away a bit. I’ve seen the insides of lots of country churches but this one was in relatively great shape.

I don’t always see pulpits like this one. It was very official and old school.

You can see the paint is starting to come off the wall. 

After enjoying the peacefulness of the sanctuary I took the door to the right. 

This little back room had definitely seen better times but it was actually one of my favorite places in the church. It was cozy.

Empty hangers and a mirror. Also another door that leads out back.

Back into the sanctuary, and through the doors to the basement stairs...

I wondered what their basement looked like. Some church basements are nicer than others. 

This one was charming! Everything was all ready and waiting for the next potluck.

I closed my eyes and imagined the nice smells of potluck and the hum of people enjoying conversation. 

The kitchen was extra charming. Such a great setup for a meal! 

Can’t you see the little old church ladies busy getting everything warmed up and set out for lunch?

Just waiting for the next time someone needs coffee or tea.

Although how you get water is beyond me. There isn’t any running water in this church. Which means...

...outhouse! One side for ladies one for gentlemen. 

And now for walking in the graveyard, something dad and I like to do. It’s a solemn activity. And respectful. And on this day we found out fairly quickly why we had come to this church just after visiting Arena.

Of course dad found it. The headstone for Arena residents and home owners Dallas and Hattie Barkman. Born in the 1800s! And Hattie lived to be almost 100. Impressive! I don’t actually know much about them but since I walked through the abandoned shell of their house and even saw their tax forms...I feel like I know of them just a bit. 

I found this. It really spoke to my heart as I had lost Charlie just months earlier. Dad liked it too.

It was on the headstone for Mr.Morris. 

This very old headstone belongs to a baby - those are always very sad. You can tell the lamb on the stone has lost its head. I can make out that it says “our beloved” and his name and the dates. 

I think the other writing is Norwegian and says something like “Jesus is the shepherd of the little ones in the Blessed are the dead who dwell in the Lord.” Obviously I’m probably partially wrong but it was the best I could figure. 

More writing on this stone that I don’t quite understand. From what I can understand it is Danish and is essentially saying “A mighty fortress is our God” which is a beautiful hymn in any language. but that’s just best I can tell. 

Another tragic headstone - this baby only lived a few days. And was clearly loved as it says “our darling baby”. Poor baby Mildred. 

There were many more headstones but we couldn’t get to them all. I always like finding the ones with different languages on them. Our walk through the cemetery ended our little day trip on a series note but we didn't mind. It always sort of blows our minds to think how each one of these people was once alive and had a life and now they are just there, resting. We’ve talked about it more than once. 

Goodbye Zion church, I hope you last a long time! 

[curseofstrahdxeli]

Beginning

Opening//

    Adventurers, travelers from distant lands--some more distant than others--you've all received a missive in the recent weeks. A letter, addressed to those willing to help a small town with a rather... dangerous problem. You've all worked hard to get to where you are now, honed your skills and proven yourselves to the various adventuring guilds and guard posts in Faerun, enough so to be seen as worthy to take on this task.

    It's simple really. Wolves have been spotted in the town of Daggerford, attacking the townspeople, some even being dragged off into the forests with little to nothing being left behind. Deaths are getting into the double digits, and the people of Daggerford are getting desperate. Calling out for aid from nearby Waterdeep, their plea was heard and answered, with this letter you hold in your various hands. You are the hope of Daggerford, their salvation, though it of course will come at a price for the town. Compensation was alluded to, but not written explicitly, though it does promise that what you receive should be a handsome price. According to the letter, a representative of the city guard will be arranging a meeting in the morning, to speak with you about this request, and to go into more details.

    For now, you all converge on this quiet little town, a diverse crowd in a decisively undiverse area of Faerun. Several of you are given the side eye, but no one goes beyond that, knowing that if they want to rid their town of their problem, they probably shouldn't antagonize the ones that have come to their aid. It's made all the more grave for them when the dying light of the sun catches on claw marks on the doors and windowsills of various buildings.

