#horror writing

[cassiewrites777]

[dreadful-incorporated]

When will these senseless resurrection end!?

[slxsherwriter]

Learning the Hierarchy

Fandom - The Strangers (Harlan Trilogy)

Pairings: Beginnings of Sheriff Howard Rotter x OFC

Word Count:

Warnings: Technically none but: moving a dead body, threats of violence

Author's Note: A short little follow up but thought it was fun to see what rhe beginning of the relationship may look like for these two. Takes place shortly after Job Opportunies. There will be more of these two in the future. As always, likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs keep the muses fed and the writing coming.

Settling into Venus had proven easier than Rebecca had or could ever had anticipated. Even when there was the ever watchful eye of one Sheriff Howard Rotter trained on her. Perhaps she should have known that things were a little odd, a little off when the small town was the one with the corners office and it wasn't dedicated to the county, but it was far too late to do anything about the oddity now. Besides, navigating the first encounter with Howard had solidified her presence there in Venus in a way that meant leaving would not be easy. If possible at all. Charles had clearly managed that one well.

She could see the draw of the town the longer she spent there, to outsiders and to those that lived there. Her first impressions hadn't been wrong. Outside of work and the body count that aired on the side of suspicious to anyone who wasn't corrupt, Venus was relatively peaceful. The hunting had been as bountiful as promised and Rebecca had already bagged two boars and a deer. There was a drive at the local church to help families in need and she had donated most of the meat there since it was more than she needed. The hiking trails were nice, with scenes that one could really only get in the Pacific northwest.

She was sitting at Carol's for lunch, finding the atmosphere enjoyable and her appearance kept anyone from getting too suspicious of the outsider that had come to work at the coroners office. Friendly enough to the locals to keep them from raising arms but not close enough to really make any connections. It worked out perfectly for her.

Betty came over with a smile and a refill for her coffee. It had been a rather mundane, unassuming day. She had just been about to thank the woman but found herself interrupted by the familiar voice of the sheriff.

"Just the person I was looking for," he murmured as he settled down at the counter beside her. Rebecca passed the older woman a thankful smile and turned her attention to the man beside her.

"What can I do for you, Sheriff?" She sipped her coffee, appearing entirely unbothered even though the approach put her slightly on edge. He needed something, she would put money on it.

"You weren't at the office when we tried calling. Got a body that we need you to help come collect. Another animal attack from the looks at it, but I'm not the expert." His voice had lowered, in an effort not to gain the attention of anyone around. Likely more for the sake of decorum and appearances than anything else. It seemed that the murder of tourists didn't cause an uproar or a rise in anxiety amongst the town population but still, it was polite not to speak of murder or death while people were having lunch.

"Yeah, of course." She fished money out to cover for her lunch and stood, taking down the rest of the fresh cup in a few gulps. Rebecca had a feeling that the caffeine was going to be important.

"I'll meet you over at the office and lead you down." There was little choice in the matter so, she followed him out and back to the station.

The body was actually out on the woods when they finally came upon it. Something that was a little bit of a surprise. One look at it though told her that while it met a violent end, it hadn't been an animal that had done it.

"All right. We gotta move the body." While she should have probably been prepared for the comment, it still caught her off guard.

"Move the body?"

"Yeah. Grab the feet doc. Don't got much time to get this done." What was the difference in falsifying reports on death and simply faking a scene? Symantics was really what it was. Yet, it had provided some sense of denial for Rebecca. Now that wasn't there. "Ain't any different than moving a buck. Come on now." The impatience had leaked into his voice and there was an obvious tick of his jaw. Rolling her eyes, she moved to grab a hold of the feet as he had directed before they hauled the body upwards. It might be helpful to know what the hell that they were doing. The entire plan was all in his head and she was just a pair of hands right now. Maybe she would prefer it that way but not knowing was also bothersome. The fact that it was a dead body hardly gave her pause or disturbed her. She dealt with them on nearly a daily basis and all it was came down to already decaying flesh. Sure, it had once been a person but that was merely a fact, nothing to create any sense of empathy within. As with most people, she simply was apathetic torwards the individual who was no longer alive. They loaded it up into the back of the van.

"Don't you think people are going to see us leave this location, only to end up at another?" He leaned against the door, eyes trained on her, lips pursed for a moment.

"Nah. Nothing to worry about." There was an ease that spoke to exeperience there. How long had he been doing this? Rebecca was left to wonder, knowing that it wasn't an area to push. Nor did she really want to in all honesty. It didn't matter in the end. That was then and this was now, where it was effecting her. She supposed it was a good thing for her that he knew what he was doing. Kept the chance of her getting in trouble relatively low.

