[The camera flickers to life to roll across the floor - presumably resting against some piece of furniture. Flashing in and out of view is Tom...crumpled to the floor of his bedroom, hands clenched in his dark, curly hair, teeth clenched against a scream of terror. On occasion, the camera gives a strange flicker...as do the lights in the room.

( Read more... )

 [The voice over the line hasn't been heard in a little while...a harsh lilt, a noticeable growl to the tone. Hyde sounds...agitated.]

Am I the only one who thinks this stupid fog is getting old? 'S ALL fun 'n games until someone gets maimed. And staying inside is SOOOOOO BOOOOOOORING. Does anyone want to plaaay?

...

Tigger, if you're out there ( Read more... )

Hello, everyone.

I...I've been living a bit like a hermit, I'm afraid. I still don't know very many of you, so...consider this a greeting, I guess. My name is Tom Jackman. I've been in town for a little while now. I didn't quite mean to be unfriendly, I just...I had some things to sort through.

[He pauses for a moment, taking a slow, deep breath.]

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[It's the nervous Irish fellow again - but this time, there is less panic in his tone ( Read more... )

[When the call begins, the feed is upside down - the man holding it is staring down at it, dark brows quirked in curiousity. Turning it around, he brings the camera right up to his face - close in on his jet-black eye - then pulls it away again, at arm's length. He blinks a couple of times, canting his head somewhat childishly...before grinning ( Read more... )

[There is a long, awkward pause in which all can be heard is a sort of shuffling - someone moving about a slip of paper. After a moment, a voice can be heard...soft, halting, nervous - unsure if placing this call is a good idea, perhaps. There's a bit of an Irish lilt, his tone full of confusion. He sounds as if he must be an older man...middle- ( Read more... )