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PLOT DROP 08; 07/28/1991

The sky was unusually dark, its gloom made sharper by the bright, sun-drenched days the residents of Cardinal Hill had grown used to. Evening had settled in faster than anyone expected, and to most, it felt like it had arrived too soon. A low, distant rumble of thunder sent a quiet shiver through the town, raising the hairs on the backs of necks. There was a shared silence, heavy with a hope that the strange feeling in the air wasn’t about to take a darker turn. A turn that residents were all too familiar with now.

Outside of the Old Mill Diner, three witches lingered near the corner of the building, well out of the way of its entrance. Their voices were hushed, and their eyes flickered fast, much like they were terribly afraid of being caught doing something that they shouldn't have been.

“The fear… it was... intoxicating.” One of them stood out as she spoke, her long platinum hair catching the light from the glowing diner sign overhead, making it shimmer like it had a glow of its own. “I could feel it. Like it-”

“It’s not part of the plan.” Her companion with dark, tight curls cut her off, standing stiffly and disapprovingly right beside her. Her voice sounded more worried than forceful, like she wasn’t trying to boss the others around, but that she was instead only afraid of straying from their original scheme.

“Like it helped.” The third witch chimed in, brushing off the warning without a glance. She had short, spiked hair and a way of speaking that made her sound like she was already five steps ahead. “I felt it too. I know it wasn’t the plan, but... I’m curious. Just to see. If it’s right - if it works - I mean... I can’t even begin to imagine what we could do.” She ran a hand through her hair, pausing for a second, lost in the thought. “It felt more…”

“Finite.” The platinum-haired witch murmured, dragging black lipstick off her teeth with a slow suck of breath. “If we keep them scared-”

“Exactly. The others - the Joneses, Riverses, the others we had in the plans - they’ve got power, sure, but is power really what we need? Or is it vulnerability?” Another flick to her pixie cut, and small bounce. The thought clearly lit something up in her. “If we keep them close-”

“We can keep using them.” The hesitant one gave a small nod. She looked like she was still trying to convince herself, but the idea had landed. A quiet breath escaped her lips, followed by another nod. “Alright. I’ll give it one shot. But if this backfires, I swear," a sigh, "are you both sure?”

“Yes,” the other two said in unison.

The storm began to grow stronger, thick, dark clouds swiftly rolling in.

Jamie Bowen

As you stand from your seat, a loud rumble sounds overhead. The thunder is abrupt, jarring enough to turn most of the heads in the establishment towards the window - yours included.

The sky has transformed, seemingly in the blink of an eye. You’re fixated on the sight for a moment too long, almost as if the ripples in the clouds form hypnotic patterns that hold you there, stuck.

A bright flash of lightning causes you to squint, and to finally look away.

You go to move forward, but something stops you. Not a thought, not even a feeling - no, it feels much stronger than that, something that feels as though it was there all along.

It hits you not like a ton of bricks, but instead like the type of pain that you can’t quite feel until the shock wears off. It’s not a physical feeling, you’re not hurt, not yet, at least.

They know.

You try to swallow, but already, your mouth has grown dry. In a contrasting condition, you feel a cold sweat begin to bead over the rest of your body.

Your heart hammers against your chest and inside of your ears; you wonder how much time you have left, you wonder how far you’ll be able to flee until your past finally catches up to you.

How could you have not seen it before?

A shaky, weak pair of legs pull you closer to the door.

You wonder how you can buy yourself time, eyes darting around the diner, looking at the others as if they’re all to be wary of. You don’t question it, because you know it better than your own name.

You’re about to be found out.

The intense fear is all consuming. It only builds, growing more intense, more inescapable.

It might be worse than simply being found out.

No escape seems possible.

You might even meet the same fate.

Another great rumble of thunder shakes the diner and your thoughts to a halt. It feels as though it lasts a supernatural amount of time; for a split second, you feel trapped in the noise, in the very storm itself.

The sound builds louder, and in it you hear the rattling of utensils on tables, the clanging of piled dishes, and the shell of a voice that you couldn’t quite place.

“Useless, this one.”

Another joins it.

“We’ll find a way to use it.”

