i saw the tv glow

mumu for helltownhq

[ghcstlimbs]

ghsctlimbs ☷ i saw the tv glow ; a multi-muse blog for helltownhq penned by juno.

my heart's a ghost limb reaching, starburned and unkissed.

jude tillman. dossier.

samson hernandez. dossier

[seeinghcsts]

open starter: @helltownhqstarters !!

the world around her felt like static, words and sounds and thoughts buzzing in her ears like the wings of pestering gnats and yet elodie mcneil could make sense of none of it.

all she had ever wanted was to escape the shadow kayla had cast upon her; to free herself of the burden that came along with having an elder sister that lived for others. the elder sister who was good at sports, good at socializing, good at making friends . . . the only thing elodie had accomplished in comparison to kayla was outliving her.

sat atop one of the park benches, knees curled to her chest, jacket-encased arms wound around bare shins as a pointed chin rested atop knee caps, elodie allowed herself to zone out. eyes, dreary and distant, concentrated on the erecting of tents and the marking of walkways for the fundraiser her mother was hosting. the woman floated atop sun-warmed grass and pointed with a manicured finger, cradling a clipboard to her blouse-encased breast. elodie saw her mother's painted lips moving, but couldn't read them. for a woman in mourning , kenndy mcneil sure looked . . . put together.

feeling a shadow beside her, elodie pressed her lips together, blinking away the dissociative clouds that had polluted her vision. she didn't shift her gaze to whomever was looming beside her, but she did acknowledge their presence with a heaved sigh.

" if i hear one more ' i'm sorry for your loss ' . . . another mcneil is gonna end up either dead or in jail. whichever happens first. "

[ghcstlimbs]

Jude felt most of Helltown moved listlessly through the fundraiser; games were indulged without an ounce of mirth, blood draws rendered painless in the wake of shock -- he, a man who was best gratified but the unknown, unsure of how to navigate such an influx of discovers. Shuffling his sneakers in a school boy fashion, a hat pulled across his fresh (and once more, poorly cut) bangs, Jude drifted to Elodie's side without motive -- he was unsure of what to say, unsure if he could dare to speak. "I promise, I'm not here to offer sympathies. Or prod you for information, or ramble on about theories, in my usual way. We could talk about anything really -- that new Twisters movie, or whether it's time for me to finally give up the mullet." Jude had no mastery in the art of fraught, fragile conversations where stark reality was to be avoided at all costs. He knew she was tired; she of all people, wouldn't want to talk about it. Part of him felt unsure of how to indulge in trivial topics, when the truth demanded to be spoken; but he would endeavour, for her. "There's that saying that things like this are the way the light gets in, but I'm not quire sure that's true anymore."  

[thclastlight]

LOCATION: the fundraiser

FOR: @helltownhqstarters (open)

Tala kept having to remind herself that this was not just a party to socialize at, and those around her had lost people close to them. She wasn't heartless, she just wasn't affected. Her family was not from Helltown, and as long as Rafael was alright, that was really all she was concerned about. "I think that the memorial is such a good idea, don't you?" Clinging to a drink from one of the food trucks, she turned to offer a smile to the closest person in line. "Hopefully my donation will make a difference." It was a pretty hefty one, but she wasn't going to brag...

[ghcstlimbs]

"It's nice and all -- but answers would be better, don't you think?" The Samson of a month prior would have gladly indulged in a chipper, glib reply; he would have rushed to help organize the whole affair, promised a heart-felt delivery of some biblical refrain. But he could only gaze at the contents of his cup now, his eyes staring intently, as if he wished to will the water to offer some solution. "I'm sure it'll help, really. Helltown wasn't exactly what you expected, is it? I'm pretty sure all brochures state it's a nice small town, slightly odd, but quiet. This wasn't what I had in mind when I wandered in twenty years ago."

[scatteredwreckage]

status: open [ @helltownhqstarters ] location: the fundraiser

"I'm telling you right now, if someone comes near me with a needle I'm not going to be responsible for my actions." Percy said to anyone nearby that was willing to listen, quickly looking over his shoulder as he placed a cigarette between his teeth. "I feel like the whole blood drive thing is kind of in poor taste, right?" He questioned, though he was planning to do everything in his power to get the thought of six dead bodies out of his mind — he couldn't deal with another one — the cigarette was only the beginning.

