Application for John Trent: In the Mouth of Madness

[crossed_my_mind]

A minute ago, he'd been watching a movie. John Trent still had the popcorn bucket in his hand -it was one of the super-sized ones, so it was still half-full- and had a handful of greasy kernels halfway to his mouth. Without a word, he dropped the popcorn back into the bucket and wiped his hands on his pants leg. He smelled like fake butter and

Comments

[medievalhippie]

Merlin had met several people here who bore an uncanny resemblance to him. One, he was certain, was an incredibly powerful embodiment of evil; the other seemed stable and possessed of an innate sadness. This one, however... For once, he had no words.

"I wouldn't talk of eating popcorn here," he said at last, leaning on his staff. "Periodically people here turn into popcorn. They might consider it some form of cannibalism."

[crossed_my_mind]

"Some form? You mean there's more than one kind?" Inquiring minds wanted to know. He shrugged. "I suppose I'd rather be popcorn than a monster. So, are you here to kill me now?"

[medievalhippie]

Merlin cocked an eyebrow. "No, I don't suppose there is," he said. "And why would I want to kill you? I've only just met you."

[crossed_my_mind]

"Evil twin, and all that." Really, some things shouldn't need explaining. "It's kind of cliche, don't you think?"

[waste_lock]

"Cheer up, emo kid."

[crossed_my_mind]

They'd caught up with him. Shit, that hadn't taken long. Only, something was missing. "Forget your pitchfork?" Trent asked. "Or are you more the torch type?"

[waste_lock]

"I'm more a chainsaw type, really."

[crossed_my_mind]

"Whatever." It was all the same, really. "Are you going to get on with it, or are you just going to stand there?"

[carri3_whit3]

Trent's DIY wardrobe decoration reminded Carrie uneasily of her mother.

On the other hand, at least she could be fairly certain this wasn't some elaborate, twisted Damien Thorn mindgame.

"What's with all the crosses?"

[crossed_my_mind]

"Keeps the evil away," he replied causally. "At least, that's what I told the shrink. I think it might have worked. Or it did. I'm not sure anymore." He offered the ink to her. "Want one?"

[carri3_whit3]

"No thanks. Got my own already." She pulled a small gold cross on a thin chain up from under the collar of her blouse. "Any particular evil you're tryin' t'ward off, or just evil in general?"

[crossed_my_mind]

"THE evil." He rolled his eyes. "The end of the world, the madness. Didn't you read the end of the book?"

[chance_silvey]

Chance nearly lets the application fall from her hand. The man's clearly just arrived from some mental ward or other. She thinks of Dancy Flammarion, raving behind glass in a Florida institution, and forces back a shiver.

Dancy dreams things that Chance dreams, things Chance knows can't have happened.

"Hello," she says evenly to the crazy man. Hoping he actually is crazy. "Why are you covered in crosses?"

[crossed_my_mind]

"Evil." He went back to his painting. After dabbing a few more crosses on the walls, he looked back at Chance. "It's a shame about those tits," he said.

[chance_silvey]

"You're going to have to be more specific. About the evil. Not the tits." Unruffled and unimpressed.

[crossed_my_mind]

Trent shrugged. "When you're a pile of writhing tentacles on the floor, I'm sure you'll think it's a shame, too," he said. He started on a more complex cross, with smaller ones in the corners. "Anyway, it's THE evil. Monsters, insanity, end of the world." He stepped back from the wall. "What do you think of that one?"

[sidney_reilly]

Upon entering the Sorting Room, Reilly stopped and stared.

"Good God, man. You look worse than I did when I showed up, and I was dead."

[crossed_my_mind]

That comment caught Trent's attention, and he quickly made his way over to Reilly, sanding much too close to the other man for comfort. "How did you die?" he asked. "Did you leave the town?"

[sidney_reilly]

Reilly held his ground for the inspection.

"Execution. Sniper shot at dawn. I suppose we did leave town, to go up into the hills. Why?"

[crossed_my_mind]

Trent threw his hands up in the air. "No, no, no, no, NO! That's wrong! That's not how it ends. There are no hills, and there's no one to be a sniper." He paced up and down. "Or maybe it's a dream. Maybe this isn't the end."