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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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Catch Me If You Can (21/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I technically don’t have a horse in the race for the World Series that’s currently happening (tonight could be the last game 🙀), but since this lil’ universe exists because of @wellhellotragic, I’ll be pulling for the Astros to actually win a game at home!

@resident-of-storybrooke remains the best for reading these words, which include some more meeting of the fam jams!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @youraverageshipper

-/-

New York City in the summer is both the best and the worst.

There are approximately a million things to do, which is pretty much always true for this city, but things seem to multiply this time of year compared to any other time. Well, maybe besides around Christmas, but then every street is so full of tourists that Emma can’t do anything for fear of losing her temper and yelling at a middle-aged couple simple trying to enjoy their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary trip.

Bah-humbug.

And as much as Emma likes the way she can wear her jeans with a cozy sweater and coat draped over her with a warm beanie covering her ears, summertime is pretty much the prime time for her with so many baseball games happening and with the US Open coming around at the end of August. But it is decidedly not the end of August since it’s more like the end of July, and all she feels right now is like a big puddle that’s ready to melt whenever she walks outside. Also, that she smells like garbage, but that’s more likely the city than her considering she showered this morning and used vanilla body wash that she can smell on herself.

As well as sunscreen.

And sweat. There is definitely some sweat involved despite the fact she is only wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top with a hell of a lot of deodorant. She literally has deodorant in her backpack next to her laptop and notebook full of stat sheets.

Her hair is really gross too despite the braid it’s in, and the game hasn’t even started. It’s going to be a long day. For a multitude of reasons.

David, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking toward her in the hallway is near the top of that list.

“Emma,” Leo gasps when he sees her, quickly running toward her and leaving his parents behind in the dust. He’s got on a Captain America shirt and the signed Killian Jones hat gracing the top of his head. They didn’t explicitly tell Leo that she and Killian are dating – kids being kids and not being able to keep secrets and all that – but he pretty much knows. And he’s definitely going to after this.

“Hi, bud,” she laughs, squatting down the slightest bit (he’s getting too tall) to wrap him up in a hug that she knows is far too tight. “Long time no see.”

“I saw you for dinner last night.”

“That is too long.”

“You’re clingy,” Leo scoffs before pulling back from her hug to look at her with those furrowed little brows of his.

“Clingy? Who taught you that word?”

“Mom said that about dad.”

“Hey,” Mary Margaret huffs, sliding her arm around Emma in greeting, “don’t be telling tales.”

“It’s true.”

“I’m clingy?” David questions, his forehead wrinkling when he raises his brows. “Since when am I clingy?”

“That’s a conversation for another time.”

“But I – ”

“Okay,” Emma claps, breaking up the argument that is very inevitably about to happen no matter how small it’s going to be, “so I’m going to show you guys to your suite before I have to go out onto the field for a bit.”

“Emma, I know my way around the stadium,” David grumbles like he always does when there is any implication that he does not know absolutely everything that he needs to know, but then he’s kissing her cheek in greeting and gently patting her back in that David way of letting her know that he’s teasing even when she already knows this. It’s, like, a whole full circle thing. “Why is it that you are taking us to a suite today instead of us just sitting in my seats?”

The scorecard keeps ticking higher on David mentioning his investment in baseball by mentioning his season-ticket seats, but honestly, she can’t even say anything.

“Because,” Emma sighs, wrapping her arm around Leo’s shoulder and pulling him forward, “you are a workaholic who needed to get out of the office and spend some time with your family, and I made some special arrangements for that. Also, it’s crazy hot outside today, and the suites have air-conditioning.”

They’re in one of the first suites that Emma comes to, and she unwraps her arm from Leo’s shoulder to flash her badge at one of the security guards in charge of the player family suites before a door is opened for them to go inside. Liam, Elsa, Anna, and Kris are already inside sitting down on the couches that are in front of the TV monitor, and Addy and Lucy are watching something on an iPad, pink headphones covering their ears.

“Emma, are those?” Mary Margaret asks, trailing off at the end.

“Yep, that’s Killian’s family.”

“But we haven’t even met Killian yet.”

“Oh,” Emma sighs, smiling a bit to herself at them reacting to this exactly the way that she knew that they would, “I know. He’ll be up here when he finishes with the game though, okay? I’m feeding him to the lion’s den while I’m working, but he’s going to take us all to dinner afterwards so that you guys can do your creepy interrogation like Liam did to me.”

“He did what now?” David fumes, reaching forward to gently grab her elbow while Liam himself turns around, finally spotting they they’ve entered the room.

Emma can’t help but roll her eyes while her stomach does that twisting thing that is pretty much becoming its trademark. All of these people are ridiculous. “It’s fine, David. It was a joke. But seriously. I might be in and out depending on how the game goes, but Killian is going to come up here after he finishes his cool down, and afterwards, we’re going out to dinner.”

“How is that going to work if you guys are keeping things quiet?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders, a little bit of nervous energy washing over her. It’s something she and Killian have talked about a lot in the past week now that everyone important knows about everything important, and while they’re still figuring things out, they’ve decided that it’s probably safe to go somewhere low key for dinner as long as they’re in a group. Maybe eventually they’ll be able to go to dinner with just the two of them without Emma looking over her shoulder. It’s not like Killian is Brad Pitt or anything, but her worries of being spotted are legitimate. She’s in a very happy little bubble right now, and even though a bit of it has been burst, it’s still holding strong.

She deserves this. Killian does too.

“We’ve got it figured out,” she tells David before walking toward Liam and greeting him with a hug and doing the same with everyone else. Killian’s family are a bunch of huggers, even for people they don’t know very well, and that’s something she’s figured out very quickly. “Okay, so I’m about to do some quick introductions, so everyone brace yourself.”

“David Nolan,” David interrupts, reaching forward to shake Liam’s hand in what Emma can tell is a far too hard handshake to show off some kind of weird masculine authority. “It’s nice to meet you – ”

“Liam Jones. And this is my wife Elsa, her sister Anna, and Anna’s husband Kris. The two munchkins ignoring us are my daughter’s Addison and Lucy, and I bet they will be great friends with your son.”

“How old are they?” Leo asks. “Because I don’t want to be friends with anyone younger than four.”

Elsa actually snorts while Mary Margaret’s intake of breath might as well be a sign that death is coming with how dramatic it was.

“Leo,” Mary Margaret admonishes, “that is not very nice. You should apologize.”

Elsa stops laughing to wave Mary Margaret away, a kind smile on her face. “It’s fine, I promise. I get it. The girls do stuff like that all of the time, and luckily for Leo, they are both a little bit older than that. Plus, Addy really likes Captain America too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why don’t you go over there and talk to her?”

Leo smiles and nods his head before sprinting over to the girls, plopping down on the couch hard enough that Addy and Lucy might as well bounce off of it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Mary Margaret says again. “He was stuck with me working with a bunch of younger kids the other day, and I think that’s scarred him.”

“It really is fine,” Elsa smiles. “At least he’s a kid and there’s a bit of an excuse. Anna here sometimes says things like that, and she’s an adult.”

“Only technically,” Anna laughs.

“This is true,” Kris adds in.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to talk about me like that.”

“What? It’s true. It’s how you are. You have the enthusiasm of a kid with a bag of skittles. It’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t supposed to say things like that when we’re trying to make a good impression with Emma’s family. We’re supposed to look normal.”

It’s Emma’s turn to snort and shake her head before reaching forward to squeeze Anna’s forearm. “There’s no such thing as normal, which I’m sure you guys will realize as soon as I leave you all here to make some awkward small talk.”

“There isn’t going to be anything awkward about it,” Kris smiles before bumping his hip into Anna’s, “unless Anna keeps talking.”

“You are something else today.”

“You guys are all something else,” Emma laughs, hoping to everything that this is going to go well. This isn’t something she’s ever really had to do before, and it’s kind of terrifying. “But I trust that you can all get along with your spouses, since that seems to be a problem today, and each other. Now I’m going to go sweat my ass off outside, but you guys have a good time up here. And if they bring in those cheeseburger sliders, save me some.”

With that, she turns to walk out the door, knowing she doesn’t have time to go through proper goodbyes with all of them (she’d be there forever), and quickly makes her way to the elevator so that she can get to the tunnels that are going to take her out to the dugout. She always loves the days where she gets to spend some time in there, to really get a behind the scenes feel at it all, and while she’s a bit wary of some of the players now, she knows that it’s all going to be fine.

This is a game, but it’s also a job.

Al nods his head at her when she pushes open the door and walks toward her designated spot at the end with the water cooler and bat racks. August and Lance greet her, the rest of the guys sitting around ignoring her, and she’s thankful when she finds Jeff already in his seat.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his legs shaking up and down.

“Hey, why do you look nervous?”

“I’m fucking hot.”

Emma laughs and takes her seat next to him, and Jeff hands her the microphone pack and her earpiece, which she immediately turns on even though she knows Ruby is probably about to bombard her with questions.

“We can go inside for a bit when the first inning is over. I don’t plan on being out here the entire time.”

“Thank you.”

Emma knocks her knee into Jeff’sJeff’s,but he ignores her and turns his head to look out at the field. He’s always such a character.

“So,” Ruby teases, her voice breaking through the static, “how did the meeting go?”

“Fine. I bolted pretty quick, though. Also, Rubes, we can’t really talk about this stuff while I’m working.”

“Why not – oh, wait, never mind. I got you. There are a lot of people around who can hear you.”

“Yep,” Emma sighs, shaking her head a bit, “so tell me what kind of coverage you want me to get for this game. Jeff and I are already dying of heat.”

“Fine,” Ruby grumbles, and Emma can practically imagine the roll of her eyes, “I guess I will give you instructions for your job instead of gossiping about your life.”

-/-

Killian only pitches three innings, and while it’s a bit unusual, Emma doesn’t think anything of it. They’ve got their first road game in Boston next week, and she imagines Al doesn’t want anything to happen to Killian’s arm. And there’s no reason for him to overexert himself when they’re so easily winning and have already got this series in the bag no matter what happens the rest of the afternoon.

Plus, he winks at her when she finishes doing a quick interview with him after he’s pulled from the game, and the smile on his face tells her everything that she needs to know about how good he’s feeling.

She hopes that he feels that way after he goes upstairs and meets most everyone.

They probably should have eased everyone into it, but honestly, she thinks Killian will be more comfortable with his family around.

“Are you going to make me do one of those Instagram filters again today?” Will questions, as he plops down on the bench next to her, tilting the water cup back and drinking it down in one gulp. “Or am I playing twenty questions? Do you want to talk about my wedding? Or maybe even the game?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Emma laughs before reaching up to fan her face and wipe the sweat from her brow. “You’re the worst.”

“Um, actually, I believe you quite like me.”

“That’s debatable.”

Will hums as there’s some shuffling in front of them with Arthur King reaching around Emma to get his bat and helmet. Anxious shivers run down her spine when she sees him now, and her entire body stiffens until there’s a gentle pressure on her forearm from where Will is squeezing it.

“Hey,” he whispers, dipping his head down to look up at her, his goofy grin replaced with a soft smile that she usually doesn’t see with him, “you okay?”

She nods her head, wishing that her stomach wasn’t twisting like this. “I’m fine.”

“He’s not going to say shit like that again, Emma,” Will promises as his hand squeezes her arm again. “You are a member of this team, just like me and Killian and Rob, and we’ve got your back no matter what happens. I don’t let people talk shit about anyone but especially my friends.”

“Are we friends now?”

“Jones told me that we had to be.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she still knocks her knee into Will’s, a smile curving at the corner of her lips. Who knew that Will Scarlet was going to be so in her corner this early on? Or at all.

“Thanks. I’ll let you pick the filter you use the next time I do Instagram stuff simply because of that.”

“Sounds like music to my ears.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t get any chances to go back up to the suite during the game, but afterwards, when she’s wrapped up all of her work stuff and told Jeff goodbye, she finds herself walking through the suite doors only to find Killian standing at the counter wrapping sliders in a paper towel while talking to David.

Should she focus on the fact that she knows that Killian’s wrapping those up for her even though she asked everyone else to do it or the fact that Killian is talking to David?

Probably both.

“Hey,” she says slowly, stepping up to the two of them so that they both glance over at her, small smiles gracing both of their lips. Okay, good, that’s a good sign. “How are things going?”

“Just dandy,” Killian tells her, lifting his arm so that she can step into his space and press up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Dave is telling me about how he makes me look good on TV.”

“Dave?” she questions, and all Killian does in response is brush a kiss over the hair at the crown of her head.

“That is not exactly what I was saying,” David clarifies. “Killian asked me about work, and I explained it to him. Him thinking that he needs help to look good is all on him.”

“I mean, I get it. I help him look good every week when I could very easily make him look awful.”

“You are so kind to me, darling.”

“I know.”

Killian smiles down at her in that way that makes her heart stutter and her breath hitch, and there are so many emotions flying through her right now that she’s not entirely sure what to feel. There are also a million questions she’s going to have to gulp down, and Emma already knows that she’s going to have to ask Mary Margaret or Elsa for all of the details how everything went.

She really, really, really wants Killian and David to get along. That’s, like, everything to her even if she didn’t realize it when this whole thing started. Ruth and Mary Margaret will like anyone who is nice to her, but David has seen so much of the shit that’s happened in her life that he’s a little bit more particular.

Okay, a lot.

“Are these sliders for me?” she asks even though she already knows the answer.

“Aye. I figured you’d want something to eat on the way to the restaurant since I didn’t see you eat during the game. Were you avoiding it so as not to get on camera again?”

“Kind of. It was also too damn hot to eat.”

Killian’s lips tick up on the right, his brow arching high on his head, and she knows that there’s a dirty joke rumbling around in there. It must be hard for him not to be able to say it, but they are most definitely not at a comfort level where he can talk about having sex with her in front of David. In fact, it’s probably best if they never get to that comfort level.

“Dad,” Leo groans as he walks over to the them, “Mom said to ask you when we can go eat.”

“I think we can go now since Emma’s all finished with work.”

“Thank goodness. I thought I was going to starve to death.”

