Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

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 [Closed] Dreaming in Arizona

[Closed] Dreaming in Arizona

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[Closed] Dreaming in Arizona

Benjamin Reese | Vampire; Infant

Posted on Sat Jul 30, 2016 10:29 am

Thread Details
Arizona Desert | Hot and dry | Evening

I hadn't been in a trailer like this since I was a kid, growing up with Mom. It did feel small, cramped, but I also felt more at home than I'd ever felt in my own place. Did that mean I was going to pack my bags anytime soon? Hell no. You couldn't sit on the toilet without the sink pressing on your elbow and the shower curtain draped over the other. The kitchen was a joke, and the living room wasn't much better. My father had finally passed out on the couch after a few days on the road. He wasn't wrong. Hal and I sat in lawn chairs having beer in the backyard. I could still hear him screaming. I hated the jokes about us having cold head hearts, etc, but it was true. I stood there and watched him when his nightmare started and I felt no sympathy. I wasn't angry with him, I didn't necessarily think he deserved what was happening to him. I just found it incredibly annoying. I thought about killing him just to make it stop, and I made a few valid excuses to keep myself from doing it. I didn't know what kind of disease he had been given. Was he still human? Could he even be killed?  But really... I had to search for those reasons even though I didn’t understand why I bothered looking.

"I suppose your dad finally broke," Hal said. He was a bit younger than Dad, but he had just as much wear and tear. His skin was red, but he wasn't native American; he'd just seen a lot of sun. Thousands of dimples were spattered on his cheeks, and he wore a Napa auto parts hat that hid most of his hair. It was hard to tell just how much or how little he knew about Dad, and really me. He had readily invited me into his home - no awkward scenario there but now he seemed to be playing dumb. Although he probably knew more about Dad than I did, something about his musings rubbed me the wrong way. He certainly didn't put off any vibes to me that said he was anyone or anything special. Dad said he was just a contact who would let him lie low. I wanted more information, and Dad gave some bullshit answer about the less information given, the better. He didn’t make a secret of that going both ways, either. He’d promised me that Hal wouldn’t know of my “condition, but I would know nothing about who he was, either. So, yeah that left me in a constantly calculating state. For all I knew, he was a warlock who had been able to mask himself - or anything else. If he didn’t have some way of helping, why would Dad call on him?

I’m not stupid, Hal, and you’re not blind. You see the scratches, you see the bite marks. They’re not love bites from some rambunctious cat. And that was something that had been getting worse with each nightmare. It started out with nothing at all, well - nothing visible. He’d be sore afterwards, just like he “slept wrong”. Then there were bruises, faint, but there if you looked. At this point even mid dream you could see a scratch appear, and tiny dribbles of blood would surface from the breaks in his skin. And there was something different about his blood. It wasn’t appetizing in the least.

”Well, Sig always did like the feisty ones. So you never know.” As much as Dad swore he would be helpful, at least for a pit stop, I wanted to rip the man limb from limb. He just annoyed me. Everything was a goddamn joke to him and he couldn’t be serious about something for even a second. Not to mention none of his jokes were even funny, but he was always laughing at himself. At the first sign of anything shifty - this man would be dead.

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Re: [Closed] Dreaming in Arizona

Benjamin Reese | Vampire; Infant

Posted on Wed Aug 31, 2016 11:09 pm

Things weren't all that different - well except for the plank halfway buried in the ground, NAPA hat resting on top of it and the mound of dirt before it. It was such a perfect shallow grave it looked straight from a cartoon. The small amount of counter space in the kitchen was taken up by prescription bottles which had neither of our names on them. Amphetamines. It was a nice try but they didn't work. It only added an addiction to his problem. Dad - Sig - had lost likely a good 30 pounds since we got here. Not that he was looking too good to begin with. Now the only thing that kept him alive was my curiosity and a hint of self preservation. I compelled him to tell me the truth - and it was no lie. The ones who did this to him were after me as well. Before I could leave this place I needed to find out what Dad knew. It didn't help that he was slipping into a demented state. Only the process was so gradual that I couldn't tell his delusions from the truth. Almost a convenient built in defense mechanism of whatever disease he was carrying.

"I'd just started believing you weren't a monster, son."
If it makes you feel any better, he was selling oxys. We already have enough bait for the DEA to stick their noses in our business out here... if they could find this place.
"We've got bigger things to worry about so-"
Dad, I need you to be straight up with me. No one else is here, for fucks' sake. I threw the shovel into the back of Hal's truck. I had observed him for long enough to know that no one would miss him. Not even Sig if he was honest. I combed my hair back, and thanks to the sweat and dirt it stayed. Sig paced back and forth the length of the trailer, kicking the tires each time he passed them. His hands in his pockets.

You were in that AOG mess, right? This isn't a big deal.
"Coming from you I'm sure it isn't. I didn't kill humans."
Maybe not humans but they're usually still people. It wasn't an argument I meant to start, and I was thankful when Sig was silent. In fact, he'd finally stopped pacing. He opened the door and headed back into the trailer and I followed, ready for a shower. I opened the door to the tiny bathroom and started pulling off my shirt, the sound of a safe opening catching my ear. I turned around to see Dad pulling a gun from a slate gray box on top of the refrigerator.

The fuck you need that for? I asked, walking toward him, some of stick on tiles shifting a bit as I walked.
"I've been thinking about it, Ben. I've been watching you, you know?"
Annoyed, I waited, having no idea what he was going on about now, and really wanting nothing more than a shower - even if the water did somehow manage to smell a bit like sulfur.
"I think you still have a choice in the matter, right? Other than today, you've kept your cool." He looked at the gun before placing it on the kitchen table and taking a seat.
Any way this could go I didn't like it. Either turning into one of his demented ramblings, or another lecture.
If you're strong, sure. It's hard at first.
"I've gotta do something. I can't handle any more of this. You gotta turn me."
Dad, I don't know if that will work.
"Why the hell not?" His tone was too familiar - that of an addict denied meds, or any of the assbags in the ER not getting what they wanted like they were used to. No reasoning, no legitimate argument for what they wanted - just gimme gimme gimme.
It's not a physiological illness, Dad. I mean, it seems like some kind of god damn curse or something, right?
"Just do it, Ben. If it doesn't work-" I wasn't paying attention. I heard the sound of the gun dragging across the table, but what it meant didn't register.
No, dad, it-

I never heard gunshots very often, and inside the trailer with nowhere to escape, the soundwaves felt like nails in my brain. Blood splattered across my face, the blinds... the whole kitchen (which wasn't hard). Dad's body fell to the ground, and I finally took my shower.

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