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Post by PJ on Apr 9, 2008 20:18:05 GMT -5
PM Sam first. Just in case, like, 3 people write something at the same time, and it clashes.
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Post by idiotj on Apr 10, 2008 0:43:25 GMT -5
I feel really bad about not being able to write. Can someone help? Sam? Peej? An idea?
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 3:50:23 GMT -5
yeah PM me and that way if i have multiples and they clash i can 'edit' them slightly (or small rewrites if nessesary) (that also removes unnessesary non-canon parts(i'm sure modPJ can help remoove those if needed ) i've had some good stuff so far, some i can use now and others later. but right now we don't know who is in the house. write an intro for yourself or another 667er you want in there, even mentioning someone else in the house just so we have a basic cast.(maybe leave someone with mysterious origins ) also, they don't all have to be in first person. pj just wanted to do a monologue i'll write more soon, just busy at work for a day or two.
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 3:57:05 GMT -5
BSam Dies At The End.
Part 3 - Mr Who
"One day, I woke up.
That isn’t to say that I don’t usually wake up; I’ve woken up at least once nearly every day of my life, it seems. But this day…
Well, I wasn’t in my bed when I woke up. Nor was I in your bed. I wasn’t in any bed. I was on the floor.
I wasn’t in my house, either… this was not any house I had ever seen before. Ooh, creepy. ((Note to self: if you’re ever going to randomly wake up in a place that you’ve never been in before, try wearing pyjamas.))
I was immediately nauseated by the absurdity of the situation… I felt my breathen quicking, as my pulse. I was too scared to move, basically. But eventually, I was sick of lying there like a paralyzed baby, and my sickness of this overwhelmed my physical nauseation and fear…
So I sat up. Sitting up was certainly as exhilarating an experience as any. I observed the empty room that surrounded me as best as I could without my glasses. The walls, a few of the only things with an observable quality, weren’t so different from the walls of so many bachelor pads I’d seen, except for their baseboards… sangria baseboards? Who bothers to paint the baseboards and not the walls? They had an uneven colouration, indeedly sicken.
There weren’t any windows in this particular room, and its single closet with its single open door held nothing – not even a hanging bar – but its single lit bulb.
The door – well, there wasn’t any. There certainly was a place for one to be, but it seems that it had been taken down by one of those hippies who take down doors. The hallway from the door flowed seamlessly from the room, as far as my eyes could see.
The floors were a pleasant mahogany, or something. They were clean enough, I guess, except for a slight floury dustiness. And they were warm – something I respect in a floor. Ooh, and they held my glasses! I applied them directly to my forehead, and my vision increased dramatically. Such a small comfort they were, though, when I realized my next mission was to exit this nothing room…
I rolled up my navy socks (sometimes I leave them before I fall asleep, I’m so tired!), pulled my knock-kneed legs off the floor, and made my way out of the room and into the frying pan I found lying right outside the door. Typical me, I tripped slipped backward and found myself supine on those warm mahogany floors I loved so much.
And that’s when I saw the ceiling of the hallway..."
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 3:57:57 GMT -5
>_
> Look at ceiling
> Exits
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Post by idiotj on Apr 10, 2008 4:10:39 GMT -5
Can someone write me in and I'll write a chapter when it gets more involved?
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 4:11:37 GMT -5
if no-one has by the weekend i will
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 12:43:41 GMT -5
Part 4. By PJ.
PJ plonked down on one of the couches with a huge sigh. “So we’re stuck here?” he said, at last, to break the silence. “Yeah,” said the girl, who remained standing. She had introduced herself as Jay. “How long have you been here? Is there any food?” PJ asked, eyeing her suspiciously. He couldn’t for the life of him explain how it was that everything here was locked and the windows and doors were so incredibly resilient – or even why he just could not climb the wall back out – but he still held onto the suspicion – or perhaps hope – that this was all some elaborate prank, or perhaps an actual kidnapping Who was this girl?
“I’ve been here since last night,” Jay said, staring unblinkingly at PJ, making him feel uncomfortable. “There’s a kitchen, but there’s not much food there. A few loaves of bread. We get water and electricity, though,” she said, staring at him blankly.
“So how did you get here?” PJ finally asked, feeling uncomfortable. Was this girl trustworthy? Or was she behind all of this, maybe? He wished he hadn’t left the rifle lying downstairs. He casually glanced around the room, in search for anything he could use as a weapon, but found nothing. Oh well, he thought. She’s not that big. I could probably take her. Unless she has a knife or something, he thought, dismally.
