![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
potential story thing idefk
When he thought about it, nowadays, he thought that their fate could have been avoided. As the male sat down, looking at recent murder cases, he pondered what could have happened, had they been more careful; had they said no. Had they denied, and kept on with their merry lives. Would they all have finished high-school? Gone to college, become something, brought some use to the world.
With a heaving sigh, the man ran a hand through his messy red hair before laying his head on the desk in front of him. He wished he could go back to those days, when they did not know the high price of life. When the high-school legend was nothing more than a children's story made to terrify the incoming freshmen. But to him, this legend was something more than a simple ghost story. It was a reality, a constant reminder of what his actions had caused.
His eyes screwed shut, in an attempt to block the incoming flashback. A memory of a broadcast came back.
'5 teenagers found dead around Florent High-School, the only survivor, an eighteen year old senior, James Wilson, was found conscious but unresponsive beside the body of 17 year old Mary Shilling.'
That had been the broadcast. The four other bodies were not mentioned then, and at the present time, the town did not remember them either. But they haunted James. Some nights, they would all appear in his dreams, each and every one of their corpses. And that smile, that girl's final smile-
"You dreamin' again?" A rough voice brought the red head back to reality. Blue eyes snapped open, looking up at his boss with a shocked look. With a quirked eyebrow, the police officer pointed to the calendar.
May 21st, it read. That day...ah.
"You can get the day off, Wilson. We don't want you gettin' into danger because you're in some other world." He shrugged, and continued, "The past is over, kiddo. And though you've got a rough one, you need to live on. They wouldn't want to see you like that, would they?"
James was quiet for a moment, as he gazed at the calendar with glazed eyes. When he finally processed what his boss had said, his expression darkened, because he didn't understand. He couldn't understand the drastic change that day brought in his life. The younger male's expression darkened, a frown forming in his face. He knew what the other meant. 'Get out of here. Go mope somewhere else.' Standing up, the red head stood about a head taller than his boss, and thinner as well. With a cold voice, he shook his head and began walking towards the door of the police office.
"It doesn't matter what they want, sir. They're dead. The dead do not want, sir."
The air in the small town was humid, as May brought on a series of much needed but nevertheless unwanted rain to the town of Florent. James walked in whatever direction his feet felt like taking him, and it was as if someone else had taken control of his body. On a day like today, he didn't mind that one bit.
His legs found their way to the cemetery; the last place he ever saw some of the group members. Only some, though, for a couple were simply far too mutilated to even look.
After minutes of searching, James finally arrived at a tombstone of someone he could recognize. 'Claire Owens' it read, the words printed on a cold hard stone; not unlike the girl's cold body as they dragged her away. He remembered her beauty, the blonde curls, and almost porcelain skin, showered with light freckles. Her serious complexion and that occasional smile that would light up the day brighter than any sun.
"Hey, love." the male began, his back resting against the cold stone. No response. "Everything's going great. How's everyone? Are you treating everyone nicely? Mary isn't crying too much right?" He asked these questions to the air, and shot a quick glance at the grave beside Clair's. It was Mary's own grave. Before that day, he had nothing but a distant memory of her, someone who he passed on the hallways and never stood out for him. But now, the girl was part of that memory, which would be imprinted in his mind until kingdom come.
To the other side was another grave, another of the group. This time it was Liam Morstan, quiet but incredibly smart, and somewhat annoying. Beside that, ah- of course, his sister, Erika. Beautiful Erika who he used to fight with on an almost daily basis. How he missed those fights. And then Dave was beside Clair, and he saw that the flowers on his vase had been recently changed, so family must have visited earlier. With a bitter smile, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"I finally finished piecing together the crime, guys." James spoke to the air. He imagined them standing, surrounding him, waiting for the outcome. They all knew who had done it, and only he knew the why. But only one of them knew the how, and they were dead.
"I have the day off." The redhead idly stated. "You guys must want me to retell the story, don't you? Last time? There's a new part to it."