“You know, kid,” Killian laughs, dropping his arm from around Emma’s shoulder, “you sound a lot like your aunt.”

What can she say? She and Leo like to eat.

They go to a low-key pizza place six blocks over from Liam and Elsa’s townhome. All of them are so spread out in different boroughs of the city that it’s pretty much impossible to meet in the middle, but Liam suggested the place since he knows that it’s quiet and that the girls like it a lot. Emma’s honestly pretty nervous walking inside, Killian following right behind her with his hand ghosting over the small of her back. It’s odd to have been dating someone for this much time and never really been out with them, but this relationship is never going to fall into the category of ordinary anyways. It’s always going to be a little off and a little funky, and that’s fine with her because it works. She’s never been one to need to be wined and dined anyways.

And maybe she’s also nervous because of the fear that someone is going to see them and that connections are going to be made, but Elsa quickly talks to the hostess and has them moved to a large corner booth in the back that no one else in the restaurant can really see. Bless Elsa. Honestly and truly. Emma knew she would be great for how Killian always talked about her, but Emma had no idea that she was going to so quickly hit it off with the woman so that they almost feel like friends now too.

It’s been a week since they met, but everything goes so naturally that it feels like so much longer.

This isn’t her or her life or the way things usually go. Emma doesn’t just make friends with people she meets and doesn’t integrate her life with others. The only constant friend she’s had over the past six years that isn’t somehow quasi-related to her is Ruby – toss Graham in there too – and if it wasn’t for Ruby pretty much demanding that she and Emma get along, Emma would probably still think of the woman as just her producer.

How different life would be.

So Emma is definitely not the type of person to have multiple people texting her throughout the day or asking about plans, knowing and understanding that the rigorous game scheduling makes those plans kind of difficult to make. But here she is at a table with ten other people where the conversation is easily flowing from subject to subject because all of these people are making an effort to get along for she and Killian.

She’s got some pretty awesome people around her, the man whose hand keeps inching up on her inner thigh included.

Emma twists her head to look at Killian and tell him to stop teasing her by squeezing her thigh, but instead of seeing the smirk she was expecting, his free hand reaches up to cover his mouth as he yawns.

“Are you tired?”

Killian nods as he keeps yawning, small tears escaping the corners of his eyes, and when the yawn finishes, he has to keep blinking the tears away. “Exhausted. I could go for an entire vat of caffeine.”

“Or get an IV of coffee in your arm.”

“What?” he questions, very obviously not getting her reference.

“Gilmore Girls reference, twenty-nine,” Emma sighs, patting his hand on her thigh. “Gilmore Girls. I know we’ve talked about it before. You should watch it when you have time. It’s, like, a peak early 2000’s show. But you can skip the last season.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I inevitably forget about this conversation and the show.”

“Do you need to go home? We can leave whenever.”

“No,” Killian promises even though he yawns when he says it, “I’m good for a little while longer.”

“Is it past your bedtime?” Lucy asks quietly from her seat next to Emma.

“Do you think your uncle goes to bed before you, sweetie?”

“He looks sleepy. Do you want my pizza?”

Emma’s not exactly sure where the correlation is there, but that’s kind of how kids are. It’s much more entertaining than talking to adults sometimes.

“No, Luce,” Killian promises, leaning over Emma to talk to her, “I don’t want your pizza, but thank you. That’s very sweet. I think it’s past your bedtime though.”

“It’s not Lucy’s bedtime for another hour,” Addy helpfully adds in, much to the amusement of everyone else. “Mine isn’t until eight because I’m older.”

“Mine is at nine,” Leo says.

“I wish I could go to bed that early,” Elsa sighs as she reaches down to pick up her glass of water. “You guys don’t know how good you’ve got it sleeping that much.”

“I don’t like to sleep,” Addy laughs.

“Me either,” Leo says back to Addy, giving her a high five.

Mary Margaret is probably already planning their wedding or something ridiculous like that for how much fun they seem to be having. Actually, Mary Margaret is probably planning hypothetical weddings for several people at this table, but that is not something Emma is going to start thinking about. Nope. Not anywhere near to even being close to being ready and the little thoughts need to chill the hell out. So, if Mary Margaret is going to plan creepy hypothetical weddings, it can be her son’s.

They’ll probably have Captain America-themed plates with baseball hats and stuffed animals from the zoo lining the aisle.

Okay, now Emma is the crazy one.

Maybe she’s a little tired too.

“So, Killian,” David starts, very obviously changing the subject, “I mean to ask earlier, but why did Al pull you out of the game so early?”

Killian’s hand squeezes her thigh, nails digging into the skin a bit roughly, but then he’s letting out a breath and releasing her thigh so that he can scratch at his jaw. “Ah, preservation for the Sox series. Nothing to worry about. I wasn’t feeling top notch, and it’s better not to risk it, you know?”

“That makes sense. I feel like I spend so much time simply making sure things run smoothly on camera that I never get to actually pay attention to the game, so today was nice.”

“See,” Emma huffs, looking between the two of them and pushing down that little feeling of worry over Killian not feeling well today. It was probably just the heat. “I told you that it would be nice. You got all defensive about sitting in the suite.”

“To be fair, I had no idea we would be meeting Killian’s family today.”

“Yeah, hon,” Mary Margaret sighs before picking up a slice of pizza and taking a bite, “we were blindsided a bit, and apparently everyone else already knew.”

“I didn’t want you to prepare questions or some kind of actual interrogation or something else ridiculous beforehand. You have a tendency to be a little too much on the friendly scale.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do.”

“How?”

“Marg,” Emma laughs, “you probably would have been like Ariel and tried planning a vacation for all of us before you even shook Liam’s hand.”

“I would not have.”

“I bet if I looked at your phone right now there would be flights pulled up to Aspen or something.”

Mary Margaret narrows her eyes at Emma, but then Anna is clapping her hands together and making everyone look at her. “Oh, I just love this too much! I think a group vacation would be the most fun.”

Everyone starts laughing, and Killian picks up his bottle of beer to tilt at Anna. “Emma was right when she said that you and Mary Margaret get along swimmingly. It’s uncanny, actually, how similar you are.”

“Friendly people make friends, little brother.”

“Liam, I don’t know how many times I have to say that there is nothing little about me. Ask Emma.”

“Oh my God,” Emma gasps, reaching back to slap his chest, “no. We are not talking about that. You’re an idiot. There are children here.”

“To be fair,” Kris starts, and everyone turns to him, “they got here by the either little or not-so-little attachments we’re alluding to.”

Nothing like alluding to dicks to make a group of people come together.

Okay, that thought could be taken a lot dirtier than Emma intended, so it’s a good thing she’s not thinking out loud.

They all quietly leave the restaurant half an hour later, the conversation and laughter not at all slowing down for the rest of the time there. Maybe it was the bit of alcohol that most everyone had or maybe it was simply hitting a stride in conversation, but it doesn’t really matter. All Emma knows is that her stomach hurts from laughing and she’s got this smile on her face that she hopes stays for awhilea while.

“Today was nice,” Mary Margaret sighs as the two of them stand outside the restaurant while David and Killian settle the bill inside. “I like Killian a lot. I really like that he makes you smile.”

Emma blushes, and her smile increases despite her best efforts not to let it. Who in the world is this woman who is smiling all of the time? This is not her. But maybe it is now.

“You are such a mom, Marg.”

“Literally I am.”

“You know what I mean, though.”

“I do, I do,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around Leo’s waist and pulling him closer so that he doesn’t wander off the sidewalk and into the street. “But you’re basically my first baby even though this one came so close after I met you. All I want is for you to be happy, and that man makes you happy.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Emma,” Leo asks, looking up at her as the restaurant doors open behind him, “can I meet Will Scarlet now too?”

“We’ll see, kid,” Emma laughs. “We’ll see.”

“You ready to go, love?”

Killian walks over to her and moves to wrap his arm around her shoulder before stopping himself, eyes glancing to the few people around them, and Emma’s heart sinks at that. But she knows that this is for the best, and Killian not being able to wrap his arm around her shoulder when they’re about to get in the car isn’t that big of a deal. It’s really not a deal at all, and Emma pushes down her worries so that she can look up at Killian and smile.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

The two of them say their goodbyes to everyone else before walking two blocks over to find Killian’s car where it’s parked, Killian opening her door for her even when she insists that she do it herself so that Emma can quickly slide into the passenger’s seat.

“You and David took a million years to pay.”

“Did we?” Killian hums, very pointedly taking a little too long inspecting the gearshift.

“You did. Did he go all big-brother on you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Swan.”

“You, Killian Jones,” Emma scoffs as Killian pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street, “are a liar.”

“And obviously not a very good one either.”

Emma sighs as Killian twists his head and winks at her, a mischievous smile painted on his lips. “What did David ask you?”

“About my intentions with you.”

Groaning, she sinks down further on the leather seat, wondering if it’s acceptable to unbutton her shorts because she’s eaten pizza and cheeseburger sliders in the past three hours and has food babies inside of her stomach. Multiple. That’s how much she has eaten.

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” Killian laughs, turning the blinker on before reaching over to grab her hand and bring her knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss there, the charmer.

“What’d you tell him?”

“That I love you and am very much in this for the long haul as long as you’ll have me. Now do you want to go to your place or mine?”

“Mine,” Emma tells him as her heart stutters in her chest at his words and all of the implications behind them. “Let’s go to my place.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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north-texas-madhatter · 4 years ago

Text

Uncertain: That’s no deer my wife whispered…

As I listened intently peering off into the dark forest I told my wife, “It’s out there, it hasn’t left” She and the kids got up as we heard a twig snap. “Get the kids and get in the cabin”, I quietly whispered as I grabbed the shotgun from the trunk. I knew it was watching us, in the dark, maybe just as scared as I was – or maybe not.

Our family loves to travel and the more unusual the place the better. We love cabins and nature and beautiful back roads, lakes and forest. It was a cool crisp morning and we were loading up the car for another adventure. Don’t forget to put on some deodorant my wife reminds me, my daughter had complained that Papa David was kinda stinky. Which is true, I am a stinky smelly man and unfortunately for her she sits behind me in the backseat when we travel. “I will smell like roses”, I replied as I loaded the cooler of snacks with an assortment of drinks careful to put it equally in reach of all family members.

I was rummaging around in the garage trying to find all the items I had put on my trip list. The smell of moldy tarps, dust and an old bike tube hanging off a rack as I shuffled things back and forth. “I really need to organize this better” I thought to myself. Finally laying on the garage floor before me were, flashlights, medical kits, an assortment of fire starters, lanterns, two way radios, and an old box of shotgun shells that I had brought out from the house. I did a quick review of the list I had made the night before and checked off all the items but one. The shotgun. I didn’t like leaving anything like that just laying around.

The kids packed their backpacks with who knows what, some Go Fish and Old Maid card games were stuffed in the side pockets and the iPad’s fully charged for those moments where my wife and I would like to have a conversation without interruption. You parents know what I mean.

“What about Stella?” the kids asked. I had made sure to find lodgings that allowed pets so I said she is going with us. Stella had been sitting on her carpet anxiously watching us pack the car and, as if to know what I had said, began wagging her tail gleefully running back and forth to the door.

All packed up, everyone in the car, doors checked, thermo nuclear alarm system set, we began to back out of the driveway. “Oh wait!” I forgot something. Everyone letting out a sigh. Just like my parents when we would leave for our trans America trips, my dad would pull in and out of the driveway six times before we could finally depart. Turning off the alarm and unlocking all the doors I retrieved a large shotgun from the safe and walked back to the car checking it before placing it carefully in the trunk.

Off we go! And the kids yelled yay! immediately asking for their iPads. Our destination this time is a little town on the Caddo Lake called Uncertain. But we were in no hurry to get there as plenty of back wood roads were ahead of us.

Leaving the Dallas city limits always brings a sigh of relief, like escaping some kind of urban restraints. There is a Buccee’s ahead but I turn the car onto highway 80 heading through Terrell and then after a quick driving tour of a few historical neighborhoods we are headed out into the countryside.

“Look a tank!” the kids yelled. Small towns often have war relics as a showpiece for their local VFW’s (Veteran’s of Foreign Wars) which are like a club house for military service men and women to get together and have a drink, socialize or even hold events such as weddings or parties. We pulled into the parking lot and the kids ran toward the tank and a large caliber cannon. “Watch for snakes!” was the usual call out we made but it was cold enough that there were probably none around.

I hobbled over to the edge of a tank putting my hand on the corner to hold myself up. A car wreck and later a fall off an H post on our ranch years ago had left my back in a mess and driving takes its toll if I don’t stop and move around. As I stood there the kids climbed all over the tank turret and I could smell engine grease that must have been in this machine since WW2. Our mini-dachshund bounced over the grass fighting the leash my wife held tightly. An elderly couple emerged from one of the doors in the VFW and waved. I could see USS something written on the old man’s hat with a silhouette of a battleship. He reminded me of my grandfather who fought in the war. His white wavy hair, reading a newspaper. As a child I would sneak up and thump it and he would pretend to get up for a chase. After a brief break we yelled for the kids to get down and dust off as we all piled back in the car and headed on down the road.

My favorite thing to do is put in a destination on Google Maps and then pick all the different routes that will prevent me from merging onto a highway because highways are the enemy when it comes to adventure. You miss so much when you fly down a road at 70 plus mph. The orange, yellow and red leaves become a blur, the smell of the sweet pine needle lost in the soot of the diesel trucks. Give me the backroads, the curve of her body, the gentle sway of her hair. The dips, the hills, the smooth mirror like surface of the lake meeting the sky. Lazy fishing boats, their lines cast toward the setting sun.

It’s getting dark now as we roll into Jefferson, the sun’s rays beam through the magnolia trees and New Orleans styled patios. Porch lights dot the neighborhoods and a train can be heard rumbling on the tracks just outside of town, as we catch glimpses of the red blinking of the sentries through the dirty glass windows of vacant row houses.

