the festival had been nothing short of odd, filled with questionable party favors, strange music, and even more peculiar company. you've made yourself at home with it, at least. whether it be due to finding some actual semblance of enjoyment, or from just wanting to see it through since you came all the way out here anyways. you keep checking the time, and slowly — it was moving. second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. before you knew it, the sun was at its highest at 8:16pm. you notice, like shadows slipping through the night, that the masked hosts have circled around the outskirts of the grounds. how many of them were there ??
they formed a barrier, a wall that could not be broken. no one could leave without pushing past them, and with the way their masks were gleaming with scarlet in the evening summer sun . . . any temptation to try were quickly snuffed. everyone's attention was drawn to the bonfire in the center of the festival that has been roaring since the moment everyone arrived, its flames never dying, fuel in the form of wood, sticks, and planks always being added by folks of all walks of life.
you hear the beat of a drum, from one of the masked musicians, a steady and pulse-resembling beat like that of a large beast's heart. it's loud, it's all-consuming, you feel it in your feet through the earth below you all the way up to your skull. there's some hushed whispers, some quiet murmurs. perhaps this will just be a prayer of some sort and then you could all go home— the invitation did mention there would be praying.
from behind the tents that had been pitched in the back comes a figure, and she is walking with some odd and peculiar wooden stilts on her hands. like some kind of animal. the mask she adorns is slightly different than those of the festival-hands, a white one with two sets of large antlers stretching to the heavens, and a closer look reveals it has two faces, with what appears to be smeared handprints ornamenting its front.
on these stilts, she circles the fire, beginning to mutter some kind of prayer as she does so. the festival hands echo her words but . . . you do not recognize the language they speak. their prayers grow louder, and louder, and suddenly the figure stops, as does the chanting.
❛ welcome to the 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄, my divinians. . . ❜
her voice, despite its thunderous volume, is a melodic song carrying on the breeze as it brushes through the forest. no one speaks as she silences them with her presence, still on her stilts, surveying the crowd that has now gone entirely silent.
❛ by the acceptance of our invitation, of our gifts, of our offerings and hospitality . . . we officially welcome you into our ceremony. a ceremony of honor. of thanks. of the acknowledgement in the change in equinox and the birthing season of our divine. these coming months, the kin of our saviors will walk these grounds among us . . . and we wish to give them a warm welcome by cleansing this land for their arrival, and purging it of its sin. ❜
you notice now that masked festival-hands were bringing in these . . . sculptures. they look like wicked scarecrows, recreations of familiar figures you see every so often within the town but . . . not quite. there are three of them, with names carved into their faces; SAMSON HERNANDEZ, RICHARD ORTESKY, and MIGUEL SANTOS DE OLIVEIRA.
before you can process what is happening, before you can make out the fine details of the sculptures, they are being tossed in the fire. the prayer amongst the festival hands has resumed, and they seem to be inching closer and closer . . . closing in, entrapping everyone in a tight herd by the fire that now roared louder as it devoured the sculptures it had been given.
❛ the divine demands to be fed, it demands sacrifice. . . for all we ask of it, it only requests that we keep these woods and this earth it walks upon clean. . . ❜
some of the festival-hands words begin to topple over themselves, growing more passionate, some of them swaying with the heartbeat of the drum and the melodic coo of their prayers.
❛ the divine will save us all . . . and bring back the seven who were stolen from us . . . but for the divine to save us, we must feed it. we must fuel it. we must lay down the holiest of carpets for it to walk upon.❜
and then . . . the chanting changed. suddenly, atop the foreign prayer, came the names of the missing bowling alley employees, the name of laurie deana, the name of kayla mcneil . . . prayers and chants mixing until it was too hard to decipher the muttering as anything more than a swell of noise as it crescendoed. as it rocked the trees, pulsed through the dirt, soared like the rising flames of the fire.
