Name: Fion Okuda
Interests: Christian, Fletcher, Karen
Day || Night
Walk on vanity ruins
Still no signal.
Fion sat idly out the little porch the motel had, twirling a pen between her fingers and watching the leaves overhead rustle. Her phone dangled uselessly from her other hand, the No Service cheerfully set in the top left corner of her screen.
If there were small mercies, it was that there was electricity in this little backwater town. It meant she had all the time in the world to blitz through a few levels of Temple Run, recharge her Kindle, try to get through all those books she downloaded and purchased on a whim. So far, she’d just about managed to finish a very disappointing thriller about mis-measured rooms, old money, and corruption. Pity, really - it had come highly reviewed.
The unease, however, was roiling her by this point. She’d heard it from a few others this morning as she had a go at the motel’s omelette: some people had gone missing from the motel. That Fion hadn’t noticed - she’d only guessed some were preferring to skip breakfast, to sleep in, thus the thinning breakfast crowd down at the motel. That alone hadn’t really irked her, but it was -
Little, small things compounding, snowballing until it lodged itself in her head and refused to let go. That was the best way Fion could explain it. And was it just her, or was the tour guide entirely unconcerned that several of her tour group had disappeared on her watch, while they were waiting for the bus to be fixed… or whatever they were waiting for now?
If this world still operated in its rational sense, someone would have set out a missing person report. Or multiple.
There was the sound of creaking wood and footsteps behind her, but Fion couldn’t find it in her to rouse herself to look. Something about this town was making her sleepy, lethargic - restless, with nowhere to go, to stretch her feet.
A shadow fell over her, and she noted the breadth of its shoulder, how it was close enough to make its presence known, but not so close it invaded her personal space.
“What’re you doing out here?”
Ah. Fletcher. She turned her head a few degrees, and shielded her eyes from the sun shining brightly and aggressively, as if on a mission to scar her retinas. She beamed up at him.
“Relaxing. All the time in the world here now.”
“Yeah. You heard the news about the missing tourists?”
“I think everyone did.” Fletcher took the empty chair next to her, looking contemplative. “You think they’ll be found?”
“There’s only one road in and out of here.” She tried for a grin. “Short of feral beasts waiting they’ll be fine.”
Fletcher looked worried for a moment, and Fion watched him. “I hope so - maybe someone picked them up along the way.”
“Eh.” Fion gave a non-committal shrug, unwilling to pursue the matter further. Any more, and she might start picking holes in how complacent everyone seemed to be here in this town. “So. What’ve you been up to? Doing?”
That brought the smile back to Fletcher’s face, and he relaxed in his seat. “Writing - drafting a few ideas. The best thing about Blackthorne is that it’s given me room and time to think things through.”
“Generally? Or for your film?”
“Both?” Fion’s smile matched Fletcher’s laugh - bright, tinged with sheepishness. “I was actually wanting to go out into town today to look at a few places we passed by on our tour.”
“That’d be a good idea. There’s plenty of weird landmarks here worth looking at.”
“Would you like to come with?”
Fion startled.
“Oh, did you want to?”
“I mean, if you -”
“Oh. Nah. Nah, I’m fine, let’s head out. I’m restless and having too much time in my own head. You have a list?”
As it turned out, Fletcher did - complete with a map that the motel staff had been more than happy to provide him with. She caught a glance of it as they headed out - him with his slacks, large winter coat, and her with her jacket and her crossbody bag. It had been marked, annotated, scribbled over with tiny handwriting Fion couldn’t pick out from a distance. But judging by the way the arrows criss-crossed the area, it seemed he had an itinerary in mind to start with.
She also noted the map depicted the town being surrounded by forests and fog. She could see forest for miles and miles, but not so much the fog - not during the day, at least. And especially not on a day as clear and bright as this. Was this why they were so isolated? But even isolated towns had some sort of…
It was not a point Fion wanted to revisit. No matter how much she wanted there to be a damn signal, or at least some semblance of common sense, it had fled Blackthorne. Besides, she wouldn’t be this technology addicted - simply that she was wondering what came of the meeting, what came of New York. And more particularly, if her supervisor arrived in New York to find their junior vanishing into thin air without a trace.
As it turned out, it was a good day to follow Fletcher out into the sun. The town was still eerie, deserted during the day. If they were in the desert, there would’ve been tumbleweeds rolling by, but this was not the correct climate nor the correct region for it. The stillness, despite the wintry air, was suffocating - stifling, like someone was pressing a blanket down on Fion. Fletcher, however, was almost completely unaffected, and she followed him towards the alleged high street they’d wandered through on their tour.
