4/2 The Ferry's Dock; Very, Very Late At Night
Mist came with the ferry. Mist and a deep, heavy silence that settled in treetops and lurked in corners, giving the sense that it was poised and ready to pounce on anything that dared breath.
The ferry pulled up alongside the dock and the mist followed. In heavy, curling tendrils, it rolled up the small pier and hovered, blanketing the place as though it had become the silence's physical form.
Though alive --the letter had been most specific about that-- the ferry's men were far from well. Whatever bonds of comraderie had held this crew together were now frayed and snapped beyond repair. The tension on board was wound to the screaming point, and the captain would consider himself lucky if they made it back with out a brawl or worse.
When the ferry reach the other shore, the crew --formerly friendly-- would part, never again to share a joke, a drink, a story, nothing at all except a dream. A dream of a huge, creaking ship. All its crew but one were dead. This one, the captain, had lashed himself to the helm where he muttered and gibbered and cursed the stars that he had once trusted. He loathed them now because they gave light, because they let him see --in flashes of red eyes and white teeth-- what watched him from the shadows.
And, this crew, the living one, would never truly understand how this had come to pass. Only that it had had something to do with that box. That long, hideous box that no one would be alone with, that no one would touch out of anything but the strictest necessity. That box which was now being shoved onto the dock by four men who had not been gripped with such undeniable terror since they'd been curled up in their beds as children, waiting to feel the boogey man's rancid breath on their faces.
Mission completed, they hurried back down the dock, leaving the box for whomever would come to claim it. The ferry's lights vanished into the fog, and thunder rolled over the sleeping little town. Once, twice. Then, after a brilliant flash of lightning, the rain began to come down in torrents. As the wind whipped itself up into a full gale, the box...spouted legs and scuttled off into the town, headed for the Antebellum Apartments. An icy chill followed it.
[OOC: Meant to be establishy. Spooky Hammer Film style weather has been given full adminly approval. Please, feel free to have your characters react or not react to the freak storm as you see fit. Thanks!]
The ferry pulled up alongside the dock and the mist followed. In heavy, curling tendrils, it rolled up the small pier and hovered, blanketing the place as though it had become the silence's physical form.
Though alive --the letter had been most specific about that-- the ferry's men were far from well. Whatever bonds of comraderie had held this crew together were now frayed and snapped beyond repair. The tension on board was wound to the screaming point, and the captain would consider himself lucky if they made it back with out a brawl or worse.
When the ferry reach the other shore, the crew --formerly friendly-- would part, never again to share a joke, a drink, a story, nothing at all except a dream. A dream of a huge, creaking ship. All its crew but one were dead. This one, the captain, had lashed himself to the helm where he muttered and gibbered and cursed the stars that he had once trusted. He loathed them now because they gave light, because they let him see --in flashes of red eyes and white teeth-- what watched him from the shadows.
And, this crew, the living one, would never truly understand how this had come to pass. Only that it had had something to do with that box. That long, hideous box that no one would be alone with, that no one would touch out of anything but the strictest necessity. That box which was now being shoved onto the dock by four men who had not been gripped with such undeniable terror since they'd been curled up in their beds as children, waiting to feel the boogey man's rancid breath on their faces.
Mission completed, they hurried back down the dock, leaving the box for whomever would come to claim it. The ferry's lights vanished into the fog, and thunder rolled over the sleeping little town. Once, twice. Then, after a brilliant flash of lightning, the rain began to come down in torrents. As the wind whipped itself up into a full gale, the box...spouted legs and scuttled off into the town, headed for the Antebellum Apartments. An icy chill followed it.
[OOC: Meant to be establishy. Spooky Hammer Film style weather has been given full adminly approval. Please, feel free to have your characters react or not react to the freak storm as you see fit. Thanks!]