For those of you unfamiliar with Jefferson. It is a unique Texas, town sitting in the shadow of Caddo Lake it was once a Texas port for steamboats arriving by way of the Mississippi and Red Rivers. The town is steeped in New Orleans styled architecture. Many goods and services were brought by paddleboat to the town from the coastal city and as with many towns of those times they had stories of hauntings. In fact Jefferson is home to one of the most haunted hotels in America, the towns namesake, The Jefferson Hotel. You can imagine the gas lamps flickering as a ghostly figure stands in the doorway. There is an old train car permanently stationed across the street and we release the kids to stretch their legs as we take a peak at the old hotel and adjacent coach car.

No offense to the paranormal enthusiasts but I have never been much of a believer in the other worldly but I do try to keep an open mind. Nevertheless, the whole town had a kind of creepy vibe at this time of day and there was this almost damp deathly smell as a light mist encroached on the lattice worked streets from the nearby swamps.

It was at this moment that I heard something. It was distant, like a low howl almost just outside of human hearing. I can’t quite explain it but though barely discernable it was not of the norm I would expect from the usual town and surrounding forest noises, but it demanded to be noticed if only subconsciously. “Did you hear that?” I asked my wife “Hear what?” she replied and I as quickly dismissed it to have been just some slight synaptic misunderstanding.

We drove around town for another half hour looking at all the beautiful old homes, brick streets and the docking area where paddleboats once delivered handlebar mustached men and parasol carrying ladies to horse drawn carriages idly standing by while French perfume fragrances purchased in the Big Easy filled the air.

Leaving Jefferson, Polk Street took us through the Big Cypress Bayou. Our surroundings were changing, Spanish moss was hanging from the trees now and I knew our cabin was not much farther away. We decided to take a slight detour and drive through Caddo Lake State Park. We giggled at the sign, Learn How to Survive Like a Sasquatch. And we noted all the wildlife, deer, birds and though we probably would not see any, alligator that live in this eco-system we had arrived to. The road then became darker, swamp waters came right up to the edge on both sides, the lake was up and we had entered a watery world that was quite foreign to us. In fact, we heard that the town was called Uncertain because when the lake floods no one is certain the town is still there.

It is small and looks like something out of a Stephen King novel. There is a short main street with a sundry of cabins anywhere from a mere shack to homes on stilts. There it is! Caddo Lake Cabins, just on the corner of Bois D Arc and Cypress Drive. There were two cabins side by side and ours was the larger with a screened in porch with the back of it to the forest and swamps. A stone throw away was Taylor Island which you would never know it was an island since the road extended to a dead end there. Fishing camps lined the edge and the smell of fish and beer filled the air.

“There’s a golf cart!”, the kids yelled. “Can we drive it!” Not tonight, it’s too dark and we need to get everything inside.

What we didn’t know is how ready we would be to leave…

The cabin was beautiful! It was very clean and had everything we needed. The screened porch overlooking the forest was a favorite for our dog Stella who incessantly sniffed the air. The cabin had a fresh cut wood and coffee smell to it as my wife opened the bag of black coffee grounds left by the owners for us to enjoy during our morning cup of joe. Outside we could hear owls hooting to one another and frogs serenading the cool crisp night as we brought in all our items for the stay. Blankies, stuffed animals, backpacks spilling open onto the bed as our kids claimed their living quarters. We couldn’t believe we had found such a wonderful place for such a reasonable price.

After unloading our gear and goodies we took a quick drive around town. It was eerily quiet, “They roll up the carpet early around these parts”, I said aloud. We could see yellow bulbs glowing behind closed curtains in the small cabins and homes up and down Cypress Drive, the main street of town. We caught glimpses of the moonlight reflecting off the bayou just beyond the cottages at the waters edge. “I hear they filmed parts of Universal Soldier and some swamp monster movie near here”, I said as the occupants of the car peered out the window. A few bumps in the road and we stopped short of a boat ramp leading into the lake. We sat there for a moment, next to us was a covered marina with little Jon Boats bobbing up and down, we could hear a dog barking off in the distance. “Well that’s it for this town”, I said. “Let’s head back and get some rest so we can get an early start tomorrow.” We had plans for the next day to drive into Louisiana and see where Bonnie and Clyde met their end at the hands of Frank Hamer and local law enforcement and to possibly explore a very unusual area that I had found while researching our trip on Google Maps.

My wife and I laid in bed, it was close to 11pm and after talking about the trip and our plans for the next day we began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly the night was split open as an extremely loud air horn blasted. “What the Hell is that!” I jumped up out of bed and ran to the window. It sounded as if a train might drive right through the cabin! Looking out the window I could only see night. There were no headlights, no trains or trucks – nothing. Just the echo of the loud piercing horn fading into the forest. My wife walking back to bed after checking on the kids asked, “What do you think that was all about?” “I don’t know but I didn’t see any train tracks that close to us.” “It was almost like it was to scare something away or sounded as a warning.” The odd thing was no one was coming out of their dwellings to check out the mysterious sound. It was accepted as a normal occurrence it seemed. It set me on edge but I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning we opened the bag of coffee grounds and my wife walked out onto the porch handing me a fresh mug with steam rising from it. I never really liked coffee until I married my wife and now it is so nice when we can just sit and talk between sips of the black stuff. The kids were still asleep and Stella sniffed around the edges of the porch. “Something must have come close last night, she seems really curious”, my wife pointed out. Stella was really picking up on a scent near the screen door. “Maybe she needs a restroom break” as my wife went off to retrieve the harness and leash.

Stella pulled hard at the leash. She is never like this, usually just sniffing and stopping and then sniffing some more before finally answering to the call of nature but this time she strained at the end of the leash. My wife looked back at me as Stella pulled her across the lawn toward the woods behind the cabin. She is onto something. Maybe a deer? She growled but then after a moment retreated back to the cabin managing a tinkle on the way. We didn’t think much of it and knew that being surrounded by nature and forest there was bound to be some curious creatures lurking about.

After breakfast we all jumped in the car and headed out. Fishermen were already making their way into the bayou, wisps of smoke from their engines lazily floating across the water. There was a slight mist to the morning air and everything was damp from the night fog that the sun now began to burn through. The smell of eggs and bacon filled our noses as the town began its slow start to the day. After a bumpy drive through town, we turned onto a smooth black top road heading toward Louisiana. Shortly down the road we arrived to a small town named Karnack, it looked very run down but “This is where Lady Bird Johnson grew up” I exclaimed, no one in the car knew who that was so I explained that she was the First Lady and wife of President Lyndon B. Johnson. She is responsible for the beautification of our Texas Highways and for the seeding of the wildflowers and bluebonnets we see along the roadsides in the Spring. Her husband, LBJ, is responsible for The Grasslands we enjoy having our campfires at, not far from our hometown of Denton.

The air had an acrid smell to it and we could see large gates that led into the vast forested area I had seen on Google Maps. It looked like there had been a large town there once with roads crisscrossing one another in an organized grid with streets called 4th Street, Avenue C, 59th and Starr Ranch Road. Structures could still be seen peeking out behind the forest.

“Hey guys!” that is where we will explore later if we have time on our way back. We were very excited and off we went!

It didn’t seem long before we pulled under the overhang of the Horseshoe Casino. My wife and son walked in just to take a look while my daughter stayed behind with me. From the car I could see the beautiful chandelier that hung over the lobby. Many times, I had walked underneath it with my dad as we arrived for games of Black Jack while sitting on the banks of The Red River in Bossier City. There is some obscure law that I still don’t quite understand, where as long as the casino is on or over the Red River it is allowed to operate. The hotel, restaurants and parking areas can be on land but the games of chance themselves had to be over the rivers muddy red water. This is accomplished by river boat or barge permanently docked and anchored with vast poles that allow the casino to move up or down depending on the rivers height and water flow.

Shreveport was on the West side of the river and Bossier City on the East side. I had to laugh when I saw a Pipes Emporium on “Stoner” Avenue. Though I do not partake in the herbage myself I have been in my share of head shops, they sell the best incense, and the irony was not lost on me by the name of the street. By the way they don’t like it when you ask for a bong, they want you to call it by its legal name, a water pipe. Though they are technically the same thing and no difference to those visiting Pipes Emporium on Stoner for all their smoke shop needs.

Barksdale Air Force Base was to our left now and we could see war planes sitting idly on the tarmac. We headed back into the forested roads of Louisiana. An hour later and a vacant road would find us in front of one of America’s most notorious landmarks. The location where the famous outlaw couple, Bonnie & Clyde, were dispatched. One could almost smell the gun powder as Frank Hamer and his posse laid in wait raining down a wall of bullets onto the unsuspecting duo. An informant had tipped off Frank and his group of law men that they would be travelling on that road and a trap was set. The friend turned snitch pretended to be broken down on the side of the road and as Bonnie and Clyde slowed their car to assist, they were gunned down leaving their car peppered with holes and their limp bodies slumped in the car.

There are several cars claiming to be the famous death wagon. One is at Whiskey Pete’s Hotel and Casino in Primm, Nevada and another, not far from Dallas, owned by a little known body shop in Gunter, Texas. My son and I have seen it and it looks as real as any car shot full of holes would look sans the blood and other gore.

After finishing our visit to the markers that commemorated the death of the outlaws while praising the men who made it happen, we turned back out onto the road. A rusty colored pickup whizzed by startling me as I had grown accustomed to the lack of vehicular traffic in this area of backwoods LA. With the tires throwing some gravel behind us we were back on the blacktop making a circle around to the highway that would take us toward our temporary home back in the town of Uncertain but not before at least one last adventure to end the day with…

We passed through the gates, they weren’t like the gates at the State Parks we were accustomed to visiting. These looked a bit more foreboding. A small building was on our right that I imagine served as a visitor’s center. There was not a soul around. The town of Karnack was just behind us as we drove on down the road. I could hear the tires passing through bits of loose asphalt. The whole place seemed to be a maze of roads separated by tall pine trees. Here and there we could catch a glimpse of concrete structures long fallen out of use. It gave me an uneasy feeling like we were not supposed to be there. But what was eerie was that it was so quiet. I heard few if any birds. No other persons or wildlife was in the park. The streets were named as if it were a bustling downtown metropolis but nothing much was to be seen except for the stately conifers that surrounded us. It reminded me of that scene out of The Shining where the boy is being chased through a labyrinth. Except there was no snow and no deranged lunatic chasing us, at least none that we saw.

Driving on we were amazed at how large this place was, it was more than a Nature Preserve and we would run into road after road that would have barriers or warning signs that the road was off limits. We finally found the Starr Ranch Road that led us to the edge of Rag Island and a lonely boat launch. Here there was another structure, more welcoming. It looked like something that might be used for family gatherings and was screened in to protect guests from the swarms of mosquitoes that I am sure inhabited these areas in the summertime. We jumped out and the kids threw rocks into the water nearby. The Cypress Trees were beautiful, one of my favorite trees. My wife found an internet connection and we looked up the area that we were in. It was the Caddo Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Once home to the Longhorn Army Ammunition Plant. That explains all those little buildings. It was part of an 8,493 acre facility that once produced dynamite, 393,000,000 pounds of it during World War II. It was also a super fund site for all the chemicals that were still present in the soil. “Uh, kids put down those rocks and don’t stir up the dust” I quickly told them. Lead and mercury was still being found in some of the areas and a large compound fence ran along the perimeter of the entire plant. It was sprawling to say the least and with good reason, two in fact. One to help prevent an enemy bombing run from destroying the entire operation and to prevent an errant accident from killing everyone in sight. A rail system helped connect the different parts of the plant delivering the product as it was developed to other areas for assembly. Things like this fascinate me. It is a dark part of history, the entire location was set aside for one purpose and one purpose only, to kill as many people as possible and at that time to kill Nazi Germans. But National Wildlife Refuge makes it sound much more appealing for today’s visitors, just don’t drink the water – or play in the sand or expect to see much wildlife.

It took a while to get back to the main road. The GPS was on the blink because we were pretty remote but after a few wrong turns we made a right and we were headed back out the gates, which made much more sense now.

Everyone’s stomach was beginning to grumble, and it wasn’t long before we arrived back in Uncertain. My wife asked what we should do for dinner and I told her that I had heard of a good fish place that wasn’t too far from the cabin. I could really use a Fried Shrimp Po Boy right now and the kids really wanted some Calamari, if it were available. It was evening and it would be dark soon. A few people were stirring about while we drove back through town but things looked like they were beginning to button up. “Can I go with you Papa David?” my daughter asked. I said sure. My wife and son decided that they would stay behind and get a fire going in the fire ring just outside the cabin. So I left them the axe as my daughter and I jumped in the car.

We arrived at The RiverBend Restaurant which was up on stilts and I slowly climbed the stairs as my daughter ran up the ramp ahead of me. The drive had done a number on my back and I was paying for it now. Holding the door for me I gave my girl a hug and told her to, “stay close”. We ordered take out and it wasn’t long before two bags of great smelling seafood were sitting on the counter for the taking. It was hard not to help ourselves to the appetizers but out of politeness, on my daughters’ part, we managed to get back to the cabin only eating a few fries.

Pulling up into the gravel drive we opened the car doors to the sweet smell of pine wood smoke. The sun was going down quickly behind the swampy forest and rays of light were playfully dancing between the trees. My wife took the food inside for plating as I sat down next to the warm fire. “Did you start this?” I asked my son. “Yes and I cut most of the wood too!” My wife soon came out with all the food and handed each of us a plate. I stuck a hush puppie in one of the small tubs of butter and swirled it around, the pickled tomatoes were next in line for a tasting. Finally finishing the Po Boy and everyone filled on some of the best calamari we have had, either because it was really that good or we were just that hungry.

Filled and happy we sat listening to the fire crackle with pops here and there as the small pockets of resin would catch to the fire. Stella was in my arms and quite content as she had sneaked a few pieces of scraps from the meal.

Then it happened.