    So, in following the directions of the letter, one by one, you all enter the River Shining Tavern, the proposed meeting spot, and show the missive to the tavenkeeper there. The paper might as well be made of gold from how he reacts, quick to offer each of you a room, on the house, as a thank you for coming to at the very least, consider helping the town.

    You've traveled for so long, and the promise of a clean bed and food is almost too much to resist. You're led to your rooms, and after a hearty meal is brought up, you fall into a deep sleep--or trance, for those of the pointy eared variety--and dream.

Reading//

    It's hot and muggy, the air weighed down with the scent of exotic spices and too much incense allowed to burn in an enclosed space. It's almost claustrophobic, with how the cloth draperies hang around you, making a fairly large sized tent feel far too small to contain even just you.

    In front of you is a table, low, covered in a dark, moth eaten cloth. On the other side of it sits an old crone, hunched and cocooned in varied colored shawls that looked more part of the hanging drapes around you, camouflaging her until she moves slightly to pick up a deck of cards in front of her with gnarled hands, nails long and just a bit curved, giving them a clawlike appearance. She smiles at you, blackened teeth standing out against the remaining yellow ones, giving her mouth the look of an ancient graveyard. Crooked headstones falling into each other.

    "Finally." Breathy, almost too old to speak, but the excitement in her eyes is uncanny. She begins to shuffle, slow at first, picking up pace in a way that her derepit limbs shouldn't be able to, and yet do.

    "Finally, you're here. At least, almost here. I've no worry dearie, that you'll make your way to us. To me. To him. Ah. He is waiting for you as well. A word of warning--his invitation will be warm, but watch for the shadows. Never turn your back on the lord of this land, unless you plan to lose more than just your life. The game has already begun, and the die has been cast. The wager is a steep one. One that you can't possibly afford, but what choice have you now?"

    She stops shuffling, setting the cards down gently. "I wish to... stack the cards in your favor. After all, if you win, so do the rest of us. If you lose, it's more than just you that pays the price. Come, put your hand on your own fate, let the threads of destiny guide your hand and reveal the secrets that will guide you in this land, and perhaps, help you keep your wits--and your life."

    She pushes the deck toward you, inviting you to shuffle. "Good, good. Now, let's see how blessed or damned you are." Setting the cards down on the table, in the array, she sits back and smiles. For a momentary flicker of candlelight, it's not an old woman in front of you, but a young one, with the same curved lips and dark eyes, before the flame flickers once more and the old crone is before you again.

Card reading

    "May the cards guide you toward a kind fate. Those are few and far inbetween here. Still, the sooner you make your journey, the sooner the wheel of fate will turn. All you have to do now... is WAKE UP."

    With a sudden clap, you're awake, sunlight filtering in through the windowpanes of your room. It's morning, and time for the proposed meeting you came here for.

What do you do?

[jennmoslek36]

      NOVEMBER 2018

  ROUGHLY SIX MONTHS & one Category 3 Hurricane (Michael) later, here we were again. As we drove the main stretch of road, toward our hotel, we could only see bits & pieces of our surroundings. It was too dark to see the extent of the damage done to the area, however, in spite of the darkness, a familiar silhouette began to take shape before us. It was the tall brick smokestack of the South Campus & it was still in one piece; In fact, it didn’t appear to be damaged at all! My adrenaline started going but I knew that it was way too late to do anything tonight. Not knowing the conditions we were walking into, we played it safe & skipped our traditional 1st night pic in front of the school. As we pulled into our hotel, it was packed…Work trucks filled the parking lot & there was a ton of activity on the hotel property. Yet another sign that you’re dealing with the aftermath of a major hurricane. We found our room, unloaded & got ready to settle in for the night. Of course, me being me, I opted to spend a few minutes walking around the property to see what, if any damage had been done.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

  THERE WASN’T A lot to see OR a lot that you actually could see as it was pitch black & many of the streetlights were still busted or missing. It was also freezing cold, so I gave up pretty quick & went back to our room to read some of the Dozier notes I had brought, until I fell asleep.