The male pictured the group, unchanged from the last time he saw them alive, circling him. And he too, was their same age, the last time that he too felt fully alive. A rueful grin spread across his face, blue eyes sparking with life. "Let's start."
With a heaving sigh, the man ran a hand through his messy red hair before laying his head on the desk in front of him. He wished he could go back to those days, when they did not know the high price of life. When the high-school legend was nothing more than a children's story made to terrify the incoming freshmen. But to him, this legend was something more than a simple ghost story. It was a reality, a constant reminder of what his actions had caused.
His eyes screwed shut, in an attempt to block the incoming flashback. A memory of a broadcast came back.
'5 teenagers found dead around Florent High-School, the only survivor, an eighteen year old senior, James Wilson, was found conscious but unresponsive beside the body of 17 year old Mary Shilling.'
That had been the broadcast. The four other bodies were not mentioned then, and at the present time, the town did not remember them either. But they haunted James. Some nights, they would all appear in his dreams, each and every one of their corpses. And that smile, that girl's final smile-
"You dreamin' again?" A rough voice brought the red head back to reality. Blue eyes snapped open, looking up at his boss with a shocked look. With a quirked eyebrow, the police officer pointed to the calendar.
May 21st, it read. That day...ah.
"You can get the day off, Wilson. We don't want you gettin' into danger because you're in some other world." He shrugged, and continued, "The past is over, kiddo. And though you've got a rough one, you need to live on. They wouldn't want to see you like that, would they?"
James was quiet for a moment, as he gazed at the calendar with glazed eyes. When he finally processed what his boss had said, his expression darkened, because he didn't understand. He couldn't understand the drastic change that day brought in his life. The younger male's expression darkened, a frown forming in his face. He knew what the other meant. 'Get out of here. Go mope somewhere else.' Standing up, the red head stood about a head taller than his boss, and thinner as well. With a cold voice, he shook his head and began walking towards the door of the police office.
"It doesn't matter what they want, sir. They're dead. The dead do not want, sir."
The air in the small town was humid, as May brought on a series of much needed but nevertheless unwanted rain to the town of Florent. James walked in whatever direction his feet felt like taking him, and it was as if someone else had taken control of his body. On a day like today, he didn't mind that one bit.
His legs found their way to the cemetery; the last place he ever saw some of the group members. Only some, though, for a couple were simply far too mutilated to even look.
After minutes of searching, James finally arrived at a tombstone of someone he could recognize. 'Claire Owens' it read, the words printed on a cold hard stone; not unlike the girl's cold body as they dragged her away. He remembered her beauty, the blonde curls, and almost porcelain skin, showered with light freckles. Her serious complexion and that occasional smile that would light up the day brighter than any sun.
"Hey, love." the male began, his back resting against the cold stone. No response. "Everything's going great. How's everyone? Are you treating everyone nicely? Mary isn't crying too much right?" He asked these questions to the air, and shot a quick glance at the grave beside Clair's. It was Mary's own grave. Before that day, he had nothing but a distant memory of her, someone who he passed on the hallways and never stood out for him. But now, the girl was part of that memory, which would be imprinted in his mind until kingdom come.
To the other side was another grave, another of the group. This time it was Liam Morstan, quiet but incredibly smart, and somewhat annoying. Beside that, ah- of course, his sister, Erika. Beautiful Erika who he used to fight with on an almost daily basis. How he missed those fights. And then Dave was beside Clair, and he saw that the flowers on his vase had been recently changed, so family must have visited earlier. With a bitter smile, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"I finally finished piecing together the crime, guys." James spoke to the air. He imagined them standing, surrounding him, waiting for the outcome. They all knew who had done it, and only he knew the why. But only one of them knew the how, and they were dead.
"I have the day off." The redhead idly stated. "You guys must want me to retell the story, don't you? Last time? There's a new part to it."
The male pictured the group, unchanged from the last time he saw them alive, circling him. And he too, was their same age, the last time that he too felt fully alive. A rueful grin spread across his face, blue eyes sparking with life. "Let's start."