"She Just Wanted to be Heard Days 21-22," PG-13, The Ring/Supernatural
She Just Wanted to Be Heard
Day 21: Anxiety Dream
Part of Story Arc 1: Counterclockwise
A "The Ring/Ringu" Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 21 of 100
Rating: Overall Rating PG-13 (adult theme; horror elements that might be too much for children under 13; bad language)
Dates: Begun September 2006. Some material is based on previously written stories from 2003-2005. This chapter was written in November 2007.
Word Count: 4,118
Summary: Svetlana has a dream of the girls from the wells that pulls in not only Jodie, but Dean Winchester. In it, she learns something very important about him. Vanessa and Vicki have an AIM conversation in which Vanessa tries none too delicately to find out what Vicki could be up to.
Warning: Contains spoilers for the entire Ringu and The Ring series.
Fanfic Challenges: Fits 50_darkfics prompt #21 Brutal and coclaim100 prompt #21 Broken.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Rekka for help with the Japanese.
I keep meaning to note that Mysteria is a word from the Def Leppard song "Hysteria." Def Leppard have nothing to do with this story; I just really like the word. :D
A note for Supernatural fans: Remember when Andy from season 2 sent mental images to Dean? That is one function of thoughtography (in Japanese, 'nensha'), the power possessed by Sadako, Samara, and the others. Remember also how it caused Dean intense pain? I'm keeping that too. :D
In Ring 0: Birthday, when Sadako used her powers, it could be caught on audio tape as a high-pitched whine, like feedback. Samara's videotape contained a high-pitched whine. This sound will be referenced in the entire story, including this chapter.
The IM conversation near the end was deliberately typed with mistakes to make it seem more like a real IM conversation. In some places, I just didn't fix my typos, hee.
Set pre-series for Supernatural, during Sam's years at Stanford.
Beautiful day. Unseasonably warm, blue skies, light breeze. The streets were deserted, though. That was strange. No one in sight except Svetlana sitting on a park bench, hunched over, a hand to her eyes. She was talking on her cell phone in what Jodie thought was Dutch.
As she got closer, she realized that Svetlana sounded like she'd been crying. Eesh, this was awkward. Just before Jodie reached her, Svet said something in an angry tone and abruptly snapped the phone shut. She let out a long, shaky sigh.
"Svetlana?"
The Dutch girl turned to her. "Oh, Jodie." She pointed to her head. "What's with the...?"
Jodie ran a hand through her hair and felt a large pair of headphones, the type that covered a person's entire ears. They were askew on her head. "Yeah, uh, me and Professor McNeal are analyzing the videotape. We can hear all the background sounds better with these on."
"Oh." Svetlana stopped talking and gazed across the plaza of the university she and the others attended, just staring at a fountain. "Find anything useful yet?"
"Not really," Jodie replied sheepishly.
"Hm."
There was a short, clumsy silence between them. Fidgeting and rocking on her heels, Jodie commented, "I never really thought about it before, but you speak more than one language, huh?"
"Yes. English, Dutch, and Russian."
"You speak Russian? Wow. I didn't know that."
"My mother and grandmother are Russian," explained Svetlana. She smiled a little. "Where you think 'Svetlana' come from?"
"It isn't a Dutch name, is it?" Jodie laughed.
"No, it is not."
Another uncomfortable silence. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"
Instead of answering, Svetlana waved the question off with obvious irritation.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." Silence. Just the sound of the wind blowing softly. Jodie surmised that it must be someone from back home; who else would Svet speak to in Dutch? "So where's Quinn?"
"In the shower."
"Oh." Why couldn't they talk without Quinn being there? Things were so weird between them without him around. Jodie wished things could be different. She breathed out a regretful sigh and found herself saying, "We're never going to be friends, are we?"
Svetlana seemed to think it over; Jodie saw her shoulders tense and then relax. "I don't think so," the Dutch girl replied quietly.
Her shoulders slumping, Jodie looked down at the ground and dug the toe of her sneaker into a crack in the sidewalk. She began, "I - "
"Jodie?" interrupted a disembodied male voice.
Svetlana didn't recognize it, but Jodie looked up at the sound of the voice. "Oh, crap, Professor McNeal! I must've fallen asleep!" she said, and ran back toward the university.
With a confused look, Svetlana turned to ask Jodie what she was talking about. "What do you mean you..." She stopped and looked up, realizing that the light was leaving the sky. The sun sank below the horizon as if the clock had been sped up, rendering it completely dark outside within seconds. It sent chills up her spine to see the sky become black so quickly. "Oh God. Quinn, why you have to be in the shower? I wish you were here."
The streetlights did not switch on, like they should after the sun had gone down. Svetlana walked toward Quinn and Jodie's apartment in the dark. She grew more apprehensive with every step she took; she couldn't help but anticipate that something was going to happen to her out here, alone, with her barely able to see her hand in front of her face.
The streetlight she was walking past came on with a loud buzzing sound. Svetlana squealed and recoiled from it. She put a hand to her heart, letting out a little hysterical laugh. To be afraid of a streetlight... she felt so silly... until she noticed the fly meandering around on the surface of the light cover. Going around and around in a circle as the fluorescent bulb flickered.
The dread was thick as molasses. Svetlana knew even before she turned to run that someone would be blocking her path.
The girl standing there was taller than Samara. Old-fashioned white dress covered in streaks of grime and what could have been blood, long black hair hanging over her eyes... definitely older than Samara. The hair obscuring her face concealed her identity, but Svetlana doubted she would have known who the girl was even if she had been able to see her features. Just like Samara, she was dripping wet.
"She wants your boyfriend," the girl said. Svetlana heard a wicked smile in her voice. "That's why you can never be friends." The girl, Charlotte, paused before taunting, "What if you die and he lives? Do you think they'll get back together?"
Wanting no part of this, Svetlana turned to run another way and found Charlotte there too. She should have known that she couldn't escape until they were done playing with her. "You can't be allowed to go. You're meddling. Why couldn't you just mind your own business?"
Svetlana didn't understand what she was feeling; she had the distinct impression that she had just jumped into someone else's body. This wasn't happening to her. It was happening... going to happen... to another girl. Acting out the part, Svet darted around Charlotte and ran into the trees beyond.
"You can't get away," Charlotte laughed. "We won't have our dog taken from us."
Samara's voice now invaded her mind. "Run, rabbit, run. Through the woods and trees to your burrow. Maybe you can make it to safety."
Splashing through one end of a culvert filled with rainwater, Svetlana attempted to make it to the road. Leafy branches whipped at her face and arms as she tried to push them out of the way. Gotta get to the road, flag down a car. Escape from the crazy bitches.
"Run, rabbit, run. I'm going to show you something. And you know you're not going to like it."
Svet caught a glimpse of Samara through the trees. Just a quick flash of white dress and dark, wet hair. Standing there, looming, stalking. The child enjoyed this.
Looking to her left, Svet caught sight of a different person standing among the trees. It was the kid, Gunnar's little brother. What was his name? Beckett? Just standing there, grinning like he knew something. A split second later, he changed into Samara, and then disappeared altogether. What was that about?
A horrible feeling crept up Svetlana's spine; she realized that Samara was not alone out here. There was even more of them in the woods. Vanessa had mentioned that there was more than one cursed tape, and the T.A., Akemi, told Jodie about an almost identical urban legend from Japan that concerned a girl named Sadako. Is that who was causing those awful sensations of a presence out there, unseen, a black hole skulking among the trees? "Jigoku wa genjitsu da," she said on the wind. And then in clipped English, "Hell is real."
Another one moved between two trees, pausing long enough for Svetlana to get a look at her, but only for a brief time. Long white dress covered in dirt, long dark hair obscuring her face. These ghosts, they frightened their victims by cultivating a sinister visage of that which is unseen. Even Svetlana was simultaneously curious and terrified to know what was under all that hair.
The girl that Svet stood in for was not at all curious. Just afraid. All she wanted was to escape. But the well bitches were everywhere.
These girls were going to band together and go after someone, a person they felt threatened by. Svetlana wished she knew who so she could warn her.
"Run, rabbit, run. Maybe you can make it to safety," Samara taunted. "But I doubt it."
The road was right up ahead. Svetlana ran for it, but she didn't make it. Instead, someone turned in front of her and she ran headlong into his chest.
Beckett!
But no, it wasn't him. Svetlana ran right into Dean Winchester.
She let out a squeal of surprise and then realized who it was. "You!"
Dean had one of his shotguns in his hand. He looked at Svetlana like he'd never seen her before. "Are you in danger, miss?"
"Hell yes I'm in danger! Those girls are here! The ghosts!" She kept close to Dean, her fingers wrapped into a tight fist bunched up in his T-shirt. "Whole bunch of 'em!"
Dean warily scanned the nearby stand of trees, holding the gun ready. "What do they look like?"
In confusion, Svetlana looked up at him and said, "You know! You shoot Samara in the face. She was in well, remember?"
Now it was Dean's turn to look confused. "Who's Samara?"
Svet, frustrated, opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, heard a soft, comforting female voice whispering in her ear. The voice said only a few words and phrases, but they filled Svetlana's mind with understanding. "Dreams. Symbols. Hoped it would help somehow. The real thing. Mysteria."