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    SUNDAY ~ DAY 1

AS EAGER AS I had been to get to the school, we spent a majority of our day walking downtown Marianna. I’m not going to really get into that portion of our trip but if anyone is interested, I will post those photos either to the GRAVEAdventuresFL  Facebook page (info below) OR as its own photo gallery here on findingflorida. What I will say is that even though our trip had marked about a month since the hurricane, there was still quite a bit of cleanup & rebuilding left to be done. Most of me felt bad. BUT only for the good people of Jackson County. Sadly, those that were the innocent & had absolutely NO knowledge of the evil that had taken place in their beautiful little town got stuck eating the double helping of Karma that those responsible for taking or destroying thousands of lives had coming. We moved through within an hour & were on our way out when E pointed out a church with an old graveyard on the property.

  findingflorida.blog

  IT HAPPENED TO be the same church & graveyard that I had seen on our way into town. Now one thing about Marianna; There is NO shortage of churches packed into a small radius! They are on every corner, so if a “Come To Jesus” is what you’re needing, you can take your pick of where you want to have it. There was something about this particular church that had us pulling over & within a minute OR two, stepping into what we thought was just a tiny graveyard. It would be anything but ordinary. There was a reason we were compelled to stop & if we couldn’t figure out exactly what that reason was, we would get some unexpected help.

  findingflorida.blog

    WELCOME TO SAINT LUKES

  WE FOLLOWED THE brick path, through the entrance & started looking around. You could tell that the little graveyard had been well cared for, at least prior to the hurricane. Even the oldest headstones looked pretty decent compared to most places I’ve seen in the past. “Fun” Fact about Marianna; Apparently they take way better care of their old graveyards than they did of the children that they used to generate revenue for their little town…Just Sayin’….

    WE DIDN’T GET far before our eyes were drawn to a huge tree that was lying across several of the graves. It was massive up close with the base & the roots still attached; It was almost as if a giant had & pulled it out of the ground like an average person pulling a weed. It was insane to see, especially when paired with the visual of the two old headstones broken beneath it. Add the gigantic gaping hole now in the place of a number of the plots, you’ve got yourself quite the disturbing scene.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

    ONE FOR ALL & ALL FOR…MILTON??

NOW I HAVE been to over 250 cemeteries (the exact number is actually 273 but who’s counting?) just in the State of Florida, taken thousands of pictures hoping to help with preserving their history, so this one wasn’t really anything special in my opinion. I definitely couldn’t figure out why we were wasting what little time we had meandering around an old church graveyard…Until a series of events took place that let both of us know exactly why we had been brought there. Unfortunately, before I can talk about those events, I have to talk about them…

  findingflorida.blog

  “THEM” WOULD BE the Milton family & anyone who’s been following this blog OR knows the history of how the Arthur G Dozier School for Boys (OR the Florida Industrial School as it was originally known as) came to fruition is aware that it started with a “Milton.” Specifically Senator William H. Milton as he was the catalyst for making sure that Marianna would win the bid to have the reform school built in his hometown & him, along with his grandson W.H. Milton, would campaign to raise the funds to make this happen. In fact, the Milton family as a whole would be staunch supporters of bringing “Reform “ to the panhandle & even donated much of the land & additional funds necessary to make it happen. The Milton’s were in it up to their eyeballs & “Spoiler Alert”…They got their damn “school.” After the opening in 1900, Senator Milton would continue his support by pushing Bills & requests through the Senate, paving the way for the staff to beat, rape, torture & murder ANY boy they chose without ANY consequences. The Milton name remains firmly planted in Marianna to this day, their mark on everything from churches to law firms…But still NO apology note to the Dozier boys OR their families. That is definitely the one & only mark I’d like to see!