and finally, with a final cry for her savior ;
❛ for YOU, the divine . . . for YOU, the most holy . . . in the name of the divinity of cervus, i give my life to you. i give my sins and my anguish and my blood . . . i give you my life so you may restore breath to those in which it was stolen from !! ❜
and like she were a goddess of flame herself, the woman walked into the fire, the flames catching the fabric of her robes and igniting the wood of her stilts, enwrapping the antlers and the mask on her face, swallowing her whole as her screams of agony sounded off like a war cry. the crowd around you erupts in panic, and none of the handlers try to stop you from running as they drop to their knees around the fire, throw their necklaces & flower crowns into the raging inferno, or launch themselves into the swell of flames themselves.
all you can hear is the sound of prayer, the sound of sacrifice, the outcry of panic, and that steady beat of the drum as sun — finally — begins to sink back down to the western horizon.
𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
tis not a summer festival without some grand and over the top sacrifice, now is it ??
all you have to do for part two is react . . . it can be an immediate reaction, it can be during the event, it can be days later . . . how is your muse responding to witnessing such a thing ?? did they step forward and offer the gift they had been giving to the flames ?? do they run screaming ??
there is obviously no timelimit on this event: take as long as you wish to wrap up your event threads. the solstice is now over ... but the butterfly has flapped its wings, and helltown, ohio is in for some very cruel awakenings.
on july 12th at six fifty six am, helltown native richard ortesky, better known as scooter, reported to the helltown police department that he had found what he thought to be a body located just off the staford road — the main road that leads in and out of town. when police arrived to the scene, it was confirmed that what he had found were indeed HUMAN REMAINS.
the body of an unknown JANE DOE.
the identification of this individual, if there was one, has not been made public information, but the following notes were released to the public:
the body appears to be belonging to that of a woman in her early to late thirties.
the skin was burnt beyond recognition, down to the bones, though it appears what remained of JANE DOE'S lips was stitched shut post mortem.
only scraps of material were left of JANE DOE'S clothing, and the materials the clothing were made of are noted to be a blend of cotton, polyester, rayon, and spandex.
besides the skin being entirely charred, there were no other injuries found and no observable damage to the skeletal system.
the cause of death is undetermined.
there were no tire tracks or footprints found at the scene, so the body was not transported by a vehicle and tracks, if any, were covered up.
the body was not burnt at the scene where it was found, it was moved post-mortem.
detectives claim there were no personal artifacts or identifiers found with the body. any findings were deemed irrelevant to the case.
you've sat with this text, this private invitation, for the last . . . however many days its been. time seems to pass by differently in 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐎𝐡𝐢𝐨. days feel like weeks, but weeks feel like seconds; as per usual, nothing makes sense. something always feels off. even the wind, as it floats down the dirt-ridden streets filled with cracks in the asphalt, seems to hum with something sinister. you could be standing outside in the blooming summer heat and the breeze alone would send chills down your spine like you were being bitten by jack frost himself.
do you go ?? you've heard whispers, talked to your peers. . . for a private invitation, it sure sounds like everyone was invited. minus a select few but, you know more people with invitations than people you don't.
so, JUNE 20th arrives . . . and per the texts instructions, you find your way down the winding path in the woods. maybe there are others amongst you, walking ahead or behind, and the leaves seem to be whispering above you all as the sun bleeds through outstretched branches. . . the summer solstice appears to be in full effect as you move down the path.
you see the bonfire in the distance, roaring with life, and you hear . . .laughter. it isn't a sinister kind of laughter though, it sounds joyful. given the circumstances, maybe the joyful laughter is more horrifying than the alternative but, you see residents scattered around an open area in the wood and think hey . . . maybe this isn't so bad. maybe this is just a bonfire to kick off the summer and nothing more than that.
there's a make shift bar to the right of the fire, a fold up table littered with liquor bottles and a keg perched on a stump beside it. the woman running it is wearing a mask, one that seems to resemble a deer with two faces. you look around and notice that . . . everyone working the festival is wearing similar masks. some even have necklaces that look like they were made of animal bones.
those were animal bones, right ??
