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Cursed are the ones who can't abide.; Open
Topic Started: Sep 12 2017, 09:47 PM (813 Views)
The Homeless Beard
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"Two plus two is four, minus one is three quick maths"
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Kasumi White, hOLE In eArHt swaLowS GiRL wHoLE [NSFL]))

The father of lies coming to steal, kill and destroy all my hopes of being good enough.

The thunder of voices sent her scurrying backwards into her cave, a cave where she sat alone in smooth walls and padded blankets. In her cave, she had full use of her legs, utilized them to scramble deeper towards the back, the dark enshrouding her, comforting her with warmth as the voices became more and more distant. She faintly heard the phrase last words, pictured Vincent’s face speaking, mouth moving. Her cave blocked the sound well.

She heard footsteps, then nothing, as her cave stretched out before her. She felt the smoothness of the walls, grime sluicing off into the shallow trenches of her fingertips, bits of rock crumbling with age into her palm. She glanced down to look at it, and it disappeared into a hazy mist that dusted her face, forced her to blink.

The sun was shining on Kasumi as she stared into the bright blue above her, her face impassive. Idly, she turned her head.

The visions were gone.
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Cake
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[[Wendy Fischer Continued From: hOLE In eArHt swaLowS GiRL wHoLE [NSFL] ]]

"Hey girl, hey."

Voice an exuberant whisper.

"No need to play opossum. She's gone."

The voice trailed, lips pursed, index finger tapped against her own chin in deliberation. Her gaze went left to right for a quick scan as she stood, poised over the filth covered porcelain doll, cracked and stained from wear and tear.

"For now, anyway."

From the bushes Wendy had emerged. She'd rounded the area and came back. In her panicked haste to get away, she had forgotten about the other one, still laying, still here. The one who wasn't going anywhere. She sidestepped the girl and sauntered over, to where the old wooden sign was. The pit was there, but no Vincent in sight. No indication that he had pulled himself out. No shallow tar puddles pooled on the ground, no ebonized tracks printing the grass. Amazing.

The Earth had swallowed him whole.

There were some regrets. She did not want to see him go so soon. Ok no, that was a lie. Wendy wished she was around to see the black water in action. It's just that she didn't want to have to say goodbye after having just met him.

What did he expect though.

Did he honestly expect her to help him with stuff, when minutes earlier he had callously rejected Wendy's invitation to join with her and Kasumi and perhaps do some stuff to help the poor injured girl? What did he expect in return, other than his own medicine served right back to him? He learned, but at least he was one with the earth.

Wendy unzipped her pack, looked in and pulled out a flower. With it, she began to hum a tune of sweet, Daisy Bell.

"Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm.... give me your answer do..."

The humming turned to whistling after she smelt the dainty little flower. She looked at it and the dark pool once more. With a sigh, she let it go. It landed with a tiny plop and remained there for a minute, the bright white contrasting with the gooey charcoal, before sinking below its surface to meet Vincent. It wasn't quite the same, but a microcosm of the scene she missed moments ago.

Without another word, Wendy meandered her way between the varying death ditches, on the way back to the other girl. The toe end of her Uggs bumped into something and Wendy casually picked it up for inspection. It was the broken dome from earlier. It contained a cutesy cartoon cowboy and she wondered of the story behind this thing.

The shattered globe landed with a mud slapping thud next to Kasumi and Wendy sat on the cooler one more time, crossing her leg.

"I'm sorry Vincent refused to help," Wendy spoke, twirling the tarry baton again, in nonchalance. "He's gone too."

"I can't do much for you either - but I'd like to; Maybe find someone else who can help you better than I can."

She leaned forward, hands tapping at the squared aqua once more.

"Anyone, or anyone(s).... special, you'd like to see?"
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The Homeless Beard
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"Two plus two is four, minus one is three quick maths"
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The visions were back.

Kasumi said nothing, watching as her hallucination of Wendy meandered around, whispering to her, throwing things into the tar pits, complaining about her counterpart. Wendy spoke as if she could help, articulated a want to bring someone - anyone - to Kasumi that would be able to help her better than Wendy could.

Kasumi said nothing, as she examined her leg. Before, there was a slight hesitation in believing that her projections of Vincent and Wendy were truly fake, a chance that the real people had stumbled upon her, seen her. Then, KK had returned, and Kasumi had closed her eyes, laid still, and KK hadn't shot her.

If Vincent had been real, and Wendy had been real, and KK had been real, surely the red haired woman would've noticed the bandages on Kasumi's knee, the fact that she had crawled elsewhere, dragged her bloody knee to a brand new spot. Real killers didn't fall for tricks like that - bodies moving locations, fresh wounds being treated.

