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On the Corner of Main Street; Monday, October 24th: 3:00 PM - OPEN
Topic Started: Oct 27 2011, 06:54 PM (423 Views)
Psychadelic
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Keaka
[[Gertrude Elsie-Rose Lockhart, Mercy Street Start: Commence!]]

"Oh Gertie. You have gotten yourself into quite the pickle, now haven't you?"

GOD HAVE MERCY

Gertrude Elsie-Rose Lockhart had merely been on her way to gather her weekly groceries from the local Co-op, when she had gotten lost in the Fairmont fog early in the morning time. It had appeared unexpectedly. The day before had been nearly cloudless, none of the weather stations had given word about it either.

Alas, Nana Gertie was quite determined to get to the Co-op. It was a special day planned, indeed. One of her sons, Bram, was to bring her grandchildren over for the day, to visit their dear Nana. She had her heart set on it. It had always been such a pleasure to see her grandchildren, she loved them all so very much. She would have fed them well, she would! A stew was what she had in mind, with only the freshest and most organic vegetables to have them grow up, proper.

Now she was here, on some unusual, abandoned part of the city she had never seen before. It was no place for an old woman such as herself. Why, there could have been muggers here! Fortunately, there didn't seem to be anybody around.

When the fog dispersed, the first thing Gertie had seen was the wall, with the words "Have Mercy" on it. She adjusted her spectacles and realized that a faded word had come before it. "God Have Mercy" it said.

"Hm, I don't believe I know this place. Oh my, have I gotten senile already?"

She looked up at the sky; clear. No evidence of the fog anywhere in sight. Strange. Maybe she could find someone to help explain things for her. Yes, that would be an idea. She pressed forward, wandering down the length of the street, cane in front of her, to help support her aging knees.

How odd. There was no one in sight. Except -

"What in Sam Hill is this creature?"

It was a large, dog like monstrosity, laying in the middle of the street as if it were roadkill.

"Oh good heavens!" She covered her nose, with the handkerchief she had tucked into her front pocket.

The wolf thing, smelt of burnt and rotting animal, reminiscent of an isolated memory where a rodent had gotten into the toaster of the old diner she had worked in as a young woman. Speaking of diners, the nearest building had the look of a shattered down diner or bar, like her old diner which also included a bar, right before they tore it down.

Here she was. Alone in some unknown part of town, with nobody to keep her company except for a canine corpse. Maybe she'd speak up then? Perhaps that would get somebody's attention.

"Hello? Is anyone out there? I think I may be a tiny bit lost?"

She looked at the animal one more time and tapped at it with the tip of her cane.
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Dr. Roy
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Ay, how long was he asleep? It couldn't have been this long.

The last thing Hernando Ortega remembered involved being on a horse trying to get out of Coahuila y Tejas as fast as possible. More importantly, the last thing he remembered involved being on a horse at night, say about 3:00 in the morning, with several other vaqueros riding with him.

The first thing Hernando Ortega thought about after coming to on Mercy Street was that he was not on a horse, he was alone, and it was definitely not night time.

Had he fallen asleep while riding? No, that's impossible. If he'd fallen off, he'd have woken up, and his friends surely would have noticed. Did they just decide to bed down at the nearest town when they got too tired to continue? Then why wasn't anyone else he knew here? For that matter, where was anybody? This looked like it was a ghost town, and those didn't tend to happen around active trails. Maybe he took a wrong turn or something. If so, it was one heck of a wrong turn - that'd certainly explain why it was so unseasonably cold. All he'd need to do was take a look at the sun, figure out which way was south, and find a trail from there. He could meet up back in Querétaro if worse came to worse. He glanced up for a second. South must be down this street. That's good, because the other way seemed to just be a wall. He couldn't make out all of what it had written on it, but it looked English. Those gringos had well and truly occupied the whole state, hadn't they? In any case, he was a lot better at understanding spoken English than written English, so he ignored it. If it was actually important, he could find somebody to tell him what it was. Better to just keep moving.

He got up off the ground and walked down the street, surprised at how smooth the road was. He'd seen cobblestone roads before, but never were the stones this tiny. For that matter, he'd never seen any stores look quite like this before - he could tell their general function, but they looked entirely different from the normal grocery store or inn. Was this what it was like in los Estados Unidos? He couldn't imagine. Everything just felt so... wrong.