    THIS SMALL TOWN sure has some kind of sick hero worship thing going on BUT us Non-Stone Age “City Folk” refer to people like the Miltons as child abusing A-Holes! I won’t bore Y’all with Milton Family “Fun Facts”, so let’s just move on.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

    AN EYE OPENING INCIDENT

ON THE OTHER side of that fallen tree stood the well cared for headstones of the Milton Family. Grandma, Grandpa, their children & grandchildren had been laid to rest peacefully, ALL with lovely little poems & epithets, acknowledging their “accomplishments” & family. I can assure everyone that the Milton Family had a much different farewell than those who had been at the receiving end of their legacy.

    Senator William H. Milton

Photo via classmates.com

    I STOOD THERE looking over each marker, stopping in front of W.H. Milton. Now I totally realize just how childish this is going to sound BUT I took a minute to give him a piece of my mind…Actually several minutes. Completely pointless, YES! Totally worth it, Hell Yeah It Was! I was at the end of my internal berating session when I heard it…

    ”DO YOU SEE IT?”

    IT SOUNDED LIKE a woman’s voice, possibly even a child. You could hear the tone as well as the rise & fall of it. As I looked over to my right to say something sarcastic to E (Who was standing only a few feet away) I stopped. She was deep in thought studying one of the grave markers. Instantly I knew…She didn’t say it. She looked over at me & asked me if I said something. “NO! I Thought You Did!” We pretty quickly established that neither one of us had spoken & that we heard the EXACT same thing at the EXACT same time. It was seriously amazing! We both began wandering in different directions trying to figure out What “IT” was that we were supposed to see. It would be E that would actually figure it out & call me over to have a look…

    WELL FANCY MEETING you here Mr. Arthur G Dozier…And you brought the fam! All joking aside, it really was a disgusting display of how valued these evil men were over the children that they were supposed to be caring for. To be blunt, The Miltons & The Doziers have a cushy place to spend eternity while the boys that they had been responsible for are buried on the school’s property in unmarked graves. It’s a fact that to this day pisses me off. Maybe the voice we heard didn’t want us to miss this as it knew that it would light a fire under my ass.

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    SKULLS IN THE WOODS & A GHOST FROM THE PAST

THE LAST STOP of our 1st full day in Marianna was the North Campus of the school. It was late in the day, leaving us with little time to really accomplish anything but at least we could see a little bit before it was dark. We took the fork to the left, driving up the hill in the direction of the hospital. It was hard to miss the destruction that the hurricane had caused. Approximately 90% of the trees were completely gone OR broken, the remnants were spread out all over the property. It was shocking to me that I could stand on the hill at the North Campus & see almost all of the South Campus. I could actually see more beyond the South Campus fence than I had ever seen before…Which frustrated the Holy Hell out of me because I wanted nothing more than to get inside of that fence!

    AS WE PULLED off the path, we walked over in the general direction of where we had used the fallen tree as a bridge to get to the infirmary the last trip. This time we didn’t make it to the infirmary as something caught our eye, diverting our attention away from that area. It was another section of fence that was missing & as a number of trees were gone, you could just make out the outline of something fairly large.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

    IT WOULD TAKE a bit just to get through the tangle of vines, branches & other debris blocking the way. It also didn’t help that we were nearing dusk & it had started to rain. It wasn’t even 5 minutes into our hike when the words were spoken that NO person trudging through the woods at dusk EVER wants to hear were spoken…”OH MY GOD, THERE’S A SKULL!” I looked over at E, who had actually found it, & started backing myself out of vine Hell! As I walked over to her, she quickly clarified that it definitely wasn’t human. That had me breathing a sigh of relief! The whole mission for this trip was to find proof that there was additional boys still buried on the property & as badly as I wanted to walk out of there with that proof, I didn’t want to find it this way…I’m almost 100% positive that E completely agreed. When I finally got over to where she was, I was a bit creeped out. It was clearly the skull of some type of dog but what kind, we couldn’t be sure. The odd thing about it was that it was lying in the woods in the wet & mud & yet it looked to be in good condition. Not just good but almost bleached. We chalked it up to another sad victim of the storm & started to move forward again…And then I saw the next one & then the 3rd. A few feet away E would find the 4th & 5th.

