Darkest Winter

Zachary Caldwell 1810-1846

[olblackzack-blog]

franwyatts:

“Mr. Caldwell, is it?” she greeted back, raising her eyebrows a bit as she posed the question. Frankie could tell that the man was almost in a sense of contemplation, and tilted her head to the side slightly. It was more evident than ever that the man seemed to be lost in something, but Frankie didn’t dare to ask or comment on it.

“Well, that’s alright,” she replied to his apology, taking on a more genuine tone than he had. Even though one of Frankie’s biggest pet peeves was when people invaded her privacy, she did all that she could to make it seem as if she was unbothered. Frankie was more than glad that her act was seeming to hold up despite the amount of frustration and anger that she felt inside. “Then you’ve heard correctly,” she started with a small grin, nodding her head a bit. “I can most definitely help you with what you’re looking for. What kind of spells or potions were you thinking?”

The relief was clear on Zack’s face when when the woman answered him, and he began to relax in increments. First the thrumming in his head quieted, then his spine slouched some, and his fists unclenched. And the more he relaxed the more normal he began to feel, and when that happened he started to feel ashamed. What was he doing, break into a lady’s house and demanding things from her? 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. “Usually go by Zack. It’s um, it’s nice to meet you. I need....” he paused, almost not believing that he was finally so close to what he needed, what he had drifted along for so many years looking for. “I need something that will make people tell the truth.” 

“I can spend amount of money on it. You just name it.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

franwyatts:

Although she knew all ghosts were different, there was something off about Zack. He seemed almost dazed, stuck in a thought that couldn’t quite surface itself enough for one to make sense out of it. Part of her wanted to know what was running through his mind, but another part of her didn’t. Although she always enjoyed getting endless information on people, there was something unmistakably dark that Frankie knew that she shouldn’t approach.

Frankie had heard many stories about how people never imagined her as she actually was, but a man named Wyatt was a new one. If she had been in any better of a mood it would have made her smile, and maybe even make her let out an involuntary chuckle. But now, she was forcing every visual sign of amusement that came across her face.

“A man named Wyatt? Oh, I think you may be looking for me,” she replied, letting a small chuckle escape her lips. “I’m Frankie Wyatt. You may have switched my last name for a first.”

Zack stared at her as if she were transparent. As if he could see right through her to the wall behind her. He could move though walls now, been able to for ages. He was something formless, like the air he hadn’t needed for years and just as insignificant. It was only his mission that anchored him anywhere, tacked him to where he stood. It was only his search for the Truth that kept him talking. Otherwise, he might have just fallen straight through the floor. 

“Miss Wyatt,” he said, considering the name. Well, things got fuzzy for him more often than not these days. It’s not like he’d ever been in the future before, not really. No, all this time he’d spent in the darkest corners of a national forest, as unchanging as his own skin. It was all a bit overwhelming. 

“I’m sorry to just...appear like this,” he said, and he was sorry, but he was too curious for his tone to take on a genuine quality. “It’s just that I’ve heard you’re good at...” he gestured vaguely. “Magic. And see, I need a spell or two and then I’ll be on my way.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

franwyatts:

Working as a receptionist for City Hall required two things: fake positive attitudes and a patience as strong as no other. Frankie had become quite good at mastering the former, considering that her business thrived off of the trustworthy vibes she gave to others. Though, the latter was more complex. Normally, Frankie was quite patient. She could endure a few rude people demanding to speak to the Mayor or clueless new citizens who thought that the simple receptionist could solve all of their problems. Though today, she wasn’t really having it. She was exhausted, and every little thing seemed to anger her. Frankie was able to keep on her face until the end of her shift, but she could feel her muscles tightening from frustration as soon as she exited the building. 

She swung open her front door, dropping her bag onto the floor as she ran her hand through her hair. Frankie was tempted to let out a scream, but kept her calm. Well, she had to considering that there was a man standing and knocking over things in her living room. “Excuse me?” she questioned, using the kindest tone that she could manage. The doors and windows showed no signs of forced entry, so how did the man get in? Frankie followed behind the man, picking up all of the things that he had knocked over. As she cut in front of him, Frankie barely saved a vase from hitting the floor. It didn’t take her long to recognize the ghost, and suddenly his mysterious entry into the house made sense. “Zack, is there something I can help you with?” Despite all urges of smashing the vase on top of his head, Frankie managed to gently set it down and pose her question in a soft tone.

