Hey, what’s everyone doing down in the cellar?
And who left the radio turned to the news? This thing was playing KROQ the last time I was in here.
Oh, man. That multiple murderer with the wood-carving fetish is loose again. Better go make sure all the doors are locked.
Hey, what’s that sound?
Hmmm…if deepbluesea is behind me, then who’s ahead of me?
I can’t speak for the others, but I’m looking for a breaker box by the now-actinic green light of this candle (which seems, BTW, to be made of tallow rather than wax as I had first assumed; it smells kind of odd, too–I had no idea that you could get grave-mould scented candles at Wicks & Sticks). Of course, the fact that someone seems to have moved a swamp in here while I wasn’t looking is interfering with my search.
Once I get the lights back on, I’ll see about patching the phone cord–there’s no rest for a techie in a haunted thread, ya know. Hey, there’s another light over there–maybe that’s where the box is…<squelch, squelch, squelch, SPLOOSHROARTHUMP, drag, drag, drag>
Balance?
Balance?
Dang. He probably hit his head looking for the breaker box. I think I see his candlelight, though - he did say it was getting green.
::squelch::
::squelch::
Balance, that had better be you making that noise…
::SQU-elch::
Balance, this isn’t funny.
::KA-thunk::
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa[sub]eeeeeeeeeee[/sub]
::squelch::
Oh hey, what’s this book I found with the weird writing on it? Methinks I should read it out loud, because of course nothing bad will happen…it’s just a book…
cue wind, banging windows and screams
So Byzantine, it’s a joke, is it?
Then you won’t mind spending one whole night in this thread?
Alone?
And don’t go looking for that secret passage behind the bookcase which will take you through to GQ. It was boarded up years ago when the last rude houseguest met a very untimely death in there. MWAHAHAHA!!!
Gratuitous state police warning destined to be ignored
:: Drives up to thread in her police SUV with lights flashing ::
:: Walks through pouring rain and knocks on the door ::
:: After several minutes Kricket and Weird Al answer the door in various stages of undress ::
“I saw that you had lost your power in this terrible storm and wanted to let you kids know to be careful. We’ve had an escape from the local insane asylum. Now we have a crazed axe murderer on the loose. Be sure to lock your doors and don’t let anyone in. Alright kids?”
:: Kricket and Weird Al nod solemnly ::
Kricket:
“Yes officer, thanks for the warning.”
:: Walks back through the rain to her waiting vehicle and picks up her CB hand unit to report to dispatch that she has contacted the occupants of the thread in question ::
:: looks in her rearview mirror ::
:: screams ::
Mmmmmmm…no, I didn’t hear anything hon…let’s go back upstairs…
…
Hey, what’s going on in this thread?
Hello?
Hello?
Damn, this place is scary. I’m getting the hell out of here!!!
::MLC wanders into the thread, dressed in janitor clothes. He’s carrying a large bag that’s dripping something ::
<dead voice> Hello everyone - I’m here to fix the furnace… I’ll just be going into the cellar… Please don’t mind the stragely shaped tattoo on my forehead… it’s just the mark of the evi… soot… yesss… just a bit of soot…</dead voice>
Hey! Don’t you know the Latecomer is always killed?
The moon! The moon! M-O-O-N spells mooooaaaoooo…
<Badly mauled, Balance sits up and spits out swamp muck>
What the #@!! happened to me? OK, no more cellar-squelching for me–time to head upstairs. Maybe the breaker box is in the kitchen.
deepbluesea? Are you down here?
<silence, except for the irregular dripping of water>
I guess not.
<Bolts for the stairs, knocking MLC off them, headfirst into the muck–pauses and yells after MLC>
I think the furnace is behind the dark altar of nameless gods of evil. If you need matches, they’re in the dark cupboard of nameless gods of evil.
<Looks out the kitchen window at the moon, rubs his chin>
How long was I out, anyway? My stubble’s gotten awfully long…
::picks himself out of the muck::
“Oh fartles… that’s NOT the way it’s supposed to work”
::hastily shoves what appears to be a human arm back in to the bag, which opened on the way down, and wanders off into the gloom::
::runs in panting and slams door::
Oh My God! Those people! They were eating officer Seattle! And there are hundreds of them around this house!Wait a minute,Why is all the furniture in this house made of bones?
picks, ah say PICKS himself up…
sigh - managed to screw up on my 2nd post…
::MLC, trying desperately to maintain some kind of vaguely creepy dignity, takes two steps, and steps on a largish dog-turd::
<short, fanged, and furry>
Well, I like it–I don’t have to wait for commercials to get a snack.
Woof.
(You think you’re having dignity issues, MLC? Try getting mauled by a werebeagle. 
)
Klaatu verrata n… Necktie… Nickel… It’s an “N” word, it’s definitely an “N” word!
Say, that didn’t work. Perhaps we should walk slowly backwards down the hall. Wadaya say, sweet-cheeks?
Klaatu verrata n… Necktie… Nickel… It’s an “N” word, it’s definitely an “N” word!
Say, that didn’t work. Perhaps we should walk slowly backwards down the hall. Wadaya say, sweet-cheeks?
One baleful eye opens to look about.
If all goes according to plan, there will be one more wife who does not realize she is a now a widow, but merely fretting about her husband being late again…
Few things escaped her notice, even though it was dark.
If all goes according to plan, there will be more orphans in the world tonight…
She loved the dark. This was her time to shine, as it were. And she had the advantage over her victims.
Patience.
Confidence.
Silence.
Oh, the silence was lovely. And the look on the victim’s face was one of the few joys in her life, that mixture of surprise, fear and complete terror. Abject terror, knowing they were trapped, knowing she would not let them go. Ever.
If all goes accordin…There he is. Now.
A leap from the shadows, a short chase [Damn, he’s quick!], a grip about his neck, and a firm ‘hug’ with sharpened nails, all while patiently watching him struggle in squealing panic then suddenly go limp.
Excellent. I shall not go hungry tonight.
A short flight back to the branch, a quick gulp, and the rest of the world did not notice his passing. She blinked her yellow eyes and settled back against the tree trunk, her brown feathers blending in with the bark. Hiding. Waiting for the next meal to wander by.
Mouse. It’s what’s for dinner.
::eirroc heaves herself out of the dark damp hole and peers around the dark room listening intently::
“What’s that moaning sound?”
::scared witless, she listens carefully at door::
“Oh it’s Kricket, phew”…
::Shriek!::
What the hell was that, that ran past? eww it was all hairy…
::eirroc makes a run for the door, trips and falls back down the hole again::
<Chewing on a chair leg, waiting patiently for dogbutler to start butling in some victims…or at least some Alpo>