Desperate with the knowledge that her time was limited, Svetlana grabbed Dean by the shirt and shook him. The motion barely moved him, being that he was twice her size, but it still got his attention. "You listen to me! My name Svetlana Van Curen. My boyfriend is Quinn Kirkland. We live in suburb of Boston, Massachusetts. And we have dreams about you. Some person or ghost or... something... named Mysteria put you in dreams as a symbol because she hope it would help us. Quinn is lost in denial half the time, but he always do that when things get weird. I know we're in real danger here. If you don't come, Samara will kill us!"
Seeing her eyes fill with tears, Dean put his free hand on her shoulder. "Hey, calm down. I deal with dangerous ghosts all the time. I can help you."
"I think that's why Mysteria do this, because you were meant to stop Samara. You don't remember what happen in the dreams before because you were just symbol. But this time, you're really here! It's just like when we dream of Quinn's funeral; we were all asleep at same time. Somewhere out there, you're asleep, and you dream right along with me. You're the real thing."
Dean looked up sharply. Leaves and shrubs rustled in the grouping of trees nearby. He felt more than one dark presence out there; some things were so evil, they gave off vibes that were almost tangible. The entities sucked at the air like miniature black holes, as if they wanted to drag both him and the girl back to their lair. "You don't understand," Dean began. "I've seen this pattern before. The really evil fuckers out there... helpless, beautiful girl running through the forest... I dream stuff like this all the time. I won't be able to save you. Sammy calls them my anxiety dreams. People in my line of work always fear they're going to fail. Even my dad has dreams like this. It's just how we work it out." He shrugged.
Svetlana shook her head vigorously. "No! This dream is different! Look, if this one of your anxiety dreams, would you know it was anxiety dream?"
Blinking, he replied, "Uh... I never have in the past... not until I woke up."
"You see?"
Samara stepped out of the shrubs. Leaves crunched under her bare, grey feet.
While Svetlana gasped in fear, Dean calmly furrowed his brow at the little girl, who looked more like she was being broadcast in by satellite than she was real flesh and blood, as if the child was made of television waves. At times, Samara looked solid, and the next second, she wavered like a bad connection. Dean didn't think he could behead her or slice her apart, but the shotgun should work just fine. He didn't need to see her face through all that hair to know a ghost when he saw one.
"What up, Cousin Itt?" he said confidently. Always snarky and arrogant in the face of evil. That was how he coped, even when he knew he was bound to fail.
Samara's response was not to acknowledge his quip, but to begin singing one of her songs. "Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, go to sleepy little baby. When you wake, you'll have cake, and all the pretty little horses..."
Dean started to answer her with another barb. Knowing they had little time to talk, Svet cut him off. "Now, while you have chance, tell me your - " She gagged loudly. An object obstructed her throat. "Your na - " Svetlana put her hands to her neck.
"Are you okay?" Dean asked, and patted her back hard.
The gagging and coughing rapidly became choking. "Your na... Your name."
"All the pretty little horses..."
"You're choking!" He reached for Svet to help her, but suddenly grabbed his own head and winced in pain. "Son of a bitch! Where is that feedback coming from?! Fuck, that hurt!"
She tried one more time. "Name!" With that, Svetlana's voice was cut off by the object suddenly present in her throat. It was just like when Quinn coughed up the rosary. Now she knew just how terrified and helpless he'd felt.
Shaking his head to try to clear it, Dean acknowledged that he'd heard Svetlana by starting to answer her, but was shocked into silence when a silver ring and hook emerged from her mouth. A thin leather strap was attached to the ring. Only an inch of it was currently visible. Although she could not speak, Svetlana communicated everything she wanted to say with her eyes. She wasn't going to let him get distracted by Samara's little diversionary tactic; before Svet would allow him to do anything else, Dean needed to tell her his name. "I'm - "
Svetlana shot up in Quinn's bed with the scream of, "Dean!" muffled in the back of her throat. She was shocked to find that the object choking her in her dream also existed in her waking life. The hook, ring, and strap hung partway out of her mouth. She made horrifying choking and gagging noises while pulling it out; it was hard to be careful and slow with the object still choking her and cutting off her air. When it seemed the strap's length might never cease, Svet fell on the floor by the bed on her knees and doubled over. Her entire body was wracked with heaves.
Mukluk had been lying on the bathroom floor outside the shower while his master bathed, but when he heard Svetlana's sounds of distress, he started to bark and scratch at the door.
The length of the strap eventually ended. Svetlana looked at it lying on the floor and soon realized she was looking at about twelve inches of a rein from a horse's bridle. She had just thrown up part of a leather bridle.
The thought, "Is the rest of the bridle inside me too, just waiting to come up?" ran through her mind, and even though she was still trying to get her breath back, Svetlana burst into a hysterical laugh. It turned into upset tears. "Dean!" she screamed. "Deeeeeean!"
Quinn came running into the room. He'd barely wrapped a towel around his waist and was dripping wet. "Svetlana, what's going on? Are you okay?!"
"Dean! DEAN!"
Quinn got down on the floor next to her. "What happened?! Who's Dean?"
She pointed to the rein. "I just throw that up. I dream it."
"Oh, God, Svet... Samara did it again." He brushed tears from her face with the backs of his fingers. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"It wouldn't have mattered if you were there. You don't know how to save us. You not even admit to yourself that we're going to die!" Svetlana yelled angrily. "Only Dean know what to do."
"Dean?" It suddenly dawned on him who she was talking about. "The blond guy we've been dreaming about?"
"Yes. He do this kind of thing all the time. It's his job."
Quinn rolled his eyes in jealousy. His girlfriend had more faith in a tall, gorgeous, older man than him. "People don't do stuff like this for a living, Svet. That's crazy. How do you know his name, anyway? Did he tell you in the dream?"
"Yes, and Dean do exist. I told him our full names, and he's going to find us." Unable to help it, she started to cry again. "He will get here in time."
A few minutes earlier, Jodie had awakened upon feeling someone shaking her by the shoulder. She raised her head up off her arms and stretched. "Oh, crap, Professor McNeal. I must've fallen asleep." The headphones were askew on her head.
Professor McNeal took his seat at the console in the Audiovisual room and set down his mug of coffee. "That's alright. Did you not sleep well?"
"Quinn and Svetlana kept me up half the night."
He considered that. "Strange that they're having rather intense nightmares, but we're still experiencing virtually nothing."
"Yeah, it is weird," Jodie agreed.
The professor put his hands back on the various little black knobs of the video console. "Shall we get back to it, then? Maybe we can end this for them."
*****
Hundreds of miles away, Dean Winchester sat up in his hotel bed and sighed.
His father was setting the small TV tray for dinner. "Hello, sleeping beauty. You hungry?"
Ah, how Dean loved the smell of roast beef. Arby's again. "You have to ask?" He stood up and stretched. "I just had the weirdest dream."
"Did it have anything to do with the sirens we're tracking? Sometimes they sing to you in your dreams." John Winchester set out a plastic fork for each of them.
"No." Dean raised an eyebrow. "There was singing involved, but these were definitely not sirens." He grinned. "Curly fries. Yum."
*****
After Svetlana calmed down, Quinn went back to the bathroom to finish his shower - he hadn't wanted to leave her, but she insisted so she could be alone for a little while. She hadn't felt this broken since...
Svet took out her cell phone, selected a number, and just stared at the display for a full minute before sending the call.
The display had indicated that the number to be called belonged to someone in Holland.
Ashly.
*****
Vanessa7days [6:22PM]: Those students from Boston uploaded a new pic to the board today.
Antici PationV [6:22PM]: really? I haven't been there yet. What's it of?
Vanessa7days [6:24PM]: Hard to describe. Samara standing against a wall. They put a whole story on the board to go with it. It's this totally narly thing about Samara actualy coming to their room and scratching on the walls to scare them. They claim they communicated w/ her using a system of scratchings. Once for yes, twice for no, that kind of thing.
Antici PationV [6:24PM]: you're kidding!!! What's she say?
Antici PationV [6:24PM]: what'd
Vanessa7days [6:25PM]: that if they didn't do something 4 her, she was going to kill 'em
Vanessa7days [6:25PM]: They're scared shitless *eg*
Antici PationV [6:27PM]: you haven't told them yet
Vanessa7days [6:27PM]: Told them what?
Antici PationV [6:27PM]: How to escape the curse
Vanessa7days [6:28PM]: Nope. What's it to you?
Antici PationV [6:28PM]: It just seems cruel, is all.
Vanessa7days [6:28PM]: i told you I'd take care of it. Stay out of it, ok?
Vanessa7days [6:30PM]: OKAY?
Antici PationV [6:30PM]: yeah
Vanessa7days [6:30PM]: what's the probelm?
Antici PationV [6:30PM]: Nothing.
Vanessa7days [6:30PM]: How is this any different from any other newbie who comes on the board and suffers thru their 7 days while we sit back and watch?
Antici PationV [6:30PM]: I don't know, I just don't think being the kids who sit in the back an blow spitballs at the person giving their oral report is that much fun anymore.
Vanessa7days [6:31PM]: So youre better than that now?
Antici PationV [6:31PM]: it's not that. I just feel sorry for them
Vanessa7days [6:31PM]: You feel horny for him
Antici PationV [6:31PM]: Shut up
Vanessa7days [6:31PM]: It's like Kyle all over again. Fucking Kyle.
Vanessa7days [6:32PM]: what r u going to do about it?
Antici PationV [6:32PM]: nothing.
Vanessa7days [6:33PM]: What are u planning, you stupid fatass fuck?