She caught up with Fletcher as he was - framing the area? That was the best way to describe how he peered through his makeshift frame. He’d held up his hands, created a frame with his thumb and forefingers, and was staring through them, murmuring to himself all the way.
“This would make a perfect street shot, if the film called for one,” he told her as she approached. She stood on tiptoe, trying to look over his shoulder, and proceeded to give up - he was at least half a head taller than her.
“You know what you’re doing more than I do.”
“You’re doing alright. I’ve a few - ideas sketched out on paper, but I thought it’d be better to see this for myself.”
“Better grasp on what you’re doing?”
“Precisely.” Fletcher beamed. “It’s always easier to work when you know what you have, and then decide what you can do with it in actual shooting and post-production. It also saves time too, especially since I don’t have funding for this project.”
“You want to do a Gothic movie?”
He looked thoughtful. “Possibly. Look at Blackthorne - it’d be a waste if you didn’t set something Gothic or horror-based in here.”
If anything, Blackthorne during the day seemed to be built specifically for Gothic and horror settings, but Fion bit that thought back. Instead, she turned her attentions to another alley leading off from the high street. It was, for all intents and purposes, wholly unremarkable, but - last Fion remembered, it hadn’t been there. Gently, she nudged Fletcher.
“You seen that alleyway before?”
He paused midway through framing another area, and looked in the direction Fion was pointing in.
“No, but I was keeping up with the Mayor.”
She gave the alleyway another look. Maybe she had just overlooked it? Besides, the high street right here and now would be more interesting than - chasing dead ends. Or another alleyway.
Still, it couldn’t hurt to…
“I’m gonna go check that alley out.” Fion indicated the alleyway “Be back in a jiffy.”
“Is there something special about that alley?”
“Only I haven’t seen it before,” called back Fion, as she headed in its direction. She hadn’t expected Fletcher to follow, but the footsteps behind her told her he had - and it suited her just fine. She was grateful for it too, when she rounded a corner, and found herself staring down a row of dilapidated houses, colour faded from all facades. It looked almost grey, and a chill gambolled around her feet.
“Well.” She stared up at it, acutely aware of Fletcher behind her. “This is new.”
“No, this is definitely new.” Fletcher came to stand beside her, and a cold draft blew between them. It was colder, bone-deep, and if Fion closed her eyes, she swore she could hear whispers. She tried to take one, two steps further into the alleyway, but a freezing hand seemed to close over her heart, squeezing, warning. She took a deep breath, tried to will it away, and realised Fletcher beside her hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Is this a good idea, Fion?” She could hear the hesitation in Fletcher’s voice, the way his voice seemed to muffle itself in an alleyway.
“Maybe not.” It was an admittance, but she tried to take a third, fourth step. Now, something was rooting her in place, whispers in her ears beginning to gather, telling her to get out out out out OUT OUT OUT -
She liked to think her retreat was at least dignified, and when she reached the entrance to the alleyway, the hand let go. In that instance, she thought she could breathe again.
“Something happened?” Fletcher’s face had concern written all over it, and Fion gave him a half-smirk.
“I’m a risk-taker, not suicidal. Come on, let’s head back out to the high street.”
Neither of them spoke of the alleyway when they went back to the street, contenting themselves with peering through the slatted windows, Fion half-joking about urbexing and breaking and entering into the seemingly closed stores. After all - if their owners weren’t here during the day, it wouldn’t do much harm to see what was actually inside the stores, would there?
Uneternal sleep
With hindsight, Fion should’ve been more prepared for Karen’s outburst. Specifically, Karen knocking loudly on her door, asking if she was awake at something like eight at night, after their dinner at the motel. She’d opened the door to see Karen dressed to the nines, as if she were preparing to go out.
“You’re coming?” Karen asked her, arms crossed over her chest. Fion blinked, glanced down at her oversized tee and boxers, then looked back up.
“Out?” Fion hazarded. Karen nodded, tapping a foot on the floor a tad impatiently.
“I got sick of being cooped up here. The tour guide said we shouldn’t wander - but the missing tourists wandered out of town. If we stay on the high street, we should be fine.”
Fion cast a eye to the window behind her, the way the streets seemed to be alive, bustling with people. Like Blackthorne had come to life, day and night reversed.
“Oh, come on Fion. Don’t tell me you’re not a little curious about what goes on on the streets.”
“Oh, I’m totally not interested in why the streets sound like a city at night.” Fion rolled her eyes, then smiled. “Dodgy ideas, not listening to a nigh-useless tour guide? Yeah, sure, give me five and I’ll join you.”
“You know, you agreed awfully quickly.”
“I agree to things that are ill-advised,” she retorted cheerfully. She opted not to remember what had happened last time she decided to go with her gut - specifically, the dilapidated houses she’d found with Fletcher a day or two ago. “You’re gonna wait for me?”