Finally, in an instant, it’s over. The storm still looms overhead, but the silence seeps in like a soothing balm. You know how you felt, you could describe it in vivid detail, but it no longer feels real. It’s almost as if you dreamt it.

Your body begins to regulate itself, and you take another step towards the door.

Davis King

You not only hear the unexpected clap of thunder, but you feel it. It rattles through you like its mere inches above your head, and having not expected such a storm only causes more shock than the feeling alone.

Your head turns towards the wobbling window you sit next to, and it does so just in time for an intense strike of lightning to flash across the sky, illuminating the surroundings and the thick, misshapen clouds in the sky.

You have to blink as the light strikes you in the eyes, as if making a physical attack, though you can’t quite escape the brightness inflicted.

That’s when it begins.

You squeeze your eyes shut, though you don’t find darkness on the other side. Instead, you see a flash of a scene, almost like a vision.

People are suffering.

You open your eyes, terrified, but another flash of a vision - a different one this time - seems to be projected over the reality of the diner scene in front of you.

You can’t save anyone.

Something about what you see feels uncanny, but you can’t stop yourself from believing it. You believe every scene, every one of the many that begin to flash before you, or else on the back of your eyelids when you once again squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to escape.

You see so many horrific scenes, never once a full premonition, only flashes of one picture after another.

They’re all so terrible.

You can’t save anyone in any of them.

It’s an overwhelming amount of information to receive, perhaps all the more overwhelming as you can’t make sense of any of it all, or even adequately plan a next step to take.

You sit there, useless, and you feel your body first grow shaky, and then grow weak.

You’re powerless.

Both in the sense that you can’t do a thing, but also…

You feel no power left in you, no magic.

Only now do you realise just how terrified you are.

The next roar of thunder threatens to overwhelm you, lasting longer this time, eerily preventing you from hearing any other noise in the diner apart from one, a distant yet clear voice that says five simple words.

“Yes, I can feel it.”

You begin to fatigue, though as you turn to the window again, desperate eyes searching for any clue of a way out, another bright flash of lightning strikes you square in the eye.

You squeeze your eyes shut instinctively, again, and this time no horrors are waiting for you in the darkness behind your eyes.

You open them.

You feel more awake, you feel yourself growing stronger, you feel more… yourself.

The diner looks as it did moments ago, completely normal, completely safe.

You’re left with a nagging feeling that what has happened is nothing like anything else that you’ve ever experienced before.

You swallow thickly, and slowly but surely, your body returns to its usual state.

Vivian Pearson

The thunder startles you. You look out the window to find the transformed sky lit up by the lightning that follows the great sound. The bright light causes you to blink, and as you do, you notice your eyelids are heavier than ever.

You reach up to rub your eyes. The effort of lifting your hand the short distance is almost too much.

You clear your throat, as if in an attempt to wake yourself up, but it’s not a fatigue that you recognise.

Your body doesn’t feel right.

The fear settles heavily into your chest before you can even think about doing anything to stop it.

You don’t believe it at first, or perhaps you simply just don’t want to believe it. The longer you sit there, however, the harder it is to deny it. You’re no longer in full control of your now trembling body.

It’s almost as if your body is giving up.

You lift your hands up, inspecting them, turning them over. You watch them shake for only a moment before you have to lower them onto the table. They’re so heavy.

You’re so weak.

No matter what you think about doing, no matter how terribly you might want to scream for help, or even run away, you feel as though you can’t.

You feel as though your time is running out.

Your head droops, and with this, you just know.

This is it.

Despite how drained your body is of energy, you still feel the fear pulsing through you stronger than ever. It’s the one thing that doesn’t dissipate, the one thing that will be joining you to your end.

This is the end.

With what power you have left, you force your eyes upwards, searching for any last hope that you might be able to find. What you see instead of the previously empty other side of the booth is two familiar figures.

Your parents sit there, weeping, distraught, grieving once again.

Thunder rattles through you, and as if giving you a jolt of energy, it allows you to straighten up. The single, simple movement of doing so proves much easier than you expect. You move an arm again, this time with ease and weightlessness.

Your body has seemingly returned to its normal state in mere seconds, everything so regular that thoughts of your life ending seem dramatic.