[ghcstlimbs]

"I'm fairly certain the cigarette's going to make anyone second guess stealing your blood -- unless you're a universal donor. What's your type?" The poor taste perhaps lay most in Jude's attempts at a light, genial tone; but he found little productive in indulging his more morose thoughts. Jude stood still as a statue, watching residents engaging in displays of grief and shock; his eyes narrowed, hoping to discern who among them played for the crowd alone. "It is in poor taste but... I don't know what else would make anyone feel better. We can't exactly risk a candle vigil, can we? Considering the last time we all got together and there was fire involved."

[havntedhouses]

"And here I was thinking you were the one who scared me." Wells replied, trying somewhat to keep the mood light when the topic of conversation was anything but. "Is it bad that there are multiple women we could both be referring to?" That was something he had realized early in his research. There were plenty of missing people in this town and they were no closer to getting answers for where they actually were. Except for - "the one I'm referring to...we know what happened to her. Or at least where she ended up." Laurie Deana. Whatever questions she'd been asking had been enough to make sure she went up in flames with the school with no chance of being able to say a word before she died. "Maybe it's time for more of us to start asking questions. They can't kill every single one of us, can they?" Fuck, maybe they could.

[ghcstlimbs]

"Given the summer solstice, I wouldn't blame you if I did scare you." Samson's attempts to act aloof in the face of that terrible nights had been ill-gotten; no one who came in contact with him, could forget his name etched upon a wicked effigy. His poor attempts at self-preservation had evolved into naming the events first, a pathetic desire to hold dominion over his own reckoning. "Helltown has always been different -- but this? The fact we can be coy about one person and possibly mean so many others.... what are we becoming?" The answer was clear, weighing heavily upon Samson's shoulders; once more he gazed at the corpse of St. Michael's, and felt the rot seeping into his shows. Helltown was not devolving -- it was coming sharply into focus. "She is -- she's a tragedy. It's Kayla who's haunting me now. Plenty of people run around snooping; she wouldn't be gone if she didn't know something." He could not recognize his own voice; not the cowardly tremor reciting each word, nor the credence he gave to what he would once have proclaimed as utterly blasphemous. "You my friend, are a far braver man than I am. Because who are they? If they were those people at the solstice -- I don't know what comes next for me."

[havntedhouses]

setting: outside the rubble of st. michaels tagged: @helltownhqstarters

There was so many secrets. So much information to sift through without knowing what was real, what was a trap...what was the ramblings of a sister on a spiral. The only reason Wells wasn't behind on his lectures was because he planned each and every day before the semester started and he knew each lesson like the back of his hand. Every second he wasn't in front of his class, he was on the town blog, Kayla's blog and on his own document tracking everything he had found. Everything seemed to come back here and as he stared at the rubble he swore was still smoking...he barely heard the footsteps before someone was there with him. "What the hell did she know..." he mumbled, not looking towards them as he voiced one of many questions swirling in his head.

[ghcstlimbs]

If his wife later questioned where he had gone, Samson would offer any place but here. Samson was in fact, not here -- he was not lingering before rubble and ash, his thoughts polluted by spectres of the past. He was not standing beneath a muted sky, deathly pale above him -- the heavens would never fail to be portent, an ill-omen for what was to come. These inauspicious reflections found relief in the crunch of feet upon splintered wood; Samson turned, unable to remove a sheen of terror from his face. "Shit. You can't walk up -- you scared me." It is a sign of defeat that Samson offers such a naked admittance of weakness, but every pilar of his life has been uprooted as of late. He sighs, recovering his nerve and silencing the thunderous rhythm of his heart. "Asking questions is what -- that's why she's gone. But that's the thing, isn't it? I've spent the better part of twenty years not asking questions, and what has that done? These things keep happening."