“Lobby! I’m off to see if I can convince anyone else to come with us.”
Karen didn’t give her much time to react, striding off confidently down the corridor. Fion watched her go, and retreated back into her room. She didn’t have much on her by way of actual winter clubbing wear - but she could probably put something together in a few moments. And preferably with a massive overcoat to keep her warm on the walk over.
When she got to the lobby, there were about eight - nine? Ten? Fion had never been good at roll call - waiting, Karen pointedly talking to everyone except Adrian. She brightened up when she saw Fion, looping an arm through hers, and set off towards the doors of the motel.
Whether there were any staff around to see them go - or to stop them, Fion did not notice, nor did she care. Because once they stepped out of the motel, towards the high street, the sight they saw stopped them dead.
The previously empty, deserted streets were lit up, like a proper little high street. Lights were strung from every doorway, people bustling in and out, living as though they were - in the day, that was. Fion spied a baker hoisting a tray full of freshly baked goods from an oven; the pharmacist chattering animatedly to - wait, what was the person -
She was pulled along by Karen before she could get a better look, and she realised that they were headed towards a night club. It would not look out of place in the major clubbing and bar districts in capitals around the world: it looked like a more upscale speakeasy, the previously bare storefront now proudly proclaiming “Pandemonium” in bright, neon letters.
“I think this might be interesting,” Karen said, looking up at it. Fion sent the woman a sidelong glance.
“I can hear enough bass that I think I’ve gained an extra heartbeat, it is definitely going to be interesting.”
“I didn’t think you were the type to enjoy this sort of music.”
“Is it my demure Japanese look?” She grinned, shaking her head to hopefully convey she wasn’t offended. “I did grow up in the club scenes in the UK.”
“Nothing as weird as this?”
“Blackthorne is weird, full stop.” Fion gestured to the club above them, the crowds that had magically materialised in the town. “Where were all these people to start with?”
“Maybe they’re nocturnal.”
“Like vampires.” They both burst out laughing, but there was an edge of unease to it. Before Fion could think of it any further, she was promptly dragged into the club, into the seething mass of people waiting within.
The music, the lights - all of these were things Fion would expect in a major city, but not so much a backwater town in the middle of nowhere. Yet, here they were, dancing, modern music playing, and - Fion caught snatches of contemporary artists blurring into one continuous track.
The people here paid them no heed as they joined the crowds - or in Fion’s case, where she made a beeline to the bar. She knew she needed at least a shot of vodka to knock back tonight, to make up for the insanity that she was seeing before her eyes, and to shake off the collectively accumulated chills over the past - week? Two weeks? Three?
Time blurred together here, and it was no exception for the crowds. The people here were sharply, beautifully made up, but Fion recognised absolutely no one from the crowd. All she did know was that the clothes they wore were dark, beautifully cut, but they shimmered and faded as if they were being viewed through a hazy lens.
A pinprick of unease found its way again, but Fion had gotten better at shaking it off. She smiled when the bartender got her her vodka shot and her G&T, tipped them, and set about knocking back the shot - and then nursing her drink while making small talk.
She’d just about managed to pry a funny bar story involving a laundry machine, socks, and dried ramen noodles when Karen rejoined her at the bar, asking for yet another red. The bartender nodded, and left them alone to fetch a drink.
“I saw one of our tour mates just now.”
“Oh? You mean Fletcher, Adrian, the like?”
“No - one of the missing ones. Gracie, I think her name was.”
That got Fion’s attention, and she turned to focus on Karen. Despite the music and her relative level of inebriation, she could just about pick up on Karen’s words - and something in her clicked.
“The missing - you mean the ones the guide said was missing?”
“Yes, if you go look -”
She followed Karen’s pointing, and noticed the people congregating around the dance floor. Now that Karen had mentioned it, she vaguely recalled their faces - enough to gain some sort of recognition, no more, no less.
“Right. Weird. What are they doing here?”
Something flickered across Karen’s face in the dark, occasionally illuminated by the strobe lights.
“You - you should ask them. I think this town’s done something, but I’m not if I’m hallucinating anymore.”
Fion looked at Karen, searching for any sign the woman was pulling her leg, but - she’d associated with Karen long enough to tell when she was joking, and this was not it. Frowning, she slid off her perch.
“Keep an eye on my G&T, won’t you?”
Karen nodded, and Fion made her way towards Gracie. From a distance, everything seemed alright: she was dancing, enjoying herself, blonde hair swinging from a lovely ponytail that Fion could never emulate. But as she got closer - there was something hypnotic about it. Or rather, Gracie seemed - hypnotised. Entranced. The hell?