"Okay. Let's get going then." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You are something else." Rebecca paused as she had gotten ready to hop into the van.

"Excuse me?"

"Just didn't expect this all not to bother you. Knew Charles could get somone in the job that would work, I am just surprised it was this smooth a transition." He moved and leaned against the door as she got in. "Got me impressed is all."

"So glad that I have gained the high opinion of our local Sheriff." She deadpanned and it just made his grin widen. Something that both was unsettling and for a moment, held a hint of attractiveness. Rebecca pushed that thought away, knowing that there was no need to entertain such things. Corrupt cop was not on the bucket list. "Let's get to the new location so things can be documented and the team can get out." He nodded, still smiling and got into his truck. She let out a slow breath, hands stretched against the wheel for a moment before following. She was this far in, might as well see things out. She took one glance towards the back where the body lay before rolling her eyes and heading off behind Rotter.

He hadn't been wrong. Not only was there no one around but the few that they did see, well they hardly passed a second glance at the two cars that were driving by. Rebecca was a little surprised by the fact but then again, maybe almost every in town was in on it. A little peaceful murder town. She snorted at the thought just as they pulled up to the apparent spot. The engine was killed as she stopped behind the police truck, the gentle chirp of birds surrounding them. Aside from the task at hand, it would have been practically tranquil. Howard got out of the truck and made his way to the van that she was in, leaning against the door once more.

"Plan is gonna be getting the body staged over there," he offered with a motion towards the spot that he wanted. "This area is more known for attacks from mountain lions." Ah, it all started to make sense. Rebecca relaxed back in her seat and observed the aforementioned spot. She could see it.

"Doument it, get it back to the morgue, do the report, close the case." Talk about falling into a routine. If this was what her life was going to be like, well, she might as well forget about the idea of getting to a big city. She was going to end up spending her life here. Something that she would have to get right with rather quickly.

"No time like the present." He drummed his hands against the door for a moment before stepping back and allowing her to get out. They got down to work getting the body set up and she began to document certain things while Howard turned to cover some of their tracks. Then the rest of the team was called in.

"Who are you covering for?" Rebecca found herself asking the question even though she had promised she wouldn't.

"What?"

"All this? Document it as an animal attack, but we both know its not. Going to these lengths, it's an attempt to cover up for something or someone. Doesn't matter much to me either way, my job stays the same. Just curious about who I should be mindful of is all." The gun was pressed to her head without a sound. Blinking slowly, Rebecca remained still. Flashes of old memories, things she had long fought to keep buried came rushing back. Fingers twitched ever so slightly at the pressure of the cool steel against her temple. "Hard to make a bullet to the temple look like an animal attack."

"But it is easy enough to leave the body to the wolves."

"Fair enough." After a second, the sound of the hammer being decocked echoed out and the pressure on her temple was relieved.

"Keep your head down and just do your job. We won't have any problems." There was nothing else to be said as the small team that needed to be there pulled up to the scene. Another office and two crime scene technicians. Rebecca knew that he couldn't have been covering for himself. At least, she was fairly certain given the way that he reacted. Brushing it off, she got down to doing her job among the other, not thinking about how Rotter had been ready to put a bullet into her brain. After saying that he liked her. What a fucked up place to find herself in. Though, she supposed it could always be worse.

[projectcrosstalk]

ENTRY 00

AUDIO FILE #120-ANKE R.

DATE: May 14, ■■■■

LOCATION: Office 4, Mental Health Center.

Ambient noise.

The electrical hum of a flickering light can be heard, blinking in a steady rhythm. Somewhere down the hall, an office phone rings unanswered. Someone sits down; the vinyl chair creaks under their weight. There is a heavy silence. The only other sound is the rustle of a backpack being set down on the floor.

Dr. Aris: (His voice sounds slightly muffled, as if he is farther away from the microphone.) Hello, Anke. Come in, have a seat. How was the trip?

Anke: (Very quiet, almost inaudible.) Fine. The bus was…empty. I like it when there aren't people talking.

Dr. Aris: I can imagine. (The sound of a folder opening and papers sliding against one another.) You seem a little tired today. Did you sleep well?

Anke: (A metallic sound: the click-clack of the lighter. She opens it, closes it. Click-clack.) Not much. Oma woke me up early. We had to finish picking the strawberries before the sun got too strong. If you leave them out too long, they go bad...they turn to mush.

Dr. Aris: You have… (He pauses, leaning forward.) You have some pretty stained hands, Anke. Did you hurt yourself while picking?

Anke: (She raises her hands. The sound of her skin rubbing against the table.) No, it's…it's the juice. It gets into the creases of my knuckles. Oma says I look like a mechanic. (She looks at her fingernails.) I tried scrubbing them with the laundry brush, but it won't come off. It stays there… underneath my nails…that's the hardest part. It always looks like I'm dirty, doesn't it?