Stella’s hair bristled and stood straight up on the back of her neck. She had this low treacherous growl that I had never heard her make before. I quickly held her tight as not to allow her to launch herself into the inky night. She was staring down the road toward Taylor Island. Something was moving slowly off to the left of the road. I could just barely see a dark figure. I thought it might be a fisherman or someone who had a few drinks but the left of the road was swamp, so it didn’t make much sense why someone would be walking through the muck. I could barely make out the silhouette but could see it was larger than your normal average man. It was gone in an instant, disappearing into the darkness.

“Shhhhh…” “Listen” my wife quietly spoke.

Not less that 50 feet from us was the edge of the woods. The closest trees illuminated by the orange flames of our fire. I could hear it. “What is it?”, my wife asked in a voice so quiet I could barely hear her question. We both knew this was not a typical woodland creature or bunny rabbit. It sounded huge! And this was not a forest that one could easily navigate. It was filled with briars, an old barbed wire fence, swamps and decaying logs laying all around ready to trip the ill prepared.

“It’s, its… yes. It’s definitely on two feet” my wife said. We both tried to imagine the size and dimensions of this unwelcome visitor that was coming way to close for our comfort. “Are you sure?” Could it be a deer, I quietly mouthed as both our children, our dog and each of us squinting our eyes as if that could give us super human vision. My son was mid swing with the axe frozen in his stance. “Put the axe down behind the tree” I told him. I didn’t want a mishap. He laid it down out of the way and moved over toward his sister and momma. It had stopped for a moment but now to my horror it was closer, we could hear it walking through a small creek not that far off into the woods. It stopped just short of walking into our field of vision. We sat there for what felt like an eternity not quite certain what to do.

That’s no deer my wife whisperered…

“Lock the door” I quietly shouted as I raised the butt of the gun up to my shoulder. I positioned myself just beyond the fire leaning up against the back of a tree. “Who’s out there?”, I shouted. “Who are you and what do you want?” I spoke as the frost of my breath spilled out onto the night.

Silence… we stood there for maybe 10 or 15 minutes. I listened straining to hear anything, breathing, footsteps, a voice, even a heart beating but the only one I could hear was mine.

Oh my God. It sounded like a thousand trumpeters accompanied by a chorus of a thousand more angry elephants. But it wasn’t coming from in front of me. It was coming from beyond where our dog Stella had first been ready to attack. A twig snapped and then the large beast ran through the woods at a speed so fast it was inhuman, I am not saying that it seemed inhuman – I am telling you it was not human. And it was not like anything else I had ever heard. Running full sprint it ran toward the sound, splashing through the swamp. PEOPLE CANNOT POSSIBLY RUN THIS WAY! I thought to myself. I followed it with my gun, my finger feathering the trigger. I hurt, I hurt all over. The blood was ripping through my veins at lightning speed. I knew whatever this thing was if it were to get to me it was big enough to rip me to pieces and the only thing between me and it was a shotgun slug and my poor aim.

But then it was gone. I could hear it splashing off through the swamps until it was no more.

I threw open the door, my eyes wide, letting out a few expletives that I had to explain to our children not to repeat.

“Did you see it, did you SEE it!!!” my wife exclaimed. “No but I heard it” we all did. And then came the realization.

“Honey – there is only one way out for those things”, I said. “The direction they headed - it’s a dead end.”

A bead of sweat began to slide down the ice-cold beer glass I had sitting in front of me. My friend by the same name placed it there enticing me to continue with my story. David was an old friend I had recently reconnected with. We met when I first started riding motorcycles years back. He has a quick smile with a thin but muscular frame and the kind of rugged weathered look of a man who had done real work and become wise during hard times. I would often drop by his house and watch him tinker with different motorcycle parts on his work bench in the evenings.

David now leaned back in his chair, one hand casually on the arm of a steel wire patio chair while taking a sip of beer with the other. He and I both had given up sport bikes but found we shared an enjoyment in kayaking. He was an avid fisherman and a relatively new but informed convert to the world of cryptozoology due to more than one experience that he had in the North Texas area. One of the events not far from where we sat now.

“So then what happened?” David said with a spark of interest in his eye…

Well we wanted to leave, I will tell you that! My wife said load the car but I said “Hell no! I’m not going back out there with those things running about.” I believe I had a convincing argument that we were better inside with a gun than running back and forth to the car in the dark. But I still wasn’t sure what it was. I was still in the mindset that it might be a common animal to the area, possibly a black bear? I had heard that there had been a bear sighting north of the area but much farther north than would allow for the excuse of a chance encounter. I grabbed my phone, connected to the WiFi and started searching Google for bear sightings in the area. As I scrolled through the listings the word Sasquatch caught my eye. I found nothing that convinced me that there were bears near us but finding an article of two young ladies sighting a beast run in front of their car headlights caused me to let out an audible gasp. “What, what did you find?” my wife asked. I looked at the location of the sighting and then pulled up Google Maps. “Oh Holy Hell!” I blurted out. My wife was becoming a little annoyed now. “What did you find!” – There have been apparently Big Foot sightings less than a quarter mile from our cabin, several of them. Also, whatever it was seemed to have an intelligence that a bear doesn’t exhibit to my knowledge. We both would normally laugh at anyone mentioning Big Foot encounters, waiving it off as a few beers too many or a highly imaginative mind. But it was looking more and more like we had just joined the Yeti Club ourselves. But why were they behind our cabin we wondered. There had to be a reason they were venturing so close.

I pulled up Google Maps. I am not a hunter myself, but I understand success is greater when one knows where the animal is coming from and where it is going and finding the trail it travels. I would think even Big Foot would move with a purpose and be a creature of habit. Just up the road, between our cabin and the location where the young women had their sighting, was a trail that ended at the asphalt. Tracing it back it went deep into an old growth forest. I can understand why Sasquatch would want to avoid walking down the side of a road but why would they be cutting behind our cabin?

Just then, we could see some lights from a car moving slowly down the road. It pulled off to the side, and as if it sighted something, sped off and left town! “Well that’s not good.” I said aloud. “They are making their way through the woods back to the trail” I guessed. Looking at Taylor Island it suddenly became clear to me. “Honey, I got it!” “They were going out for dinner” Look here… There were a row of cabins dotting the shore along the bayou, all of them fishing cabins. And what do fisherman do at the end of the day? Clean the fish and throw the scraps in the garbage. Our furry friends were cutting behind our cabins hoping to quietly make their way to their meals, undetected through the woods and swamp. The smell of our fish dinner earlier may have given one of them pause to investigate. The other calling out when their dinner date fell behind. “I wonder if there is a dating app for Yeti’s”, we laughed.

But it was still a reach. I am a skeptic and a person of science. I must see it to believe it and so far, I really had not seen anything. I had a hypothesis but no hard evidence, as is the case with many of these encounters.

David was now leaning in closer. A slightly buzzed college girl bumped our table as she and her friends passed by. The beers sloshed and she put her hand on David apologizing “I am soooo sorry”. We smiled, we were two older guys hanging out at a college bar, mainly because the beer was cheap but David had become a favorite of the establishment. The bartenders knew his drink, girls and guys would walk over and say hello and introduce their friends saying, “This is David” as if he was the Godfather of Fry Street. I was amongst royalty, I laughed. But he does have this charm about him that makes you feel, important and it seemed we had much in common besides just our name.

That night would be our last night in Uncertain, my wife and I laid with one eye open. The kids were tucked away and sleeping soundly but I kept the gun close and double checked all the window and door locks, as if a Yeti is going to bother with a doorknob or window latch. The names are interchangeable, Sasquatch, Yeti, Big Foot, Big Fluffy Fur Ball. One in the same to me. I would call it a friend if it shared its beer. But it appeared that they really didn’t want anything more to do with us than we did with them. They moved quietly through the forest, even in the moonlight they were still too camouflaged to be seen. Anything moving through those woods would have to have thick fur or hair and as it was, we could only see a few feet into the abyss. Miles and miles of forest and swamp only interrupted by an occasional thin dark ribbon of road. I wanted to see them, I wanted to know if they were real but did I really? It would possibly drive me mad.

Looking at David he asked, “So do you believe?” “Well”, I said “I am still a little skeptical but I am more of a believer now than I was before” He looked at me excitedly as if he wanted to tell me something that had been on his chest. “I don’t tell too many people this anymore but…” David leaned back in his chair, took a drink of his beer and his expression changed to one of seriousness as he said, “I had an experience myself not far from here, where Clear Creek meets the Trinity River on the edge of town”

David and I met years ago when I first started riding sport bikes. I had started on a small Ninja 250 and on my first evening in the parking lot of Mack Park Apartments had thrown the bike in the air by popping the clutch too soon. I held on for dear life and rode that bike like it was a bucking bronco. It was three days before I worked up enough courage to get back on it. Then one evening I managed to drive it to Fry Street. I pulled up in front of a local bar and grill called Cool Beans. David was there and asked me how I liked the bike, possibly sensing that I was still a greenhorn and having chicken strips on my tires, a sport bike term meaning that I had not leaned enough into turns to scuff the sides. Some seasoned riders would not even ride with you if you had chicken strips because you were likely to panic and cause an accident. But David is one of the coolest, most laid-back guys I know and always willing to help someone out.

After a burger and finishing off his drink David said, “Come on – Let’s go, I am going to teach you a few things” We jumped on our bikes and I followed him to a parking lot on the north edge of town called Stonehill Center. I followed him around the parking lot and imitated his moves. Cutting too sharp would cause me almost to fall and I soon learned by giving it a little more gas and leaning into the turn I had much more control of the bike. David slowed his bike and I pulled up beside him, his bike sounded like a beast and he now yelled over it saying, “I think you are ready for something a little more fun!” I followed him out of the parking lot and turned to the right. We then launched into what he called the twisties. The sharp turns that go up and over and then down and around the 288 overpass at I35. He would be two twisties ahead of me and have to slow his ride for me to catch up but I was getting the hang of it. I learned the art of counter steering and leaning low while giving the bike more gas so that it would do all the work while navigating the turns with more speed.

David now leaned toward me, the beer nearly knocking over as he grabbed it with an almost unnatural speed. “Listen, people don’t take me that seriously when I tell them about my encounter, but you seem to understand better than most” David said, now with a slightly wilder look in his eyes. He went on to tell me his story. He had been scoping out a fishing spot not far from the Clear Creek Natural Heritage Center just outside of Denton. It had rained the night before, a light cloud of fog still hung over the valley as he trudged through the mud with his fishing gear in tow. Then he noticed something strange, footprints. These were larger than your average human footprint and did not have the defining indention of the arch. They were more blocked and wider, almost padded looking. Like my experience, seeing a Sasquatch was really not on his mind as he walked along with the tracks. What was curious was why would anyone be barefoot this far out in a creek that might have an errant piece of glass or sharp stone. The tracks looked fresh and then suddenly veered off to the left up an embankment and into the woods. Standing there wondering how anyone would want to venture into a remote area and barefoot off a path was beyond him. Then he realized he was not alone. A noise in the distance caught his attention. He heard a thud, then another, then a loud crack as if a large branch had been snapped in half. Whatever was in the woods with him was now striking the side of a tree with the branch obviously trying to scare him off. I asked him, “How close were you to the Trinity?” “Not far at all” he replied. “What did you do?” I excitedly said. I could see he was still somewhat shaken just discussing the event. “Well, honestly, I was terrified being alone in the woods with something that could snap large branches, I left as fast as I could!” he said nervously.

As with many encounters, it happens quickly and is an assault on the senses as you become very aware that you may be in danger. Your sight, hearing, reasoning all seems heightened but so is your fear, as adrenaline courses through your body. Psychologists call this a fight or flight response as your brain tries to figure out whether you are in immediate danger and should fight off your attacker or whether you can escape your assailant and run to safety. Police Officers know this as “adrenaline dump” that they try to fight off so that it does not impair their judgement leading to success or tragedy when dealing with dangerous situations. In this case, David made the right decision by leaving the area but, much like my own event, he had an overwhelming curiosity. We would return to look for more footprints after a rain but finding nothing but baby wild pig hoof prints, we decided the mother hog was more a threat than any Yeti. Funny how he picked me, a slow, broken backed friend over others. Maybe it is true – you don’t have to run fast just faster than the slowest guy.

I would later read about a possible sighting called the pecan creek monster that was spotted by some kids in Denton near a wooded area. It upset the town so much that they launched a search team that found nothing. There have been other events along the greenbelt near Denton where kayakers hauling their kayaks around a raft of river logs would stumble across large tracks, much like what David had described. But no story was more convincing than the one I would hear from a water treatment worker while researching Clear Creek for kayaking. And his story helps put together some of the pieces as why these things are so often encountered near bodies of water and their clever methods for obtaining a free meal.

I poured over the maps following the long slivers of silver that were the creeks and water ways of Denton County. The two kayaks hanging in our garage longed to be sitting in water. I also love taking our kids creek walking. But before touching the water I want to know where it comes from. In some cases, we have found beautiful streams of clear water to be outflows from local sewage plants. It is treated but who wants to swim, wade or kayak in that! Clear Creek is no exception.

The headwaters of Clear Creek start in Montague County not far from St, Jo Texas once called Head of Elm. There is a lot of history here. Not far away Outlaw Nancy Hill was hung on Denton Creek. Belle Starr, Sam Bass, Jesse James and The Younger Gang all roamed these hills and a town of frontier men and women were scalped alive and killed by Indians where remnants of the ghost town still stand to this day. The Chisholm and Butterfield Stagecoach Trails also crisscross in the fields now occupied by barbed wire and grazing cattle.

Now I looked for all the water crossings, bridges, natural outcroppings. I squinted to see strainers where trees had fallen across the creek becoming a hazard to the lone kayaker. Much like the author of a favorite book of mine, Goodbye to a River, I wanted to know the history of the land my river would take me through. The souls that had walked here before me that had caressed her hills and valleys and lived off her fertile soil.

In my quest to know more I spoke with Fish and Game Wardens and eventually a man who oversaw the a nearby Waste Water Treatment Plant. I had been told that there were a couple of instances where sewage had flowed into Clear Creek but that millions of dollars had been spent updating the facilities. I asked him if he was concerned at all about the water quality. He told me that he lived on Clear Creek and he fishes the creek all the time, in fact he has trotlines that he tends, and his family frequently eats the fish they catch. It was convincing but finding where the inflow was at Ranger Branch, a creek that dumped into Clear Creek, I decided that anything farther up was safe as safe can be and this is where I would find the most enjoyment in water activities free from pee water.