“I was taking a walk around the area last night, and somehow wandered into the backyard.” “Wandered? It’s got a huge wall around it!” PJ exclaimed, frowning. “I know,” she said, “but I didn’t climb any walls.” PJ just stared at her in disbelief. Jay didn’t say anything. “Did you...uh...have you checked the whole house? Been through it all?” PJ said, at last. “Most of it. Quite a few doors are locked, and it’s a pretty big place. It’s entirely empty, though. No telephones, either. No-one else here, until you turned up.”
“Do you think-“ PJ was interrupted by a shout. From upstairs. Both Jay and PJ glanced upwards, alarmed. They heard another shout, although they couldn’t hear what it was saying.
PJ stood. “I thought you said we were alone,” he said in a deadly whisper to Jay, shock on his face. Jay just shook her head, looking equally alarmed. PJ approached the door and opened it softly. Again, the voice rang out, from somewhere above. Someone else was here.
Motioning to Jay to follow, PJ crept down the landing, towards the staircase. Jay grabbed a dusty old vase off a stand and held it with both hands, ready to throw. PJ glanced around for anything he could use, but found nothing. Together, they crept up the stairs, towards the source of the sound.
They reached the next landing. All was quiet. This floor, like the one below it, consisted simply of a large hallway with many doors – and presumably, rooms – leading off it, not unlike a hotel. At the far end of the wide hallway, the pair could glimpse into a room of sorts. PJ wondered briefly whether this mansion had, in fact, once been a hotel, but dismissed the thought when they heard another noise from the end of hallway.
As one, the pair crept forwards, towards the end of the hallway, to the room, from whence the noise had originated. All the doors of the hallway were closed, PJ, saw, except for one. As they passed it, he glanced in, and saw that it was a rather threadbare room, devoid of anything interesting, except for the word “GIGI” scrawled on one of the walls in red marker pen. PJ wondered about it for a moment, but another noise from the end of the hallway drew his attention once more to the room at the end of the hallway. They tip-toed closer, in the complete and utter silence that reigned through the house.
The day was quickly fading, and something about the house seemed to shun light – even the rooms with windows seemed oddly gloomy. The dingy light bulbs cast little light, and as they approached the entrance to the room, they hesitated. They couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d find something horrible within. Steeling themselves, they burst into the room, and were presented with the sight of a guy in navy socks examining the interior of a rather threadbare cupboard. “Hey!” PJ yelled, and the guy screamed and jumped about a meter into the air. He spun around and regarded the pair of them, Jay holding the vase up high, PJ’s fists held before him.
“Who the hell are you?” the guy yelled, backing away, frightened. “I’m PJ, and this is Jay. Now who the hell are you?” “I’m uh, Who. You can call me Mr. Who,” the man said, calming down a little. “What are you doing here?” Jay asked, suspiciously. She still held the vase above her head, ready to bring it crashing down on Who should he prove threatening. “I just woke up in here!” Who said, accusation entering his voice. “And I – the frying pan? Where’s it gone?” he said, looking around the floor. PJ and Jay glanced around, but didn’t see any pan. “What are you talking about?” PJ asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I just…there was a frying pan! Just there! And I tripped on it, and…the ceiling!” PJ and Jay both looked up, and saw the words “Who Dares Wins!” written on the hallway ceiling in black pen. “What’s that mean?” Jay asked, also frowning. “I don’t know! I just woke up! What on earth is going on here!” Mr. Who yelled, taking another step back.
“Calm down, man,” Jay said, lowering the vase. “We’re trapped in here, too,” PJ said, sagging. “What? We’re trapped?” Who asked, taking another step back. “Well, yeah, we can’t seem to leave this place. Something’s keeping us here.“ Who’s face suddenly paled, and he raised a trembling finger, pointing past the pair. They swung around, and caught sight of a dark figure, standing silently all the way at the other end of the hallway in the gloom. The trio stared at the figure for a moment, and it seemed to stare back. They couldn’t make out much of its features in the darkness, or whether it was man or woman. Suddenly, the being opened its mouth wide, impossibly wide, it seemed. The trio stared, frozen, at the huge dark gash for a split second, when all of a sudden a howling seemed to fill their ears, and a blast of wind hurtled down the corridor, slamming open all of the closed doors in a series of loud bangs. The trio just had enough time to scream before the wind hit the room at the end and everything around them seemed to explode.
When they picked themselves up, amid groans and cries, they found that they were unhurt - the figure had disappeared, and all the doors were closed again, as though nothing at all had happened.