    NOW I AGREE that this could have been caused by the storm OR even other wild animals, however, I highly doubt that in either of those scenarios everything would have been left in a pattern. If anyone missed the final word of the previous sentence, YES, I said pattern. As in a semi circle type placement that almost appeared like they were “guarding” the front of the structure that we had been working to get through. Since they were way too far apart to get a picture of all of them together, I’ll leave you with this visual:

  ~PICTURE A RITUAL WHERE SALT IS PLACED IN A CIRCLE OR EVEN AT THE THRESHOLD OF A DOOR…OR TRY THIS ONE; AROUND THE PERIMETER OF YOUR HOME…

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    A BRAND NEW DISCOVERY 

ANIMAL BONES AND thoughts of rituals aside, we had to keep going. After a few more minutes of struggling we finally stepped into a small area that was somewhat clear & stood there, in shock, in the dim light & drizzling rain looking up at it…OH…MY…GOD…

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

  I THINK WE were both in shock. I know I was! I had been in this area 2 other times, literally right next door to the massive brick building that I would later identify as “Washington Cottage” & had absolutely NO clue that it was right next to me. What remained of the once 2 story structure was unbelievable. The entry way had a huge concrete porch framed by 2 massive columns. After climbing the large steps, we were standing on the covered patio, sheltered from the rain. There was so much debris that it took about 10 minutes just to figure out what it all was. To me it looked like it was tons of branches, leaves & mud combined with broken & discarded furniture from inside. There was also pieces of the actual structure that had broken away & fallen onto the patio.

    WE DID EVENTUALLY make our way through the front door, which was one of the things lying on the patio, & when we did it was unbelievable! Unlike the dorms that we had previously explored, this one was pretty empty & the fact that we could easily identify the floors as being concrete showed how much cleaner the inside of the Washington Cottage was than damn near every other building we’d ever been in. It was E who pointed out one of the biggest differences…The cottages we had been in on previous occasions were the traditional red brick, inside & out, while the cottage we were currently standing in had tile walls. It was more than a little strange but I also know that when it comes to the Arthur G Dozier School for Boys, absolutely NOTHING shocks me anymore…Well, almost nothing!

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

  AS IT TURNS out, exploring the the Cottage wouldn’t take all that long. The inside was basically a smaller model of the other cottages with the exception of those tile walls. The main room was flanked on either side by similar enclosed stair cases leading up to the now totally collapsed 2nd floor, causing so much debris that even the most skilled explorer would be hard pressed to get up those steps. I know I never even a gave it a thought. For some reason I didn’t feel that there was anything that we needed to see up there anyway. Our time had shrunk to literally minutes. It was almost dark, raining pretty hard & the temperature was quickly plummeting. Since we weren’t able to access the one other room inside of the cottage (OR I should say what was left of it!), there was only one other way to go…Out the back. So that’s what we decided to do. As it turns out, there wasn’t much to see behind the building either. There was a smaller slab of concrete that served as a possible patio & you guessed it…More Woods! The woods were so thick that we had issues just getting around the outskirts of the building, there was NO way in Hell that we would be able to get through that mess at night. It would be yet another task that would have to wait until the following day.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

    LEAVE THE NOT KNOWING FOR ANOTHER DAY

ON OUR WAY back to the car there were random things just sitting around. Another old filing cabinet rusting out in the open, discarded bottles & other trash, some looked to be more recently discarded than others but all proved that people did still frequent the area. Who knows what evidence of the past had been destroyed while the locals were hanging out, knocking back a few. We had no way of knowing what we were standing only a few feet away from BUT I can assure you that this time we would be leaving with proof in our hands…

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  ☆ IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW WERE HOUSED AT “THE FLORIDA INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL FOR BOYS” AKA “THE ARTHUR G DOZIER SCHOOL FOR BOYS” OR THE OKEECHOBEE SCHOOL FOR BOYS, PLEASE REACH OUT VIA HERE AT findingflorida.blog OR ANY OF THE CONTACT INFO LISTED BELOW!!☆

  Want More “Finding Florida?” BE SURE TO “SUBSCRIBE”!