Kasumi said nothing to Wendy, as she clutched the Bible Thumper closer to her chest.

She shook her head.
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((Bridgette Sommerfeld continued from I Am The Lie, I Am The Liar))

The hike calmed her. It was, in Bridgette’s mind, a well-earned rest. She’d never been a big fan of the outdoors - Denton wasn’t exactly a hub of outdoor activities, and the few camping trips Bridgette had been on were only distant and vaguely uncomfortable memories. Life or death situation aside, the island was not too bad - the air was cool, and her leisurely pace let her fully take in the scenery. Of course, she had to stay vigilant, but she was lucky to be alone all that time.

She made a brief stop at the the lake, munching on one of the ration bars as she sat on the shore. Bridgette felt a little anxious for breaking into her rations, but she had to remind herself that she was allowed some slack. After all, she now had enough for two people. Besides, if she ran out, she could always kill someone else for their rations. How hard could it be?

That question ended up plaguing Bridgette on the second leg of the trip. She supposed that there had to be people that were easy, or even easier to kill, than Panya. Eventually, though, she’d encounter much more dangerous opponents. There was no way Bridgette was the only killer on the island, and there had to be one or two psychopaths running around too. She thought of the girl with the machete in the field, and of the shooter back at the mess hall. Who knew what they’d been up to since then? Bridgette’s head spun as she thought of the possibilities, and the prospect of running into them.

Breathe in, breathe out, she told herself. Baby steps. She had plenty of time to prepare.

The landscape grew more barren as she headed west. Bridgette wrinkled her nose at the strong, nauseating smell that seemed to permeate the entire field, a smell she’d previously associated with construction sites and newly paved roads. As she tiptoed around the tar pits, Bridgette couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a sitting duck out in the flat, expansive field.

At least she wasn’t the only target out her. There was another girl in the distance, who Bridgette recognized as the flower picker from earlier. She froze when she saw the body sprawled on the ground in front of her. Bridgette could barely see her mouth moving, but the flower picker’s words were lost in the wind. Had she killed that person? She quietly cursed herself for underestimating the other girl, and crouched down into the bushes as she thought of what to do.
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Looks like Kasumi was in no hurry to find anyone special.

"In that case, I'll hang out here for a while. Maybe someone will come to us."

She leaned back with a minuscule smirk, re-crossing her legs.

"Oh, I know!" Her expression lit up and Wendy hopped off the cooler in merriment.

"Let's have a picnic."


Piece by piece in unhurried progression, Wendy gracefully arranged contents of her rucksack and the gathered treasures in a neat, orderly fashion. Placement of the puzzle was a layout only slightly resembling a small picnic. Wendy chewed on her ration, sipping some water, staring at the fallen fairy angel. The shattered snow-globe still lay in the mud, near the girl's head. Wasn't exactly the loquacious type, was she? Wendy found it disappointing but understood.

Kasumi had been picked on by the other girls at some point for years, for reasons Wendy couldn't really comprehend. She was always a sweetie as far as Wendy was concerned. At least that boy Lance was always there for her, to be a friend. Except Lance wasn't here now, so Wendy took it upon herself to be Kasumi's new friend.

The whole thing gave Wendy the chance to be chattier on her side of things at least.

"I need to find some pants," Wendy began, between chewing. "Skirts aren't meant for hiking a deserted island or running from lions, you know?"

Cough-cough. Swallow. Sorry about that.

"Anyway, do you think there's some pants laying around this island somewhere? Besides those on other girls in similar but um, 'less lively' circumstances than yours of course. Oh, wait I have a map."

Wendy pulled out the map, putting aside the tar stick and half eaten rations. She laid on the ground to the side of Kasumi, body curved toward the other girl, with a smile and twinkle in her eye. She put a finger on the map and showed Kasumi.

"Look, that's us," She pointed at the labeled section and skimmed her index over to the flower fields. "That's where I came from before I got here, well, the first time. So lovely. That's where I got these, aren't they pretty."

Her hand hovered over to her packed flowers that Clio had mowed down.

"I mean, this place is pretty too. Needed to take Mr. Dolph away from the meadow, anyhow. Bridgette had a knife and I already knew. Petals were going to be pruned."

Tar bubbles rose, emitting a popping at the surface. A far-off bush rustled.

Wendy played with her pig-tailed braids as she continued to watch the silent girl still clutching the carved wooden bat tightly. Practically stroking it. Strange how a person could be so oddly obsessed with an inanimate object like that. Treating it like it was her confidant or something.