We were just about to hang up when I asked him, “Doesn’t Clear Creek run into the Trinity?” He replied, “Yes it does, it runs through the Nature Center and connects just on the other side, we used to fish there”. With this I could not help but to gleefully ask him, “So, have you ever experienced anything unusual there?” This question was met with a long pause from an otherwise vocal man. “What exactly do you mean by unusual?” he finally replied.

The tone of the conversation changed as he told me that he hadn’t made a lot of talk about it in a long time. “We fished that area a lot when we were younger and before the greenbelt trail was cut through for joggers and cyclists.” He went on to explain how he and two other friends had gone as far as they could by pickup bouncing over fields and through washes to where they would disembark grabbing fishing poles and a cooler to hopefully keep the catch of the night. Still rubbing their eyes from the dust, they set off toward their destination. It was there a whirlpool would form during spring floods that would carve out a large hole where many fish would congregate. This is the place my friend David had been in search of when he had his encounter.

“It was late, maybe two in the morning, maybe three…” His voice becoming more ominous. “We had a pretty good haul and were just about to call it a night when suddenly we heard a crashing noise coming through the woods on the other side of the river.” he said as I held the receiver closer to my ear and adjusted the volume to high. “It was loud and it sounded big but it wasn’t a deer or a pig, it sounded taller, like it was running full sprint -- on two feet” I was almost incredulous at how similar his description was to my families own encounter and the one that my friend David had described. “It was running straight towards us but then suddenly, as if it knew we were there, veered off to the right and went upriver.”

“What did you do?”, I excitedly asked.

“We sat there, we didn’t even talk to each other we were so quiet listening for it” “It was scary but at least it was on the other side of the river” his voice said through some slight static on the phone. “Then we heard a splash and to our terror it swam across the river and that is when we knew we were really up shit creek!” (pun intended; cause well you know)

“We were terrified, whatever it was, it made it’s way down toward us through the woods and then just stopped.” He paused for a moment as if the memory of the event was almost too much for him. Me, on the other hand, I was on pins and needles. “What then?” I asked. “It was watching us, we couldn’t see it but we knew it was just standing there in the woods and it was larger than any of us – we got the Hell out of there, we even left the cooler behind full of fish.” “Whatever that SOB thing was got a belly full that night on our dime, that’s for sure!”

“People think I am crazy when I tell this story, so I just stopped telling it” His voice, a traitor, as it gave up his shaken nerves. “They are smart, and they are out there… you just won’t see them.”

About once every week or two after the kids go to sleep and my wife settles on the couch to watch a favorite show I go for a drive. It’s 30 minutes to the bend in the road that brings me closest to where our furry friend might be. I sit quietly listening, the familiar click click click as I load my .45 Single Action Colt, setting it beside me just in case a possible encounter becomes more than a fishing trip. Greeted by fireflies and the usual chilled mist the river bottoms bring, I drive slowly to the dead end where I always wonder whose land it might be. Then on back to home… I want to believe because it is so intriguing but other than a few hogs moving close to the road to give me a quick doubletake I am left with more questions than answers. But then, as it happens with everything you search for, I saw something I can’t take back. A glimpse but it was just enough.

I was still interested in finding a location for an easy put-in for kayaking the upper Clear Creek. Pouring over online maps I realized just how few places there are to access and enjoy our waterways. Most of the creeks and rivers pass through private land. Many may be navigable legally but getting to them without trespassing is another thing. One must then find and visit the few bridges that may pass over the waterway and a lot are difficult to get a kayak to, either because they are high cliffs or covered in poison ivy, trees, thickets and briar or the access is blocked by barbed wire or no trespassing signs that are debatable since it is a roadway easement.

I found several bridges I wanted to check out and I asked my son if he wanted to go. He had been on his technology and a drive with his dad would be a good break from the screen time that had consumed all his Saturday morning. So, we jumped in the car and I punched in the coordinates on the digital map.

I had not driven these backroads before and was glad to find a new place to explore. Texas is amazing for the change of scenery that can be found with just a few turns and twists in the road. Coming over a hill we looked out over the vast rolling plains of North Texas. A slight haze was settled over the prairies and I could see for miles and miles. Traveling the one lane roads were my favorite way to get away from the hustle and bustle of town. Except for an old dusty pickup squeaking by us, we seemed to be the only ones in the area. We arrived at the first bridge and we peered over the edges looking down on the pristine waters of Clear Creek. Being native to Texas, I have become accustomed to muddy creek waters and lakes, a mystery to what laid beneath. But this creek in many areas had a white sandy bottom that helped filter the water as it ran through its valleys. Little wavy sand dune looking structures could be seen just beneath the shimmering waters and fish darted here and there somehow aware of our presence, looking for a place to hide. I was excited to see a USGS water flow measuring device, which meant I could look it up online to find the best time to kayak based on the current flow rate. But I was disheartened to see a raft of debris on either side of a steep slope which would make it difficult to traverse with a kayak. It could be done but I was looking to find that one sweet spot to easily slide my kayak in across the sands and a safe place off road to park.

After throwing a few rocks and a few yells to check for an echo, my son and I loaded back into the car driving off the blacktop onto the gravel road. Around a corner we saw an old abandoned frontier looking home that must have been there for over one hundred years. Very little was back in this area but the gravel road looked to be used by a few ranchers tending to their cattle. We were looking for the end of the road where we thought there might be access to a bend in the creek. On the map we could see the road narrow and looking overgrown but ending at the waters edge. With the gravel clicking beneath our tires and the sound of cicadas all around we could smell the creek and the vegetation in the valley. Fresh cut grass filled the air and the sound of a lawn mower could be heard just ahead. We rolled to a stop at a gate with a big red sign that said No Trespassing. To the right of us was a log home and an older man who now cut the gas to his mower as he walked our way. He had a curious look in his eye and his skin had a leathered appearance from all the sun that he had seen while bailing hay in the fields above. “What ya’ll looking for?”, he said as he spat on the ground. “Well we are just taking a country drive and trying to find an easy way to Clear Creek”, I said with a kind of questioning nod towards the gate ahead. He spat again and said that was once a way to Clear Creek but the bridge washed out many years ago and the land was now owned and private. I told him I understood but before I could say anything else, he started coming closer to the car. I could see the butt of a gun sticking out of his pocket and as I smiled I slowly and quietly placed my hand on the 10mm Springfield that was tucked away just inside my door, but my son was between us and it was not an ideal situation for a shootout if things went raw.

He put his hand on the top of the car and squatted down a little looking at me with a squint in his eye. “We don’t get many people this far back” “In fact I haven’t seen a stranger in quite a while” he said as I now imagined this was going to end somewhere between The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Deliverance. “Well God finds angels amongst the forgotten” I replied, which caught him off guard a bit. He stood up and smiled as he turned back toward his mower. Waving us off as he walked, he said something peculiar “Ya’ll be careful on that creek” and then he pulled the cord and the mower turned over on the first try. I was impressed with his stature for a man his age, obviously hard work had left him in better shape than most who retire in those golden years.

We turned the car around and went on back down the road that we came. The frontier home made sense, as it stood on land that had probably been in the old man’s family for years, possibly at or before the formation of Texas. We were now back on the black top when I noticed a small trail that I had not seen on our first passing. Just before the bridge I could see where the grass had been laid down. It was getting close to dark and the suns cap was just now resting at the edge of the fields. The cicadas had quieted, and I thought I would take one more look before we headed back home. “Stay in the car, I won’t be but just a minute” I told my son as I stepped out.

Walking up to the concrete railing I put my hand on the dusty side. The fish had not seen me this time and I could just barely make out their outlines in the water. But something felt different. There was a slight smell beyond the usual humid vegetation and earthy aromas. It didn’t quite stink but it was rather unpleasant. Suddenly the wind picked up just as it does before a front comes through. The dust from the bridge was swept into my left eye and I yelled back at my son to roll up the car windows as I poured some water from my water bottle to nurse it. Before he could get his window up we could hear a noise in the woods. It sounded like something cracking. I was thinking possibly a tree limb was about to come down from the sudden high winds. But as I wiped the water from my eyes, I could see the smaller trees that grow along the banks parting. “Papa David, what was that?” my son yelled. “Nothing son, don’t get out of the car --- stay in the car!” I looked further down the bank and could see something moving quickly through the bushes and trees, throwing them aside. It was dark now, but I thought I could see patches of brown hair but then it stopped and quickly turned. I saw an eye, just the eye through a mass of vegetation and shadows. It looked at me and for that moment, I understood. This was a creature with intelligence. It stood there and then as quickly turned away melting into the forest and then the all too familiar splashing of a creature with two feet running. The memory of our encounter at Uncertain came back to me but this time I was more curious than scared. But my son was with me and I could not take any risks. Driving slowly by the fresh trail I felt more like I had interrupted someone’s fishing rather than having an actual encounter with a terrifying beast, in fact, maybe the beast that was so terrifying was actual me.

I heard the phone vibrate on the nightstand, I grabbed it and thumbed in the pass code after the facial recognition failed, probably because it wasn’t used to my face without a beard.

It was my friend David; I had texted him and asked him how his trip to Colorado had been. He was now in town drinking with some local cowboys and I could just imagine his easy laugh as he listened to their stories and shared a few of his own. The subject would come around to fishing, which is one of the great American pass times, especially in the mountain towns. Jokingly, I wrote him “Any squatches?” and now I stared at the screen as the text popped up “Got surrounded…”

David had gone to Colorado in search of the Golden Trout but had lucked out on the six lakes he had visited. However, one of the lakes was quite remote. He had driven off-road as far as his 4x4 could take him and parked it. Then throwing his gear on his back and securing his Sig he headed out on foot toward a destination with no trail. Hiking several miles through the forest he could see through the trees, the waters of Golden Lake. After setting his gear down where he would spend the night, he decided to wet a hook as he cast his line. To David fishing is not just an excuse for a beer and a bobber but an art form. He is a true fisherman, a hunter, willing to go further to find his prey. There is something primordial about catching and eating a fish. It is what sustained the earliest humans and allowed us to travel over large distances by creeks and rivers that are the veins of this great land. A good fishing spot is coveted by the fisherman and is often a carefully guarded secret to maintain one’s connection of self with nature, absent of interruption.

Now, as David explained, in digital format, he had just gotten back to camp and started a fire when he heard a knock in the woods, the same as before during his encounter on Clear Creek. He listened, everything in the forest that far out is crisp and clear. There is no other noise pollution such as highway sounds and the constant buzz of city life. It is just you, the wind and whatever that stirs in the darkness.

He sat there crouching; his ear cocked to one side as he stoked the fire prepping for an evening’s meal. And then another one! Closer this time but too the East of camp, where the other one had been across the lake to the North. This was not just a coincidental limb falling, it was intentional. He sat motionless, alone and miles from any civilization. I asked him what he did then? He wrote back, “I was terrified!” “There was no trail to this lake, I should have known better”, he admitted. I asked him if there was any way it could have been a bear, but he said that there was a third knock to the West of camp and it appeared that they were either communicating or trying to scare him. He decided that there was nothing he could do and was resolved to make dinner, build the fire higher and keep his Sig close but out of sight. His lacking in aggressive posturing is what he believes may have saved him. “So will you go back?” I asked him. “Not alone” I took this as a possible invitation to a Sasquatch hunt to be considered for later.

Now, I sit in my car with the windows down, a thud from a small branch landing on the roof of my SUV startles me as I listen to the night sound of distant howls trumpeting. If you ask me if I believe in Sasquatch I will flash you a slight smile and tell you that I am Uncertain. But what I am certain of, is that at the end of this road that I am parked, sits one of the scariest abandoned houses I have ever seen. And that might be the making of a story for another time… [The End]

Uncertain Video: https://youtu.be/Toi4b6zzbkA

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bangtanoneshotsx · 6 years ago

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I’d Steal The Moon For You-?