[ghcstlimbs]

for: @complexicn 

location: chez jude

"Do you want to talk about it? Can we talk about it?"  He's awash in the tv glow, his mind transfixed on matters well beyond the trivialities Mulder and Scully faced on the screen; Jude is unsure if grief is the correct label for the unclaimed body, but what he feels so keenly must be its sister. "That makes two bodies -- if we're counting the haunting sacrifice from the solstice. What's happening to us?" Jude's prostrating to Kitty as much as he's offering a sermon to the dead air before him -- there's comfort in her form beside his, even if his limbs have yet to stretch towards her, to offer more beyond his usual ramblings. His legs move without purpose, his feet tapping on the ancient carpet he should have thrown out years ago; Kitty always tells him it is surely a relic of antiquity, judging from its state of disrepair. Jude turns his head, cautiously studying her features -- as always, he wishes to know her thoughts, to be extended a full expression of her thoughts. Little felt guaranteed, beyond his well placed faith in her. "People are going to start leaving. Even the ones who swore they'd never step foot out of town."

[ghcstlimbs]

coming home, your muse finds this taped to their front door. there is nothing else with it, just a card. something about it feels familiar, but you can’t pinpoint exactly what it is… 

—-

 It is what Jude has longed for — a north start to guide all that he seeks. He is rooted to his front door, grasping the card between his fingers, as immobilised as a statue. The Eternal Brotherhood. The name is unknown to him, but perhaps it will become clear, if he can bend his arms back; the quote is cryptic, yet it speaks to him. Man was made for immortality. 

A refrain that was insane. 

It made no sense. And he wouldn’t sleep until it did.  

[antoinettefms]

"trust that i am not taking any offense in how you're responding now, jude. i can only imagine what everyone has been through tonight." antoinette couldn't put to words how misery is painted in his eyes, and couldn't help but be curious. though at this point, she chose not to delve it, not have him recall it all. she herself was terrified of the details. his question though, makes antoinette repeat the question to herself. "i...in my head i do wish for people's misfortunes at times, but when does happen, i--" she takes a deep sigh. "it's what makes us human, in fucked up ways, we think those things to ourselves and when we see it--the most humane way to react to it is realize how...how fucked up you've thought of that. but that doesn't make it your wrong, jude."

[ghcstlimbs]

"Were you there for any of it? I still don't even fully understand what I saw." Jude's fingers drum against the wood table top incessantly, his mind returning to that scene, over and over. It had been a manifestation of evil that veered beyond comprehension --- his mind, already far too rife with questions to ever be considered useful, felt unnaturally quiet. "Like rude customers eating shit in the parking lot after they leave? Because I think wishing for that is just aspiring for divine karma. But this....I've just been wanting proof for so long, you know? That there's something dark in Helltown most people ignore. And now I have it, and part of my wishes I didn't. I don't know whether to think I pushed things to be true, or my misguided views were horribly correct."

[thvndrstorm]

               "  oh,   please,   don’t remind me the moments you’ve pissed me off,  "     she bites,   however,   the hidden smile that tugs and tugs at her lips,   threateningly,   almost uncontrollably,   takes most of the edge out of her answer because even when it’s true they often get mad at him,   staying mad at their boy is an excruciating task   —   there is always a charming smile,   a mocking reply,   pleading eyes and gentle expression making her give in,   give up,   reminding her the raging affection she’s felt for him since the moment they met.   with a soft punch to his arm,   rowan shakes her head.     "  of course i’ve missed you,   it’s been too long without being completely annoyed by someone.   one grows fond of those things,   you know ?  "     amusement permeates their tone as they shove the bag of mushrooms in their jacket’s inside pocket once more,   and their eyes roll at jude’s words,   at the taunting.   she feigns a short-lived irritation,   and follows him into the cemetery,   handing him the flask full to the brim with their preferred venom.    "  well,   i’ll have to see that with my own,   pretty eyes.   mrs.   macy doesn’t seem the type to interrupt her eternal rest,   though,   but i’m not gonna lie—   it’d be rad to meet her.  "     as they reach their destination,   the first where they usually start their cemetery shenanigans,   rowan extends her hand to get her flask back while she sits down on mrs.   macy’s tomb.     "  good night,   mrs. macy,   it’s us,   we’re not gonna bother you that much,   just here to...   you know,   get high and drunk as usual.  "     her words carry a hint of flippant energy,   yet they’re also charged with the strange ghost of respect.   she likes to wreak havoc around the place,   but she knows better than to mess with the dead.