Antici PationV [6:33PM]: What did you just say to me????!!!1
Vanessa7days [6:33PM]: You think I don't know about your little pact with the pretty boy??!!
Antici PationV [6:33PM]: Who?!
Vanessa7days [6:33PM]: That's real convincing, pretending you don't know. Mr Blond Shotgun Dude, the hunk they've all been dreaming about.
Antici PationV [6:33PM]: I don't know what you're talking about! Don't talk to me ;ike that, okay? I'm not planning anything!
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: BULLSHIT. Samara gave me a little present today. She sent me a dream. In it, you and the Blond were plotting together. Whispering behind my back. What the fuck is his name?
Antici PationV [6:34PM]: I don't know! I Don't know him!
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: I dont beleive you, bitch
Antici PationV [6:34PM]: I'm telling the TRUTH!!!
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: Then what was this dream supposed to mean?
Antici PationV [6:34PM]: Maybe it was just something you're worried about coming out in a dream. Like an anxiety dream.
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: I don't ever worry about what YOU'RE going to do, pleb.
Antici PationV [6:35PM]: Then why are you biting my head off now? You obviously DO worry about what I'm going to do.
Vanessa7days [6:35PM]: Don't flatter yourself.
Antici PationV [6:35PM]: Just pointing out the obvious.
Vanessa7days [6:35PM]: Fuck you
Antici PationV [6:35PM]: Right back at you.
Vanessa7days [6:36PM]: I will BURY you on the board, do you understand me? You are DEAD to everone there. When I'm thru w/ you, you'll WISH Samara finished you off.
Antici PationV [6:36PM]: GODDAMNIT, Vanessa, I DIDNT DO ANYTHING. I DON'T know him!!! It was jut a dream!!!
Vanessa7days [6:37PM]: That's your story and your sticking to it?
Antici PationV [6:37PM]: Yes. It's the truth.
Vanessa7days [6:37PM]: I should've known you couldn't attract the attention of a guy that good-looking.
Antici PationV [6:38PM]: Whatever, yes, exactly
Vanessa7days [6:38PM]: You swear you're not up to any shit?
Antici PationV [6:38PM]: I swear.
Vanessa7days [6:38PM]: You'll swear on a stack of bibles?
Antici PationV [6:39PM]: as soon as I stop crying
Vanessa7days [6:39PM]: oh boohoo, cry me a river
Antici PationV [6:39PM]: brutal bitch
Antici PationV signed off at 6:39PM.
it won't stop
She Just Wanted to Be Heard
Day 22: You will Drink Coke and Die in Seven Days
Part of Story Arc 1: Counterclockwise
A "The Ring/Ringu" Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 22 of 100
Dates: This chapter was written in December 2007-January 2008.
Word Count: 3,346
Summary: Jodie and Professor McNeal discover something shocking about Samara's videotape. Beckett tries to find out why Stacy is cutting herself again.
Warning: This chapter contains references to self-harm and light sexual content.
Fanfic Challenges: Fits 50_darkfics prompt #22 Leash and coclaim100 prompt #22 Too Much.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Moosie for giving me her impressions on how subliminal messages work. I needed to make sure that my perceptions were correct, and she acted as my Q&A guinea pig.
After two straight hours of going through every frame on Samara's videotape, Jodie couldn't help but let out a mighty yawn.
Professor McNeal chuckled at her. "We aren't boring you with our bone-chilling terror, are we?"
"Sorry." Jodie scrubbed at her eyes. "It's only boring when you look at it frame-by-frame. But we're done, aren't we?"
The professor sighed as if something disturbed him. "Yes, we are. Jodie, you had a very good theory. I would have thought subliminal messages were the most likely explanation, but..." He gave her a small, apologetic smile. "...there are no subliminal messages on this tape."
The expression on her face showed both disappointment and surprise, as if she had been partially expecting things to turn out this way but, at the same time, realized the alternate explanation was impossible. How could this not be the reason? "How do you know that?"
"Because if there were any subliminal messages on the tape, we would have seen them in the frame-by-frame."
"Am I missing something here? I thought these kinds of messages were indiscernible by the conscious mind."
"When the tape is played at normal speed, yes, you don't even know they're there. But when you view each frame... look, here's how it works." He turned sideways in his chair to face Jodie. "If you want to put a subliminal message on a videotape, you have to splice in a few frames with the message on them. You repeat this just enough times to keep it below the radar but still make an impression on the subconscious mind. The viewer doesn't see the message while they're watching the tape, but their subconscious perceives it."
"You can't implant a subliminal message through all those weird pictures of mirrors and horses and stuff?" Jodie asked.
"No, the images cannot convey the message on their own; they don't illustrate any instructions. There would have to be at least one frame that instructed the viewer what to do in a one-word or very brief phrase," Professor McNeal explained. "If we're talking about Samara's tape, a good example would be a message saying, 'Hallucinate.' The creepy images surrounding this message would serve as a perfectly good suggestion of what to hallucinate. Another message might be, 'Have nightmares' or 'Do not sleep.' Or 'Draw.' All would cause the odd symptoms your friends are having."
"So, another message might be, 'You will die in seven days'?"
"Right. And that implants the countdown clock in the viewer's head. People naturally fear death, which starts them on a spiral of terror that lasts the whole week."
Jodie's face reflected her clear astonishment at just how much power over the human mind could be wielded with this method. "Has anyone ever really done anything like this before?"
"Like your theory? Not that I know of. But there have been experiments done with subliminal messages. Mostly involving advertising," the professor replied.
"So, 'You will drink Coke and die in seven days'?"
He laughed. "Pretty much."
Jodie looked at the monitor screen of the A/V equipment, which still showed the paused image of the well in the clearing. "If my theory makes so much sense, then why doesn't the tape go along with it? There should be subliminal messages on this tape."
Professor McNeal sighed and turned back to the console. "Yes, that would be the most logical explanation. But it doesn't cover everything, does it? Your friends were dreaming about details of Samara Morgan's life before they even knew them, things that weren't alluded to on the tape. And we've now looked over every frame and not found a single message."
"Is it possible Akemi missed some?"
"No. She used a computer program that takes the stills for you, and even ran it twice. There's little margin for error."
Picking up her headphones, Jodie said, "What about audio messages? I know we've listened to the soundtrack forwards at more than one speed, but what about backwards?"
The professor put his headphones back on, too. "No time like the present."
Listening to the tape backwards at normal and slow speeds yielded a clearly spoken phrase in a deep, watery, male voice. "Frolic in brine, goblins be thine," it said.
Jodie bounced in her chair, an excited light in her eyes. "Did you hear it? A subliminal message!"
Stopping the tape, Professor McNeal shook his head. "It's backwards masking, but it's not a subliminal message. There's nothing instructional about it. Have your friends been doing any frolicking in the ocean?"
"No..."
"Have they been taking baths in pickle juice?" he joked.
Jodie giggled as she said, "No," again, and then continued, "It said, 'Frolic in brine, goblins be thine.' What does that mean?"
"A warning?" He again shook his head, uncertain. "Perhaps it refers to the deaths of the horses."
Jodie, nodding, added, "They ran to the ocean."
"Yes."
When they had gone through the entire tape, she sighed in disappointment. "There are no subliminal messages," Jodie said, bewildered.
"No," the professor confirmed.
"Professor McNeal, how can that be? If it's not done by subliminal messages, then how does the tape work?"
Unsure what sort of beliefs the girl held, Professor McNeal proceeded with some tentativeness. "The only other explanation that I can come up with that comes close to clarifying all that's happened is the contents of the videotape are supernatural in origin."
Jodie, blinking, glared at the professor in silence for a few seconds. "Super... what?" She let out a small, nervous laugh. "Are you saying that we're all going to die?"
"No, no," Professor McNeal replied, shaking his head. "The people from this message board watched the same tape and they are still alive. I'm not worried about that. What I'm saying is that whoever made this tape has some abilities of mind control. They put something like an invisible subliminal message on the tape. Because that is not a normal human ability, we call it supernatural."
"Do you really believe that people can do things like that?"
Raising an eyebrow at her, the professor said, "You did see the plaque on my office door? Jodie, I'm a demonologist. Believing in some aspects of the supernatural comes with the territory."
"So we're still dealing with a form of subliminal message?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes. A form of hypnosis attacking the subliminal mind."
With another pause, Jodie shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, I believe in ghosts. I think I saw one once. But proof that a dead girl could have this kind of control over the living through technology..."
"Why not? Because it's too modern? Because we expect everything concerning ghosts to be antique?"
"Exactly," she immediately replied.
"Well, perhaps this ghost finds the convenience of modern technology to be an excellent way to spread her message. As the world changes, so does the world of the dead, maybe?" Professor McNeal shrugged. "Or maybe we're dealing with someone who knew Samara and felt sorry for her."
Sighing, Jodie rubbed her eyes. "This is crazy. I thought I believed in this kind of stuff, but people who can put curses on videotapes...? It's too much to accept."
"Maybe calling it a curse is going too far. I prefer to call it mind control. It sounds more believable," he laughed.
"But, it's like you just said - you're a demonologist. You're being almost as skeptical as I am."
Professor McNeal gave her a small grin. "Jodie, most 'possessions' involve people with mental problems. I've seen very few authentic cases of demonic possession. A great deal of my job involves research, study, and the writing of manuscripts based on what I find. There is something out there, but it comes after us much more infrequently than movies and television would have you believe.