After he'd spent a while walking down the street keeping an eye out for any signs of life, he finally saw an old lady standing outside a bar - again, like no bar he'd ever been to, but it was rather obvious it was a bar. She looked like a she was probably a criollo - her nice clothes and fair complexion said as much - but if that was the case, why was she out here? She should be back at the hacienda - she was not in the shape to be out running errands, or drinking at a bar for that matter. Or... staring at a dead wolf? Why was there even one of those in town? They usually knew better than to venture near civilization. In any case, he'd have preferred to ask someone he could relate to more, but it wasn't like there were any other people around to ask, and she certainly looked experienced enough to be able to answer any questions he had about the town. At that point, she suddenly spoke up:

"Hello? Is anyone out there? I think I may be a tiny bit lost?"

Nope, not criollo - that was definitely English, and worried English at that. What were they doing bringing grandmas out here? This wasn't the kind of established area with enough people to justify taking your parents with you all the way out from the east coast to your new farm. And nobody should just leave them out in the street like that. She seemed like she was looking for someone, so he hesitantly tried to get her attention, using the best English he could muster:

"Hello, ma'am. I am Hernando. What is your name?" After some thought, he added, "Where is this place?"
Edited by Dr. Roy, Oct 29 2011, 07:49 AM.
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Psychadelic
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This animal was thick skinned and bristly, with numerous dagger like teeth in it's mouth. Gertie supposed she was fortunate that she found the creature dead, rather than alive. It was akin to the big bad wolves from the fairy tales she had heard as a little girl. Little Red Riding Hood for example - The one where the wolf gobbled up Red's poor old grandma. It was moments like that, where old Gertrude wished she wasn't able to relate.

"Hello, ma'am."

Gertie was caught off guard by the newcomer, causing her to pull back her hickory cane from the carcass, with it nearly jumping right into her arms. She held it to her chest tightly and watched as the new comer popped into view. It was young man, dressed in raggedy clothing and a hat straight out of the old western films from her youth. Judging by his accent and his physical appearance, the boy was a Mexican. He looked like the sort who worked at a farm or ranch, like her own family's as a child. He introduced himself as Hernando.

"Nice to meet you - Hernando. My name is Gertrude Lockhart - you may call me Gertie, for short. I am delighted to see someone here finally."

She was about to ask the boy to enlighten her about this place and assist her in getting back to her house. But he asked first.

"Where is this place?" Oh darn. He didn't know either.

Relaxing a bit at new company, Gertie began to unclench her cane from her chest and lowered it onto the cement of the sidewalk.

"A section of Fairmont, West Virginia that I've never seen before. To be quite honest, I was hoping that you knew what this strange place is. Have you gotten lost in that fog as well? That's what happened to me and I really must be heading home soon."

Her grandchildren could arrive at any moment and she didn't want anyone to worry about her.
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Outfoxd

He had decided to walk down main street for God knew what reason. The mouthpiece of the saxophone was entrenched between Murphy's lips as he blew, almost frantically. The notes were sweet, but loud. Poignant, but protracted.

Some of the other people had found fucking bodies on the second floor of the hotel. Mutilated, like they owed some mobster money and they were meant to be a message. Or like a wild animal though they were steaks. Not long after that they started hearing noises, horrible, terrifying noises.

Murphy had been checking on Xiao Wu more now. He didn't know how she could hang there, although she had done something to help neutralize whatever that rotting meat smell was in the clinic. Sometimes he thought he could still smell it when he went in.

But that wasn't today. Today he was blasting on that saxophone, as if it would drown out what...ever it was they'd been hearing. He was surprised he could do it with steady hands. He really could have used a spike.

Between breaths and steps down the street he could hear voices, and he stopped. When he opened his eyes he could see two more people, a brown kid and an older lady.

Christ, no one's safe, are they?

He walked up to them, figuring he could be the orientation guy again.

"Two more for the books? How you folks doing?"

He tried his best to give a winning smile, but the events of the past couple days turned his lips lopsided.
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Dr. Roy
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Hernando listened intently to the woman, trying to take in all the words. It was rough going, especially since he was unfamiliar with her accent, but he got the gist of it. So she was called "Gurti" and she was from somewhere he'd never heard of in los E.E.U.U. Not even one of the major cities. In any case, she didn't know where she was now. He was about to offer her some help when she mentioned something about fog. He hadn't seen any in forever, and certainly not last night. He replied politely,

"I woke up here this afternoon. I did not see any fog. I have to go somewhere too - south, to Querétaro. Can I help you in any way?"

If he was going to help her, might as well get her away from the dead animal first. He glanced down at it. It looked kind of like a wolf, but then again, just like all the buildings,up close it didn't look quite like it was supposed to. Only this looked a lot more menacing - it had way too many teeth. Everything about this town felt wrong. The sights, the smells, even the sounds - some sort of distant, loud sound had been creeping into his subconscious over the past minute or so, and it only added to the unease. He gestured to Gurti to stand back a bit, and started to crouch down to get a closer look at this thing. Before he managed to get a closer look, the thick not-quite-silence that had pervaded the street up to this point was suddenly broken:

"Two more for the books? How you folks doing?"