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 12:49:57 GMT -5
Part 5. By Sixteen
Michael woke up that morning knowing exactly where he was going, exactly what he was about to do. He had tied up all the loose ends and was ready to let go. He was ready to die.
He made breakfast: an egg and two slices of buttered toast. Not much of a Last Supper, but it would have to do. He had written a note and left it on the table in the hall. Not that anyone would find it anytime soon. But people always want explanations. "Why did he kill himself?" "Surely someone could have helped him!" Hypocrites.
He left the house, not bothering to wear a jacket. There was no need to protect himself now. He was heading for the bridge. Not the most original method, but if he'd been original he wouldn't have needed to contemplate suicide. Strolling slowly towards it, he almost passed by the house. Of course, that would have been an easy thing to do considering the house wasn't meant to be there. Haunted Charles Mansion, as it was commonly known, was meant to be on the other side of town altogether. Was this some kind of joke?
He stood watching it for almost five minutes. It was simply impossible. Only yesterday he had pased by this very spot to scope out the drop. Yet here it was, plain as day. He checked his watch. It was only eight o'clock. He had a few minutes to spare.
The door wouldn't open, but a window nearby had been smashed. Slicing his bare arm on a jagged piece of glass, he managed to wriggle inside. The room - some kind of library by the looks of it - was lined with windows on one side, but they didn't seem to let any light inside. There was a thud from the far corner of the room.
"Hello?" he said, cautiously. "What are you doing?" There was a young woman crouched in the corner, shivering. She had knocked against one of the bookshelves and an encyclopedia now lay open on the floor. "Stop! Don't come any closer!" she screamed, brandishing the book like a weapon. "Look, just tell me your name. I'm not about to hurt you." "You have no idea where you are, do you?" she whispered through clenched teeth. "Call me J."
"J? Well, J, no I don't know where I am. I thought I knew exactly where I was going and what I was about to do. I was ready to go kill myself, but then I realised that Haunted Charles Mansion had appeared out of nowhere. So, naturally I am a bit confused." "If you really wanted to kill yourself, you wouldn't have stopped. People that are ready to die don't let creepy houses get in their way," she sneered. He hesitated. "You're pathetic!" she said.
"My life isn't easy," he tried to explain. "Welcome to the club."
He turned to leave, but the window wasn't broken any more. When he tried to open it, he only managed to get it more stuck. "Do you think I haven't tried that already? We can only get out of the house through the back door, and even at that the walls grow as you try to climb them. Something won't let us leave." "What do you mean by 'we'?"
She explained that there were others. Some she had befriended; they had stumbled across the house like she and Michael had. Others still could be heard out of sight, behind walls or on floors above. "By the way, my name is Mi-" "No! Don't tell me your real name. I'd rather not know it until we figure out what's going on. In case you hadn't realised by now, my real name isn't J." He raised an eyebrow. "Fine then. You can call me Sixteen." "Come on. I'll introduce you to the rest."
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 13:17:45 GMT -5
Part 6. by BSam
As Sixteen and J made their way back to where they hoped they'd find PJ and MrWho again they heard a rattling of a lock, followed by some swearing. They paused, unsure whether to open the door themselves or run like hell. They opted to wait, at a safe distance to see what, if anything would emerge, when they heard the swearing voice shout through to them. "I know you're out there, I know someone is, could you please open this door for me? I'm safe, I'm not someone who can hurt you, I'm trapped too." Hesitantly Sixteen decided to try the door, 'I was going to die today anyway' he thought to himself.
Turning the handle the door slid open with ease. A man came out through the door and looked at the handle on the other side with some confusion. "Did you have a key?" he asked. "No," replied Sixteen, "I just tried the handle and it worked fine." "How odd. Who are you guys anyway? I'm BSam, Master Thief." "Heh, a Master Thief who can't even open a door, classic." "Shut up. What's your name?" "J, and this is Sixteen. We're kinda trapped here, and now it looks like you are as well. There are others. We're trying to find them again."
Half an hour later, after trying every door that would open they burst in on a room with two couches, a small table, and two other people. Introductions among the group followed and they discussed what had happened so far. PJ mentioned about these messages appearing to everyone, foretelling some kind of doom, but no specific clues yet.