FOR PRIVATE CONTACT SEND EMAILS TO:  whitehouseboys2018@gmail.com  FOR ALL DOZIER SCHOOL INFO GO TO:

http://www.whitehouseboys2007.com &

http://thewhitehouseboysonline.com FOR FULL PHOTO GALLERIES & ADDITIONAL LOCATION INFO FOLLOW ME ON FB AT:   @GRAVEAdventuresFL

INVESTIGATING DOZIER: A Trail Of Of Destruction ~ Pt. 1 NOVEMBER 2018 ROUGHLY SIX MONTHS & one Category 3 Hurricane (Michael) later, here we were again.

[sweetcandyholic]

fear is the brightest of signs

[ deviantart ]

summary: world 5. Rose King Jean/ne buries the dead, comes to terms with bits of her past, and faces the future.

fear is the brightest of signs the shape of the boundary you leave behind so sing all your questions to sleep the answers are out there in the drowning deep

There’s no time for a proper funeral.

Darkness surrounds them as they put the final headstones in place. It’s a smaller group than the last time they had had to bury the dead, but Jean/ne had only brought enough to help her dig the graves, and lay the bodies to rest. Mostly family and friends of the deceased, those who had been willing to risk their lives to mourn their losses, and a few formal pieces, in case something were to happen. If the lack of attacks on the Royals were anything to go by, the group should be fairly safe, but just in case. Just in case their new opponents did not respect the mourning of the dead.

Jean/ne pauses at the start of the newly-dug graves, taking a moment to take in the sight, illuminated by the lanterns dotting the area. Quiet, whispered conversations are being held with some graves, while others are deathly quiet. Roses are scattered around the area, regardless. As with any burial, there are no loud voices, no cheery music; only the quiet weeping of loved ones left behind, and the stillness of the night. She rests one hand on the headstone in front of her, the words freshly-carved on the stone’s surface. The surrounding area is empty.

“Ave atque vale, Penelope Rousseau,” she whispers. A Knight. Parents killed in combat, orphaned from a young age. Whenever Jean/ne spoke to her, she always seemed to be yearning to find her own place. The last Jean/ne had seen of her, she had been with… Jean/ne glances at the headstone next to Penelope’s. A heavy feeling sinks into her chest. It’s hard to breathe. “Ave atque vale, Sam Sweet,” Jean/ne says as she places her hand on his headstone. His grave is empty of mourners as well. Another Knight. Another orphan. A charming smile and love in his eyes. “...May Caïssa give you happiness together.”

She moves on, bowing her head in acknowledgement at the couple bent over in mourning at the base of the next grave. The two bakers from Primrose. “Ave atque vale, Terese Aritza,” she says, placing her hand on the stone for a moment before she leaves the couple to their own farewells. As she walks, she hums softly, “Sleep now, Little Rose…”

Jean/ne makes her rounds to all of the new graves, singing to the lost pieces.

“...let your sleepy eyes close...”

Emil Winter: a Pawn who had seemed content to remain there for the rest of their life. 

"...gently drift into the night..."

Rama Ashley: a Pawn with a lot of heart.

"...it’s time to doze..."

Davor Kools: a Knight with a knack for teaching.

"...sleep now, Little Rose..."

Melitta Knight: a Pawn who seemed to have wings when she fought with a sword.

"...let our House take your woes..."