[ghcstlimbs]

"Or when I tried to get you that waitresses number and I ended up spilling that water all over her..." It would be a fair assessment that his own romantic ventures often cascaded into ruin, and thus he was no worthy matchmaker; but Jude smiled sheepishly now all the same, intent on making such a stand once more. He, Jude, the well-meaning droll -- Rowan, lady lazarus who ate men like air, would never be parted no matter the vexing antics he indulged in; even when a gulf had laid between them, his fondness for them had not dulled. Part of him had existed terrified that Rowan's departure would alott her the breathing room to know that he was a misguided excuse of a person; that she was made of a finer mettle, and time would be spent with anyone else. In the dark, another smile brushes across Jude's face --- he is happy she missed him too. "Oh sure, who wouldn't miss that bit of gum that won't just leave their shoe? But I know you spent every moment we were apart thinking of my incredible wit and well-groomed bangs."  He takes the flash from her readily, wasting no time in removing the lid and tasting its contents; he hopes Rowan's eyes are too mesmerised by the death scene to notice him wince slightly. The first sip was always murder, before it became utter delight. "I bet she knows all of the towns secrets....though if she rose from the dead, she'd probably remember when we sat by her grave and I told you how I puked after making out with that girl in tenth grade." It'd been an ill-advised chugging of old, overly warm beer, that had prompted his ghastly expelling of his guts; but the moment had cemented Jude's tragic affinity to derail his romantic ventures. He wants to question Rowan whether she has gathered a bevy of admirers once more, but he'd like to let the mushrooms take a hold of them first before he unloads his eager questions. Notcing Rowan's gesture, Jude gives back the flask, taking his familiar spot before the gravestone. "Hello, Mrs. Darcy -- I hope you've been well. I'm hoping for our usual high-brow antics, and maybe if you're there -- you can answer a few questions for me." 

[havntedhouses]

When Raf had shown up this morning to meet with Jude, he hadn't really been thinking about the events of the solstice, he knew he should have been, but the emotions needed to process and grieve it? Those weren't something the man contained. So, when they ordered food and his stomach growled in hunger, he ignored it to follow his friends lead and make himself seem, well, more human in his reaction. "I don't know, man." Rafael offered, not helpful in the least as he shrugged his shoulders. "What does my father have to do with it? Besides the obvious, of course." But even Raf had doubts that being the mayor was enough to get his name added to that list. "None of it means anything to me. I've never even heard of, what the fuck was it? Cervus? Or a fucking stag - that shit sounds like Game of Thrones or some fantasy shit." Maybe it was.

[ghcstlimbs]

"Has your dad ever accidentally joined cults worshipping nature? Went to a cabin for a weekend get away and read from a book of death?" Jude employed his best self to deliver these lines, hoping his emphatic mention of the Evil Dead franchise offered them both some reprieve --- and to disguise the theories he had begun to harbour about the man in question.  Though Jude readily cast aspersions across whomever held the title of mayor to amuse his own sensibilities, no true trace of suspicion had colored his thoughts; but now, even God's errand boy Hernandez had been labeled a conspirator. "I wish this was Game of Thrones - I'd look amazing with long blonde hair. But I've never heard of Cervus being worshipped, only getting a brief mention in obscure books. It means whatever this thing, this group is, they're old Raf; older than Lavey's Satanic bible. Maybe even older than the Lesser Key of Solomon. "

[complexicn]

Evelyn looked toward her husband as he finally made his appearance, taking his cheek beneath the warmth of her hand in an approach of comfort — though she had her own doubts and queries of what was due to unfold, she had always found it easier to be the protective mother figure she had been ordained to become. With a faux-smile, Evelyn caressed her thumb against Samson’s cheekbone, her confidence in the matter built against an enforced foundation of what she believed was right or wrong. “Of course not, we’re just going to keep an eye out…” She hushed, turning back to the three of their four children in a final word of warning, before taking her husband’s hand in order to lead him from beyond their safe canopy and into the glow of that Summer’s night.