His stupor was broken by a voice––a woman’s voice, though that would only be temporary. A hundred and fifty years in the wilderness would do that to someone, make it hard to focus on anything but the thoughts in your own head. He turned around, caught the apprehension in her gaze and almost thought to apologize. She was probably Wyatt’s wife, it wouldn’t do to scare her, he needed Wyatt––

But when she spoke his name, he paused. How did she know him? Was she someone he had visited lately, maybe scared her for no reason other than he damn well could? Or was she someone from....before? A ghost like him, a pioneer like him, trapped in this Godforsaken town for who knew how long? 

He was staring at her. He shook his head and tried to remember. What was it he needed? What was The Truth? 

“Wyatt?” he said, after too long a pause. “Lookin for a man by the name of Wyatt.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

@franwyatts

1846

It had stopped snowing hours ago, and the forest looked like heaven. That’s how he always pictured it anyway: white everywhere you looked to match the angel’s robes, and peaceful too. Calm. Every living thing was fast asleep, and the trees stood guard over the cliffs. 

And Zack had his hands around a man’s neck. 

His name was Patrick, or maybe Peter? And he’d stolen the dried beef. He’d stolen it and ate it and Zack had been saving it for his family and––

“You took it and ate it! Tell me the truth!” Zack’s voice boomed out over the landscape. Behind him, people were begging him to stop. 

He would stop eventually. His heart was still thumping in his chest; he wasn’t that far gone yet. 

But for now, over and over: Tell me the truth. Dammit, tell me the truth! 

Now

Zack blinked his eyes open and wondered how long he’d been standing in the stranger’s living room. He could have been standing there for ages, he could have been there for an eternity. Time wasn’t going to pass on his face, or in the skin on his hands, so how the hell would he know? But it wasn’t dark, so he figured it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. 

Why was he here? Right, Wyatt. He’d floated around town, right through the walls of Wyatt’s home (he was fairly certain it was Wyatt’s home) because he needed something. The Truth. That’s right. 

And then it went fuzzy, and he stumbled around, knocking over furniture and passing dazed through the walls. 

[olblackzack-blog]

ghvstgirl:

SHE COULDN’T HELP BUT HOLD SOMEWHAT OF AN INNOCENT EXPRESSION… even as he’d slipped that knife out. though she was physically there, watching him do this, she couldn’t believe it — and didn’t actually react until a solid moment had passed. echo had always expected the worst in people… but time and time again, she’d been proven wrong. that she didn’t need to keep a distance, that it was safer than she’d thought… and here someone was finally proving her right.

the fact that she was a ghost didn’t even enter her brain as she started backing up, ❛ don’t do this, man… ❜ she managed out — before turning and booking it in the opposite direction. ❛ oh, shit… oh, shit… ❜ dark browns frantically scoured the area for someone… anyone!❛ help… help! ❜ funny… how someone who was not only dead but previously contemplated and attempted suicide was running from danger. wait… was ‘ funny ’ the right word? ❛ stop! ❜ she screamed out at him ; over her shoulder.

She was going to make a scene out of it, and Zack appeared before her unflinchingly after watching her run around screaming for a few minutes. Zack had known for days, hell––weeks if he was honest––that he was going to die, and by the time he gave up the ghost in the snow he had made his peace with the whole thing. But in his time on this earth he’d seen a lot of ways people acted when they knew they were going to die. Much of it was plum stupidity. 

So anyway, he caught up with her and plunged that knife right into her heart and....nothing. He knew well enough what skin that couldn’t be destroyed twice looked like. He whistled low and shook his head. 

“Well Jesus, what was all that carryin’ on for?” he asked, genuinely curious. He slipped the knife back into his pocket. 

[olblackzack-blog]

cole-blackwood:

Cole assumption on the ghost variety was they were dead and can materialize like the Disney song. He wasn’t ready to hear the ghost speak so candidly about killing someone. It was like the weather, of course, it was like the weather. Death didn’t seem like it held any weight to a literal dead guy. Cole tried to school his features as he looked over at the man, “Oh right,” as if this is whatever ghost did. Did Echo do that? Cole tucked his fingers into his jean pockets, “I mean I guess whatever passes the time?” Even as he said it, Cole’s brows furrowed. It sounded weird on his own tongue. “Uh… Any particular reason why you want to just kill someone?”

And that was a question that required some thought into the answer. Even after all this time, he found himself choosing his words carefully when he told his tale. 

So he took the boy up on his offer and found himself in a bar, ordered cheap whiskey for himself (it was all he was used to) and left the boy to buy his own drink. He wasn’t going to waste any money on someone who looked like they could hardly handle more than a couple of shots. Then he sat there, rubbing his chin, thinking of where to start. He was a ghost story as much as he was a ghost: a legend passed down from one whisper to the next in a tent in the middle of untamed forest. He was a legend and a curse. 