"I know a lot of people who disagree with me, who think we are literally under attack by supernatural forces. I haven't seen as much action as they have, so I don't know. Perhaps we have to see it for ourselves before we will believe." He finished with a light shrug.
At the time, it was too much for Jodie to believe, and she was tired from the lack of sleep the night before. She didn't want to think about how the tape worked anymore; she just wanted to go home and take a nap. "I guess. I've got to go now. I'll keep you up-to-date on - "
Professor McNeal interrupted her when he saw Akemi walk by the window, head down, clutching her books to her chest. "Akemi!"
Akemi kept walking.
Being that Jodie's chair was on wheels, she rolled it to the window and knocked on the glass. "Akemi!"
Startled, Akemi looked up with a surprised expression. Both Jodie and Professor McNeal saw the dark circles under her eyes and the haggard appearance of her face. She hadn't been sleeping.
Akemi opened the door. "Hello, McNeal-sensei. Jodie-san."
"Akemi, I haven't seen you since you made the stills." The professor gestured to the monitor. "Are you alright?"
She sighed. Akemi tried not to sound annoyed as she spoke, but it was obvious she felt put out by what was happening to her, although all of her anger seemed to be directed at Samara... and herself. "Your American Sadako has been making her presence known. My sleep has been disturbed."
"Oh, Akemi, I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Sensei. I knew the legend. I shouldn't have watched the tape." She shrugged, trying to smile. "I could have made the stills without watching it. The computer does all the work."
"I'm still sorry," the professor said with sympathy.
"No, it was my own curiosity that got me." Akemi put her books down. "The last two days, Samara-san has been in my dreams. There doesn't seem to be anything that I can do to stop the nightmares. And there is something I was wrong about, Sensei."
"What's that?" he asked, apprehensive.
Akemi pushed up her sleeve to show them the burns on her wrist in the shape of small, slender fingers. "Her hands do generate heat."
*****
When Jodie finally got home, Quinn was in the kitchen cooking something and Svetlana was on the couch, staring at the TV with a blank expression.
The sounds in the room seemed louder as the two girls now stared at each other. Jodie closing the door behind her. The drone of the TV newscaster. Quinn stirring something in a pot. As soon as she saw that look on Svetlana's face, Jodie remembered the dream, and realized that it had been another shared vision.
"We're never going to be friends, are we?"
"I don't think so."
They said nothing to each other. Jodie and Svetlana had already done all their talking in the dream. Things they had been unable to say when they were awake had been said while they were asleep, through these strange visions Samara was inducing. It was enough.
Svetlana swallowed hard.
"She wants your boyfriend. What if you die and he lives? Do you think they'll get back together?"
Through the looks they gave each other, they came to an understanding.
So that was how it was going to be.
*****
With the cool night air blowing across her face and the stars above her head, Stacy could almost believe that everything was okay. She wanted nothing more than to just lie here on Beckett's blanket, draped across the hood of his car, and stare up at the sky for the rest of her life.
"Here you go."
Beckett climbed up on the car, a black cherry wine cooler in each hand. His girlfriend lay with her arm under her head and her legs crossed; she looked over at him and the moonlight hit her eyes and shined off her hair in such a beautiful way that he just had to kiss her. Beckett leaned over; Stacy tilted her head to receive his lips on hers. Then she took the wine cooler with a grin and said, "Thanks, baby."
Lying back, Beckett opened his wine cooler, taking a swig, and pulled her close. Stacy laid her head on his shoulder. "What color should we wear to the prom?" she asked.
He grinned and chuckled. "I thought we'd already decided on this."
"Yeah, but I was thinking... emerald green."
"Ooh, that'd look great on you."
"And you with an emerald cummerbund? We'd look scrumptious." Stacy traced aimless lines across his chest and stomach with her finger. "I could even have a corsage with green flowers."
"Is there such a thing as a green flower? I always thought the stems and leaves were the green part."
She smacked his chest. "Of course there are green..." Leaning up a little, Stacy looked at him. "Is there such a thing as a green flower?"
They both giggled and chuckled and it was so nice to focus on light, ridiculous things like the colors of flowers.
"How much later can we stay out?" Beckett asked. "Did your mom give you a curfew?"
"Ten o'clock on a school night."
"Ah..." He looked at his watch. "Then we've got two hours. I think this should be our last wine cooler, then."
"Yeah, I can't have my mom smelling alcohol on my breath again." As if to make it a joke, Stacy took a sip. "She likes you. I don't want to screw it up."
"Mm."
They were quiet for a minute, staring up at the stars. Then Stacy snaked her hand down to his thigh.
Beckett smiled to himself. "Why Miss Ballard, I do declare, you are manhandling my person."
She kissed his neck and the curve of his ear. Make it go away, make it all just fucking go away, push it all down and forget it was ever there. The land of make-believe doesn't exist, only this is real. "Make love to me," she whispered.
Within a minute, they were in the back of his car, Stacy on his lap, straddling him, and Beckett working her clothes off between kisses. The car filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the windows began to steam up. Beckett knew his suspicions were true when he got her shirt unbuttoned and she stopped him before he could remove it completely. Before he could expose her arms.
"Nuh-mm, this is fine," Stacy muttered, moving her arms so he couldn't slide the shirt off her shoulders. She cupped his face in her hands and tried to go on kissing him, but he slowly pulled away, obviously troubled. "What's the matter?"
His tone became cross. "I guess you won't be wearing any sleeveless dresses to the prom."
"What, why?"
Beckett paused just to look at her. "You're cutting again, aren't you?"
At first, Stacy made a face like she was insulted and shocked that he could even think such a thing. "What? No. Of course. Of course I'm not..." She paused under the realization that this was the worst opportunity to lie she'd dealt with in the last week. All he had to do was lift her sleeve and he'd see the truth. Lines of Band-Aids and red marks, all up and down her forearms. No point in even trying to hide this one. "Okay, yes, I've been cutting."
With a frustrated sigh, he said, "Why? Why? What's going on? Is your mom's boyfriend hassling you again?"
"No, she's not dating him anymore. I just... sometimes things get stressful, you know, and... sometimes I have relapses." While she spoke, Stacy avoided looking in Beckett's eyes.
But he understood that this was a hard thing for her to admit. Cutting yourself was one of the most shameful ways a girl could choose to deal with stress in this modern society. Everyone thought there was something deeply wrong with you when they found out. But Beckett understood that it had more to do with Stacy's home life than any choice she had made to pick up a razorblade and take it to her arms. He wished there was something he could do to help, but he knew there was only so much.
It was just the way she coped. Sort of like an addiction. Like smoking. For a while, Stacy could stop, she could quit, but something would happen and she'd pick up that hidden pack of cigarettes.
Only, it wasn't a pack of cigarettes.
"What's been happening? I want to be there for you," Beckett said, brushing her hair away from her face.
Stacy shook her head. "You'd never believe me if I told you." An almost hysterical laugh escaped her. "Trust me."
"Try me." When she wouldn't look at him, Beckett touched her cheek. Stacy pulled away a bit and shook her head again. "You have this big fight with Jasmine, you're cutting again, and you - " He stopped himself; it might be too much for her to find out that he knew about the graffiti incident right now. What she had done... what she had written... Beckett wanted to know so bad what she meant by those things. Please stop me before they make me kill again. What the hell did that mean? Was it just some sort of overdramatic playacting thing?
In the end, he decided not to mention it... yet. "I... I just want to know what's going on with you."
Stacy, still looking away, wondered if her boyfriend had the slightest clue what he was asking. "Beckett... I just can't talk about it right now, okay? It's too... it's too complicated." You'd never believe me. It's insane. The only reason Jasmine believes me is because she was there when they came. I don't even know where to start so it sounds even remotely possible. "Let's talk about it later."
"When?"
"Becks, I don't know, I..." Stacy felt like smacking him for making such a big deal out of this. He just had no idea how hard it was to explain. "You've got that psychometry thing. Can't you just touch me and see what happened?"
"You know I don't do that unless I'm invited. It's intruding," Beckett reminded her.
"Oh come on, you know you do it without being asked. Anybody would if they could do that."
"Stace, are you asking me to - "
"I thought I just did!"
"Okay, geez." Placing a hand on her shoulder, Beckett braced for a bad vision involving Stacy's family. She rarely got along with her mother's boyfriends. In fact, one of them made passes at Stacy behind her mother's back.
What he saw did not involve her family. He couldn't tell whom it involved at all.
Stacy, looking about to cry, stepped out of her car and hesitated there with the door open. She held onto the door tightly. There was a screwdriver in her hand. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she screamed, "Why are you making me do this?!"
Faulken sometimes used text over the visions, like words projected onto a wall with an overhead projector. The text over Stacy labeled her, DOG ON A LEASH.
Beckett removed his hand from her shoulder. That told him nothing, nothing he could make sense of until he learned more.
Jasmine. He had to talk to Jasmine. She knew something.
"What did you see?" Stacy asked.
He couldn't stand the desperation in her eyes. Beckett stroked her cheek. "Nothing, baby. It was too hazy."
Stacy laid her head on his shoulder. "Make it all go away. Just for a little while."
In the only way he knew how, Beckett tried to fulfill her request by resuming what they had started. He kissed her with all the passion he could muster, hoping he could make her feel beautiful and relaxed and normal for just one night.