One grave after another, after another, after another…

She stops. Four graves...no, five. Two new headstones, side by side, next to three old ones. Jean/ne does not need to read the names on the older stones to know who has been buried there, but she does so anyways, stopping and making a show of reading the letters. ISAAC STERLING, reads one. PAIGE CHANDLER, reads the other. Jean/ne’s eyes linger on the third one, but she does not read the name carved into the stone. She bows her head silently towards the three graves before turning towards the couple sitting in front of one of the newer graves. Lucinda and Alfred Fairchild have their eyes on her, though neither says a word to Jean/ne, the space between them filled with the soft mutterings of the mourning relatives nearby. They stare at each other, the silence stretching into what feels like minutes and hours, before finally, Jean/ne walks towards the newer headstones and places her hand on one gently. “Ave atque vale, Carissa Fairchild,” she whispers. Her hand glides to the next one. “...Ave atque vale, Kai Rane.” She pauses, not looking at the couple sitting behind her. She walks back towards the older gravestones. Her hand drops. She slowly inhales. “...Ave atque vale, Eliza Fairchild. ...May Caïssa grant you all happiness. ...Good night, little Rose.”

She walks away.

They’ll have to return to Rose territory soon. There is no time for rest, no time to breathe with the ambushes happening. There are traitors all over Fiore, invisible faces, scattered everywhere, waiting to strike at any moment. “Neutral” territory doesn’t matter, when the enemy doesn’t follow such rules.

Jean/ne’s gut twists. Her chest feels heavy. Her expression remains passive, mouth drawn in a hard line. She glances to the side, away from the mourning people, out, past the graveyard, to the west. The darkness hides the ruins from sight.

There are traitors within her House. There may even be traitors with her, now, among those mourning the loss of loved ones. Who could they be? One of the mourners? One of the guards? Or hiding, elsewhere, waiting for when someone strays from the group... 

Jean/ne hesitates, a moment, before stepping a little away from the rest of the group, further into the graveyard, the lantern in her hand clearly marking her location. Only a few steps away. She’ll only be a few steps away. Away from danger? Away from safety? Away from what?

Footsteps. There. Faintly, behind her. She quickly turns around. Her lantern swings in the air. Her heart beats in her ears. A look of concern meets her, illuminated by the lantern in their hand. One of the guards.

They stop. The silence around the two of them is punctuated by the occasional soft sob from the nearby distance.

“Your Highness?” they ask, voice wavering uncertainly. “I-is it safe, to leave the group?” They glance in the direction Jean/ne is walking towards. “You were the one who told us not to stray too far…”

Th-thmp, th-thmp, th-thmp. She smiles. “I won’t be far,” she reassures. “Only a few rows down. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

The guard hesitates, but they eventually nod. Jean/ne watches as they walk back to the rest of the group, the sound of grass crunching beneath their feet following them. She turns and continues walking.

Most of the graves in the area are recent, from the past year or so. Some newer graves are mixed with older ones— families, wishing to be buried together. Others, however…

She stops in front of one in particular, the headstone tall and imposing. A crown decorates the top, as well as a carved rose in full bloom, and a dove at the base. It’s hard to make out the words etched into the center, even with the flickering light from the lantern, but Jean/ne knows them by heart.

REINE DELACROIX KING OF HOUSE OF ROSE BELOVED RULER, MOTHER

“Good evening, Mother,” Jean/ne whispers, her voice soft. She kneels in front of the stone, finger tracing the letters. “This may be the last time I get to visit for a while.” She looks up, past the graveyards, out towards the ruins again. She still can’t make out anything in the distance, everything just as shrouded in darkness as when she had been with the others. Perhaps that’s a good thing. Or perhaps a bad one. She sighs. “There’s trouble brewing in Fiore,” she says to the gravestone as she stands up. “...Traitors, to be exact.” There isn’t as hard an edge in her voice as there might have been had she been speaking a year ago. “I…”

I’m scared. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know what to do.

She closes her eyes. She breathes in, slowly, evenly.

A voice whispers in her mind, hazy with time. Show no fear. Show that they haven’t gotten to you, even if they have. Show nothing.

Jean/ne lets out a slow breath. She opens her eyes. She stands up taller.