“Why do I have to do this again?” You complained as you moved a dusty cardboard box to the back of the attic, looking back at your mom who was flipping through a photo album, a duster under her arm. “Because half of this stuff is yours. I stopped being responsible for your mess when you moved out.” She spoke calmly, turning over another page in the book. Sighing, you rolled your eyes as you opened another cardboard box, frowning as you saw items you knew didn’t belong to you. An aged leather bound book sat upon victorian styled clothing, a gold chain peeked out of the pages of the book. Carefully you took it off the pile, blowing the dust off of the front cover. Silver was used as a border, a massive contrast to the black background. “What’s this?” You asked, turning to face your mom who looked up, putting her book down so she could take the one from you. Her face lighting up in recognition. “I wondered where this had gone.” She muttered before making a makeshift seat from a cardboard box. Patting the box beside her she waited until you sat down. “This has been in your family for over a hundred years. It was your great great grandfather’s diary.” She sighed as she gave a small smile. “Your grandad was fascinated by it. He kept it by his bedside table. I haven’t read it myself but apparently a lot of secrets are kept in between these pages.” Your mom stopped as she turned the page, coming across a locket placed between two blank pages. Eyebrows furrowed, your mom ran a finger over the heart shaped locket, stones in the shape of a crescent with a single star decorated the front. “Here.” She spoke, handing the necklace to you. “You should wear it, your grandad would have wanted to see you with it.” Slowly, you took the necklace, studying the blue stones imbedded in the cold metal, letting the chain dangle loosely from your hand. “Are you sure?” You asked softly, looking up back at your mom. Nodding she took the necklace again, bringing it around your neck and clasping it. “He’d want you to have it. Anyway maybe it’ll bring you luck, grandad always thought that.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You sighed as you dusted the many glass cases protecting the jewelry exhibit. The worst job had been assigned to the newest employee, you. So while your elders had wished you goodnight, happily discussing with each other how they’d spend their evening you were stuck here, alone with the occasional security guard making their rounds. The deafening silence in the museum was interrupted by a loud siren, the alarm indicating a painting had been moved. Instantly, your head shot up, looking towards the entrance. What happened? Did someone break in? “I thought Yoongi disabled all security.” A voice spoke, before slowly coming into view. Two men dressed in black came from the room to the left of the entrance. Letting out a small gasp, you dropped your cloth, running after them. They could be security, for some reason they had tightened security over the past couple of days. However, you knew they weren’t new guards when you noticed one of them was holding a painting. “Stop!” You shouted, making the two men halt, turning on their heels, their faces pale. The alarm lights were now on, making it too bright to see their faces, though their hair colours stood out. “Shit. I didn’t know someone was still here.” The pink haired one spoke, looking towards the tallest, looking for some direction. The taller didn’t say anything, instead his eyes were fixed on the gold locket dangling from your neck. “Where did you get that...” He started to speak before pausing, his finger to his ear. Sirens came closer to the museum, the blue and red lights lighting up the room you were in. The police attention and the urgency of the footsteps from the security guards made you realise who exactly you were dealing with. Bangtan was the most infamous group of thieves in the country and you were standing in front of two of them. “Shit.” He muttered, turning to his friend. “We need to go.” Quickly, they turned, making a run for it and escaping from your point of view. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I can’t believe that happened to you.” Your best friend spoke, taking a sip of her wine. You sighed, resting your head on your hand. “I just want to forget last night.” You spoke as you moved your noodles around your bowl, losing your appetite. Your best friend watched as worry overcame your face. She could tell you hadn’t slept well last night, you had slight bags under your eyes, although you tried to cover them with concealer, and the yawn every two minutes didn’t help in keeping your secret. “You will tell me if you remember anything about them?” Your best friend asked, finally putting her notepad away. You gave a small smile, nodding as you reassured her. She was a journalist, and currently she was writing about the robbery last night and it’s culprits. Although ecstatic when she first heard of your involvement she was instantly disheartened when you told her you didn’t see anything, let alone know what they looked like. “What do you mean you’re out!” You heard a voice shout. Looking up towards the bar you watched as a dark purple haired man, a scowl on his face argue with the man behind the bar. He had headphones around his neck, an iPad in one hand. The man behind the bar sighed, he must be used to other man’s brash behavior. “Yoongi I just gave my last order away. You’ll have to have something else.” “I don’t want something else. I want my pork noodles!” His raised voice had gained the attention of the other customers at the bar, silencing the room. “Come on Yoongi, you’re making a scene. I’m sure whatever Jin makes will be good.” A man spoke, walking up beside Yoongi, placing a hand on his back, trying to calm him down. Yoongi scoffed, shrugging off the other man’s hand, muttering, “Go away Hoseok.” The man who seemed to be Hoseok only rolled his eyes, stepping aside so Yoongi could storm past him. As Yoongi passed your table his eyes caught yours, stopping briefly. Guiltily, you looked down at your bowl, looking back to him as he gave a light scoff, his eyes flickering to your necklace. A sudden flash of emotion you couldn’t decipher appeared in his eyes before he stormed away, making you shrug at your best friend, muttering that you didn’t know him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You gave a wave as your best friend drove from view before climbing up the stairs to your apartment. Just before you entered your key, you looked down, noticing a white envelope on the welcome mat. Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly picked it up. Opening it, you pulled out a black business card with two silver rectangles making a logo. Turning the small card over, you realised their was nothing else. Shaking your head slightly, you went back to opening the door, trying to ignore the feeling that you were being watched. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I told you I can do this myself. You’re too clumsy for this.” A voice hissed, disturbing you from your sleep. “And I told you, I’m not letting the youngest go in by himself. Also remember I went in yesterday to collect that painting.” “Yeah, and remember how that went. She saw you, why do you think we’re here?” “We’re here for the necklace and her. This is why you need me.” Silence quickly followed before a hand covered your mouth. Instantly, you reacted, your body stiffening and heavy breaths left you. “If you’re quiet we won’t hurt you.” A calm voice spoke in your ear. Slowly, he removed his hand, still on guard in case you made a run for it. “Who are you guys?” You asked, sitting up in your bed before turning on your bedside lamp. As your eyes adjusted to the sudden light you realised you recognised the intruders. The men from the museum. “We’re Bangtan. We left a note for you.” The youngest spoke in an excited tone. So that’s who left the mysterious card. But what did they want with you and why did they have to sneak in your bedroom at night for it? “Saying your name doesn’t explain why you’re in my bedroom.” You spoke, finding some confidence. “Ah right.” The taller said, his hand moving out to hold your locket. “We’re here for this.” In one swift movement, he yanked the chain forward, breaking it and ripping it from around your neck. “My necklace!” You exclaimed, your hands clutching at the now bare base of your neck. “Give that back!” “If you want your necklace back you’ll have to come with us.” He spoke while studying the locket, admiring the blue stones. As you opened your mouth to speak you noticed out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook peeled his jacket back, revealing a gun at his hip. Gulping, you gave a short nod, knowing your fate if you refused. “Okay.” The taller grinned, placing the necklace in his pocket. “Good girl.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You had found yourself back in the bar from earlier, sat at a table with seven men, five of which you recognised. The rude blonde haired guy and his friend was here, as well as the owner of the bar. “So you’re saying the necklace holds some secret to finding an invention that my great great grandad created?” The leader who you now knew as Namjoon nodded. “And you really didn’t know about this? That’s pretty cold for his family member.” Yoongi spoke, his eyebrow raised. You gave a small smile as you noticed he had a bowl of pork noodles in front of him. “I only found the necklace a couple of days ago.” Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes. Hoseok sighed, patting his friend on the back, a grin on his face. “Please ignore him. He may seem cold, but he’s really a sweetheart underneath, aren’t you?” Yoongi’s cheeks turned red as he scowled, crossing his arms as he softly muttered a ‘shut up’ trying to ignore Hoseok’s laughter. “So why do you need me? I can let you borrow the necklace.” Jin shook his head before explaining. “You know our names and what we look like, we can’t let you get away that easily. We also don’t know when you’ll come in handy.” Jungkook could see the doubt on your face. The youngest solved this the only way he knew how, by placing a gun on the table, reminding you how serious this was. ��Jungkook! She doesn’t need that! Let her make her own decision.” Taehyung spoke up for the first time, giving you a kind smile as you nodded in thanks when Jungkook put the gun back in it’s place. “Fine.” You sighed. “I’ll help you.” “Great.” Jin exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Now, who’s going to be Y/N’s babysitter?” “Babysitter?” “We need someone to protect you, we can’t afford to lose you. I’ll let you decide that, you will be spending every day with them.” Jin finished his sentence with a gentle smile, trying to act like what he said was normal. Never in your life did you expect to end up in this situation. You shrunk under the gaze of the seven men that were waiting for your answer to the question their leader had just asked. You looked around the table at the seven men, the quiet hacker, the confident leader, the energetic younger, the two teasing close friends, the kind comedian and lastly the eldest who seemed to keep them in check. The leader cleared his throat, making you turn to face him. Tilting his head, he licked his lips before giving a small smirk. “So Y/N. Who do you choose?”

Who should Y/N choose?

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offintoorbit-blog · 5 years ago

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Crack Out: Vegas

Overview:

An over stressed Jungeun requests for a vacation in hopes of some time alone with her girlfriend Jinsol but ends up with her source of stress coming along with her. Thanks to the youngest of Loona's thoughtful suggestion of Nevada being their destination, Jungeun is now to challenge herself to keep her cool.

Authors' notes:

Please support Crack Out, we're working hard !

-Lau (@OffIntoOrbit on all platforms)

Here’s the first chapter to a short story abt loonas adventures in vegas, hope u enjoy and continue reading!

-Marie (@Ochaowo on birdy app)

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Chapter 1: Baby Park

Part 1/2

“HYEJU COME GET YOUR FUCKING SOCKS OFF THE FLOOR BEFORE I THROW THEM AWAY, YEOJIN GET OFF THE FRIDGE FOR GODS SAKE, YERIM STOP CHASING HEEJIN WITH YOUR ROACHES!” Junguen screams at the top of her lungs as she sees her chaotic bandmates up to their usual antics.

As the chaos around her continues, Junguen takes a seat on the couch and puts her hands up to her head and sighs deeply.

“Hey baby, what's wrong” Jinsol, Junguen’s girlfriend of three years, asks as she exits the bathroom drying her newly dyed black hair.

“This” Junguen gestures violently at the ongoing anarchy of the dorm.

“Ahh it’s okay I got this, go rest up before practice.” Jinsol says as she motions her overstressed girlfriend towards a room in which four bunk beds are aligned neatly.

“Are you sure? Last time I trusted you alone with them they had you tied down to a chair, forcing you to watch Twilight” Junguen recalls the day she walked into the dorm after a quick convenience store trip to fetch some eggs after Yeojin and Yerim had used them all up to egg Haseul’s tinder date’s car as he waited for Haseul to come down. Fortunately for them, as they like to say, saved Haseul from heterosexual activity.

“I’ll have you know they let me choose between Twilight or Tall Girl, I think I made a bold choice. Now if you can, get some shut-eye, I can get everything under control.” Jinsol reassures her, sending her girlfriend into the clean bedroom (thanks to Vivi who cleaned before going to her part-time job) with a kiss on the top of her head and wooshed her away.

After the door shut behind Jungeun, Jinsol turned to look at the girls with her hands on her hips and a towel wrapped around her damp hair. She dusted off her lemon print shorts and cleared her throat.

“Okay feral chihuahuas, I want you to listen and listen closely” Jinsol furrowed her eyebrows and straightened her back in an attempt to look authoritative. The younger girls stopped at their pace and took a puzzled look at Jinsol’s bad attempt of control, but listened anyway.

“We’re feral chihuahuas? Then you’re a soggy, dusty, old Great Dane!” Yeojin yells out right away.

Jinsol ignores Yeojin’s comments and begins connecting Hyeju’s switch to the living room T.V.

“So who’s up for a Mario Kart tournament?” Jinsol asks with a smile as she holds up two Joy-Cons.

The younger girls all scream in excitement and run to grab their respective controllers.Yeojin plops herself in the middle of the floor as Hyeju and Chaewon, who’s wearing one of Hyeju’s black hoodies, settle next to each other. Jinsol smiles to herself as the younger girls begin setting up the game and chat animatedly, save for Heejin who pulls out her iPad and begins working on a new drawing. The girls all rush to pick their characters, Yeojin immediately exclaiming that she wants to be Waluigi. Hyeju laughs at the smaller girl as she picks Bowser, Chaewon having already selected Princess Peach. Yerim then has an extensional crisis attempting to choose the color of her Yoshi, eventually settling on the pink variant.

“LET’S DO BABY PARK!” Yeojin screams out when they begin selecting maps.

Hyeju ignores Yeojin’s shouts for Baby Park and selects Special Cup.

“HEY! THAT’S NOT FAIR! YOU KNOW I’M NOT GOOD AT RAINBOW ROAD.” Yeojin begins to protest until the game finishes loading and the first race of the cup begins, immediately grabbing her controller and focusing on the screen.

Jinsol continues to smile as she watches the girls play while they giggle and shout. She gets up from her seat on the couch and walks over to check on her tired girlfriend. Jinsol’s heart warms at the sight of Jungeun passed out on Jinsol’s bed with her face stuffed in the pillow, still leaving space for her. Jinsol gently shuts the door and returns to the living room to see the girls finishing off their first race.

~~~~

The first three races all end similarly, Hyeju placing first, Yeojin falling off the map attempting to drift and ending up around 5th place, Chaewon around 2nd or 3rd, and Yerim in 7th while still smiling and giggling. Everyone was finally settling down and enjoying their time together, that is until the end of the final race of the cup, Rainbow Road.

Just as Yeojin is finally about to place second (first still taken by Hyeju) she’s hit by a red shell while taking a turn, knocking her off the map. She shrieks and yells at Lakitu to hurry up and put her back on the map. Just as she's placed back on the map, she’s passed by Chaewon who is able to finish right before her.

“ᵃˢˢᵃᵎ”

“CHEATER!” Yeojin exclaims at Chaewon who’s doing a victory dance.

“I didn’t cheat, you’re just bad at the game!”

“YOU’RE SUCH A LIAR, YOU SHELL THROWING ASS FACE!”

“Hey!” Hyeju shouted and stood up, hearing Yeojin insult Chaewon.

Chaewon then moved behind Hyeju as she and Yeojin stood in front of each other, hurling insults.

“Girls! Calm down! You’re gonna wake up-” Jinsol, who spoke up when she realized the two girls weren’t going to stop anytime soon, was interrupted by the door to their bedroom being slammed open, revealing an angry Jungeun.

"I thought you said you’d have it under control?!" Jungeun glares at Jinsol. Jungeun bothered at the fact her mid-day nap has been interrupted by cursing teenagers.

"I do! I mean, I did" Jinsol remarks afraid to look up to see her girlfriend fuming in frustration.

As Jungeun is about to completely lose her cool, as if she hasn't already, the answer to Jungeun’s worries enters the dorm.

"Hi! Guys! I'm home!" A girl with short black hair and a bright smile greets the girls.

"Haseul!" Yeojin drops the controller she previously held running into the older girl's arms as if she hasn't seen her in decades, Hyeju instinctively reaches for the controller cradling it as if it’s in pain from the impact.

"The rest are waiting in the practice room, we should get going" Haseul smiles down at Yeojin, pushing up her sunglasses and shrugging off her leather jacket.

"Last one there is a rotten egg!" Heejin exclaims.

With that Yeojin, Heejin, Yerim, and Chaewon Naruto run out of the dorm, Hyeju following slowly behind.

"Go on Sol, I'll be there in a sec" Jungeun gives a strained smile.

Jinsol smiles and then runs out the door to catch up with the other girls.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" Haseul asks with a concerned look as Jungeun slumps onto the couch. Haseul follows and sits beside her.

"I need a break." Jungeun sighs out.

"You want to leave the group?" Haseul questions.

"No, no, not like that. I just want to break the routines and live a little outside of this dorm" Jungeun admits.

"Hmm…What if you ask management for a few days off?" Haseul suggests.

Jungeun gives it a thought and nods.

