Magmaniac
08-28-2008, 7:19 PM
Death
An RP about death. This is just a prologue/intro kind of post for it. I don't want to put the effort into it unless I know that some people will join it. Post if you are interested, I am not giving out any more information about it than what is in this post.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The late august wind blew fierce over the small hill, rustling the leaves of the lone oak tree that towered over the small valley, and into the poorly insulated shack of Frederick Whitner. Dead Fred (as the children who lived nearby often called him for his old and dilapidated appearance) had lived alone in that shack for fifty years, nearly half his life, allowed so by the company as long as he takes care of the grounds, which he tended to with such great care.
It had been rather stormy all week so Fred had not been able to work on the grounds much, and being the hermit that he was, sat alone in his shack sharpening his tools, whittling at branches, and listening to the evangelical fundamentalist Christian preachers on the radio.
This particular evening was a Thursday.
The wind slowly picked up, without notice from the near-deaf old man. He sat and whittled away at a piece of wood. He told himself he did it to keep his motor skills in shape, but since he had already lost most of his motor skills the main reason he did it now was out of habit.
Before long it began to rain, and in no time it all it was pouring. Fred became agitated at the weather and slammed his window shut. He was anxious to get back to trimming the hedges and mowing the grass.
A moment later an ear shattering
CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-ACK!
of lightning echoed across the landscape, followed by a bloodcurtling scream.
God damn it, Fred thought. A couple of those god damned punk kids were up on the hill having premarital sex and one of them got struck by god damned lightning.
He threw on his yellow poncho and ambled slowly out through his doorway, fighting the rain that was coming in at a forty five degree angle. Another scream pierced the night, and Fred looked to the top of the hill to see a girl standing near the great oak tree, which was now a flaming inferno, defiant even to the rain. Fred tried to call out to her, but the roar of the wind overpowered him. He slowly made his way up the hill, nearly slipping in the mud several times. When he reached the top he saw the girl on her knees at the side of a boy who was burned to a crisp. The fire in the tree was just nearly quenched by the storm. She looked up at Fred, her tears hidden by the rain. She got up and ran to Fred screaming, HELP HIM! HELP HIM HE'S BEEN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING!
Fred stood staring at the body, unmoving. It certainly wasn't the first that he had seen, but it was by far the worst. How cruel, he thought. What has this boy done that deserves such a wrath from our Lord?
The girl continued to cry out, HELP HIM! CALL FOR AN AMBULANCE! PLEASE! Fred turned to her, and put his arm on her shoulder to comfort her. It was then that she knew, but still she didn't accept it. She buried her face into his chest and he held her, just like he had held his daughter so long ago.
Then, without warning, another ear shattering
CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-ACK!
echoed across the valley.
-----------------------------
The storm moved away by Saturday morning. The bodies were found Sunday afternoon, and at 5:24 PM, Frederick Whitner (85), Erica Cary (17), and David Johnson (18) were pronounced dead by the Forton county medical examiner.
Some say that the lightning that struck them was attracted to the large metal cross that Fred wore around his neck. What the three of them were doing at the top of a hill in the middle of the graveyard was not something that could easily be explained, so rumors started up. I don't know which ones you've heard, but one that goes around sometimes is that the police found one of the nearby graves had been dug up, and the body removed. I'll tell you right now that that rumor is true. How do I know for sure?
I was there.
It was my grave.
An RP about death. This is just a prologue/intro kind of post for it. I don't want to put the effort into it unless I know that some people will join it. Post if you are interested, I am not giving out any more information about it than what is in this post.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The late august wind blew fierce over the small hill, rustling the leaves of the lone oak tree that towered over the small valley, and into the poorly insulated shack of Frederick Whitner. Dead Fred (as the children who lived nearby often called him for his old and dilapidated appearance) had lived alone in that shack for fifty years, nearly half his life, allowed so by the company as long as he takes care of the grounds, which he tended to with such great care.
It had been rather stormy all week so Fred had not been able to work on the grounds much, and being the hermit that he was, sat alone in his shack sharpening his tools, whittling at branches, and listening to the evangelical fundamentalist Christian preachers on the radio.
This particular evening was a Thursday.
The wind slowly picked up, without notice from the near-deaf old man. He sat and whittled away at a piece of wood. He told himself he did it to keep his motor skills in shape, but since he had already lost most of his motor skills the main reason he did it now was out of habit.
Before long it began to rain, and in no time it all it was pouring. Fred became agitated at the weather and slammed his window shut. He was anxious to get back to trimming the hedges and mowing the grass.
A moment later an ear shattering
CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-ACK!
of lightning echoed across the landscape, followed by a bloodcurtling scream.
God damn it, Fred thought. A couple of those god damned punk kids were up on the hill having premarital sex and one of them got struck by god damned lightning.
He threw on his yellow poncho and ambled slowly out through his doorway, fighting the rain that was coming in at a forty five degree angle. Another scream pierced the night, and Fred looked to the top of the hill to see a girl standing near the great oak tree, which was now a flaming inferno, defiant even to the rain. Fred tried to call out to her, but the roar of the wind overpowered him. He slowly made his way up the hill, nearly slipping in the mud several times. When he reached the top he saw the girl on her knees at the side of a boy who was burned to a crisp. The fire in the tree was just nearly quenched by the storm. She looked up at Fred, her tears hidden by the rain. She got up and ran to Fred screaming, HELP HIM! HELP HIM HE'S BEEN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING!
Fred stood staring at the body, unmoving. It certainly wasn't the first that he had seen, but it was by far the worst. How cruel, he thought. What has this boy done that deserves such a wrath from our Lord?
The girl continued to cry out, HELP HIM! CALL FOR AN AMBULANCE! PLEASE! Fred turned to her, and put his arm on her shoulder to comfort her. It was then that she knew, but still she didn't accept it. She buried her face into his chest and he held her, just like he had held his daughter so long ago.
Then, without warning, another ear shattering
CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-ACK!
echoed across the valley.
-----------------------------
The storm moved away by Saturday morning. The bodies were found Sunday afternoon, and at 5:24 PM, Frederick Whitner (85), Erica Cary (17), and David Johnson (18) were pronounced dead by the Forton county medical examiner.
Some say that the lightning that struck them was attracted to the large metal cross that Fred wore around his neck. What the three of them were doing at the top of a hill in the middle of the graveyard was not something that could easily be explained, so rumors started up. I don't know which ones you've heard, but one that goes around sometimes is that the police found one of the nearby graves had been dug up, and the body removed. I'll tell you right now that that rumor is true. How do I know for sure?
I was there.
It was my grave.