Where you expect to find your parents still, you realise there are only empty seats; you wonder if they ever really sat there, or if it was a figment of your imagination…

Your thoughts are cut off by a bright flash of lightning striking you through the diner windows. You squeeze your eyes shut, just long enough to hear two words spoken so close to you, as if someone was speaking in your ear.

“More… More!”

You open your eyes. You see no owner of the voice.

You see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

Harper Gall

As the thunder booms overhead, you feel a pang of emotion heavily settle into your chest.

At first, you can’t place the feeling, can’t make sense of it, unable to recognise exactly what it means. But you can’t shake it, no matter how long you wait.

You stand, pondering on the feeling as you do so, recognising it from somewhere…

But where?

Lightning illuminates the diner as you walk towards the back, towards the bathroom. You’re sure that the feeling can’t simply be deja vu, but there’s something so familiar about the horror that weighs you down so intensely.

You’re only aware of the cold sweat that you’ve broken out into as you reach out to place your hand on the bathroom door. Not only is your hand clammy, but it shakes.

You can finally place part of how you feel.

You’re terrified.

Without further hesitation, you push open the door.

Terror no longer describes how you feel.

It’s a fear well beyond terror, a horror you never wished to revisit. In the place where the bathroom should be, you instead see a familiar autobody shop.

The sight of your father’s lifeless body on the floor of the shop more than easily takes your entire focus.

In the back of your mind, you know that the scene is one that you’ve lived through before, a scene from the past, not something that you could ever experience again. Even so, the scene is so real, and the pain is so vivid.

You stumble backwards in shock, allowing the bathroom door to swing closed with its great force. Your body, completely consumed by your fear, feels not only shaky, but so weak. You feel powerless, more than you ever have before, almost as if someone has sucked the very essence of yourself out of your body.

You take a deep breath, and you reach out tentatively towards the door.

Before you can reopen the door onto the scene, you jump with fright as another loud roar of thunder shakes the diner. Through the startling sound you hear the door shake on its hinges, and a quiet, unfamiliar voice from behind you.

“So much power.”

It takes until the thunder’s rumbling calms before you can feel that your heart is indeed still beating.

You quickly push the door open again. Behind it you find a bathroom, not unlike any others. There’s no car parts, no familiarity, none more than a bathroom you’ve entered before brings you, at least. Most notably, there’s no one else in sight.

You must have imagined it, right?

Jesse Prescott

Not unlike the other patrons, you’re surprised to hear the thunder, and to see the flash of lightning that follows it so closely. You turn your head to inspect the scene, and you’re unable to place why you feel so afraid over the sight.

It’s not like it’s your first unexpected storm.

You turn back to face the empty side of the diner booth in front of you, and you notice as you do that your heart is beating harder and faster than usual.

It can’t only be the storm, it wouldn’t only be the storm. No, there’s something more. Even while you can’t explain it, you can’t deny it, either.

The fear that you feel starts in the centre of your chest, but the longer you sit there, the stronger it becomes, and the further it spreads. It doesn’t take long before you feel your body physically riddled with the type of anxiety that is often paired with fear.

You feel so inescapably afraid.

A thought in the back of your mind begins to echo louder and louder.

You’re not safe. More worryingly, neither are they.

You can’t explain how you know, but you do. You feel it as though it’s fact, an unfaltering truth that you’ve already come to terms with.

You can’t leave, or else you’ll have to face the reality in which all of your worst fears have come to fruition. It feels as though your fears have grabbed a hold of your shoulders, and that they’re pinning you down to your seat.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and your breath comes out shakily, rapidly.

Every worst nightmare that you could ever think of comes to mind, each a jarring flash of a horrific image. It’s an overwhelming amount of terrifying possibilities, all that feel real as you see them.

Glued to your seat and unable to escape your fear, to say that you feel hopeless feels like an understatement. With every second that passes, you feel more afraid than ever.

You can’t do a single thing to save them.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You feel as though you might choke on your fear.

Then a great roar of thunder startles you.

In the sound, you hear a voice.

“Yes, that’s it.”

Another voice speaks.

“Make them afraid, and the others will remain vulnerable.”

