Lost and forgotten

[Ben McDowell]

they seem to know right where they belong

His head was pounding and, under his hands, there was the feel of something smooth and cold. The floor. Tile, maybe? He wasn't sure; thinking was enough to make his brain feel like it was about to explode in his skull. With a faint groan Ben pushed himself to his feet.

Immediately he had to lean against the wall for support, both to hold himself up and to keep from puking all over the stained tile. His skin was on fire, and the cool surface was a brief moment of relief. Once he could open his eyes he took a cautious look around, squinting and grimacing.

He was in a bathroom, though not the one he'd originally been in. The last thing Ben could remember was slipping into the men's room at the mall while his brother had been distracted flirting with some cashier at the Orange Julius stand.

As soon as he'd entered the brightly lit room there'd been a sharp pain in the right side of his skull and everything had went black. Now here he was, in what should've been the same place, but this one was...disgusting to put it mildly. Rust and water and who knows what else stained the walls and floor.

Half the stall doors were missing and the entire place smelled like copper and, well, he didn't know what the other scent was but he didn't want to find out. As soon as he could move without wincing or wanting to vomit he headed for the door and out into the main area of the mall.

Ben stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening. This wasn't the mall. This wasn't any place he recognized. For once in his life a flash of terror tugged at the primal corner of his mind and he shuddered.

{ tagged :: open | words :: 302 | outfit :: Hoodie, t-shirt, jeans, sneakers }

made by ally of thesintax on livejournal

[Heather Mason]

letter, from the lost days

A letter to my future self, Am I still happy, I began, Have I grown up pretty, Is Daddy still a good man

When Heather had dozed off at the little diner attached to the mall, the one she visited frequently because the waitresses always had funny stories to tell, no one bothered to wake her up. The workers knew both her and her father, so it wasn't a big deal. Heather had mentioned before that she'd been getting bad headaches that aspirin and painkillers didn't touch, so when she did doze off there, in the dimly lit booth, she assume the ladies were just letting her get some peaceful rest without a blazing headache. Because it wasn't the first, or the last time, she'd fallen asleep there, waking up in the diner didn't surprise her as much as it did the first time or two. This time was no different as she rubbed her eyes and squinted at her surroundings, the late day sun shining a rusty red color through the old ivory-colored blinds. After she slid out of the booth is when things seemed peculiar. The diner was empty, no patrons and no employees. The place looked like a wasteland, like a ghost town. The old floral wallpaper was peeling in places, the cream and green booths, seats, and tables were cracked in places, vinyl upholstery ripped and clouds of stuffing pouring out onto the seats. The windows were yellowed, anything metal was severley rusted. Something was wrong. Heather stumbled, mostly in shock at her surroundings. Her booth seemed perfectly normal in comparison to the rest of the diner. The tall glass that had held her chocolate milk was empty, and the small plate that had the slice of apple pie on it held only a few crumbs and a fork now. When she tried the door, the one heading outside of the mall and into the parking lot, it wouldn't budge. The locks were unlocked, the knob would turn, but no power she had could push the door open. Frustrated, she kicked it and frowned. The door that went into the mall was the only other option, as long as she wasn't trapped in here for all of eternity, at least. When she gave the doorknob on that one a turn, it clicked and the door swung open into an equally vacant and strange-looking mall. What Heather walked into in the main part of the mall made her want to go back into the diner. The diner was...cleaner, at least. If something wasn't covered in rust, it was covered in some kind of filth. She was also pretty sure there was blood. A lot of blood. Blood and water and only God knows what else. From what she could see in the dim light, the architecture of the mall remainly mostly unchanged. Mostly. Where the gates were down on stores, it appeared as if there were...things embedded into the gates themselves. She wasn't going to get close enough to look. As she moved out into the mall concourse, she was cautious. Something felt familiar, something she thought she knew hung heavy in the air. At the same time, everything felt so forigen and so wrong because she knew things shouldn't look like this and she wondered what she'd woken into. Maybe she was dreaming. Yes, that'd be a wonderful option. Her dreams had been strange as of late, but it was a better, and more logical idea, than the whole word changing in some strange way.

coded by RESCUE RANGER ! of ATF

[Ben McDowell]

they seem to know right where they belong

The floruescent lights strobed overhead and Ben immediately regretted looking up at them. They did something to his brain and he had to dash over to one of the disgusting trash bins nearby so his stomach could forcefully empty itself of its contents. Once he could do nothing but dry heave he staggered back from the bin, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie, and grimaced.