Dr. Aris: No, it doesn't look like dirt. It looks like you've been working. It's good that you're helping your grandmother. She feels more at ease having you around. How's the hum? Has it let you work in peace?

Anke: (The lighter's rhythm speeds up: click-clack, click-clack.) Today it's…I don't know how to explain it. It's not a loud sound. It's more like...like the air itself is vibrating. If I focus on the strawberries, it goes away a little. But when I come in here…the hum fills my ears. That's why I play with this. (She taps the lighter against the table.) It helps me know where I am.

Dr. Aris: I understand. Did you bring the camera you mentioned?

Anke: (The sound of a zipper opening. Anke takes out something heavy and carefully places it on the table.) Yes. Oma gave it to me when I was fifteen, and at first she wouldn't let me take it anywhere, but now I carry it everywhere. It's a little old. There's a small scratch here along the edge of the lens, see? And the electrical tape…I put that there because the film compartment comes open if I walk too fast.

Dr. Aris: A camera with a lot of history, then. Have you taken any pictures today?

Anke: (Shy voice.) Just one. On my way out of the farm. I took a picture of the dirt road…where you can see the tire tracks from the neighbors' tractor. I like the way the dried mud looks. (Long pause.) Sometimes I feel like if I take a picture of something, the hum from that thing gets trapped on the paper and stops bothering me.

Dr. Aris: (The sound of a pen moving quickly across paper.) That's a very interesting observation, Anke. The camera as a filter.

A long silence. Dr. Aris goes through his notes while Anke obsessively cleans the camera lens with the sleeve of her sweater.

Dr. Aris: Anke, what happens when you put the camera down? When you walk through the park down the street and there's no lens between you and the world…what do you see?

Anke: (The sound of her jacket rubbing against the chair. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.) I see…danger. The world is very careless, doctor. People walk around like nothing is wrong. My father is the worst of all. (The click-clack of the lighter stops. The silence is sudden.)

Dr. Aris: Why do you say your father is careless?

Anke: (Tense voice, trying to keep herself under control.) The other day… Wednesday…I was at the park. He was sitting on one of those wooden benches, reading a newspaper or something. And the boy…my brother...was running around. (She clears her throat.) There was someone else…watching him, but he didn't look like the father of any of the other children. My father never looked up. Not once. He was there, but he wasn't there.

Dr. Aris: What do you mean by “someone else”?

Anke: I don't know. He was just there.

Dr. Aris: What did he look like?

Anke: (Brief silence.) Tall. I think. He was wearing…something dark. I don't remember.

Dr. Aris: Was it the same person you mentioned last time?

Anke: (Her breathing becomes faster.) I don't know.

Dr. Aris: Anke.

Anke: I don't know, doctor.

Dr. Aris: (A deep breath, followed by an exhale.) So…you were watching from the bus stop, right?

Anke: Yes. I was far away. But I could see him. I had my camera with me, but I didn't take any pictures. (Her voice becomes faster, more anxious.) He needs someone to watch him like that, doctor. With that kind of attention. Because my father…my father is going to lose him. Just like he lost the house. Just like he lost his wife. He doesn't know how to take care of the things he loves.

Dr. Aris: Anke, stop for a second. Breathe. (The sound of the doctor's chair moving.) I understand that you're worried, but your father has a new life. He believes his son is safe. What you're doing…don't you think it could frighten him if he found out?

Anke: (Small voice.) He doesn't have to be frightened. I'm not a monster. I'm just his daughter, and if he would let me in…if he would let me sit on the porch, I could watch the boy while he takes care of things. I could be useful.

Dr. Aris: But he hasn't asked you for help, Anke. And the police report says you got too close to the property two weeks ago.

Anke: (Quickly, almost tripping over her words.) I wasn't doing anything wrong! I just…I just wanted to make sure the window in the boy's room was properly closed. I didn't want him to get cold. His lungs are delicate, you know? Oma says it's because of the smoke that day. I…I feel like it's my fault if he gets sick, because I got him out of there. It's my responsibility to make sure he keeps breathing!

Dr. Aris: Anke, look at me. (Pause.) It's not your fault. You were seven years old. You did more than any adult could have done. But you can't be the guardian of a family that has asked you to keep your distance. If we're going to consider letting you stay out of here, I need to know that you'll stop going to that street. That you'll stop being a shadow in their garden.

Anke: (A choked, dry sob.) It's just that if I don't go…the hum becomes unbearable. It's like the hum is screaming at me that something is going to go wrong if I'm not there. (Long pause. Her breathing is ragged.) Please, doctor…Oma needs me for the strawberries, and I…I promise I'll try to be normal. I'll try not to go watch them so much. Just don't lock me up here again.

