#*vitalphenomena: juniper

[10ccs]

@vitalphenomena texted: Why couldn’t you just stay out of it? 

juniper feels like the ghost of christmas present, haunting him with his misdeeds until he finally relents and repents. she hasn’t shown him enough of them yet, though.  

[ text: juniper ] why couldnt you? 

it’s what he understands the least. why can she not just drop it and move the fuck on?

[ text: juniper ] its none of your business 

[somethinginthedirt]

@vitalphenomena

he comes to at black canyon. one moment darkness, the next he's here, fingers wrapped tight around the fence that protected onlookers from plunging to a rocky death. sam remains there for a moment, eyes closed. his head swims with hazy visions: stevie, from the motel; a record player skipping, and a moon almost full, rising behind the tired-looking blonde, blood spilling from a gash in her neck.

he's been in this stupid fucking town for almost a month.

exhaling, bone-tired as he always is after a blackout, he fishes out a cigarette and turns his back to the canyon to catch his breath. a prickling sensation skitters along the back of his neck, but he ignores it, jaw tight as he lights the smoke. it's only then he notices he's not alone at the overlook—a rarity. he squints from behind his sunglasses, surprised to realize he doesn't even recognize the woman.

a tourist? poor fucking thing.

"it's not really that impressive," he says to her, knocking his head back towards the canyon. black rock plunges deep into the earth, jagged outcrops hiding small caves and abandoned mining shafts. the air around it is oppressive, like gravity is heavier somehow. "there're better roadside attractions."

[somethinginthedirt]

sooner or later it’ll come back. we need to be prepared. - stevie and juniper

@vitalphenomena

she peers around the bushy desert tree they're hiding behind just to make sure. a series of them circle a small clearing. empty now and eerily silent. she feels like she's being watched.

(but doesn't she always? when she stops and pays close enough attention to the sensation, it's always there, unrelenting.)

ducking back behind the tree, she says, "i think if we just ignore it we'll be fine." not that her words feel reassuring, but it's what the stories have told her: ignore it, mind your own business, and don't engage. but her heart still slams against her ribcage and she doesn't scare easy anymore.

whatever the thing they saw was looked—wrong. it stood on two legs, but it was hunched over, its dusty bones angled wrong and sharp against its skin. a scorpion skittered along its spine. when it looked over at them, it made scratchy sort of wheezing sound. they scrambled away and hid, waited and waited until silence finally descended.

she reaches into her back pocket and produces her trusty switchblade. she carries it everywhere with her. "but i do have this, just in case. not that i want to get close to that... thing, but desperate times. let's just get the hell out of here now. jesus christ."