there's a huge buffet, filled with homemade goodies, fresh fruit ( this is some rundown rural town in ohio, where did they get fresh fruit from ?? ), turkey legs, and other enticing looking treats. no brand names to be seen so, all of it must have been made from scratch.
music fills the woods, played from a trio of musicians stationed just behind the fire, and its music unlike any you've ever heard before. the roaring bonfire sits in the middle of it all, stretching so tall it has to be the tallest attendee here. its flames swirl and flicker, but it shows no sign of dying as more masked festival-runners keep it well fed with oak and kindling. there's axe throwing, flower crown making stations, dancing, and the sound of nature stirring surrounding it all. every time you pass one of the festival goers they nod to you; " happy solstice " they say, " may they bless your summer and all of your days."
it almost feels like you've been transported back in time. back to when things where simpler, where merriment came from the little things, and for a moment. . . maybe. . . you feel peace. or maybe all of this fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread.
all you know for sure is that you're here, and you might as well make the most of it, right ??
how bad could it truly be ??
𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
this is PART ONE of a two part event !!
whilst the event is in two parts starting on june 1st, both parts of the event are taking place on ONE in-character date; june 20th. the events of part one are going to take place from 4:50pm when the festival starts until 8:16pm. all times are in EST.
the vibe ?? think farmers market meets modern renaissance-ish. also, please make sure you ask box is open :)
part one will go from june 1st-june 20th !! please reach out to the main if you have any questions. we are posting this a day early so you can get your thinking juices flowin and start plottin should you wish to.
please tag all event threads #helltownsolstice1 so we can read!!!
it's been a few days since . . . the tragedy ?? the sacrifice ?? the weird-smelling smoke polluting the air ??
the town is still buzzing in response to what was witnessed, some incapable of talking about, some incapable of talking about anything else. the entrance to the forest path is blocked off and barricaded, shiny yellow tape reading ' CRIME SCENE ' wrapped around the trunks of the oak trees residents were once sipping odd beer and being gifted weird necklaces and trinkets under.
the local news station , on an AM station only a token few residents actually listen to , reflected on the event ;
' it was wildly disturbing and an act of senseless violence. a sacrifice to a mythical being doesn't warrant exposing innocent residents to traumatic events. . .no matter what you believe . . . '
though, the reporters failed to mention the text messages or the weird pictures people were being sent. no mention of the cry for the ' divine ' or the chanting of missing people's names, either. all they talked about was the horror of witnessing death right before their eyes, and how the mayor is deeply sorry the residents of this town had to witness that. . .
sure, that's a scary thing but . . . haven't we witnessed it before ??
death, that is.
or do we think they're still alive ??
that wasn't the weirdest part of the broadcast though . . .
towards the end, the audio cut out, and then there was static. buzzing, mind-numbing static that lasted for one minute and eighteen seconds. then, amongst the crackle and buzz of a seemingly lost signal, a familiar voice started speaking. . .
earlier this morning . . . a fire broke out at one of the most beloved ( and deeply traumatized ) establishments this town has. ash and ember lilted on the late summer breeze, coating the entirety of HELLTOWN, OHIO in a blanket of soot and smoke . . . the wailing of fire trucks and police sirens rung in the air like church bells, which also happened to chime in the background of the chaos that broke out just off the main road.
someone had set the bowling alley ablaze.
it took hours to put the fire out . . . egregious amounts of gasoline and fuel having been dumped in and outside the building making it impossible to calm the raging inferno in a timely manner.
we advise all residents to stay clear of that area of town, for safety purposes and to keep the road clear for emergency vehicles.
JULY 28TH . . . 3:07pm.
an update to the story reported on this morning. . .
resident NIGEL MCNEIL has been arrested in connection to the fire that broke out early this morning at the bowling alley.
mr. mcneil is a longtime resident of HELLTOWN, OHIO and worked primarily in construction and demolition. mr. mcneil is also the father to born-and-raised resident, kayla mcneil, who went missing in january of this year. mr. mcneil was found less than a mile away from the scene, unconscious, with lighter fluid soaked into the fabric of his clothes. when he has recovered from the injuries he sustained from the fire, the police plan on performing a full interrogation.