“I’m sure in school they taught you about the Donner party,” he said, looking down at the counter, where condensation from glasses had left gray-white stains. “You ever hear about the Caldwell party?” 

[olblackzack-blog]

Four Dead Men-Self Para 

Trigger warnings for homicide, gore, etc

Four dead men sittin’ round a fire 

Beside the blood black creek

Four dead men sittin’ round a fire

but only one of them can speak. 

Count ‘em: 

The first one was a college student and didn’t know what hit him, poor bastard. Zack knocked him over the head, plain and simple. The sun was just falling and he had been out hiking alone. His camp would miss him soon. Zack sat down beside him for awhile and watched the sun go down. 

The second one had shoes that were too nice for camping and carefully combed hair. Zack pretended like he was lost first, and when the man looked down at his map Zack looked down at his own hands clasped around his neck. He vanished before his friends could catch up with him. 

The third wasn’t just a camper, but a native to West Hollow too. Had to be, the way he was so well prepared (and by that he damn well meant armed), by the way his eyes widened when he saw Zack. No, not because he was frightened that he saw something like a ghost. Like he was frightened because he damn well knew a ghost when he saw one. Zack sent him on his way with a knife in his chest, watched as the blood seeped out. Legend has it that Zack didn’t have his own heart anymore, that he’d cut it out himself. 

Three rough dug graved on the other side of the campground in the middle of the night. Zack barely had time to admire his own handiwork. They’d be coming soon. The town would wake up, the reporters and police all swarming the place. Or maybe this was business as usual and someone would come dig up the bodies nice and quiet like. Whatever it was, they’d surely get the warning. And they’d better hurry fast, because the emptiness in Zack just grew and grew as he tended to the flames. He would need to kill again soon. 

He was so, so cold. 

[olblackzack-blog]

’ What are you doing? ’

Honesty Day!

“Just enjoyin’ a fire after a long day’s work,” he said, his voice like rough-made boots on gravel. “What’s the campground for, ain’t it?” he gave a small smile, looking quite ordinary. Except of course, for the enormous mound of fresh dirt only a few yards away, and the shovel propped up beside it. 

[olblackzack-blog]

cole-blackwood:

Cole wanted to ask him some questions, some things he couldn’t get to ask Echo. It probably wasn’t polite etiquette as he shut his mouth completely. A slight grin on his face as he made a nod towards the bar, “C'mon,” He motioned. Cole started to walk towards the bar his hands pocketed into his jacket. The cold air was doing nothing but feel like stabbing his knuckles with the chill. “I don’t really drink…much,” He explained offhandedly, “So what are ya’ll doin’ out this late at night?” He wondered looking over at him, “Tryin’ to give people a jump scare or something?”

Zack liked this fellow. Helpful, friendly. So many nice people in West Hollow. He probably came from a nice family, worked at a nice job. He was probably not quite human, seeing as how he hadn’t run screaming from Zack yet. Few types out there that could look at a ghost and not soil themselves. So Zack walked along, chuckled at the boy’s attempt at smalltalk. He shot the boy a look when he claimed he didn’t drink much (that’s fine, he didn’t judge other people’s choices like that. Maybe he was one of them Mormons), and broke into a grin at the question he posed. 

“Just lookin for someone to kill.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

cole-blackwood

Before he could say anything the guy disappeared and reappeared behind him. It nearly made Cole jump out of his skin, nearly, because Echo has been doing a good job at keeping him on his toes. With one strong sniff, he wasn’t able to distinctly smell the stranger. It was the key clue that he wasn’t even alive. Cole pinched his smile as he turned around to face the man. “Can you even drink?” He wondered with a tilt of his head. He cast a cursory glance down the street towards the main town, “If you want I’ll show you where the local bar is at?” He offered.

A grin split Zack’s mouth open, wide and bright and menacing. “Course I can,” he said, chuckling at being found out (not that he had left the boy with too many other ideas about who he was). “I can drink, I can feel the wind on my face,” he scrubbed at his beard absentmindedly. “I look just as real as you do, don’t I? If you don’t mind, I think I’d appreciate that. And tell ya what, I’ll buy you a round when we get there.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

romansmoore:

Roman wracked his brain for just a second, reminding himself of the various books on the shelf and which ones might contain what the customer was looking for. He’d read them all at least once, but having read so many books meant Roman had to keep a mental catalog of each one. Sometimes it was complicated business, having to sort through each book he’d read.