It was the last good moment they shared before everything went to hell.
it won't stop
Day 21: Anxiety Dream
Part of Story Arc 1: Counterclockwise
A "The Ring/Ringu" Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 21 of 100
Rating: Overall Rating PG-13 (adult theme; horror elements that might be too much for children under 13; bad language)
Dates: Begun September 2006. Some material is based on previously written stories from 2003-2005. This chapter was written in November 2007.
Word Count: 4,118
Summary: Svetlana has a dream of the girls from the wells that pulls in not only Jodie, but Dean Winchester. In it, she learns something very important about him. Vanessa and Vicki have an AIM conversation in which Vanessa tries none too delicately to find out what Vicki could be up to.
Warning: Contains spoilers for the entire Ringu and The Ring series.
Fanfic Challenges: Fits 50_darkfics prompt #21 Brutal and coclaim100 prompt #21 Broken.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Rekka for help with the Japanese.
I keep meaning to note that Mysteria is a word from the Def Leppard song "Hysteria." Def Leppard have nothing to do with this story; I just really like the word. :D
A note for Supernatural fans: Remember when Andy from season 2 sent mental images to Dean? That is one function of thoughtography (in Japanese, 'nensha'), the power possessed by Sadako, Samara, and the others. Remember also how it caused Dean intense pain? I'm keeping that too. :D
In Ring 0: Birthday, when Sadako used her powers, it could be caught on audio tape as a high-pitched whine, like feedback. Samara's videotape contained a high-pitched whine. This sound will be referenced in the entire story, including this chapter.
The IM conversation near the end was deliberately typed with mistakes to make it seem more like a real IM conversation. In some places, I just didn't fix my typos, hee.
Set pre-series for Supernatural, during Sam's years at Stanford.
Beautiful day. Unseasonably warm, blue skies, light breeze. The streets were deserted, though. That was strange. No one in sight except Svetlana sitting on a park bench, hunched over, a hand to her eyes. She was talking on her cell phone in what Jodie thought was Dutch.
As she got closer, she realized that Svetlana sounded like she'd been crying. Eesh, this was awkward. Just before Jodie reached her, Svet said something in an angry tone and abruptly snapped the phone shut. She let out a long, shaky sigh.
"Svetlana?"
The Dutch girl turned to her. "Oh, Jodie." She pointed to her head. "What's with the...?"
Jodie ran a hand through her hair and felt a large pair of headphones, the type that covered a person's entire ears. They were askew on her head. "Yeah, uh, me and Professor McNeal are analyzing the videotape. We can hear all the background sounds better with these on."
"Oh." Svetlana stopped talking and gazed across the plaza of the university she and the others attended, just staring at a fountain. "Find anything useful yet?"
"Not really," Jodie replied sheepishly.
"Hm."
There was a short, clumsy silence between them. Fidgeting and rocking on her heels, Jodie commented, "I never really thought about it before, but you speak more than one language, huh?"
"Yes. English, Dutch, and Russian."
"You speak Russian? Wow. I didn't know that."
"My mother and grandmother are Russian," explained Svetlana. She smiled a little. "Where you think 'Svetlana' come from?"
"It isn't a Dutch name, is it?" Jodie laughed.
"No, it is not."
Another uncomfortable silence. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"
Instead of answering, Svetlana waved the question off with obvious irritation.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." Silence. Just the sound of the wind blowing softly. Jodie surmised that it must be someone from back home; who else would Svet speak to in Dutch? "So where's Quinn?"
"In the shower."
"Oh." Why couldn't they talk without Quinn being there? Things were so weird between them without him around. Jodie wished things could be different. She breathed out a regretful sigh and found herself saying, "We're never going to be friends, are we?"
Svetlana seemed to think it over; Jodie saw her shoulders tense and then relax. "I don't think so," the Dutch girl replied quietly.
Her shoulders slumping, Jodie looked down at the ground and dug the toe of her sneaker into a crack in the sidewalk. She began, "I - "
"Jodie?" interrupted a disembodied male voice.
Svetlana didn't recognize it, but Jodie looked up at the sound of the voice. "Oh, crap, Professor McNeal! I must've fallen asleep!" she said, and ran back toward the university.
With a confused look, Svetlana turned to ask Jodie what she was talking about. "What do you mean you..." She stopped and looked up, realizing that the light was leaving the sky. The sun sank below the horizon as if the clock had been sped up, rendering it completely dark outside within seconds. It sent chills up her spine to see the sky become black so quickly. "Oh God. Quinn, why you have to be in the shower? I wish you were here."
The streetlights did not switch on, like they should after the sun had gone down. Svetlana walked toward Quinn and Jodie's apartment in the dark. She grew more apprehensive with every step she took; she couldn't help but anticipate that something was going to happen to her out here, alone, with her barely able to see her hand in front of her face.
The streetlight she was walking past came on with a loud buzzing sound. Svetlana squealed and recoiled from it. She put a hand to her heart, letting out a little hysterical laugh. To be afraid of a streetlight... she felt so silly... until she noticed the fly meandering around on the surface of the light cover. Going around and around in a circle as the fluorescent bulb flickered.
The dread was thick as molasses. Svetlana knew even before she turned to run that someone would be blocking her path.
The girl standing there was taller than Samara. Old-fashioned white dress covered in streaks of grime and what could have been blood, long black hair hanging over her eyes... definitely older than Samara. The hair obscuring her face concealed her identity, but Svetlana doubted she would have known who the girl was even if she had been able to see her features. Just like Samara, she was dripping wet.
"She wants your boyfriend," the girl said. Svetlana heard a wicked smile in her voice. "That's why you can never be friends." The girl, Charlotte, paused before taunting, "What if you die and he lives? Do you think they'll get back together?"
Wanting no part of this, Svetlana turned to run another way and found Charlotte there too. She should have known that she couldn't escape until they were done playing with her. "You can't be allowed to go. You're meddling. Why couldn't you just mind your own business?"
Svetlana didn't understand what she was feeling; she had the distinct impression that she had just jumped into someone else's body. This wasn't happening to her. It was happening... going to happen... to another girl. Acting out the part, Svet darted around Charlotte and ran into the trees beyond.
"You can't get away," Charlotte laughed. "We won't have our dog taken from us."
Samara's voice now invaded her mind. "Run, rabbit, run. Through the woods and trees to your burrow. Maybe you can make it to safety."
Splashing through one end of a culvert filled with rainwater, Svetlana attempted to make it to the road. Leafy branches whipped at her face and arms as she tried to push them out of the way. Gotta get to the road, flag down a car. Escape from the crazy bitches.
"Run, rabbit, run. I'm going to show you something. And you know you're not going to like it."
Svet caught a glimpse of Samara through the trees. Just a quick flash of white dress and dark, wet hair. Standing there, looming, stalking. The child enjoyed this.
Looking to her left, Svet caught sight of a different person standing among the trees. It was the kid, Gunnar's little brother. What was his name? Beckett? Just standing there, grinning like he knew something. A split second later, he changed into Samara, and then disappeared altogether. What was that about?
A horrible feeling crept up Svetlana's spine; she realized that Samara was not alone out here. There was even more of them in the woods. Vanessa had mentioned that there was more than one cursed tape, and the T.A., Akemi, told Jodie about an almost identical urban legend from Japan that concerned a girl named Sadako. Is that who was causing those awful sensations of a presence out there, unseen, a black hole skulking among the trees? "Jigoku wa genjitsu da," she said on the wind. And then in clipped English, "Hell is real."
Another one moved between two trees, pausing long enough for Svetlana to get a look at her, but only for a brief time. Long white dress covered in dirt, long dark hair obscuring her face. These ghosts, they frightened their victims by cultivating a sinister visage of that which is unseen. Even Svetlana was simultaneously curious and terrified to know what was under all that hair.
The girl that Svet stood in for was not at all curious. Just afraid. All she wanted was to escape. But the well bitches were everywhere.
These girls were going to band together and go after someone, a person they felt threatened by. Svetlana wished she knew who so she could warn her.
"Run, rabbit, run. Maybe you can make it to safety," Samara taunted. "But I doubt it."
The road was right up ahead. Svetlana ran for it, but she didn't make it. Instead, someone turned in front of her and she ran headlong into his chest.
Beckett!
But no, it wasn't him. Svetlana ran right into Dean Winchester.
She let out a squeal of surprise and then realized who it was. "You!"
Dean had one of his shotguns in his hand. He looked at Svetlana like he'd never seen her before. "Are you in danger, miss?"
"Hell yes I'm in danger! Those girls are here! The ghosts!" She kept close to Dean, her fingers wrapped into a tight fist bunched up in his T-shirt. "Whole bunch of 'em!"
Dean warily scanned the nearby stand of trees, holding the gun ready. "What do they look like?"
In confusion, Svetlana looked up at him and said, "You know! You shoot Samara in the face. She was in well, remember?"
Now it was Dean's turn to look confused. "Who's Samara?"
Svet, frustrated, opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, heard a soft, comforting female voice whispering in her ear. The voice said only a few words and phrases, but they filled Svetlana's mind with understanding. "Dreams. Symbols. Hoped it would help somehow. The real thing. Mysteria."