Another door burst open and two more people ran into the room. Their clothes were in tatters, Their faces streaked with blood. "Boy are we glad to see you," the boy said, "I'm Willis, this is Pandora, we are part of the famous Team Squad!" "We were investigating this old place, there have been strange happenings, but the evil villain we tried to unmask at the end suddenly attacked. Killed Char and Rellim. They never stood a chance," Pandora said. Willis continued, "Heads clean off, they were still screaming when they hit the floor. Poor girls. Not to mention Kyle." "We never did find all of Kyle. Just gone, in pieces, and his stupid dog too," Pandora concluded. Then they sat down, relieved that they were no longer alone.
PJ stood up. "Well, there's safety in numbers right? We should do our best to stick togethe-" He was interrupted by a flash of light and and shout. BSam had disappeared.
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 13:27:19 GMT -5
Part 7. By Dear Dairy.
Dear Dairy was appalled. Field trips! She hated field trips. First, a ride on a bouncy, cramped, dirty school bus. Then some boring museum or noisy factory or dusty library. Then some annoying kid takes it into his head to wander off. It was all Gigi’s fault.
“You have to go with me!” Gigi had pleaded. “It’ll be fun. You love libraries.”
“I love libraries because they’re usually devoid of annoying kids. Only well-read, attractive children go to libraries voluntarily. The annoying ones only go there when they’re forced to – like on a field trip.”
“But this library is special. It’s on the list of the city’s Ten Most Haunted Places. It takes up one wing of the old Charles Mansion. It’ll be fun.” Gigi was almost whining.
“Whatever. I’ll go because you’re my friend and you need another chaperone,” Dairy replied grudgingly. But I refuse to have fun. she added in her thoughts.
So now here she was, helping Gigi search for one annoying little brat who failed to show up for the bus. What was that ridiculous name they called him? MrWho? And where was Gigi? After searching the first floor with no results, they’d decided to split up; Gigi took the basement, Dairy the second floor.
Dairy followed the intricately-patterned hall rug through the front foyer to an intricately-carved staircase. “Hello?” she called up. No answer. She began to climb the stairs, her irritated stomping creating little poofs of dust from the carpet. At the landing on the top, an array of closed doors faced her. Probably all locked, just like the ones on the first floor. She turned the knob of the door on her right. Amazingly, it opened.
She found herself in a small room, a bookcase on one wall, a comfortable looking chair, stained with blood, sat nearby. As the door swung shut, Dairy noticed the silhouetted figure standing in the corner. He turned, and gasped.
“Don’t shut the – “ Click. Too late.
“BSam?”
“Dairy! My old drinkin’ buddy! I’m glad you’re here. Oh, no – no, I’m not. We’re trapped, you know.” Dairy’s annoyance turned to bewilderment. BSam began to talk faster. He almost sounded – well, panicked. Or possibly demented. “Yep. Trapped. I’ve searched all over this room, and there only seems to be one way out. Don’t bother rattling the doorknob like that – that’s not it. It’s this trap door. You need to go down there and see if it’s a way out. I was just thinking of doing that myself, trying to get up my nerve, but . . . you know my problem.”
Yes. She did know his problem. They had agreed long ago never to speak of it again. “But I just got here,” she began.
“Yes, and if you’re smart you won’t stay here any longer. This is bad stuff, Dairy. Really bad stuff. Just go, try to get help, come back for us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, we’re all here . . . well, somewhere. I hope. Will you just go?”
So down into the darkness she went.
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 13:36:46 GMT -5
((notes-
the next part of BSam DDairy is already written so concentrate on the other characters for now...
the current usable cast is PJ - Maverick Reporter MrWho - Confused kid who doesn't know how he got there Willis - Survivor of what is left of the team squad, a scooby gang type group. Pandora - Other survivor of what is left of the team squad, a scooby gang type group. Sixteen - Suicidal teenager
other people so far BSam - Master thief (alledgedly) - trapped in a room Dear Dairy - Teacher - trapped in the same room Gigi - Teacher - whereabouts unknown
this is awesome, keep it up everyone. we probably have enough people trapped in the house now. there are only so many 'i was doing something and now i'm trapped' stories we need
pj or i will make a banner for each contributer if you're interested
hooray
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Post by Vacuum Pot on Apr 10, 2008 15:33:22 GMT -5
Why couldn't Peej and Jay see me at the end of the hallway after I had fallen backwards in it?
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Post by Shelly on Apr 10, 2008 17:08:46 GMT -5
I'd like to contribute, but I have no idea how to do it. Great job, everyone.
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Post by BSam on Apr 10, 2008 17:44:33 GMT -5
at this point the best thing to write would be using the available characters (outlined in the above post) and have something spooky happen to them, or possibly a violent death of some sort
mrwho; i dunno, the house is creepy, maybe it's hidden you away breifly
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