Finally, he began pulling books that discussed the origins of West Hollow. They all contained the sanitized, human-friendly version of West Hollow’s beginning, of course, and would only offer a small amount of information. “That’s a pretty specific timeline,” he commented, hoping to strike up friendly conversation. “You know, you can always ask around town too. Some locals have roots dating back to those days. 

“Take my family, for example,” he prattled. “I mean, technically we’re from Salem, but I’m pretty sure we came to West Hollow around the 1800′s. People take pride in that kind of history, y’know? Stories get passed down from generation to generation. You can learn a lot from your neighbors.”

Zack was silent while the boy rambled on, looking at the titles pressed into the spines of the books. The information he needed was somewhere in this town, it was just a matter of finding it. God only knew how deep it was buried. But he would find it. He had nothing but time. 

At the mention of the boy’s family, his proud tone, his friendly demeanor, Zack felt himself become furious. Ever since he departed, he found that he could...bend reality a bit. He could make folks see things that weren’t there, hear things that didn’t exist. He often found it was more effective at getting his point across than speaking. 

So he shut off the garish fluorescent lights, and they flickered a bit until they gave out. Then he fractured the store’s front window for good measure. 

“That so?” he asked, taking one step towards the boy, then another. “Well then I’ll ask you: Caldwell. 1846. Think real hard now.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

leo--daniels:

Leo had been walking in the cold night air to try and clear his mind when a voice suddenly sounded from behind him. Jumping in shock, he gasped and spun around, conjuring a spray bottle of pepper spray in his pocket in the panic. He thanked his lucky stars as he looked at the stranger and the words registered that the noise of his movements concealed the pop of the pepper spray coming into existence. He laughed a little nervously. “Sorry, you spooked me, man. I’m not too familiar with the area, but I can google you directions if you want?” he offered, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it up.

Zack almost took a step back in shock. He hadn’t––he couldn’t––Timothy? He was looking at the face of his boy, but that was impossible. He’d held Tim in his arms, cried over him, accepted that he was going to hell for what he’d done. His boy was in heaven, he was in heaven––

He cleared his throat and tightened his fists to mask their trembling. “That’s alright,” he said, barely above a whisper. “That’s alright. Listen, you shouldn’t be out alone like this. It gets dark quicker than you’d realize. Not safe.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

cole-blackwood:

Cole had been going through the ringer the past few days. He was trying to get acclimated to everything but he had found a vampire, two werewolves, and a ghost that wouldn’t leave his house. He was certain that there were no humans actually residing in West Hollow at this point. He needed to get out and walk. It was the only thing he could do that would calm his mind. He wasn’t expecting someone to show up behind him. Cole turned his head letting out a sigh. “Technically yeah, I just moved in like last week.” He explained, he wasn’t sure of every part of the town but he could rouse the best guess for the lad before him, “Where are you headed?” He wondered stepping forward towards the male.

Goddammit, was everybody in this town new? West Hollow was a pioneer town like every other municipality in this state, but that was over a hundred years ago. This boy was the fourth or fifth he’d had to pass over this evening, and he wanted to kill him just out of spite. 

He couldn’t though. That thrumming under his skin would only get worse. He knew the rule now, only those from West Hollow, or it was just no good. 

Zack moved with the shadows, disappearing from where he stood to pop up again on the other side of the stranger. 

“I’m just lookin for a place where I can get a drink,” he said, as if nothing had happened. 

[olblackzack-blog]

ghvstgirl:

MAYBE IT WASN’T THE SMARTEST IDEA… to go out just as the night was rolling in. but, oh, how echo used to love taking walks when it got dark. her parents would come into her room, give her their daily lecture about how she needed to start acting ‘ normal ’… and once they were done? she’d slip out of her window — and use the time alone to remind herself she wasn’t a freak. but to do something like that in a place like west hollow? it was a death wish. she didn’t know just how many creatures lurked in the shadows…‘ luckily ’, echo was already dead.

the low, hoarse voice came from behind… and the small spirit took no time to jump. she sucked in a breath of unneeded air, and wide, dark browns kept ahead of her… before she slowly turned to find just who it was that decided it was okay to scare the shit out people just going for a walk. he looked… groomed — and suddenly, the situation was slipping into that of the weird variety. echo casually sized him up before answering, ❛ i guess… ❜ technically, she was a resident. ❛ what’re you tryin’ to find? ❜

She should have kept walking. Why didn’t she keep walking? Year after year, winter after winter, Zack couldn’t believe how stupid people could be, how careless. Of course, he was the biggest fool of all, believing he could run from an Oregon winter. That’s how he was in this mess in the first place. And now he had become winter itself, cold and unforgiving, inevitable. He was death, and this poor girl didn’t even know it. 