~~~~

Before heading to the practice room, Jungeun takes a look at the office right next to it, where their manager spent her days working away.

"Hello?" Jugeun hesitantly knocks on the slightly parted door.

"Kim Lip! Come in!" Their manager smiles warmly looking up from her desktop computer.

The manager's office was as neat as an IKEA model, filled with fake plants, this lady can manage 12 girls but not remember to water some plants. The only living thing was a succulent sitting at her desk that was a gift from Yeojin for accidentally covering her new car in toilet paper thinking it was another one of Haseul's potential boyfriends.

Jungeun walked into the lavender scented room taking a seat in front of her manager, playing with the slightly frayed ends of her flannel. The older woman waited for Jungeun to speak.

"Umm... I was wondering, since we currently don't have an exact schedule, if we could possibly take a few days off and go on a trip?" thinking of spending time alone with Jinsol.

"Oooh like a vacation?" The woman chirps

"Yes. Exactly, I just thought since-"

"Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea, just pick a destination and I'll take care of the rest for all you girls" the manager gets up excited for the execution of the said vacation.

"‘All you girls’?" Jungeun questions.

"Oh I'm excited, let's spread the news and go tell them right now and we can get to picking!" the older woman says as she begins walking out of her office. Jungeun follows behind attempting to clear the confusion.

"France would be great or Australia" the manager continues as she stops in front of the practice room.

Jungeun anxiously opens the door, revealing her members practicing as if they are entering a national competition. The girls stop as they hear the familiar voice of their manager calling their attention.

"Girls! I have some exciting news! Thanks to Jungeun, it has been brought to my attention that you all need some time off or as I shall say some time away."

The girls looked at each other, some puzzled and some anticipating the news.

"You all will be going on a small vacation!" The manager smiles.

Jungeun looks around at her members’ reactions, seeing how happy they get makes her heart warm, especially the way Jinsol's smile reaches her eyes.

Maybe a vacation all together won't be so bad, Jungeun thought to herself.

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years ago

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How the Whiteboard Took Over the Office

A version of this post originally appeared on Tedium, a twice-weekly newsletter that hunts for the end of the long tail.

You know something that you probably haven’t had to deal with in a while if you’re an office drone? The whiteboard.

A classic example of what happens when you have a space to collaborate, the whiteboard had a bit of a moment in the late 20th and early 21st century as offices around the world embraced them for writing down ideas and brainstorming with a group of their peers—all things that people now do in the discomfort of their own homes.

But as rumors emerge of people being pushed to go back to the office, the whiteboard might be ready for its big comeback, even if you, personally, might not be.

Let's talk whiteboards, dry-erase markers, and why the chalkboard stuck around for decades after it was made obsolete.

Image: Roman Mager/Unsplash

Before we talk about whiteboards, let’s discuss the dusty nostalgia of the chalkboard

I don’t know about you, but the most drive-me-crazy noise I can think of is nails on a chalkboard. It’s a pretty aggressively painful noise, and I don’t know about you, but when that’s my overarching memory of chalkboards, I’m fully in favor of retirement in most cases.

I will concede chalkboards are great in certain settings, such as when painted on a wall or used in a hipster restaurant or coffee shop, where the artistic value of the chalkboard outdoes the questionable functional value of the material.

But chalkboards were never perfect for their primary use case. Today we may talk about things about our computers in terms of dark mode, but we weren’t using bright, overbearing OLED screens to display information within a foot of our faces—we were trying to convey information using dark blocks of slate, usually black or a dark green and definitely not backlit, to teach students from a long distance. And honestly, it was hard to do—the contrast was simply bad, and it was just not as easy to see as a plain white surface.

For some reason, chalkboards evoke a certain quaintness in dining establishments. Image: Egor Myznik/Unsplash

And of course, chalkboards created lots of dust. And dust, honestly, sucks—a major byproduct of trying to display information on slate. Back in 2011—you know, literal decades after we were fully into the era of whiteboards—researchers with India’s National Environmental Engineering Research Institute researched the impact of chalk dust in a “clean room environment.” and found that while there was no toxic effect, it could create allergic byproducts.

And the research, highlighted in The Guardian by Ig Nobel prize organizer Marc Abrahams, generated this once-in-a-lifetime bon mot: “During teaching, entry of chalk dust in the respiratory system through nasopharyngeal region and mouth could be extensive in teachers due to their proximity to the board and frequent opening of mouth during lectures and occasional gasping and heavier breathing due to exhaustion.”

Which is why it’s probably a good thing that we finally made the move to the whiteboard, which solved the problems with contrast and, at least for some teachers and students, minimized the potential health impacts that came with teaching with such a dusty material.

But it took a while for the whiteboard to finally break through in the classroom. A big reason as to why might very much be tradition—because there is evidence that the whiteboard was introduced more than 80 years ago, and it didn’t take off for decades afterwards.

“The old-fashioned blackboard is on its way out of the schoolroom today. Whiteboards are the newest thing. In fact, the whole idea of going to school is becoming glamorous.”

— The lead sentences from a 1950 Associated Press story reporting on new trends highlighted at the convention of the American Association of School Administrators. (Yes, that’s correct. There was a time we talked about whiteboards like we talked about Chromebooks or iPads.) At the time, the report noted that the primary tool that teachers could use with the writing surface was crayons.

There is an apparent whiteboard inventor who is not getting any credit for his work, despite originating the idea two decades before other claimed inventors

We know that the whiteboard is common today. But who the heck invented it?

This is a classic example of a story where if you simply Google it, you’ll miss out on some clear evidence of prior art. (And if you are a regular Tedium reader, you know the importance of looking past the point where the answer emerges.)

If you look on websites about whiteboards (here’s an example), you will read two names credited for its invention—Martin Heit and Albert Stallion, both of whom came upon the idea in the 1950s. Heit apparently surfaced on the idea after using a marker on a film negative, while Stallion, who worked for a steel company, came upon the idea of putting enamel on steel—an idea apparently met with skepticism from his employer.

Both sparks led to companies that eventually commercialized the devices in the early 1960s. Stallion founded a company, Magiboards, that is still around today; Heit, who died last year, sold his patents to a company called Dri-Mark, which is better-known today for selling the markers used to test whether or not a bill is counterfeit. (Which feels like a Tedium piece in and of itself.)

These two men may hold claims to popularizing the invention and introducing what became common materials for building whiteboards in the modern day, but evidence of putting writable white surfaces on boards predates their work by two decades.

One early claimant that surfaces at least two decades prior is a man named Paul F. Born, a mechanical engineer who (in a syndicated photo and newspaper article) is credited as installing one in a classroom in Elgin, Illinois, where he served as head of the district’s school board, in 1937. Given the chance to write on his invention (using compressed carbon rather than chalk), he wrote:

This “White Blackboard” is dedicated to the eyesight of school students and to the creation of a more cheerful atmosphere in the classroom.

A teacher said of the invention: “Boy, what a relief from the dismal, funeral-like appearance of most schoolrooms.”

If Born did invent it, evidence is relatively strong he was first—as mentions of the idea picked up soon after Born’s experiment surfaced in the news—but he does not seem to have patented the idea. There were differences—rather than plastic or steel, Born’s innovation relied on painted glass. Nonetheless, Born’s work caught the attention of Edward Podolsky, a medical doctor and writer whose book The Doctor Prescribes Colors, published in 1938, nicely dovetailed into Born’s idea.

“Not only is black chalk on white board easier to read, but the white color of the board imparts a decidedly cheerier atmosphere to the entire classroom,” Podolsky wrote of the Elgin experiment. “After several months of use it has been found that besides. relieving eyestrain, the whiteboards combined with light-colored walls make the classroom more cheerful, and learning a much more pleasant adventure.”

This seems to be the general vibe around whiteboards at the time—the first mention of the material in The New York Times, in 1938, seemed to imply that educators and parents alike were ready for a little less blackboard in the classroom. “Yellowboards and greenboards have been tried and found wanting,” the short editorial comment stated. “But glass treated with white pigment seems to fit the bill.”

And it did nonetheless draw skeptics. After news of Born’s work earned a strong reaction in Texas’ Lubbock Morning Avalanche in the fall of 1937, members of the school board, not understanding that chalk would not be necessary for a white blackboard, expressed concerns that “things would get pretty dirty” if black chalk was used. (To be fair, the newspaper made it seem like black chalk was necessary based on the cutline in the prior day’s paper.)

Of course, if you’re reading this, you most assuredly know that the whiteboard did not enter most classrooms until the 1990s or later. After a few years of early interest—including an appearance at the Metropolitan Museum of Art that may have been the first public experience many New Yorkers had with whiteboards—the Times barely mentioned the surface again for more than 40 years afterwards. Personally, I graduated more than 20 years ago, and can’t remember seeing a single whiteboard in my various schools during my time in K-12. (Maybe I wasn’t observant.)

But when I went to college, I remember they were relatively common—though not fully replacing chalkboards. If the whiteboard was clearly better, why did the chalkboard stay so dominant for so long afterwards?

For one thing, we have to talk about the materials used to write on whiteboards.

1993

The year the company Microfield Graphics first released Softboard, a dry-erase board that featured built-in networking capabilities. Basically, you could write on the board using traditional dry-erase markers, and then the board would detect the colors using built-in laser scanners and recreate them for virtual users over a dial-up modem connection. Despite its seemingly niche nature, the tool found lots of use in the federal government during the late ’90s, with FCW reporting that NASA, the U.S. Postal Service, and the U.S. Supreme Court all using the tool. The idea found interest among computer science students who saw an opportunity to render whiteboards obsolete. Oops.

Admit it, this is a familiar setting for you. Image: Slidebean/Unsplash

Why the whiteboard became popular in the corporate world before the classroom

It, of course, took a while to come up with the right approach to solving the problem of blackboards. It wasn’t just having white surfaces to write on—it was also about coming up with a way to clean those boards with the same ease of use as a chalk eraser, dust notwithstanding.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, two competing teams—one in Japan and one in the United States—were working to solve a problem that perhaps threatened the long-term mainstream status of the whiteboard: cleanup.

One inventor working on this was named Jerome Woolf, who worked for a company named Techform Laboratories, who developed the plastic surface and the general concept of the easy-drying and quick-erasing ink from the markers. The other was the Pilot Pen company, which perfected the ink that became the key element of dry-erase markers.

“The writing ink of the present invention is designed to dry almost immediately after being applied to an impermeable writing surface of metal, plastic or ceramic material, yet retain sufficient water after drying so that the ink may be removed from the writing surface by wiping with a dry erasing material even under conditions of low humidity,” the Pilot patent stated.

The dry-erase marker has become an overly common part of the business-world experience. Image: Mark Rabe/Unsplash

And once that problem was solved, the whiteboard found its way into businesses, becoming a hot commodity starting in the 1980s, but schools—where whiteboards were first implemented—proved much slower to embrace the technology. As a 1987 New York Times piece noted, whiteboards faced more practical concerns in schools that businesses generally didn’t have to worry about:

Whiteboards have not caught on well in schools because of higher prices and the tendency of students to walk off with the markers. But in corporate offices and conference rooms, it has been bye-bye blackboard, as the screech of the chalk and the cloud of chalk dust fade into memory. Aside from permitting color presentations, whiteboards can double as projection screens for slides or transparencies.

Whiteboards moved into schools slowly, however, and part of the reason for this is that they often weren’t retrofitted into old schools, but added to new ones, because it was treated as an element of the school’s design.

There’s also the element of permanence. For many businesses, whiteboards developed around thin layers of plastic are fine. But teachers were often working with whiteboards or chalk boards for hours each day, and their work needs to hold up for long periods of time. Which means that whiteboards in schools need to be made of higher-quality materials than whiteboards in offices.

Ultimately, when you break it down, a modern chalk board is not all that dissimilar to a modern whiteboard—these days, they’re both treated sheets of metal, something called a “porcelain” surface, which tends to cost more than the plastic sheets but is much higher quality. (After all, if you’re a school and whiteboards are essential to your teaching, you don’t want the cheap stuff.)

But the difference is what goes on those sheets; whiteboards tend to use glossy enamel, while chalk boards have moved away from slate and now use a less glossy, more ceramic enamel.

And, of course, there’s the whole nostalgia element of this. A 1996 Hartford Courant piece pointed to this when interviewing teachers critiquing the differing surfaces. One teacher told the newspaper that the familiar sound of chalkboards was important to them (and that they hated the smell of the markers), while a company that sold traditional chalkboards made the bet that they wouldn’t stick around.

“I think that the markers are just a fad,” said Dave Allen of the Connecticut Blackboard Company, which was still selling slate boards to schools.

That feels like a bad bet.

In the 1970s, artist John Baldessari perhaps created the first work that lived up to the whiteboard ethos, a self-explanatory document called “I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art,” in which the phrase is written numerous times in a cursive script, not unlike the way that Bart Simpson wrote on chalkboards in the intro of The Simpsons.

As part of a broader artistic project at the school where he taught, the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, Baldessari had his students write the phrase all over white walls, and he did some of that writing himself. (He also disowned his earlier works, so there was no turning back. The boring art was dead.)

Baldessari’s approach, something of a modern art rallying cry, was basically dry-erase art without a dry-erase board. It looks like the kind of thing that people create with whiteboards today when they’re looking for some kind of mental spark that leads them to their next big idea. In a lot of ways, Baldessari was brainstorming at the widest possible scale.

These days, the whiteboard has found increasingly novel contexts, beyond the office or the classroom, and even the pandemic hasn’t entirely dampened its potential. A popular note-taking tool, the RocketBook, has gained popularity by mixing the best elements of whiteboards (that is, the erasability and reusability) into something that looks like a traditional notebook, offering a little of the manual and the automatic in one package.

But the thing is, whiteboards are amazingly well-suited to office environments, as they encourage deep thinking in a setting where anyone can pick up a dry-erase marker and go. Compare it to, say, journaling. Some people’s brains just work better that way.