Off came said hoodie and he shoved it into the trash. There was a slight, almost unnatural chill to the air and it was enough to make the hair on his arms stand on end. He didn't like it, not one bit, so he started walking in the general direction of the mall's main entrance. His footsteps echoed on the hard floor but every now and again there was a far off noise, like someone (not something, he quickly corrected himself) else moving in the distance.

And then there was that odd scraping noise, like a fan in a duct somewhere had gotten stuck on something, and one of the blades was rubbing against the duct work. It made his teeth itch. On the upside, Ben thought to himself, at least he didn't feel quite as queasy as before even though his head was still killing him.

When the entrance came into view he sprinted towards it, not even thinking to check out the stores he was moving past. That was a mistake. A wet, gurgling sound came from the right, and before he could even form a proper reaction there was something slimy, solid, and reeking terribly tackling him from behind.

{ tagged :: open | words :: 270 | outfit :: T-shirt, jeans, sneakers }

made by ally of thesintax on livejournal

[Heather Mason]

letter, from the lost days

A letter to my future self, Am I still happy, I began, Have I grown up pretty, Is Daddy still a good man

Heather was moving quietly, carefully, through the mall walkways. She hadn't come to the mall with anyone else, so calling out for someone wasn't high on her list. Finding a way out of this literal nightmare was a better option. So, while her boots make quiet noises as she walks, the sound of heavy, swift footsteps across the floor put her on high alert. When she rounds the corner that leads to the main mall entrance, she sees someone running towards the doors she assumes are still there, but cannot see in the dim lighting. Not wanting to get too close, because she's unsure of what could be lurking around here, she readies herself to calls out to the runner, "Hey, you!" as he passes by one of those triangle-shaped mall map displays. The problem is, she doesn't see the kid run past it. They were there and then, they just seemed to disappear into thin air. But she had heard that wet noise and her stomach turned. Gut reaction told her to get the hell out of dodge. But if she wanted to try the front entrance, she had to go down that way anyhow. After taking a deep breath, she jogged towards the last place she spotted the running kid, hoping she wasn't going to end up facing a gory scene.

coded by RESCUE RANGER ! of ATF

[Ben McDowell]

they seem to know right where they belong

Ben isn't normally one to swear. Or talk much, for that matter, but when he's sidelined by something out of an early Wes Craven flick he can't help but shout out a quick "Fuck!" as he hits the ground hard. He lands on his left shoulder but thankfully rolls with it, instead of dislocating anything, but it still hurts and leaves him with stars in his eyes for a few seconds.

The hideous creature, bipedal but only faintly humanoid, looms over him and gurgles wetly, a nauseating noise that makes him want to hurl again. Ben curls into a ball as it strikes for his side and he grunts, another flash of pain taking over his common sense when the thing (he really has no idea what it is) hits again. And again. Until all he can do is try to protect his sensitive parts as best he can.