As the thunder becomes a quiet hum of a rumble, a sobering feeling allows you to stand from your seat.

What did they mean? That voice? Make them afraid…

You’re unsure as to whether or not the words have any relevance to your state of fear, but the thought is quickly replaced by the fact that the fear is no longer overtaking your body, and your thoughts, but that it’s rather quite the opposite now.

You feel yourself calming, you feel your self-control returning.

Stoker Addams

You step towards the entrance of the diner, only just arriving. You notice the facade of the building grow darker, covered in shadows, and you turn to assess the sky just as it makes its dramatic change.

You frown, but you stop yourself from flinching at the enormous clatter of thunder sounding overhead, somewhat expecting it.

You turn back to the diner, and you swiftly push the door open. The second that you step inside, it feels as though everything changes.

First, the paranoia hits, and the fear promptly follows.

It feels as though there a more eyes on you than there are eyes in the establishment; it’s uncomfortable, but a small voice in your head tells you that you deserve such treatment.

They know what you did.

You swallow thickly, and only after a moment longer do you see the signs, and realise what you’ve done.

They all look like her.

You don’t know where to begin, you don’t know what to do. You’re terrified.

You take a step forward, you want to do something to help, anything to help, but then the guilt begins to sink in. All of these innocent people, all of these strangers, none of them deserved it…

How could you not have stopped after what you did?

You take another desperate step forward, but then the guilt turns into a fear even greater than the one already set in. You feel as though they’re angry. More devastatingly, you feel as though they should be angry.

The fear begins to mix with an all consuming sadness. Your body begins to feel weak, your eyes begin to sting with hot tears, and you quite plainly have no idea what to do, how to rectify all of your mistakes.

You can’t flee, though. Not again. You take one more step.

This time, you’re interrupted not by another large wave of nasty emotion, but by the sound of more thunder. You don’t expect it this time, you jump slightly with fright.

“Imagine this, only on a larger scale.”

You can’t tell where the voice has come from, nor do you know what their words mean. They feel important, however, and you commit them to memory.

When you look back to the diner, you realise that not a single face is pointed in your direction.

You step forward not only one more time, but enough times for your legs to carry you to an empty booth. Your emotions level out, though confusion begins to replace them as you ponder on what happened, and why.

The three witches that stood outside of the Old Mill Diner wore matching expressions, each alluding to having gone through something unfortunate. They stood close to the building, attempting to shelter themselves from the storm, and as a heavy rainfall began to wash over Cardinal Hill, more than only water ran down the sidewalk in front of the establishment.

Blood ran thickly into the storm drain, oozing from a lifeless body in front of the witches. None of them wore sadness in their expressions, or anything close to horror or fright. Instead, they looked to be a mixture of angry, frustrated, and impressed.

“How exactly is that using them?” The apprehensive witch questioned.

“I only meant to put him to sleep after he caught us, I didn’t realise…” The platinum haired witch couldn’t hide the glint of amusement in her eyes as she defended herself, and it looked as though she stopped herself in order to stifle a laugh.

“It doesn’t matter,” the spiked witch spoke up again, voice as assertive as ever. “This won’t hurt us. If anything, this is exactly how we can use them. One moment in a diner can be scary, sure, but to feel as though their lives are really on the line?”

“And this just proves the point. The more power… well, the more powerful we are.” The platinum haired witch properly laughed now, a high, sadistic laugh. “Like I said, I only meant to make him take a nap.”

“This is the way to getting exactly what we want.”

This plot drop featured 06 of our player written characters;

Jamie Bowen, Davis King, Vivian Pearson, Harper Gall, Jesse Prescott, and Stoker Addams all experienced intense fear that temporarily took over them both psychologically and physiologically.

Davis King, and Harper Gall both experience a powerlessness associated with their magic, as if it is rendered inaccessible during the episode. After this encounter, all magic is returned to them.

All Cardinal Hill residents experience an inexplainable feeling of fear during the ordeal. The uncanny nature of the storm seemingly working backwards - thunder sounding before lightning strikes - only adds to the fear of those who notice.

01 unidentified resident (NPC) was killed in this plot drop.

#death cw #murder cw #parental death cw #cardinalplot

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