Desperate with the knowledge that her time was limited, Svetlana grabbed Dean by the shirt and shook him. The motion barely moved him, being that he was twice her size, but it still got his attention. "You listen to me! My name Svetlana Van Curen. My boyfriend is Quinn Kirkland. We live in suburb of Boston, Massachusetts. And we have dreams about you. Some person or ghost or... something... named Mysteria put you in dreams as a symbol because she hope it would help us. Quinn is lost in denial half the time, but he always do that when things get weird. I know we're in real danger here. If you don't come, Samara will kill us!"
Seeing her eyes fill with tears, Dean put his free hand on her shoulder. "Hey, calm down. I deal with dangerous ghosts all the time. I can help you."
"I think that's why Mysteria do this, because you were meant to stop Samara. You don't remember what happen in the dreams before because you were just symbol. But this time, you're really here! It's just like when we dream of Quinn's funeral; we were all asleep at same time. Somewhere out there, you're asleep, and you dream right along with me. You're the real thing."
Dean looked up sharply. Leaves and shrubs rustled in the grouping of trees nearby. He felt more than one dark presence out there; some things were so evil, they gave off vibes that were almost tangible. The entities sucked at the air like miniature black holes, as if they wanted to drag both him and the girl back to their lair. "You don't understand," Dean began. "I've seen this pattern before. The really evil fuckers out there... helpless, beautiful girl running through the forest... I dream stuff like this all the time. I won't be able to save you. Sammy calls them my anxiety dreams. People in my line of work always fear they're going to fail. Even my dad has dreams like this. It's just how we work it out." He shrugged.
Svetlana shook her head vigorously. "No! This dream is different! Look, if this one of your anxiety dreams, would you know it was anxiety dream?"
Blinking, he replied, "Uh... I never have in the past... not until I woke up."
"You see?"
Samara stepped out of the shrubs. Leaves crunched under her bare, grey feet.
While Svetlana gasped in fear, Dean calmly furrowed his brow at the little girl, who looked more like she was being broadcast in by satellite than she was real flesh and blood, as if the child was made of television waves. At times, Samara looked solid, and the next second, she wavered like a bad connection. Dean didn't think he could behead her or slice her apart, but the shotgun should work just fine. He didn't need to see her face through all that hair to know a ghost when he saw one.
"What up, Cousin Itt?" he said confidently. Always snarky and arrogant in the face of evil. That was how he coped, even when he knew he was bound to fail.
Samara's response was not to acknowledge his quip, but to begin singing one of her songs. "Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, go to sleepy little baby. When you wake, you'll have cake, and all the pretty little horses..."
Dean started to answer her with another barb. Knowing they had little time to talk, Svet cut him off. "Now, while you have chance, tell me your - " She gagged loudly. An object obstructed her throat. "Your na - " Svetlana put her hands to her neck.
"Are you okay?" Dean asked, and patted her back hard.
The gagging and coughing rapidly became choking. "Your na... Your name."
"All the pretty little horses..."
"You're choking!" He reached for Svet to help her, but suddenly grabbed his own head and winced in pain. "Son of a bitch! Where is that feedback coming from?! Fuck, that hurt!"
She tried one more time. "Name!" With that, Svetlana's voice was cut off by the object suddenly present in her throat. It was just like when Quinn coughed up the rosary. Now she knew just how terrified and helpless he'd felt.
Shaking his head to try to clear it, Dean acknowledged that he'd heard Svetlana by starting to answer her, but was shocked into silence when a silver ring and hook emerged from her mouth. A thin leather strap was attached to the ring. Only an inch of it was currently visible. Although she could not speak, Svetlana communicated everything she wanted to say with her eyes. She wasn't going to let him get distracted by Samara's little diversionary tactic; before Svet would allow him to do anything else, Dean needed to tell her his name. "I'm - "
Svetlana shot up in Quinn's bed with the scream of, "Dean!" muffled in the back of her throat. She was shocked to find that the object choking her in her dream also existed in her waking life. The hook, ring, and strap hung partway out of her mouth. She made horrifying choking and gagging noises while pulling it out; it was hard to be careful and slow with the object still choking her and cutting off her air. When it seemed the strap's length might never cease, Svet fell on the floor by the bed on her knees and doubled over. Her entire body was wracked with heaves.
Mukluk had been lying on the bathroom floor outside the shower while his master bathed, but when he heard Svetlana's sounds of distress, he started to bark and scratch at the door.
The length of the strap eventually ended. Svetlana looked at it lying on the floor and soon realized she was looking at about twelve inches of a rein from a horse's bridle. She had just thrown up part of a leather bridle.
The thought, "Is the rest of the bridle inside me too, just waiting to come up?" ran through her mind, and even though she was still trying to get her breath back, Svetlana burst into a hysterical laugh. It turned into upset tears. "Dean!" she screamed. "Deeeeeean!"
Quinn came running into the room. He'd barely wrapped a towel around his waist and was dripping wet. "Svetlana, what's going on? Are you okay?!"
"Dean! DEAN!"
Quinn got down on the floor next to her. "What happened?! Who's Dean?"
She pointed to the rein. "I just throw that up. I dream it."
"Oh, God, Svet... Samara did it again." He brushed tears from her face with the backs of his fingers. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"It wouldn't have mattered if you were there. You don't know how to save us. You not even admit to yourself that we're going to die!" Svetlana yelled angrily. "Only Dean know what to do."
"Dean?" It suddenly dawned on him who she was talking about. "The blond guy we've been dreaming about?"
"Yes. He do this kind of thing all the time. It's his job."
Quinn rolled his eyes in jealousy. His girlfriend had more faith in a tall, gorgeous, older man than him. "People don't do stuff like this for a living, Svet. That's crazy. How do you know his name, anyway? Did he tell you in the dream?"
"Yes, and Dean do exist. I told him our full names, and he's going to find us." Unable to help it, she started to cry again. "He will get here in time."
A few minutes earlier, Jodie had awakened upon feeling someone shaking her by the shoulder. She raised her head up off her arms and stretched. "Oh, crap, Professor McNeal. I must've fallen asleep." The headphones were askew on her head.
Professor McNeal took his seat at the console in the Audiovisual room and set down his mug of coffee. "That's alright. Did you not sleep well?"
"Quinn and Svetlana kept me up half the night."
He considered that. "Strange that they're having rather intense nightmares, but we're still experiencing virtually nothing."
"Yeah, it is weird," Jodie agreed.
The professor put his hands back on the various little black knobs of the video console. "Shall we get back to it, then? Maybe we can end this for them."
*****
Hundreds of miles away, Dean Winchester sat up in his hotel bed and sighed.
His father was setting the small TV tray for dinner. "Hello, sleeping beauty. You hungry?"
Ah, how Dean loved the smell of roast beef. Arby's again. "You have to ask?" He stood up and stretched. "I just had the weirdest dream."
"Did it have anything to do with the sirens we're tracking? Sometimes they sing to you in your dreams." John Winchester set out a plastic fork for each of them.
"No." Dean raised an eyebrow. "There was singing involved, but these were definitely not sirens." He grinned. "Curly fries. Yum."
*****
After Svetlana calmed down, Quinn went back to the bathroom to finish his shower - he hadn't wanted to leave her, but she insisted so she could be alone for a little while. She hadn't felt this broken since...
Svet took out her cell phone, selected a number, and just stared at the display for a full minute before sending the call.
The display had indicated that the number to be called belonged to someone in Holland.
Ashly.
*****
Vanessa7days [6:22PM]: Those students from Boston uploaded a new pic to the board today.
Antici PationV [6:22PM]: really? I haven't been there yet. What's it of?
Vanessa7days [6:24PM]: Hard to describe. Samara standing against a wall. They put a whole story on the board to go with it. It's this totally narly thing about Samara actualy coming to their room and scratching on the walls to scare them. They claim they communicated w/ her using a system of scratchings. Once for yes, twice for no, that kind of thing.
Antici PationV [6:24PM]: you're kidding!!! What's she say?
Antici PationV [6:24PM]: what'd
Vanessa7days [6:25PM]: that if they didn't do something 4 her, she was going to kill 'em
Vanessa7days [6:25PM]: They're scared shitless *eg*
Antici PationV [6:27PM]: you haven't told them yet
Vanessa7days [6:27PM]: Told them what?
Antici PationV [6:27PM]: How to escape the curse
Vanessa7days [6:28PM]: Nope. What's it to you?
Antici PationV [6:28PM]: It just seems cruel, is all.
Vanessa7days [6:28PM]: i told you I'd take care of it. Stay out of it, ok?
Vanessa7days [6:30PM]: OKAY?
Antici PationV [6:30PM]: yeah
Vanessa7days [6:30PM]: what's the probelm?
Antici PationV [6:30PM]: Nothing.
Vanessa7days [6:30PM]: How is this any different from any other newbie who comes on the board and suffers thru their 7 days while we sit back and watch?
Antici PationV [6:30PM]: I don't know, I just don't think being the kids who sit in the back an blow spitballs at the person giving their oral report is that much fun anymore.
Vanessa7days [6:31PM]: So youre better than that now?
Antici PationV [6:31PM]: it's not that. I just feel sorry for them
Vanessa7days [6:31PM]: You feel horny for him
Antici PationV [6:31PM]: Shut up
Vanessa7days [6:31PM]: It's like Kyle all over again. Fucking Kyle.
Vanessa7days [6:32PM]: what r u going to do about it?
Antici PationV [6:32PM]: nothing.
Vanessa7days [6:33PM]: What are u planning, you stupid fatass fuck?