“You look very handsome tonight..." She cooed amidst the rare moment of privacy as the heels of her boots clicked against the pavement towards the emerging horizon of a bonfire and all that was to come.

[ghcstlimbs]

Samson had crawled all the way, leaving the torturous fray of chaos to the safety of the tree line --- strange sounds had followed him, hollowing his ears with their ghastliness. Struggling to stand, his eyes can only see trees, their arms swaying in a night without wind. The sacrifice had brought nature to an utter stand still; there was no breeze, and yet the trees convulsed, as if acting under their on volition. Samson choked, wanting to either scream or cry but having the energy for neither. An apparition appeared, emerging from the darkness before it -- a darkness more solid than the shadows of the night.  "Evelyn."  His fears dissipated at once, and he lunged for her figure, capturing her in an embrace that left no air between them. Samson knew his wife would likely look at him with scorn or suspicion, demand for him to name whatever transgressions had labelled him traitor; he would weather her words for a thousand days, if it meant he would enjoy the comfort of her within his arms. He could not help but tremble, his darkest fantasies come alight that night -- the darkness that had long shadowed Helltown had emerged in an angry rush. All present that night had felt it. "Evelyn....you have to believe me. I don't know what I did....unless they meant what happened in Florida.... Evelyn I swear to you. I do not know who I have betrayed -- but that person could never have been you." Burrowing his face into her wonderful mass of flaming hair, Samson quietly considered his missteps; he had tried to be so good. He had betrayed God, perhaps -- but there was no God that night. 

[ghcstlimbs]

for: @havntedhouses (rafael)

location: eggs and a biscuit 

The events of the Summer Solstice demanded a period intense reaction; collective fervour concentrated on understanding the horrors they had witnessed, undoubtedly to be followed by hissing denials of all they'd seen. Jude was accustomed to speaking without meditation, an impulsive strain forcing words from his mouth without thought --- but he sat before Rafael a muted shell of himself. A plate of food had long cooled on the table, his fork unmoved from its natural place by a butter knife. Jude sighed, unsure of himself; his eye held a look of melancholy, but his fingers drummed, unsure of how to hold his unnamed emotions. "Why the divinity of Cervus? The stag of the north requires a sacrifice?" His voice was low, to avoid venomous looks from diners who aspired to not talk of the festival --- but Jude was alighted, leaning across the table towards his friend. "They said the seven were stolen -- what do they know? And what the hell could Ortesky have to do with it?" 

[antoinettefms]

LOCATION: the jersey devil, hours after the chaos FOR: everyone @helltownhqstarters

"here, looks like you need it more than i do." there's really no solid news yet of what really had went down at the summer solstice, but it seemed enough for antoinette to conclude to herself that whatever may have happened, it was a sight nobody deserved to see. she knew that there was always something strange in this town, a place she grew up in, but as of late, the dancer knew it was more than just the feeling that engulfed this place. she moved close, cautiously to sit beside the other person. "anything i can do? keep the drinks coming, or something else? just tell me what you need, babe. i got you."

[ghcstlimbs]

"Thank you....that's nice." The night had wrought an agonising depression over Jude, leaving him awash in a strange fever of nerves. He couldn't be sure how long it had lasted --- but it had sufficed to wring his whole frame with anguish, and award him a nameless experience of terror. All of this, would pain him to convey to Antoinette in languid details; Jude studied her carefully, unsure of how he could justify eroding her comforting, peaceful expression. "The company is nice -- and it's very boring that the only word I can come up with is nice, but I mean it. I don't know what to think, really. Have you ever wished for something, then had it happen, only to realize you were wrong to want it?" 