Screw showing nothing. Jean/ne is afraid. Jean/ne is angry. What’s the use of showing nothing, when she gets nothing in return for it? Show nothing, and what— safety? Peace? No, those were things she gained from before her reign. Show nothing— and she remains stuck in between decisions for the rest of her life. Fear was what had drawn Jean/ne away from her people, fear was what had caused Jean/ne to be unable to reach out for so long, fear was what had made her blind to the real threat lurking in her own House. Fear of companionship, fear of betrayal, fear that everyone would leave her in the end.

Screw fear. Screw showing nothing. Screw the traitors who dare hide themselves in her House, hurt her pieces, end lives. And for what? They’ve made themselves known, they’ve killed pieces in both Rose and Laurel— Poppy and Iris, too, most likely. But why? For what cause, do they do these things? Not one that they’ve revealed, in any case.

Three symbols lie in a circle on the table before them, Rose in the North, Laurel in the East, Iris in the South. The space in the middle is empty. “A fifth House existed, or once existed,” Lyra says, placing the mysterious symbol down to the West. It fits in neatly, completing the circle. 

A fifth House, an ancient House, one that Jean/ne hasn’t even heard tale about, despite her upbringing as an heir to a Royal piece. All those years of history, of learning, and not a single word.

Who are they, to decide whom to hurt, whom to kill?

“But their entire existence has been wiped—” Lyra motions towards the empty space, a sour expression on their face— “by who else, but the ones supposedly in control themselves?”

Jean/ne scowls. …No, for a cause they have revealed. Long ago, if her Queen is correct. For a cause that Poppy has known about, that Poppy hasn’t revealed to any of the other Houses. For a cause that Poppy has purposefully hidden from the other rulers.

Who are they, to sit still and do nothing?

By whose choice are they the ones allowed to decide who lives, who dies, who tells their stories?

Jean/ne slows their breathing, their ears still filled with the beating of their own heart. She had been taught, by her tutors, that those who won wars were the ones who wrote history. If nothing remained of this fifth House, then Poppy must have won. But what could possibly have happened for them to want to erase the past?

Jean/ne places one hand on the headstone. “Ave atque vale, Mother,” she says. “...See you on the other side of the war.” She steps away, her fingers lingering on the stone’s surface before falling away. Her lantern guides her back to the rest of the group.

“Say your final farewells,” she calls out, the still air carrying her voice to the rest of the group. She spots the guard that had followed her earlier, standing by the horses. They look relieved to see her back. She smiles. “I’ve promised our Queen that we would return by dawn.”

The group returns to Rose territory without incident. Jean/ne isn’t sure whether she should be relieved or not. She watches at the boundary, checking to make sure that everyone makes it safely across. She nods at the last guard at the back of the group as they pass. Her horse shakes his head and takes a step forward, making to follow after them, but she tugs on his reins a little, silently asking him to wait a minute. Arthur snorts and stops. She pats his crest in thanks and looks at the boundary between the two territories.

They’ve long since entered the forest known for House of Rose. The thickening of the trees is what marks its territory from Iris, from Laurel, from Poppy...from this mysterious fifth House. Rose, the House of deception. Iris, the House of planning. Laurel, the House of power. And...

Poppy. The silent House that has always been in control. But why? What has Poppy done to deserve their seat of power? Three left Rose, all those years ago, and won power on Poppy’s territory. Jean/ne had thought to do the same, once upon a time. But every time she had seen the former Rose, she had always gotten the impression that the power she had gained wasn’t quite the power she had thought it would be.

So what sort of power does Poppy hold, in the end?

She tugs slightly on the reigns, and Arthur snorts in approval. A glance forward reveals that the rest of the group has stopped to wait for Jean/ne. She nods in silent apology as she retakes her place at the head. She sings, softly, quietly, as they return home, a song her mother taught her. “Bring your wings in, your time to fly is done…”

Poppy has always been the one in control. Jean/ne hopes they don’t think she will let them stay there if they continue to do nothing.

i know the border lines we drew between us keep the weapons down, keep the wounded safe; i know our antebellum innocence was never meant to see the light of our armistice. but how much would i give to have it back again? how much did we lose to live this way?