{ tagged :: Heather; open | outfit :: T-shirt, jeans, sneakers }

made by ally of thesintax on livejournal

[Heather Mason]

letter, from the lost days

A letter to my future self, Am I still happy, I began, Have I grown up pretty, Is Daddy still a good man

Heather doesn't get a response to her shout, but she does hear that curse that echoes in the almost empty corridor. That means whoever was running is still alive and it's someone who isn't part of...whatever this place is. She picks up speed, sprinting towards the shout and whatever commotion is going on down that way. As she runs, she spots a crowbar just lying in the middle of the walkway. Aside from that fact that it's both dangerous, may give her tetanus, and that she finds is awfully strange that it's just out in the middle of nowhere, she reaches down as she runs to grab it. Boots hit the tile floor as she closes in on the scene. With each step she gets a clearer look, something looming over a form on the floor, arms swinging down one after another to hit whatever's curled up on the stained tile. Heather pulls the crowbar back as she more closer than she's comfortable with to the looming creature and she swings it hard against its back.

coded by RESCUE RANGER ! of ATF

[Ben McDowell]

they seem to know right where they belong

Despite his loner attitude and full status as a social outcast in school, Ben's never really been in a fight. At least, not one where his life actually depends on him either winning or escaping. A few playground scuffles in no way compare to the monstrous thing that's hell bent on tearing him apart like a wet paper bag. Unfortunately the creature doesn't seem like it wants to let its prey get away so easily as it lashes out over and over with its spindly but somehow viciously strong forelimbs.

One good, solid hit lands squarely on his side, far too close to breakable ribs for his liking, and Ben actually yelps out. There's a white haze forming around the edges of his eyes and a faint ringing in his ears is getting louder as each second ticks past. By the time his rescuer gets there he's bleeding from a split bottom lip and will probably have some nasty bruises appearing in a few hours.

The creature spins and hisses at Heather, a 'how dare you intrude' sort of noise, and takes a swipe for her. The crowbar slams into its gangly limb, a lucky shot that hits the elbow joint, instantly shattering it and causing the creature to emit an unearthly howl before doing its best to skitter off underneath a not quite dropped down metal security gate of a nearby clothing store.

Ben, meanwhile, coughs and groans, weakly rolling onto his hands and knees while trying to figure out just how badly injured he is.

{ tagged :: Heather | outfit :: T-shirt, jeans, sneakers }

made by ally of thesintax on livejournal

[Heather Mason]

letter, from the lost days

A letter to my future self, Am I still happy, I began, Have I grown up pretty, Is Daddy still a good man

Heather's not much of a fighter, either. But adrenaline causes people to do things they don't normally do. Swinging a rusty crowbar at some...monster definitely falls into that category. When the crowbar makes contact with the creature, Heather jumps back as it howls and flees. She was worried it was going to come for her in retailation. Thankfully, she's spared and takes a few seconds to catch her breath before moving in to see what - or who - is on the floor. As she moves forward, she relaxes a little, seeing that the figure is not likely a threat. "C'mon, we've gotta keep moving before that thing comes back." Heather reaches out to grab the kid's shoulder, trying to get him to his feet. Once she gets a closer look, however, she's surprised. Almost more surprised than she was when she woke up in this strangely familiar place. "Ben?" The only reason her assumption is the quieter McDowell is because he's not screaming about his 'beautiful face' being harmed.

coded by RESCUE RANGER ! of ATF

[Ben McDowell]

they seem to know right where they belong

He can still move, can still feel all of his limbs and the pain zapping through them, which is always a good sign. Feeling nothing would be much worse. That would mean he was probably dead or paralyzed somewhere. Ben takes in a slow but deep breath, testing his lungs while making sure his ribs aren't broken. They hurt like hell but no, nothing seems to be seriously damaged.

A few more breaths later, when he's sure he's not going to vomit, he shakily gets to his feet like a newborn deer and tries to brush himself off. It's a futile attempt, though one made a little easier with Heather helping keep him steady. He'll do his best to not brace his full weight on her since he'd probably send them both crashing to the floor, and with that...thing still lurking about that wouldn't be good.

But, oh, wait. She's familiar. He squints his eyes, still a bit fuzzy in the head, and stares blankly at the blonde girl. "...Heather, right?" he croaks out, throat dry and voice barely above a whisper or mutter as usual. He starts to say more, but the sudden feeling of something trickling down his face makes him stop and lift a hand to investigate.