Antici PationV [6:33PM]: What did you just say to me????!!!1
Vanessa7days [6:33PM]: You think I don't know about your little pact with the pretty boy??!!
Antici PationV [6:33PM]: Who?!
Vanessa7days [6:33PM]: That's real convincing, pretending you don't know. Mr Blond Shotgun Dude, the hunk they've all been dreaming about.
Antici PationV [6:33PM]: I don't know what you're talking about! Don't talk to me ;ike that, okay? I'm not planning anything!
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: BULLSHIT. Samara gave me a little present today. She sent me a dream. In it, you and the Blond were plotting together. Whispering behind my back. What the fuck is his name?
Antici PationV [6:34PM]: I don't know! I Don't know him!
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: I dont beleive you, bitch
Antici PationV [6:34PM]: I'm telling the TRUTH!!!
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: Then what was this dream supposed to mean?
Antici PationV [6:34PM]: Maybe it was just something you're worried about coming out in a dream. Like an anxiety dream.
Vanessa7days [6:34PM]: I don't ever worry about what YOU'RE going to do, pleb.
Antici PationV [6:35PM]: Then why are you biting my head off now? You obviously DO worry about what I'm going to do.
Vanessa7days [6:35PM]: Don't flatter yourself.
Antici PationV [6:35PM]: Just pointing out the obvious.
Vanessa7days [6:35PM]: Fuck you
Antici PationV [6:35PM]: Right back at you.
Vanessa7days [6:36PM]: I will BURY you on the board, do you understand me? You are DEAD to everone there. When I'm thru w/ you, you'll WISH Samara finished you off.
Antici PationV [6:36PM]: GODDAMNIT, Vanessa, I DIDNT DO ANYTHING. I DON'T know him!!! It was jut a dream!!!
Vanessa7days [6:37PM]: That's your story and your sticking to it?
Antici PationV [6:37PM]: Yes. It's the truth.
Vanessa7days [6:37PM]: I should've known you couldn't attract the attention of a guy that good-looking.
Antici PationV [6:38PM]: Whatever, yes, exactly
Vanessa7days [6:38PM]: You swear you're not up to any shit?
Antici PationV [6:38PM]: I swear.
Vanessa7days [6:38PM]: You'll swear on a stack of bibles?
Antici PationV [6:39PM]: as soon as I stop crying
Vanessa7days [6:39PM]: oh boohoo, cry me a river
Antici PationV [6:39PM]: brutal bitch
Antici PationV signed off at 6:39PM.
it won't stop
She Just Wanted to Be Heard
Day 22: You will Drink Coke and Die in Seven Days
Part of Story Arc 1: Counterclockwise
A "The Ring/Ringu" Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 22 of 100
Dates: This chapter was written in December 2007-January 2008.
Word Count: 3,346
Summary: Jodie and Professor McNeal discover something shocking about Samara's videotape. Beckett tries to find out why Stacy is cutting herself again.
Warning: This chapter contains references to self-harm and light sexual content.
Fanfic Challenges: Fits 50_darkfics prompt #22 Leash and coclaim100 prompt #22 Too Much.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Moosie for giving me her impressions on how subliminal messages work. I needed to make sure that my perceptions were correct, and she acted as my Q&A guinea pig.
After two straight hours of going through every frame on Samara's videotape, Jodie couldn't help but let out a mighty yawn.
Professor McNeal chuckled at her. "We aren't boring you with our bone-chilling terror, are we?"
"Sorry." Jodie scrubbed at her eyes. "It's only boring when you look at it frame-by-frame. But we're done, aren't we?"
The professor sighed as if something disturbed him. "Yes, we are. Jodie, you had a very good theory. I would have thought subliminal messages were the most likely explanation, but..." He gave her a small, apologetic smile. "...there are no subliminal messages on this tape."
The expression on her face showed both disappointment and surprise, as if she had been partially expecting things to turn out this way but, at the same time, realized the alternate explanation was impossible. How could this not be the reason? "How do you know that?"
"Because if there were any subliminal messages on the tape, we would have seen them in the frame-by-frame."
"Am I missing something here? I thought these kinds of messages were indiscernible by the conscious mind."
"When the tape is played at normal speed, yes, you don't even know they're there. But when you view each frame... look, here's how it works." He turned sideways in his chair to face Jodie. "If you want to put a subliminal message on a videotape, you have to splice in a few frames with the message on them. You repeat this just enough times to keep it below the radar but still make an impression on the subconscious mind. The viewer doesn't see the message while they're watching the tape, but their subconscious perceives it."
"You can't implant a subliminal message through all those weird pictures of mirrors and horses and stuff?" Jodie asked.
"No, the images cannot convey the message on their own; they don't illustrate any instructions. There would have to be at least one frame that instructed the viewer what to do in a one-word or very brief phrase," Professor McNeal explained. "If we're talking about Samara's tape, a good example would be a message saying, 'Hallucinate.' The creepy images surrounding this message would serve as a perfectly good suggestion of what to hallucinate. Another message might be, 'Have nightmares' or 'Do not sleep.' Or 'Draw.' All would cause the odd symptoms your friends are having."
"So, another message might be, 'You will die in seven days'?"
"Right. And that implants the countdown clock in the viewer's head. People naturally fear death, which starts them on a spiral of terror that lasts the whole week."
Jodie's face reflected her clear astonishment at just how much power over the human mind could be wielded with this method. "Has anyone ever really done anything like this before?"
"Like your theory? Not that I know of. But there have been experiments done with subliminal messages. Mostly involving advertising," the professor replied.
"So, 'You will drink Coke and die in seven days'?"
He laughed. "Pretty much."
Jodie looked at the monitor screen of the A/V equipment, which still showed the paused image of the well in the clearing. "If my theory makes so much sense, then why doesn't the tape go along with it? There should be subliminal messages on this tape."
Professor McNeal sighed and turned back to the console. "Yes, that would be the most logical explanation. But it doesn't cover everything, does it? Your friends were dreaming about details of Samara Morgan's life before they even knew them, things that weren't alluded to on the tape. And we've now looked over every frame and not found a single message."
"Is it possible Akemi missed some?"
"No. She used a computer program that takes the stills for you, and even ran it twice. There's little margin for error."
Picking up her headphones, Jodie said, "What about audio messages? I know we've listened to the soundtrack forwards at more than one speed, but what about backwards?"
The professor put his headphones back on, too. "No time like the present."
Listening to the tape backwards at normal and slow speeds yielded a clearly spoken phrase in a deep, watery, male voice. "Frolic in brine, goblins be thine," it said.
Jodie bounced in her chair, an excited light in her eyes. "Did you hear it? A subliminal message!"
Stopping the tape, Professor McNeal shook his head. "It's backwards masking, but it's not a subliminal message. There's nothing instructional about it. Have your friends been doing any frolicking in the ocean?"
"No..."
"Have they been taking baths in pickle juice?" he joked.
Jodie giggled as she said, "No," again, and then continued, "It said, 'Frolic in brine, goblins be thine.' What does that mean?"
"A warning?" He again shook his head, uncertain. "Perhaps it refers to the deaths of the horses."
Jodie, nodding, added, "They ran to the ocean."
"Yes."
When they had gone through the entire tape, she sighed in disappointment. "There are no subliminal messages," Jodie said, bewildered.
"No," the professor confirmed.
"Professor McNeal, how can that be? If it's not done by subliminal messages, then how does the tape work?"
Unsure what sort of beliefs the girl held, Professor McNeal proceeded with some tentativeness. "The only other explanation that I can come up with that comes close to clarifying all that's happened is the contents of the videotape are supernatural in origin."
Jodie, blinking, glared at the professor in silence for a few seconds. "Super... what?" She let out a small, nervous laugh. "Are you saying that we're all going to die?"
"No, no," Professor McNeal replied, shaking his head. "The people from this message board watched the same tape and they are still alive. I'm not worried about that. What I'm saying is that whoever made this tape has some abilities of mind control. They put something like an invisible subliminal message on the tape. Because that is not a normal human ability, we call it supernatural."
"Do you really believe that people can do things like that?"
Raising an eyebrow at her, the professor said, "You did see the plaque on my office door? Jodie, I'm a demonologist. Believing in some aspects of the supernatural comes with the territory."
"So we're still dealing with a form of subliminal message?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes. A form of hypnosis attacking the subliminal mind."
With another pause, Jodie shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, I believe in ghosts. I think I saw one once. But proof that a dead girl could have this kind of control over the living through technology..."
"Why not? Because it's too modern? Because we expect everything concerning ghosts to be antique?"
"Exactly," she immediately replied.
"Well, perhaps this ghost finds the convenience of modern technology to be an excellent way to spread her message. As the world changes, so does the world of the dead, maybe?" Professor McNeal shrugged. "Or maybe we're dealing with someone who knew Samara and felt sorry for her."
Sighing, Jodie rubbed her eyes. "This is crazy. I thought I believed in this kind of stuff, but people who can put curses on videotapes...? It's too much to accept."
"Maybe calling it a curse is going too far. I prefer to call it mind control. It sounds more believable," he laughed.
"But, it's like you just said - you're a demonologist. You're being almost as skeptical as I am."
Professor McNeal gave her a small grin. "Jodie, most 'possessions' involve people with mental problems. I've seen very few authentic cases of demonic possession. A great deal of my job involves research, study, and the writing of manuscripts based on what I find. There is something out there, but it comes after us much more infrequently than movies and television would have you believe.