JULY 28TH. . . 5:24pm.
another breaking update on the bowling alley story . . . one that is devastating and heartbreaking for all residents of HELLTOWN, OHIO. . .
after the fire was put out, and the debris was sifted through, the fire department made a grueling and unnerving discovery. . .
the bodies of the six missing residents were uncovered amongst the destruction, peculiarly untouched by the flames and protected by some kind of fire resistant blanket.
ANTHONY AFZAL
DERRICK ADALHARD
DEVIN WILLIAMS
HELENA CAVARETTA
EVELYN CAMPBELL
KAYLA MCNEIL
our deepest sympathies go out to the families impacted by this tragedy.
JULY 29TH. . . 6:24pm
mother of deceased resident kayla mcneil, KENNEDY MCNEIL, will be holding a fundraiser in the park to raise money for the funeral services and arrangements, as well as provide support and aid, to the families of the bowling alley victims. kennedy also plans to erect a memorial for the fallen with the funds raised, as well.
there will be games, auctions, food trucks, live music, fortune telling, and more . . . all to raise money for the victim's families. as kennedy is a nurse, the fundraiser will also be hosting a blood drive, as " it was something kayla had always asked the hospital to do. she was always wishing to give back to the community. all she ever wanted was to help others and uncover the truth."
the fundraiser will begin on JULY 30TH at 3pm and will go on all week at the park downtown. our deepest sympathies and condolences lie with the families of the deceased, and we encourage the town to show out and show these families support, love, and companionship in their time of loss.
𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
buckle in folks . . . we got a wild storm ahead. this is part 1 of ??? for our next event !!
think of this as the conclusion to part one. . . we don't think you're ready for all that is to come !!
the burning of st. michaels middle school was a tragedy that struck a small town and disturbed the seemingly quaint and simple lives of helltown residents in march of 2022. no one knows what, or who, started the fire . . . but all that is known is the rubble has yet to be cleaned up all these years later. some residents will comment on how it still smells like smoke is in the air, and some will swear the ash clings to their clothes as if the embers are still burning. maybe the embers are still burning, or maybe there's something off about the fire, and what started it, that the people of HELLTOWN, OHIO can't really shake. a tragedy no one can truly wrap their heads around.
odd and strange things have always happened in helltown — that's part of its charm. the sole reason so many come to visit this seemingly underwhelming town in ohio is to see the rumored mystery of this place for themselves. these visitors keep businesses afloat, keep rooms at the motel full, and keep the kitchens in bars, restaurants & shops open. yet, with helltown, a visitor is not always . . . appreciated for what they are; they are seen as a stranger, an unknown, often times just as daunting as the mysteries they come here to seek out themselves.
is it the strangers, they fear, or what they might uncover ?? for a town full of skeptics, it seems everyone's closet has a skeleton or two tucked away in the furthest corner with outgrown shoes, dust bunnies, and sweaters the moths have chewed holes through. their secrets aren't on display at a cash-grab museum or in memoirs written by old residents and ghost hunters, but instead, buried in time capsules or shallow graves, tucked behind vents or taped up in shoeboxes.
but . . . that's the thing about secrets — everyone has them.
so, it's better not to stick ones nose where it doesn't belong. to be so open about skepticism and confusion, because the truth always comes with a cost. there is always a PRICE.
— how much are you really willing to pay to uncover it ??
the story as we know it is . . . we don't know much of anything. we know there are people missing, we know there was a fire, and we know this town gives us chills even in rooms without a draft and makes us feel as if we are always being watched. even if we were to have everything decoded in front of us . . . there'd still be unknowns. now, with our cards dealt and the dealer looking at us expectantly, we have to decide whether to FOLD or PLAY OUR HANDS — regardless of how much information we have.
at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of townies with a bunch of unanswered questions, but then again, is it a matter of not having answers to those questions . . .