My favorite collaborative moments involving a whiteboard didn’t involve a meeting or a discussion session, but a game of hangman on a wall of whiteboard paint during Friday-night happy hours. It created a way for us to mentally meet up with our coworkers over a beer and have a little fun that had nothing to do with impressing a client.

Whiteboards became a tool for collecting the storms of our brains in groups, a powerful element of discussion that went far beyond what we could do with paper and pen alone. And even in an era of screens, sometimes the handwriting just carries more power.

But let’s give some credit to the guy who made a pitch for them first, because it seems like he deserves a lot more notice than he’s been getting.

How the Whiteboard Took Over the Office syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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asylum-miniatures · 7 years ago

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Entry 13 - reading up

part 13, checking in and checking out

Draspher wakes up groggily after having had the snot beaten out of him. He looks around at me fuming while pacing around the dead crazy woman's body, Vex keeping a general watch out for trouble and Ocelot finishing off planting a knife one the civilian woman he shot. It's at this point the town guard run up. Draspher goes to meet them and explains how "he got roughed up by this crazy woman while we were chasing one of the escaped infected, don't know why she went for us with a knife but luckily Ocelot managed to shoot her". As one everyone around the table goes silent and stairs at him, and then I start clapping. That is the single first actually convincing bluff he has ever come up with. It's so good the DM just gives it him without rolling for it. The guards take pity on us and give potions of cure moderate wounds to the wounded.

Back at the temple, Sim decides to make chase. She calls her new mount for their first ride. Sure enough, we see a derpy looking bird carrying Sim and Yurion on his back, and a very disgruntled raccoon by its tail in his beak.

As we start to leave, draspher calls me over. He explains about how he’s sorry about what happened, and that he won’t interfere with me in future fights unless I directly ask him to. But now that that is past us, he feels we can both agree that mistakes were made on both sides, that we both have had moments of unreasonable actions but forgive and forget and let's move on, what do you say?

Jaune(me): ………. You glued a psychopath to my chest…………

The DM just breaks down at my complete deadpan tone, and despite some bickering (mostly on my part about how does he equate my knocking him out as equal to the constant getting us in trouble, which I'm usually the one trying to save him, and the fact he glued a psychopath to my chest as "we're even now")

We make our way to sayid library. The DM has us roll initiative, and I finally get a high roll, typically not in a combat scenario. I go over to the woman at the desk and ask where sayid is. Apparently, he hasn’t made it back yet, so I ask where the smut section is while we wait. Of course, this immediately razes alarm bells, we came to town with him and he went straight here, so somethings going on here. OOC Vex expresses and interest in hitting on her. Then immediately afterwards, Sim then come up and starts hitting on her, and she reciprocates (to vex's outrage and ire). The librarian reciprocates the advances really, reciprocates, unusually quickly and sim was initially only bluffing, but now she's really getting into it. A quick spellcraft roll from draspher reveals she’s casting some kind of spell on her. Ocelot waits by the door, Yurion starts reading books (fuming about her girlfriend hitting on a stranger) and vex goes, specifically to push sim out of the way so she can flirt, but something is really setting off her paladin senses, and eventually she gets the idea and a quick detect evil confirms it, she is evil as all heck. The librarian turns, recognising a holy servant she realises the jig is up, and screeches in an inhuman wail, her hair withering, and her skin and face turns corpse like

Part two, counter strategies

She immediately lunges towards Vex and Sim, claws out, but Vex wasn't completely taken by surprise while Sims armour saves her. The two girls and myself are the ones closest to the counter, so we all take pot shots at her but the counter provides her cover that blocks us. Yurion looks up from her book and using her vast knowledge skills, she recognises her as a greater ghoul, and as such is vulnerable to healing spells. She immediately comes up with a plan to use the link spell to pass a healing charge through the gold bangle someone else is wearing to hit the ghoul. Unfortunately, no-one is close enough to pull this off but the DM approves of her strategic thinking, so instead she moves in and decides to 'cook' a healing spell. Not cast a healing spell when she attacks you understand, but cast one now and have to keep making concentration checks to hold onto it without losing the charge. Ocelot immediately latches onto this idea, trying to take off his own bangle and use mage hand to levitate it over. The DM immediately put a stop to that nonsense, so instead he just shoots and hits the counter.

On Drasphers turn summons a Compsognathus to pen her in while completely preventing Yurian from getting to her. Seeing her exit blocked, the Ghoul drops further behind the counter top and casts glitterdust on her location. This immediately blinds myself, vex and the dinosaur.

I spend my next turn blind, helpless and yelling out like a three stooges sketch. Vex spends hers kicking out to try and find anything (she only manages to find me for 7 points none-lethal damage) and sim tries to punch through the counter but has no luck. I stumble back from the kick, now panicked about something trying to attack me. Draspher asks the DM "Would a grease spell clear off the glitterdust" to the groups horror, and we as one shout out "NOOO".

At this point three of us are surrounding the counter, I've stepped off in a blind stumble so I'm near some bookcases, Ocelot is still in the doorframe and Draspher has finally realised his mortality and is hiding far away between two bookshelves. Unfortunately, an unseen force decides now is the time to act, and slams him into a bookshelf for nearly 20 damage (most of his health). Realising something invisible is attacking him, he immediately casts glitterdust. The question then comes up (to my horror), since he's casting it between two narrow bookcases, does that mean that Jaune (myself) is in the range of it? Luckily for me (and drashers freshly fixed face) the DM decides that it doesn't and the form of a large air elemental becomes clear. Not that any of us go to help him.

Ocelot decides that guns aren't any good at all, so he decides to holster the gun, yell out a warning to Sim to duck, and proceeds to use his boots of springing and jump of Sims sholders to tackle the ghoul to the ground. He succeeds but has a very nasty surprise. Previously he mentioned to sim that she wants to be careful about touching the undead when she's casting a healing spell on it. The ghoul reaches us and with one touch paralyses Ocelot, before pushing him off and getting up.

Yurian takes this opportunity to push the blind and useless dinosaur aside to smash a healing spell in the ghoul's face (to the theme of shining finger from G gundam, curtesy of myself on the ipad). Enraged by this, she calls out for her allies, and the door next to Yurion opens up to reveal three more zombies coming through. Yurian manages to get a second healing spell off, reducing the ghoul to dust but not before she gets one last touch attack on her in retaliation, dropping her next to Ocelot while the zombies shamble towards them.

Luckily for Yurian her girlfriend Sim was there to save the day. With a single flame pillar spell, she reduces all three zombies to ash. She also sets the back of the BOOK SHOP on fire. Draspher, upon seeing this immediately despairs. He's so worried about burring the books he cares nothing for the giant air elemental that slammed him for almost all of his health. He immediately comes out with "I use burning hands to put out the flames".

After clarifying that burning hands only extinguishes the flames IT CREATES he instead summons three water elementals to put out the fire. With that out of the way the party finally decides to deal with the air elemental. As I go in to flank the DM has to assure me that this thing is part of the adventure module, he didn't design this to counter me but it's immune to flanking, sneak attacks and critical hits

Ocelot: .......DM

DM: Yes?

Ocelot: ......we've been rolling for Vex's criticals against that thing

DM: [head hits the table]

We quickly kill the thing. Afterwards, Yurian and Draspher go to check the bookshelves for anything to do with the scarab king, Ocelot and Sim check the backrooms to the left and to the DM's surprising panic, vex and I go to check the back room on the right

Part three, only himself to blame

inside there are two gigantic figures. The DM tells us they look like demonic bears (half the party insists on calling them bears after this) and they just happened to be in the middle of killing two of drasphers water elementals. I fight my natural instincts (the paladin's aura of bravery helped) and we position ourselves at the door hoping to make a chokepoint. Hearing our screams, the others race in, and Yurion rolls a 20 on the identify roll. The DM describes the massive amount of resistances and damage reduction the two demons have, although in character she only has enough time to shout out "demons" and that’s enough for me. I stand up, I face those demons, and I said "NOPE! NOPE, NOPE, NOPE, NOPE, NOPE" and I make for the door, attempting to drag the paladin with me. IRL I even enact this scene, leaving the room, then re-entering to quickly "NINJA VANISH" before leaving again. Unfortunately, said paladin is now fully stoked to go slaughter some demons, and charges towards the first demon.

During this the DM is shaking his head, these things are way too strong for the party, he was expecting us to heal after the last fight or just run. Not only have we as a group gone after them, we bunched up. He's expecting a total party wipe at this point. While he was panicking I remembered something, and after checking vex's sheet I point out one of her class features she hadn't used yet. As his head lies in his hands, Vex charges up takes out half the first demons health in a single swing. For all their resistances, their DR is beaten by good aligned weapons, and I remembered that she had two smite evil's left today, as well as the divine bond weapon with just enough enchantment to give it holy. It sliced through it like butter.

Sim follows this initial shot with a volcanic storm, just managing to hit both of them without hitting vex, and rolls a perfect 18 on the bludgeoning damage (6, 6, 6 against demons) and even gets 11 on the 2d6 fire damage (just gets over their resistance for 1 extra damage). As I'm running out of the door I pass Yurion and Ocelot coming the other way. It's around this point that it comes out that both of them are suicidal. Both of them are tired of their characters (ocelot didn't use his skills or equipment properly so he kept using the revolver for around 4 damage a shot instead of his dragon pistol or his feats, Yurion was built for Knowledge skills but we had gotten fairly battle heavy and she felt left out) and want to re-roll, and they both came to the conclusion the best way of doing this is to throw themselves in front of danger until they die. This means they are the only one's happy about this situation.

In the next round vex slays the first beast, and draspher has been spamming summoning spells to the point there are around 7 giant spiders in the room. Every round he has them fire webs at this demon, never seeming to get the idea that they won't work at all, just like the tanglefoot bags. (Every round looks like something out of one of his hentai's, a massive demon covered in sticky white fluid). The second demons finally gets his go, and he makes it a nasty one. He releases his breath weapon, which hits everyone (aside from me, I was one square out) for 6D6 damage. The DM rolls surprisingly low, a few 1 and 2's in there, but it's enough to drop draspher into negatives and give everyone a chunk of damage. (funnily enough, most of drasphers spiders survived when he didn't)

Vex heals herself and charges in while Yurion heals Draspher back to full. The demon responds with a great cleave with his 10' reach claws and almost the entire party within range. He slices through two spiders and vex, but flubs it when he tries to hit Ocelot, who was disappointed in failing to achieve his own death again. While this was going on, I had run out of the door, noted some sparkly stuff in the ghoul ash, summersaulted over the counter and went out to the street. My flight was not solely based on saving my own skin, I was looking for re-enforcements. Unfortunately, a curfew did not mean the city was being regularly patrolled, so I had to keep running looking for help. I eventually meet the captain and a few officers at the camp we had been at before, and I quickly get there help.

Just as we were setting off back to the store, vex had started slicing into the demon. He evidently decides a re-position was in order and uses dimensional door to jump to the other side of the room. Ocelot then comes up with an idea. Pulling out his spare powder horn and the laser gun (The DM describes it as a wand of scorching ray that also happens to be a gun, but we all know what it is) and tosses the powder horn under the demon's feet. As he goes to look down at what that is, Ocelot shoots it and the explosion opens a hole in his stomach his organs fall out of. You do have to remember though he has to spend a few minutes working out the flaws with his other plans with the DM so it wasn't quite the flash of brilliance. His other plans failed because:

a. you don't have a fuse on you to light it, b. you don't have anything to light a fuse c. lighting a powder horn with a dragon pistol will leave you with one hand d. you can't shoot gunpowder to explode with a regular bullet

The DM is simply gobsmacked about how easily Vex has torn through those guys, and I point out "remember, you made her sheet, I warned you giving her a +1 Keen Katana was too much to just start off with, you only have yourself to blame"

Part four, cleanup

Once the demon's dead, the others all start looting the place in the age-old adventurer tradition. Yurion and draspher both get to looking through the books, Sim and Ocelot check the back rooms we didn't go into and find a trap door underneath a water barrel and Vex finds some masterwork artisans tools for the printing press she decides to pick up as a gift for draspher. They find some notes about research regarding the plague, in particular questioning whether or not it could be the feast of dust, but disregarding it as the "sword" is still in place.

At this point OOC I realise something. The demons were summons and there remains are going back to their own realm, the air elemental has no remains, the three zombies got burned up by fire and lightning and the ghoul is a pile of ash. There is no evidence about any of this and I am bringing the captain of the guard and two guards straight to them. We end the session as I am walking into the door.

Later on, the DM let me know that the demons pretty much failed there initiative rolls and missed a turn. Had they rolled better, Vex's charge would have been met with two attacks of opportunities, they would both have used greater cleave/breath weapons to smack the entire party as we had bunched up and could dimension door to cut off our retreat/pin us in. It's only sheer luck that vex got in and killed one before it could do anything which left the other wide open. I can think of so many scenarios that that encounter could have gone differently that would have killed all of us. Also, fun fact elementals can't be flanked or critted, and both the ghoul and the demons could see invisibility, it's like this adventure path hates me.

Days in city – 1

Lives saved – 2.5, the Girl being mauled by his commander, the crazy homeless person that almost burnt and the nun we healed (.5)

Lives killed – 3.5, the one guy we pulled up to stab, the civilian that got shot (she went at him with a knife), the broken armed escapee that got shot and the libarian, who was a ghoul but I'm not sure how the city guard will take it

Vex’s Harem – 2.25, the Girl being mauled by her commander, the nun and a librarian who was really a ghoul

Times Drilled over by Draspher – 2, he convinced me there was a dragon in the desert and got me glued to the ground with a crazy infected woman ready to beat me to death

Times Drapher got drilled over (both his own and others fault) - 20, his adhesive spittle keep breaking (2), I knocked him out (his own fault), he got assaulted by an air elemental and no-one cared, nearly killed by demon breath, his spider webs did nothing (15)

Jaunes brave advances towards future victory - 3, when jess attacked in the night, the barn, the demons

#ain't our fault #main story

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