Kasumi was so weird.
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(Skipping approved)

Bridgette watched as the flower picker carefully unpacked her duffel bag and ate her rations, talking to the body the whole time. She still couldn’t tell if it were dead or not - there were no visible wounds from Bridgette’s point of view, though there was always poisoning or blunt force trauma. Besides, she wouldn’t put it past the other girl to chat with a corpse.

Then the flower picker laid down next to the body, pointing at her map as she spoke. Bridgette couldn’t make out anything specific, although she doubted it was anything but meaningless babbling. She furrowed her brow and gave the scene another look. The flower picker was oblivious and unarmed - perhaps another easy kill. It was almost a miracle that Bridgette had run into these types twice in a row.

And Bridgette didn’t pass up miracles.

She pushed herself off the ground and straightened up. There wasn’t much cover to hide behind once she approaches the flower picker, and Bridgette would seem less sketchy if she wasn’t crouch walking towards her, knife in hand. The flower picker seemed docile, but she couldn’t take any chances. Instead, her knife laid at her side. Bridgette didn't say a word as she strode into view, looking down at the two bodies on the ground.
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Cake
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It was her again. From the far off rustle of bushes, the gardener had emerged.

“Oh, hello Bridgette,” her voice warm, inviting. “We’re having a picnic, won’t you come join Kasumi and me?”

She watched intently as the girl approached in earnest, a fixated expression upon the visitor’s face. There was that familiar glint again at her side. Anxious movements, anxious eyes, it was a very recognizable sight, but the gardener was clearly out of her element here. No plants. Just leaf mold and fertilizer.

Wendy flipped open the cooler top to reveal the iced and headless contents.

“Mr. Dolph is here too.”

She grabbed the tail end and lifted, staring at the twenty-five pound carp in wonderment and back to Bridgette as cold slime oozed from semi-frozen gills.

“What happened to Panya?”
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Bridgette breathed a sigh of relief and forced a smile. “Sure,” she said, exaggerating her tone slightly. “I’d be happy to.” The body on the ground was alive, although in her mind, it wasn’t going to be a problem, If the girl had been lying motionless for the past ten minutes, Bridgette doubted she’d suddenly spring into action if she attacked Wendy.

The flower picker leaned over and opened up the cooler, introducing her to Mr. Dolph. Bridgette’s smile faltered as she remembered the fate of the fish’s namesake, but she stayed strong. However, nothing could fix her loss for words. She just nodded in acknowledgement, trying her best to hide her displeasure.

Then the real bomb dropped. Wendy asked about Panya. Bridgette had been hoping that the flower picker was too oblivious to even remember their previous encounter. It was probably Panya’s fault, for bringing attention to herself, to make herself memorable. The corners of her mouth and the grip on her knife tightened simultaneously. Stupid, self-centered Panya.

Her mouth was half open as she tried to piece together a reply. “Panya? Oh, she uh....wandered off. Somewhere. Y’know, to find her friends.” Bridgette hastily added. The forced smile returned, and she prayed that Wendy was as stupid as she’d made her out to be.
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“Oh okay.”

Wendy tilted her head, as the girl spoke some more. Words were coming out, but Wendy’s attention was focused more on her overall composition. That was quite the heavy looking bag she had on.

“What do you have in the bag? It looks stuffed,” Wendy questioned without a change of pitch or inflection. “Oh and that’s a fancy looking knife you got there.”

She started to lower the fish back into the cooler, finger tips still frosty on the tail fin.

“May I see it?”
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As Wendy replied, Bridgette’s smile became just a bit more genuine. “Yeah, she was asking me just as you left,” she continued, hoping to build up her ironclad lie. “Asking if I’d seen....y’know, the other theater kids.” Bridgette silently cursed herself out as she blanked on Panya’s friends. Either way, she hoped Wendy would be content with that broad statement.

Just as she thought she was done, the flower picker prodded further, this time about her bag. And the knife. The excuses came a little easier this time. “Oh, you’d be surprised at what you can find in the other buildings here. The island’s littered with extra supplies,” she replied, hefting the back slightly. In response to the knife query, Bridgette raised it up in front of her, letting Wendy look at it from a distance.

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

Bridgette paused and looked Wendy in the eye. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t keep underestimating her like this. The flower picker was wising up by the minute, and she was forced to start reassessing her as a real threat.

After all, what exactly happened to Kasumi?

At the moment, Bridgette had two options - keep up the charade, or end it now. In her experience, the latter proved the easiest to do. Her mind went back to the flower field, where she’d practically pounced on her victim. It was over before Bridgette realized it, and Panya was dead in a matter of seconds.

And if all went well, Wendy would be dead in a matter of seconds, too.
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Wendy nodded quietly, her lips stretched into a conspicuous smile, without baring any teeth.

