#isolation sam

[where-the-light-wont-find-you]

TEXT MESSAGE TO SAM EVANS.

BLAINE: Things still okay there?

BLAINE: So far, so good here, everyone is pretty hell bent on blaming Jesse.

[clinical-incidents]

OCTOBER 8TH, TUESDAY MORNING, OPEN.

LIKE IF YOU'RE SNAGGING THIS PROMPT AND WRITING AN ACCOMPANYING THREAD/REFLECTION. 

9AM OR LATER: The fog has yet to clear and the skies are dark; it's very obvious a storm is rolling in. Out by the barn is a pile of previously chopped wood left over from the previous owner, along with an axe and chopping block. A fresh addition however would be the bloody beheaded rabbit that mysteriously appeared over night.

[clinical-incidents]

SAM EVANS.

You've never really been a man of style, so the mismatched fashion of the house doesn't really bother you all that much.. But when you get out of the shower and go into the linen closet to get some towels, something that does bother you is the fact there isn't a towel in sight, but instead you've stumbled upon the doll storage. Twenty porcelain faces withpainted on features stare back at you through dead, unmoving eyes. It's creepy enough on it's own, especially given your fears, but the rest of the decor hadn't exactly made it seem like this place was kid friendly, so who knows what the hell you're going to find next. On the bright side, it's not like a clown with hooks for teeth was watching you shower or anything. 

[where-the-light-wont-find-you]

TEXT TO SAM EVANS.

BLAINE: Question for you.

BLAINE: Hypothetically if a zombie apocalypse did happen...

BLAINE: Like right now...

BLAINE: What the hell would you do?

BLAINE: Can you imagine having that going down out here? That'd be terrifying.