did you see that?

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[sinistcr]

Oh, how she misses for the bright lights and mysticisms that Hollywood brought her in her youth. Today, she settles for the fluorescent glare that lightens the diner, and the occultish vibrations that fill Crescent Lake. Though she’s only been in her hometown for a few weeks, Tommie is growing restless. There’s a reason she left this town, and every passing day, hour, minute, second, she’s reminded of why. The door chime is what pulls her out of her pity party, as Sapsucker’s receives it’s first customer of the day. Tommie Tate is an actress, so her woes are swept away and replaced with a smile.

“Welcome to Sapsuckers!” she greets, “Counter or booth?”

[sinistcrkid]

❝I’ll tell you what,❞ he’s already put on his infamous shit eating grin, as he looks up at the night sky, and then back upon his potential customer, ❝Those stars would look a whole lot better while smoking on some Lemon Treez. I got some in my car, I’ll even give you a deal.❞

[sylviasaint]

Sylvia has only been in town for a month but already she’s managed to establish a routine. Up with the sun, two cups of coffee, at least one cigarette, a shot of vodka to get her through the morning, lunch at Sapsucker, hours and hours and hours of seemingly endless research, drinks she doesn’t bother to count. None of the dots connect. Frustration begins to pique. She starts to think of Tess. She goes down to The Wagon and she starts drinking bourbon. The Wagon is crowded and buzzy and warm – she can’t say that she likes feeling seen but there isn’t a lot of variety in Crescent Lake. Tonight she’s here earlier than usual and she sips her bourbon (two fingers, neat) unhappily at the bar, pouring over her notes. Attention tickles, hot and unwelcome at the side of her face. She can feel their gaze boring into her; intently curious. She sets her mouth into a hard line and tries to ignore it. Maybe it’s just because she’s new in town. Maybe they’re just looking. But she can’t help but assume that they recognize her: the woman who may or may not have killed her own daughter. “What?” Finally regards them with a cool and level gaze. The iciness maybe a little surprising coming from someone who looks like a Disney Princess. “Can I help you with something? Do you want an autograph? If not could you kindly fuck off?” 

[morissct]

30 minutes into the night and elodie realizes she’s all on her own. her friends have disappeared into the crowd, nowhere to be found in the sea of sweaty bodies, moving to some sort of rave beat. unimpressed, she pushes through the crowd, only to get pushed back, herself. this town is too small for such a traffic on the dance floor. she’s making her way to the bar when a stranger bumps into her from behind. she feels the liquid on her clothes, her hair, and it’s so unexpected that she can’t help but gasp. now, smelling like beer, she doesn’t even bother looking at the stranger. a hand is ready to shove him away, but he never gets that close because before you know it, she’s on her very way towards the exit, hands raised slightly, pushing whoever’s in her way. she manages it down the stairs and out of the club, where she’s greeted by some heavy retching. “oh, gosh.” she whines under her breath, an exaggerated disgust painting her face as she makes her way around the corner, away from all the screeching, all the puking. there, she finally leans against a wall, arms wrapping around her upper body, to keep herself safe from whatever bullshit is yet to come. it’s not until after seconds of almost sobbing and muttering words of regret that she notices a pair of eyes on her. gosh. she’s slightly upset, soaking wet and reeks of liquor–– she really doesn’t want to be seen like this. “ugh, could you not? please, i need a moment.” 

[undrtheivy]

despite it being officially spring and the fact that it was supposed to be her vacation, the air drifting off of the lake was incredibly cold. wrapping the sweater tighter around her shoulders, lisa’s eyes squinted as they scanned the water, half-expecting something to jump out of it the more she scrutinized it. hearing footsteps behind her, lisa glances behind her and sighs deeply at the other. “i don’t know why they call it crescent lake. looks more like a kidney bean, really.”

[dvilshaircut]

the lake water isn’t exactly refreshing as it is fucking-cold-as-balls but hector is hollering like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, jumping off of the dock into the dark lake. surfacing up, hector rolls his eyes at the other still standing on the dock. “come on in, water’s fine!” he lies, goading them on with a smug smile before his stare turns mockingly suspicious, “what, you really think those cult freaks are still at the bottom? are ya scared?”

[klttys]

AFTER A FEW DRINKS, valeria had decided it was time to go back to her cabin. however, as she stood outside the conestoga wagon bar, dying phone in hand with uber pulled up, her face twisted in displeasure. “the nearest uber is FORTY FIVE minutes away?” she knew it was a small town but this was not expected. her plan to get back was officially thwarted, and she realized she was going to have to walk back to camp in the dark, intoxicated. if only she knew which direction it was. 

[haileyfm]

“DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT?" brown locks bumped furiously against the thin fabric of her blouse as aurora flipped around to look at the other, eyes bugged and swiftly wandering around the space sorrounding them. "i am sorry, i didn’t mean to yell- but you did see that as well, right? that boy, covered in blood?" 

[redropehq]

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 in an ice cream shop had to be the most boring job the girl had had thus far in her short nineteen years of living. and although there was much more excitement in her previous occupations, if you could even call them that, she welcomed the quiet. in fact, she was relieved to be in a town where absolutely nothing exciting was happening at all. but, persephone was always a girl of mischief and after spending all day behind a counter, she couldn’t help but grin when she saw someone walking by. “hey you!” she called out to them, hopping up so she was sitting on the counter, legs dangling over the edge as she reached into the topping jar, plucking out a bright, red cherry and dangling it in front of her face. “how much do you wanna bet that i can tie this cherry stem with my tongue in less than thirty seconds?”

[vaniishiings-blog]

“no. no, nothing like that.” mila shook her head as her smile broadened–a breathy laughter accompanying the words. “i’m not like a … journalist or anything. i mean, hopefully, this’ll be published–someday–but as a part of my doctoral thesis, so sort of a niche audience.” in her experience, people didn’t really want to know once she got into too much detail. usually people preferred to tell their own brushes with horror and she was eager to record them. “i’m hoping to get a more personal history of crescent lake while i’m here. you know, you or your family memories. or just things that have raised your hackles.” now that the conestoga was starting to empty out, she hoped someone would take her up on the querie–a couple beers in made even the most reserved townies verbose in her experience. “i can look up facts, but there’s no richness in that history. it’s the town’s memories–their little legends–that warrant preservation as much as the facts, don’t you think?”

[diispatches]

stood up yet again, by connie pryzbylewski, nancy stood in front of the bowling shoe rental with one hand on her hip and an heir of palpable annoyance with a edge of desperate confusion. she hadn’t gone bowling since she was nine and her dad was still trying to buy her affection. she hadn’t even wanted to go out, but connie had insisted and bailed at the last minute when, nancy presumed, she’d received a better offer by richie jones who was always sticking his hands down the back of connie’s jeans and calling her sugar in some tacky retro attempt at romance. 

it didn’t matter anyway, because now that she was out and standing inside the crescent lake lanes, she was honorbound to either buy a can of hamms or pbr and watch the bowling league wannabes work on their perfect games, or figure out which shoe size she wore in bowling shoes and play a game by herself–both of which made her seem more desperate than she cared for. with how busy it was, neither looked particularly likely as the attendant seemed to overlook her raised hand every time ( either conspiratorially with conne pryzbylewski  to ruin her night or, more likely, on accident among the fray ). sidling up next to another solitary patron at the counter, nancy tried her luck and cleared her throat. “uh, hey, so do you know what the conversion on sizes is for bowling shoes? the last time i came here, i think i had light-up sneakers.”