"I know a lot of people who disagree with me, who think we are literally under attack by supernatural forces. I haven't seen as much action as they have, so I don't know. Perhaps we have to see it for ourselves before we will believe." He finished with a light shrug.
At the time, it was too much for Jodie to believe, and she was tired from the lack of sleep the night before. She didn't want to think about how the tape worked anymore; she just wanted to go home and take a nap. "I guess. I've got to go now. I'll keep you up-to-date on - "
Professor McNeal interrupted her when he saw Akemi walk by the window, head down, clutching her books to her chest. "Akemi!"
Akemi kept walking.
Being that Jodie's chair was on wheels, she rolled it to the window and knocked on the glass. "Akemi!"
Startled, Akemi looked up with a surprised expression. Both Jodie and Professor McNeal saw the dark circles under her eyes and the haggard appearance of her face. She hadn't been sleeping.
Akemi opened the door. "Hello, McNeal-sensei. Jodie-san."
"Akemi, I haven't seen you since you made the stills." The professor gestured to the monitor. "Are you alright?"
She sighed. Akemi tried not to sound annoyed as she spoke, but it was obvious she felt put out by what was happening to her, although all of her anger seemed to be directed at Samara... and herself. "Your American Sadako has been making her presence known. My sleep has been disturbed."
"Oh, Akemi, I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Sensei. I knew the legend. I shouldn't have watched the tape." She shrugged, trying to smile. "I could have made the stills without watching it. The computer does all the work."
"I'm still sorry," the professor said with sympathy.
"No, it was my own curiosity that got me." Akemi put her books down. "The last two days, Samara-san has been in my dreams. There doesn't seem to be anything that I can do to stop the nightmares. And there is something I was wrong about, Sensei."
"What's that?" he asked, apprehensive.
Akemi pushed up her sleeve to show them the burns on her wrist in the shape of small, slender fingers. "Her hands do generate heat."
*****
When Jodie finally got home, Quinn was in the kitchen cooking something and Svetlana was on the couch, staring at the TV with a blank expression.
The sounds in the room seemed louder as the two girls now stared at each other. Jodie closing the door behind her. The drone of the TV newscaster. Quinn stirring something in a pot. As soon as she saw that look on Svetlana's face, Jodie remembered the dream, and realized that it had been another shared vision.
"We're never going to be friends, are we?"
"I don't think so."
They said nothing to each other. Jodie and Svetlana had already done all their talking in the dream. Things they had been unable to say when they were awake had been said while they were asleep, through these strange visions Samara was inducing. It was enough.
Svetlana swallowed hard.
"She wants your boyfriend. What if you die and he lives? Do you think they'll get back together?"
Through the looks they gave each other, they came to an understanding.
So that was how it was going to be.
*****
With the cool night air blowing across her face and the stars above her head, Stacy could almost believe that everything was okay. She wanted nothing more than to just lie here on Beckett's blanket, draped across the hood of his car, and stare up at the sky for the rest of her life.
"Here you go."
Beckett climbed up on the car, a black cherry wine cooler in each hand. His girlfriend lay with her arm under her head and her legs crossed; she looked over at him and the moonlight hit her eyes and shined off her hair in such a beautiful way that he just had to kiss her. Beckett leaned over; Stacy tilted her head to receive his lips on hers. Then she took the wine cooler with a grin and said, "Thanks, baby."
Lying back, Beckett opened his wine cooler, taking a swig, and pulled her close. Stacy laid her head on his shoulder. "What color should we wear to the prom?" she asked.
He grinned and chuckled. "I thought we'd already decided on this."
"Yeah, but I was thinking... emerald green."
"Ooh, that'd look great on you."
"And you with an emerald cummerbund? We'd look scrumptious." Stacy traced aimless lines across his chest and stomach with her finger. "I could even have a corsage with green flowers."
"Is there such a thing as a green flower? I always thought the stems and leaves were the green part."
She smacked his chest. "Of course there are green..." Leaning up a little, Stacy looked at him. "Is there such a thing as a green flower?"
They both giggled and chuckled and it was so nice to focus on light, ridiculous things like the colors of flowers.
"How much later can we stay out?" Beckett asked. "Did your mom give you a curfew?"
"Ten o'clock on a school night."
"Ah..." He looked at his watch. "Then we've got two hours. I think this should be our last wine cooler, then."
"Yeah, I can't have my mom smelling alcohol on my breath again." As if to make it a joke, Stacy took a sip. "She likes you. I don't want to screw it up."
"Mm."
They were quiet for a minute, staring up at the stars. Then Stacy snaked her hand down to his thigh.
Beckett smiled to himself. "Why Miss Ballard, I do declare, you are manhandling my person."
She kissed his neck and the curve of his ear. Make it go away, make it all just fucking go away, push it all down and forget it was ever there. The land of make-believe doesn't exist, only this is real. "Make love to me," she whispered.
Within a minute, they were in the back of his car, Stacy on his lap, straddling him, and Beckett working her clothes off between kisses. The car filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the windows began to steam up. Beckett knew his suspicions were true when he got her shirt unbuttoned and she stopped him before he could remove it completely. Before he could expose her arms.
"Nuh-mm, this is fine," Stacy muttered, moving her arms so he couldn't slide the shirt off her shoulders. She cupped his face in her hands and tried to go on kissing him, but he slowly pulled away, obviously troubled. "What's the matter?"
His tone became cross. "I guess you won't be wearing any sleeveless dresses to the prom."
"What, why?"
Beckett paused just to look at her. "You're cutting again, aren't you?"
At first, Stacy made a face like she was insulted and shocked that he could even think such a thing. "What? No. Of course. Of course I'm not..." She paused under the realization that this was the worst opportunity to lie she'd dealt with in the last week. All he had to do was lift her sleeve and he'd see the truth. Lines of Band-Aids and red marks, all up and down her forearms. No point in even trying to hide this one. "Okay, yes, I've been cutting."
With a frustrated sigh, he said, "Why? Why? What's going on? Is your mom's boyfriend hassling you again?"
"No, she's not dating him anymore. I just... sometimes things get stressful, you know, and... sometimes I have relapses." While she spoke, Stacy avoided looking in Beckett's eyes.
But he understood that this was a hard thing for her to admit. Cutting yourself was one of the most shameful ways a girl could choose to deal with stress in this modern society. Everyone thought there was something deeply wrong with you when they found out. But Beckett understood that it had more to do with Stacy's home life than any choice she had made to pick up a razorblade and take it to her arms. He wished there was something he could do to help, but he knew there was only so much.
It was just the way she coped. Sort of like an addiction. Like smoking. For a while, Stacy could stop, she could quit, but something would happen and she'd pick up that hidden pack of cigarettes.
Only, it wasn't a pack of cigarettes.
"What's been happening? I want to be there for you," Beckett said, brushing her hair away from her face.
Stacy shook her head. "You'd never believe me if I told you." An almost hysterical laugh escaped her. "Trust me."
"Try me." When she wouldn't look at him, Beckett touched her cheek. Stacy pulled away a bit and shook her head again. "You have this big fight with Jasmine, you're cutting again, and you - " He stopped himself; it might be too much for her to find out that he knew about the graffiti incident right now. What she had done... what she had written... Beckett wanted to know so bad what she meant by those things. Please stop me before they make me kill again. What the hell did that mean? Was it just some sort of overdramatic playacting thing?
In the end, he decided not to mention it... yet. "I... I just want to know what's going on with you."
Stacy, still looking away, wondered if her boyfriend had the slightest clue what he was asking. "Beckett... I just can't talk about it right now, okay? It's too... it's too complicated." You'd never believe me. It's insane. The only reason Jasmine believes me is because she was there when they came. I don't even know where to start so it sounds even remotely possible. "Let's talk about it later."
"When?"
"Becks, I don't know, I..." Stacy felt like smacking him for making such a big deal out of this. He just had no idea how hard it was to explain. "You've got that psychometry thing. Can't you just touch me and see what happened?"
"You know I don't do that unless I'm invited. It's intruding," Beckett reminded her.
"Oh come on, you know you do it without being asked. Anybody would if they could do that."
"Stace, are you asking me to - "
"I thought I just did!"
"Okay, geez." Placing a hand on her shoulder, Beckett braced for a bad vision involving Stacy's family. She rarely got along with her mother's boyfriends. In fact, one of them made passes at Stacy behind her mother's back.
What he saw did not involve her family. He couldn't tell whom it involved at all.
Stacy, looking about to cry, stepped out of her car and hesitated there with the door open. She held onto the door tightly. There was a screwdriver in her hand. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she screamed, "Why are you making me do this?!"
Faulken sometimes used text over the visions, like words projected onto a wall with an overhead projector. The text over Stacy labeled her, DOG ON A LEASH.
Beckett removed his hand from her shoulder. That told him nothing, nothing he could make sense of until he learned more.
Jasmine. He had to talk to Jasmine. She knew something.
"What did you see?" Stacy asked.
He couldn't stand the desperation in her eyes. Beckett stroked her cheek. "Nothing, baby. It was too hazy."
Stacy laid her head on his shoulder. "Make it all go away. Just for a little while."
In the only way he knew how, Beckett tried to fulfill her request by resuming what they had started. He kissed her with all the passion he could muster, hoping he could make her feel beautiful and relaxed and normal for just one night.
It was the last good moment they shared before everything went to hell.
it won't stop