He turned around to see a negro holding some kind of trumpet. It looked like nothing he'd ever seen anyone play before - though it was recognizable as an instrument thanks to being a brass tube, nothing else about it suggested it worked like anything a mariachi would use. Given how many so-called "Texians" were probably around here, this guy was most likely a slave - but his clothes were too nice for that. He couldn't think of any real answer to the conundrum, though, so instead he tried to decipher his words. This guy's speech was even harder to read, so he just greeted him:

"Hello. Do you know where we are?"

He seriously hoped the answer was not too out of the ordinary - he really needed to get out of town.
Edited by Dr. Roy, Oct 29 2011, 07:47 AM.
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Psychadelic
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Keaka
The Mexican boy, had apparently come from a Mexican sounding region that Gertie had never heard about before. Strange that he supposedly woke up here on this deserted street, when he was from the "South" somewhere that she was sure wasn't anywhere in West Virgina.

Perhaps he was homeless then? The poor boy. It made sense, concerning the presentation of his appearance. Tattered and old fashioned clothing and when it's too old fashioned for old Gertrude, then something was definitely, definitely wrong here.

As Hernando examined the roadkill, a familiar jazzy tune from Gertie's youth could be heard in the previously silent air from a distant. It was the sound of a saxophone and it was getting nearer. She looked up to see a black man, dressed in the same sort of suit and garbs as musician's from her early days. Together with his sax, the negro man reminded Gertrude of the great jazz musician John Coltrane. He seemed to be straight out of her glory days.

He looked polite, with a good mannered smile and so Gertrude smiled back. He asked them how they were doing, but the young man answered first.

"Hello. Do you know where we are?"

Gertrude concurred with a nod. She really wanted to know the answer to that as well. As silly as it seemed - Gertie didn't think she was in Fairmont or even West Virginia, anymore...
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Outfoxd

Murphy let the saxophone hang from the strap he had improvised out of a belt and stuff his (shaking) hands into his pockets.

"Where you are?" He shook his head, sucked air through his teeth. "A fine question. Unfortunately one I ain't got an answer for. You're on the Street. That's about all I can..."

He trailed off, because he saw the dead animal laid out on the street. He wanted to say it was a wolf, but the proportions were all wrong. Some of the other folks had mentioned seeing animals, but he was lucky, he guessed.

Until now.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." He wanted to approach it, but to be fair he was terrified. He stood his ground. "One of yours?" He asked the both of them.
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Dr. Roy
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Hernando listened intently. This man's accent was even harder to parse, but they were on "the Street." His body language said more, though. Which street this Street was, this man had no idea.

The man then took a look at the wolf on the ground and asked if it was one of theirs. He was kidding, right? This was a wild animal, pure and simple. Well, maybe not pure, or simple for that matter, but it was fairly obvious this was no one's pet. He knelt down and took a look at it, as he was planning on doing before. Now that he had a closer look, it definitely did not look like any wolf he had ever seen. It looked... wrong. He'd normally take a look to see what killed it, but that was the least important thing going on here. Nothing he could think of would prey on whatever this was. He wouldn't dare touch it.

He stood up, looking at the end of the street. From here, he could make out that there appeared to be a wall on that end as well. This was extremely odd. He just wanted out at this point - he could navigate later. He asked, not really expecting a good answer from the equally confused people he was talking to, "Is there a way out? How did you get here?"
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Psychadelic
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The darker colored man, called this place "The Street," which wasn't really all that helpful. Then he asked if the carcass belonged to her or the boy, Hernando.

"Oh heavens, no. This animal was already deceased when I arrived here... Mister? Mm, I don't think I've asked for your name. I am Gertrude Lockhart. I got lost in a fog while heading to the grocery store and ended up here on this... street. I've really needin' to be heading back home now. My family may be worried sick."

Ah, there was an easy solution to the problem, which Gertie hadn't thought about earlier. Right about the same time Hernando asked his question, Gertrude asked her own.

"You don't happen to know if there is a telephone available anywhere nearby, would you? I should call my family for a ride home."
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Outfoxd

The Spanish cat started answering questions, a jive Murphy could cop to. But he didn't have answers. Nobody goddamn did. And this....thing at their feet raised a few more inquiries. So he shrugged.

"No way out, no idea how we got here, amigo." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, farther down the street. "Got plenty of liquor, though. So if you wanna catch a buzz and not think about it, ain't nobody stoppin' you."

Then the old lady asked where the phone was, another valid, useless question.

"I hate to keep giving you guys the run around, but there's no phone works anywhere around here. This circle right here is closed. I wish I could tell you all different."
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