When he pulls it away it's smudged with blood that's slowly running down the side of his face from a cut just under his hairline at the temple. Most people might freak out when they see their own blood but not Ben. He just stares at it, like he's fascinated, and for the tiniest of moments (quicker than the blink of an eye, even) he smirks.

He lets a few seconds pass before wiping his hand off as best he can manage on the side of his jeans but makes no attempt to clean the rest of the blood off of his face. Maybe he doesn't mind it. Maybe he just doesn't care. It's never easy to tell with this quiet kid. "So. What now?" Like he was just asking about the weather or which store they should go shopping at next.

Ben's either handling this situation far too well for the average person or he's going into shock. As he waits for Heather to answer he licks a bit of blood from where his lip's been split open, the gesture much like a snake tasting the air.

{ tagged :: Heather | outfit :: T-shirt, jeans, sneakers }

made by ally of thesintax on livejournal

[Heather Mason]

letter, from the lost days

A letter to my future self, Am I still happy, I began, Have I grown up pretty, Is Daddy still a good man

Heather's as surprised to see Ben here as she would be surprised to see anyone else. But there's also relief, as she feels like she won't be trying to keep the other kid safe this entire time. It's not as if there's not rumors about the quieter McDowell, after all. She's pretty confident he'll be able to hold his own and not freak out at whatever they may encounter. She might be proven wrong, but right now, it puts her a touch at ease. It doesn't explain why either of them are here, however, but Heather has her own ideas about that in her regard. "Heather, yeah. Bad day to go shopping, huh?" Joking keeps the terror at bay, naturally. "I vote we get the hell out of Dodge," she says, looking down the wide open corridor to the glass doors at the front of the mall. "And we should find you a weapon. I have the feeling that won't be the last monster we come across." She waves the crowbar in her hand a little. For a girl, she's taking this whole thing very well. But Heather is connected strongly to what's happening here, even if she's not fully aware of it. In the dark recesses of her brain, she knows why this is happening and she knows what it all means, though she can't make much sense of it. It's a tip of the tongue sort of feeling, almost there, but just out of reach.

coded by RESCUE RANGER ! of ATF

[Ben McDowell]

they seem to know right where they belong

Ben never was the joking type. Those genes obviously all went to his brother while he got the common sense. It's a fair trade off in his mind. Better to be smart and humorless than to be a funny idiot. He looks around while Heather talks, somehow both paying attention to her and keeping an eye out just in case that creature (what the hell /was/ that thing?) comes crawling back. "Yeah. Weapon."

His eyes snap back to her or, more appropriately, the weapon in her hand. Something in his eyes shines to life and he grins. It's an unnerving expression when he's doing it, somehow. Maybe it's the blood running down the side of his face that makes it just that much more creepy. "Are there any sporting good stores in here?"

Of course he wouldn't be familiar with the mall. It's not like he goes there a lot, probably only once a month if that unless forced there by his mother for some stupid reason.

{ tagged :: Heather | outfit :: T-shirt, jeans, sneakers }

made by ally of thesintax on livejournal

[Heather Mason]

letter, from the lost days

A letter to my future self, Am I still happy, I began, Have I grown up pretty, Is Daddy still a good man

"Sporting goods? I think there's a Gander Mountain at on of the ends, but I'm not sure which. It's not exactly somewhere I go to," Heather comments as she squints a little, trying to remember which end of the mall it's on. Dillards, Macy's, JC Penny... It must be the empty end, where the Sears used to be. Heather jerks her head the direction of the supposed Gander Mountain. "It should be this way," she says as she begins to lead the way. As long as Ben follows, and there's no other monsters lingering nearby, at least. The center concourse of the mall is wide open, but a circular pit is where a beautiful carousel used to be. Rusted guard rails line the pitch black hole. Down the branches off of the concourse, there are walkways along the walls and stores, but the center of the aisles are covered with steel grating and there's something moving beneath them, clinging onto the grated floor below.

coded by RESCUE RANGER ! of ATF