10:45PM. a l͟a͟t͟e͟ - n͟i͟g͟h͟t͟ humidity creeps in through the cracks in the wall like a p͟h͟a͟n͟t͟o͟m͟ , scurrying amid the stressed floorboards and into my chest. i meet the gaze of A DEAD MAN in the finger - smeared reflection of a cracked mirror in the sunken discs underneath lifeless, H͟O͟L͟L͟O͟W͟ eyes. 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ? my reflection vanishes behind the gray matter of year - old stains, drifting beneath the dirt and grime like the n͟a͟m͟e͟l͟e͟s͟s͟ c͟o͟r͟p͟s͟e͟ b͟u͟r͟i͟e͟d͟ i͟n͟ t͟h͟e͟ b͟a͟y͟o͟u͟. a lifeless, 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 adorned in locust flowers and gator guts, bobbing beneath the surface, waiting to be plucked.
04: NO, WE’RE FINE. STOP CONTACTING ME. 𝟭𝟬:𝟯𝟳𝗣𝗠 𝟬𝟳/𝟬𝟭/𝟵𝟲
[ Y͟O͟U͟ G͟O͟O͟D͟ I͟N͟ T͟H͟E͟R͟E͟ ͟? ] PORTMAN. ❝ uh, uh , yeah. yeah, ‘m good. COMING. sorry, needed a minute. you guys find anything ? ❞
C. PORTMAN : WALSH WASN’T LYING. AT LEAST NOT ABOUT WHERE HE WAS THAT NIGHT. SO, EITHER HE REALLY WASN’T IN THE AREA AT THE TIME OF IMOGENE’S DISAPPEARANCE, OR THE WHOLE CONGREGATION’S LYING FOR HIM.
❝ […] wouldn’t be th’first time. whole church’s been messin’ around in shady shit, but somehow nothing ever sticks. YOU GUYS TALK TO THE ALTER - BOY, YET? frank ——— ❞
@dtmalave . THE BOTTLE EPISODE.