In dreary ol' London, two investigative-journalists, Louie and Carter, find themselves following a lead that dries up until they dig a little deeper. There seems to be something brewing behind London's closed doors. Something big.
Episode One out soon. Stay tuned.
Check it out! Pen & Watch Episode 1 has been recorded! Let's goooo! Next step it editing and some promotional fun stuff (perhaps... a trailer?! stay tuned, heehee) and then it will be OUT and available to listen to on all podcast platforms :) So excited to finally be telling this story.
Been a minute since I posted a WIP preview, so, here, have one from Ch 6 of Particles & Waves which I swear I am still writing and should hopefully be out in a week or two…
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Kaitlyn was running. Dylan was dead and all Kaitlyn could do about it was keep on running, those last helpless screams of his echoing in her ears. She felt as if she’d never be safe, never be able to stop running again. She knew the beast that killed Dylan would be mere paces behind her, and it wouldn’t be satisfied just from eating her friend. They were never satisfied. Their lust for blood went far beyond a simple animalistic hunger; it was a bottomless craving for annihilation and Kaitlyn fucking refused to become that thing’s next snack.
As she jogged, alone and nauseous through the moonlit forest, something made her change course. It wasn’t on the way to the relative safety of the lodge, but she felt an intense pull to check the bushes near the fire pit. And Kaitlyn rarely second-guessed her own intuition. She passed the remains of the bonfire where Dylan and Ryan had shared their first and only kiss, where Emma had set off the drama bomb that had detonated their night (though, to be fair, it had been Kaitlyn herself who handed her the lighter, showed her where to find the fuse), and where Ryan had dragged Nick back, bleeding and disoriented, after he was attacked. The logs were empty, the last remaining embers of the fire still smoking faintly, and she wasn’t sure how many of the people who had sat there hours before would ever make it home.
And then she saw it. There was a body lying in the underbrush. When she was near enough to take in its shape in the moonlight, Kaitlyn’s battered heart took another tumble into her gut. The face was bloody and distorted, pitted with buckshot, the mouth open in something between a frozen scream and a ghoulish smile, but still she would have known it anywhere. Kaitlyn knew the muscular body, shining with early morning dew. She’d watched him grow into it from just a small boy.
“Jacob! Jake? Oh, no. No no no no, come on, Jake, don’t do this to me.”
She knew he was dead from a few yards away but she couldn’t believe it. Kaitlyn had to see him up close, had to feel the cold stillness of his body beneath her hands to accept that the boy she’d known for over half her life was truly gone.
She knelt next to Jacob’s head and lifted it into her lap. It was gross and gory and Kaitlyn didn’t care. Because it was Jacob, she didn’t hesitate to do it. She gently brushed his bloodied hair back from his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, eyes brimming with tears, “I’m so sorry, Jake. I could have stopped this so many different ways, but I didn’t. I should have taken that gun away from Ryan. I should have told him not to shoot blindly into the bushes at night. God, who even does that anyway? I should have shouted to you, why wouldn’t you say something when we called out? I should never have told you how to sabotage the van. I should have told you to fuck off, I don’t even know why I didn’t. I told you to fuck off often enough, it should have been close to second nature. I’m sorry I wasn’t meaner to you for your own good. I’m so sorry, Jacob.”
Kaitlyn cradled his head in her arms and sobbed openly. For Jacob, for Dylan, for everyone else who would miss them, including her, and for the lonely little life she’d have to try to build without them. She cried until she felt a presence beside her, a hand landed on her shoulder, and she heard an unmistakeable soft voice rasping out her name.
“Kaitlyn, hey. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”
She shook her head without even turning to look at him. “How can you say that? How could anything ever be okay again, Dylan? Jacob’s dead. You’re dead. You shouldn’t even be here.”
Dylan dropped into a cross-legged sitting position beside Kaitlyn, wrapping one long arm around her, drawing her in. She looked up at him then, this specter of her dead friend, and he looked just like he had at the bonfire, his clothes spotless, his hair meticulously coiffed to look effortlessly messy.
“Have you ever known me to do what I should be doing, really?” She laughed a little at this, relaxing into his embrace, and Dylan laughed too.
“I guess not,” she admitted, “you never were one for following rules.”
“Nope, sure wasn’t. And, uh, you do know Jacob’s not actually dead, right? Your subconscious is just being a dick to you, K.”
She hadn’t known, but as soon as Dylan said it, she knew it was true. It was only then that it struck her she was dreaming. It was like her dream-self had gained access to her memories and she realized what she’d already known. Jacob was fine. She’d seen him, sobbing, at the police station, then unusually silent at a couple of social outings they’d attempted before he’d gone quiet on her, preferring to marinate in his own guilt and misery alone.
“Right,” Kaitlyn said slowly, “Jacob’s not really dead. But you are.”
“Yup,” Dylan nodded his agreement, “which is kinda funny, right? I mean, I tried pretty hard to be careful and I ended up dead. Meanwhile, this fuckin’ goober prances around in his undies all night, plays tug-o-war with a loaded shotgun, moonwalks through a field of bear traps, and still makes it out mostly unscathed.” He gave a signature eye-roll. “Straight people.”
Kaitlyn wasn’t sure what Jacob’s sexuality had to do with his survival, but she decided not to challenge Dylan about it.
“His ankle ended up pretty fucked, but you’re right, could have been a lot worse.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Dylan said, “what does matter is that I still need you, Kaitlyn.”
“Is this about the eulogy? Because I’m working on it! It’s kind of hard to sum you up in five minutes or less.”
“I’m flattered, but, no. I’m sure the eulogy’ll be fine. But I do need your help.”
“How can I possibly help you, Dylan? You’re dead.”
“Alright, sure,” he drawled, smiling, “but, am I gone? That’s the important question, no?”
“I don’t know, is this some kind of riddle? Or are you about to hit me with some of that ‘I live on forever in your heart’ type bullshit? Because that’s all well and good but I’d really rather have you, you know, around.”
“Ew, no, come on! You know I’m not about that schmaltzy nonsense. I’m literally still around. I need you to look for me. I need you to hear me. Sometimes I can see you trying but it’s like I’m just out of reach. You’ve gotta find me, Kaitlyn. I promise, I’m still there to find, something deep inside you knows it. Otherwise why would your subconscious conjure me up like this?”
“Because I miss you? I don’t know. Could just be doing it because my subconscious is a dick. Like with Jacob. You said it yourself.” She looked down expecting to see the bloodied mess of Jacob’s face in her lap, but his body was gone and so were the bloodstains he’d left on her hands and among the foliage.
“Okay, yeah, true. But I don’t think it’s that. You think you’ve failed me, Kaitlyn, but you haven’t. Not once, never. I’ve always been able to count on you. Open that third ear for me.”
“Third… ear?” she scoffed, “d’you mean third eye? I’m pretty sure that’s what you use to see spirits, buddy.”
“No! I don’t mean third eye! Jesus Kaitlyn, it’s an audio metaphor, okay?! Just let me have this! I’ve been dead for a whole month and I spent two whole months before that almost entirely in that radio hut! If I say third ear, I mean third fuckin’ ear!”
“Okay, alright!” Kaitlyn found herself snorting with laughter at his vehemence. It was nice to see that dead-dream-Dylan had kept his flair for the dramatic.
“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, you’ve always been tuned in, I just need you to turn the dial. I’m trapped in the airwaves now, K, but all I really need is a receiver. If anyone can find my frequency, it’s you. I’m still counting on you, final girl.”
Then Kaitlyn startled awake in her darkened bedroom, all alone.