Her attention shifted downward to a speck of color on the gardener’s jeans. A crimson stain above the girl’s right knee. Still fresh. Wendy took a step around the cooler and positioned her way a safe distance between Kasumi, Bridgette and the pit. Mr. Dolph looked on from Wendy’s two hands.

“Where’d you get that red stain, by the way?”
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“This,” Bridgette breathed, her eyes narrowing. “Is from my last fight.”

She was sick of this call and response schtick. Who knew Wendy was this annoying? Maybe she was like this back at school, and it was all just meaningless, unobtrusive chatter. In an ideal world, the two would’ve never spoken, and they could go their separate ways: Bridgette off to college, and Wendy to...well, wherever she was going to end up.

But sadly, life isn't perfect. They were both here, and she was starting to piss her off. Bridgette didn’t have the time or energy to keep up the charade. For once in her life, she was content with taking the easy way out.

Just like last time, Bridgette launched herself at the flower picker, with the blade pointed directly at her neck. It was a tried and true method that had to work.
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Mr. Dolph went up as the gardener lunged.

The knife sunk into flesh, frozen scaly flesh. Now it was stuck and Bridgette tried to yank it out. The unexpected moment was enough to make Wendy’s expression change from a look of alarm from the sudden attack, to a quick show of glossy teeth.

She swung the fish once, slapping Bridgette on the face, whacking her backwards and the knife loose. Then a side-step and a second swing as the girl attempted to lunge again, curving in an arcing motion with significant force as the frozen twenty-five pound fish slapped against her once more.

The heft of the carp’s solid side smashed into the gardener like the flat edge of an ice cold shovel, knocking her back to the wooden warning sign.
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It didn’t work.

The knife connected and sank deep...into the frozen flesh of Mr. Dolph. Bridgette grunted in frustration as she attempted to pull the knife loose, but before she could, Wendy slammed it into her face. The blow sent her staggering backwards, and it took her a moment to realize she’d dropped the knife in the process. Before she could fully process her folly, the second blow sent her spinning.

And as she fell, Bridgette saw the tar pit rush up towards her.

She braced herself for a scalding impact, but the tar proved to only be warm. Almost pleasantly so. Her eyes closed just before she hit the surface, but some of the tar managed to make its way into her mouth.

All her life, she’d been told dying was a peaceful experience. They said her mind would be at ease as she slipped away - as if she was just falling asleep. However, as she actually died, Bridgette realized that those comforting words were was a load of horseshit.

In fact, the exact opposite was happening. Her mind was racing as the warmth enveloped her, pulling her downwards into the cruel darkness. She thought of the city she’d never return to, the family she’d never see again, the life she’d never live. She thought of all the work and pain and terror she’d endured trying to win it back, of the girl she’d murdered in order to do so. She thought of the idiot girl who’d outlive her, with Bridgette as a mere footnote in her hopefully short life. The longing, regret, and anger bubbled up inside her, increasing like a crescendo until Bridgette’s mind was consumed by screaming.

Then, as her brain finally ran out of oxygen, Bridgette was mercifully cut short.

G26, Bridgette Sommerfeld: DECEASED
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Wendy watched as the gardener sunk head-first, down into the tar pits.

The only thing left to be seen: a bit of her midsection, her legs flailing wildly in the air, thrashing as the earth swallowed her up as well.

“Wow, would you look at that.” She crouched and turned to Kasumi, mouth slightly agape, eyes in awe, alternating between the action within the murky pool and trying to determine her new friend’s expression, if Kasumi was feeling the same. Back and forth.

Mr. Dolph was placed back into the cooler, lid shut tight to preserve the frostiness. Then she laid belly-down onto the grassy ground next to Kasumi, legs crossed in the air, chin resting over settled forearms. She was getting a replay of the moment she’d missed earlier with Vincent.

She heard the drowned screams, muffled into gurgling bubbles at the sloshy surface. The thrashing intensifying.





Time passed, skies grayed, the excitement withered away.

Bridgette’s legs were still up in the air though, but the movement had stopped for the most part. There was no more screaming, but the occasional twitch and solitary expansion of bubbles bursting every few minutes remained.

Wendy had started to eat dinner at this point, looking over every few minutes at the legs.





Some more time passed and the legs had bent to the side a bit, abnormal in their appearance, as they succumbed to gravity under their own weight. Wendy had started to collect a few twigs and dry branches, circling the large pit, barely paying attention to the limbs anymore.

Satisfied with the amount she had collected, Wendy dropped the assorted pieces of wood next to Kasumi.

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna stay warm tonight. Then I’ll find some help tomorrow, I promise.”
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