Dr. Aris: (Softer voice.) I'm not going to lock you up, Anke. But you need to understand that "normal" doesn't mean watching people from the bushes. What are you going to do when you leave here? What's the plan?

Anke: (She clears her throat. The sound returns: click-clack.) I'm going to the photo lab. I have a roll from a month ago. I want to see if the pictures came out clear. And then…then I'll go home. Oma wants us to make jam. (Pause.) And maybe I'll write him a letter. To him. No accusations, just telling him I'm doing well and that if he ever needs someone to watch the kid…I…

Dr. Aris: Anke, I've listened to you talk through almost every session about watching them, about how you think you're protecting them from a distance…but I want to ask you an honest question, and I need you to put the lighter down for a moment before you answer me.

Anke: (The click-clack stops. The sharp sound of metal hitting the wooden table.) Okay. Go ahead.

Dr. Aris: Do you think…if you could sit down with your father in a room, without hiding, without cameras…if you could talk to him and properly meet your brother, would that make the "hum" stop? Would that help your mental health more than these sessions?

Anke: (Absolute silence. A shaky inhale.) You…you think that's possible? (Her voice rises, sounding younger, almost childlike.) Would he agree? My Oma says he still keeps the pictures of the three of us, but they're at the bottom of a drawer. If he saw me… (She laughs nervously, a short, wet sound.) Yes. Yes, doctor. The hum would stop. I'm sure of it.

Dr. Aris: I can't promise he'll say yes right away, Anke. It's been a long time, and your father's wounds run deep. But…I've been thinking about writing a letter. A formal invitation for him and your grandmother.

Anke: (Quickly, excited.) A letter from you? Like a medical recommendation?

Dr. Aris: Something like that. A proposal to begin supervised meetings on neutral ground. Perhaps here, in the office, or later at your grandmother's farm. Not so you can go back to living with him, but so you can stop being a stranger. But I'd have to speak with your grandmother first and review the report. Would you be willing to follow the rules? No pictures without permission, no showing up at his house without warning…Could you do that if we gave you the opportunity?

Anke: (The sound of her hands rubbing together forcefully.) I'd do anything. I swear. I could pick every strawberry in the world if it meant he would look at me once without…without that frightened look on his face. If he lets me hold the boy once…just once… (Her voice cracks slightly.) Doctor, if you do this for me, I…I'll behave so well he'll forget I was ever here. I'll be normal. I promise. I'll be the best daughter.

Dr. Aris: (The sound of a sigh and a pen clicking.) All right. I'll start writing it this afternoon, but I can't promise your father will accept. And listen carefully, Anke: this depends on your patience. If you try to force things, that door will close forever. Understood?

Anke: Understood. Patience. I can be patient. I've waited for years, doctor. I can wait a few more months. (The sound of her picking up her backpack. Her movements are lighter now.)

Dr. Aris: Very good. We're finished for today. Your grandmother already has the instructions for your medication, so make sure you follow them. And Anke…

(A brief pause.)

Dr. Aris: Don't do anything on your own. If you want this to work, we have to do it the right way. All right?

Anke: (After several seconds.) All right.

Dr. Aris: Good. Take care.

Anke: Thank you, doctor. Really…thank you.

(The sound of the door opening. Quick, light footsteps fading down the hallway. Dr. Aris remains silent for a long moment. The sound of a match striking, followed by him exhaling smoke.)

Dr. Aris: (Very quietly, to himself.) God, I hope I'm not making a mistake.

CLICK. End of recording.

[projectcrosstalk]

ARCHIVES

[ ACCESS GRANTED ]

ENTRIES ENTRY 00 [ FILE FOUND ] ENG / ESP ENTRY 01 [ UNKNOWN ] ENTRY 02 [ UNKNOWN ] ENTRY 03 [ UNKNOWN ] ENTRY 04 [ UNKNOWN ] ENTRY 05 [ UNKNOWN ] ENTRY 06 [ UNKNOWN ] IMAGES

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[geewaysgreendayhoodie]

what is the scariest season

winter

spring

summer

fall

nuance??

Remaining time: 3 days 8 hours

please explain why this is very important for my writing

[dennisshutteruniverse]

You want the White Lady back - when urban legends changed...

You drive the route every night. A comforting tension. You know the White Lady very well. You know how to behave. You like her - you feel confident.

But what you don't know: tonight, the rules have changed.

The air turns thick. At her familiar spot, the white dress is gone…

And you should pass the detour…

Read the full chilling continuation of the urban legend on r/DennisShutterUniverse.

You want the White Lady Back - for sure