[seeinghcsts]

open starter: @helltownhqstarters !! location: the event p2

" — audrey ?? " emilio called out, getting knocked around like a pinball machine as he barreled through the chaos in search for his wife. panic was ripe on his features, eyes wide and burning like the flames that only seemed to grow with each limb it consumed, smoke pluming in a thick cloud and the horrendous smell of burning flesh. " AUDREY ?? " he cried out again, nearly getting knocked to his feet, mist veiling his eyes from both wild fear and the thick smoke burning them. " my wife , " he pleaded to the first person he could find, grabbing them by both their biceps. " my wife. please — have you seen her ?? she's . . . she's short. red hair. hard features. her names audrey. "

[ghcstlimbs]

There was no way for Samson to maintain composure under these circumstances; it was beyond the foulest horrors of his dreams. He struggled, stumbling all the way, fighting for purchase upon the ground as much as he sought a motive to go forth. That haughty voice that had spoken to him, pitiless, delivering words that laid upon him like stones. Samson staggered, finding himself without the ability to move --- overcome that he had fastened his hopes squarely upon God, who had revealed themselves to be a false idol. He swayed, his eyes registering only the night clouds, flying low like banners over a scene of chaos. He would have remained stationary, had reality not cruelly been thrust upon him once more. Samson gazed at Emilio, his body limp as the other man shook him, seeing eyes that had been bleached by smoke and tears. "She.... must have fled. Both of them, probably... went to the cars." Samson thought of Evelyn and her triple halo of gifts; beauty, intelligence, faith. She knew of his previous errors; but she had been an unwitting witness to his public sentencing. He didn't know if she would wish him to return home. "What....was that. Who. Why? Emilio - why?" Samson grabbed Emilio's shoulders in return at his half-plea, half mad yell; why. He did not know if he was prepared to know. 

[ghcstlimbs]

event — SAMSON

whilst at the festival …  you end up wandering off rounding a corner, and discovering something tucked behind one of the tents, they look like … sculptures, almost. or really fucked up scarecrows. they’re made of bones, charred sticks, animal hair, and reeked of the most horrid odor. like something had died. inspecting further, you realize that there is blood, like scarlet syrup, dripping from the eye sockets, and poking from their clothes, you notice blood-clotted fur and features. wait; those were YOUR clothes. ( how the fuck did they get those ??). antlers, real antlers, project from the top of the masks, attached with thick twine, and when you squint your eyes… you realize your name has been carved into the face with the word “TRAITOR” written underneath. what do you do ??

It is like sinking into a fever dream -- all time stops around Samson, all that exists is this figurine. It is the manifestation of all his father had preached against, wickedness and the unholy welded into this thing. He cannot scream, nor can he envision ever removing this substance from his figures -- he has become Lady Macbeth, accursed by a spot that shall not come out.

Above all else, it is the accusation, not his name, not the blood like substance that makes him sink to his knees. Traitor. Samson cannot look at the words and not feel they do not lay in truth; he masquerading as a good samaritan, betrays much -- and whatever brought these relics forth, sees him as a purveyor of the truth. Samson takes off his glasses, wiping tears from his eyes.

His father had raised him better than this. 

[thclastlight]

"Thank you." Her cheeks taking on a slightly rose tint at the compliment, even if it hardly was one, Adeline tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, thinking momentarily she should have put it up. It was a hot day, hotter than she had expected, and she wasn't a fan of the summer... except for the one she had spent on the beach. "That's—" she started, but she was unsure what to say. Beautiful? Disturbing? She didn't have the faintest clue how his grandfather's remark made her feel. "I hope there is no death of any sort tonight." Well, that wasn't exactly what she had intended to say. "Except for the fire. It's pretty warm to spend all day huddled around a fire..."

[ghcstlimbs]

"You're welcome." Jude considered bartering for her approval that he too would shine brightly adorned with a flower crown; but he did not wish for levity to erode the sincerity of his statement. He knew his words had ranged from sinister to unbalanced, and he did not wish to disrupt the look upon Adeline's countenance now -- the festal light shone on her, a dream-like air cloaking her features. "I'm sure there will be only one, and that will be my ego death when all the mulled wine I've chugged catches up with me." Jude looked to the fire as she spoke, feeling at once unmoored by its presence. It had begun to grow, what was once meek sparks, flames grew, hot and emboldened. "Are you a big bonfire person, then? Camping? I went once, but I got disinvited from the Boy Scouts for telling too many ghost stories."