“I’ve found it,” he said, slipping his hunting knife out of his coat’s pocket. She would scream, and run, and it wouldn’t matter. And later, he would wash the blood of his hands in this little stream in the forest, and he wouldn’t feel nothin’, nothin’ at all. 

[olblackzack-blog]

thaliawinsor:

Thalia had been too lost in her thoughts as she was walking to work, a week of night shifts was enough to leave anyone preoccupied enough not to notice that someone had appeared right behind them. He startled her with his question, but the polite tone didn’t immediately set her off on edge, and Thalia couldn’t help but drop her purse as she jumped at the sudden voice.

“Oh-sorry you startled me I didn’t mean to jump,” she smiled hesitantly, tone sheepish as she knelt down in front of the man. Her focus drifted from him to her things as she diligently collected the contents of the purse that had fallen out. “I am, I was just walking to work actually. Are you looking for some place in particular? I’m sure I can point you in the right direction, Sir.” Thalia offered him a kinder smile, standing and straightening out her uniform as she slipped her bag back over her shoulder.

And the thrumming only got worse when she spoke. Wasn’t blood in his veins anymore, it was something else, something nasty, and he had finally found his target. He’d make it quick for her; Zack wasn’t really one for torture, it was just the life he wanted. He wondered if he’d make a ghost outta her too. 

He realized he was staring. Well, better get on with it. Didn’t make much difference whether she saw it coming or not, she wouldn’t be able to stop it either way. 

As she stood he withdrew his gun, pointed it right at her, forcing her to back up some. “Now, this ain’t nothin’ personal ma’am,” he said, no inflection in his tone. “Sins of the father and all that.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

cian-the-brave--cian-the-fool:

Cian enjoyed walking at night. Though the air was colder, there was a sense of peace that fell over the town after the sun had set. Not to mention it was just nice to go for a walk with only his thoughts to keep him company. He had been doing just that when the sound of someone speaking pulled his attention back to reality. Turning, he looked to see a youngish looking man standing just a bit taller than himself.

“Oh. Well, yeah, but I’m pretty new. I can try to help you find where you’re going though.” Cian had still been taking the time to familiarize himself with the area, but walking everywhere did help him remember where certain places were. Giving a friendly smile, the fairy stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Where are you looking for?”

Zack gave the ground a good hard look. He shouldn’t be able to feel the ground; everything he had always heard about ghosts suggested that they didn’t have bodies no more, that they floated along transparent and unheard. But here he was, feeling the ground underneath his shoes and the wind stinging his face. He shouldn’t be able to reach across and strangle the stranger, but he could. 

But he wouldn’t. “Pretty new.” That meant his folks probably weren’t from West Hollow, that meant he couldn’t kill him. 

“Tell ya what,” Zack said, his voice measured. “Why don’t you just tell me where the cemetery is, and I’ll be on my way.” 

[olblackzack-blog]

romansmoore:

Something felt off about the customer standing before him, but Roman couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Nonetheless, he was supposed to be helpful, cheery, and hospitable; there was no reason to act any differently than usual. “Sure thing,” he breezily replied, stepping out from behind the counter. He motioned toward the left of the storefront, where they kept a historical section among the non-fiction books. “You’re gonna want to follow me this way.”

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to come gathering books about West Hollow’s history, especially given it’s reputation as a peculiar town. There were a decent amount of books to choose from, and there were even books about surrounding areas of Oregon. 

“Anything you want to look into specifically?” Roman asked, plucking a few options from the shelves. “Do you want books specifically about the 1800′s or are books detailing the whole history of West Hollow okay too? They’ll have sections dedicated to that time period, but it won’t be as extensive, y’know?”

Zack had stayed far away from civilization ever since he set out from Pennsylvania, on a journey to tame the wild west. The west, as it turned out, was cruel beyond measure, and had punished him for daring to dream of gold. But once he was dead, the wild was all he knew, and he floated through acres of dense forest, drank at streams, heard wounded coyotes howl and thought he had never understood a sound so thoroughly. But once he got to West Hollow, learned what an “internet” was and drank an instant coffee, he found himself a little surprised that they still even bothered with books. 

“I need,” he stopped and considered. Licked his lips. I need to know what happened in 1846. Who was there at the beginning.”