She pushed her way through the crowd, shimmying her way the best she could, and bumped into Gracie the best she could. Fion turned, an apology on her lips, but Gracie waved it off, bright, smiling.
“You’re new around these parts!”
“So are you,” Fion answered, smiling, never missing a beat. Gracie laughed brightly.
“I meant to this town! I’ve not seen your face around before - who’re you?”
“Fion. But didn’t you -”
“Oh, you’re one of the tourists.” Gracie sounded almost dismissive, waving her hand around. “It’s so nice to see you guys out and about, I thought you guys were going to be cooped up in the motel forever.”
“You were there with us, too.”
“Oh, no, no I wasn’t. At the ball, yes, but everyone at the town has to attend. No, we heard aaaall about you -”
And then there it was, the way Gracie drawled the words, the way the crowds were pressing in, how glazed her eyes was. Plastered? Drugged? High? What were they pumping into the air here? But Fion recognised a losing battle when she saw one, and so she made a few more attempts at conversation, and sashayed her way out of the dance floor.
She couldn’t see Karen anymore, nor her G&T, but Fion wasn’t in the mood for it anymore. Straightening her outfit, she turned on her heel, and marched out into the night air. God knew she could clear her head.
Monochrome Night
She damn near jumped out of her skin when she collided with someone outside Pandemonium. A pair of hands reached out to steady her, and Fion took one, two deep breaths, readying an apology -
And looked up to see Christian staring down at her, a deep frown marring his face. That made Fion relax a bit: here, the very least, was a friendly face she had seen. And maybe to reassure her that she wasn’t hallucinating this entire town. But before she could open her mouth to greet him, Christian had already spoken.
“What are you doing outside your motel?”
“Clubbing. Exploring.”
“At night? Didn’t your guide tell you to stay inside the motel?”
Fion offered a wry smile. “Cabin fever. We can’t go anywhere, we can’t leave, there’s no signal, the bus has gone missing, and our tour guide seems to be wholly unconcerned people are missing…”
The frown deepened, and the grip on her shoulders had not lessened in the slightest. He shut his eyes, chest rising and falling as he took a few deep breaths. Calming himself down? Steadying himself? Fion could not tell.
“Why do you - insist on taking risks that will jeopardise your safety?”
“You weren’t complaining when I was out in the library. Also, it’s a night club, I haven’t been mugged yet.”
“I’m not -” He exhaled, and his eyes cleared. There was a pause where he took her in, and then seemed to realise exactly how close he was standing to her. He took a few steps back, and distantly, Fion mourned the loss of closeness, before she stamped that thought out of her head. “ - It’s not just about clubbing. You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late at night.”
“The rest of the town seems happy enough to do so. Speaking of which - why is the town suddenly so packed with people?”
“You find it odd? You must have heard the sounds at night.”
“Yes, but usually it’s equally busy during the day, not deserted.”
There was another huff, one of amusement this time. In spite of himself, by the way Christian was holding himself - strength, intimidation, and what was probably concern rolled into one. She was used to intimidation from men - and women, at times, whenever someone tried to shout her down into agreeing with them. Concern was something new - new on someone she met for a few weeks, but felt comfortable enough to converse with.
“Deserted doesn’t mean safe either. There are some streets - you must have noticed.”
“Some are draftier than others, yes, but nothing’s jumped out to murder me yet.”
“Yet.” Another sigh. “You are a strange woman, Fion.”
“I think I’m perfectly normal, thank you. But - you live in this town, right?”
“Yes, I believe we established that when you first arrived.”
“So - what’s the deal? With this place?”
“It is not something an outsider should be concerned with. You should head back - it is getting late.”
“Yeah, look - I don’t involve myself in whatever town matters are. But in there - I ran into -” She paused, then backtracked. How much Christian knew about the situation with the tour group, she had no idea. But if she started blabbering about missing tourists and said missing tourists thinking they were apparently part of this town…
“Okay. You know we had tourists missing from our tour group?”
His eyebrows shot up, and his concern sharpened into something akin to a glare.
“And you’re still wandering?”
“I’m not dumb enough to wander off the beaten path. No, but - yeah, we had people from our tour group go missing.”
“When was this?”
“A few days ago?”
Christian nodded, processing the information. Encouraged, Fion continued on.
“So - they went missing, our tour guide said they’d just wandered off - completely unconcerned, which in itself is worrying - and tonight, we run into them back at the club back - there.”
He hadn’t interrupted her yet, so she presumed he’d want to hear more.
“And the best part is - they think they’re Blackthorne inhabitants. They’re not. I’m not good with faces, but I’m fairly sure they in my tour group.”
Christian’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t seem as surprised as Fion thought he would be. He was still frowning at her, but his glare had softened, and he seemed like he was weighing up words, matters, things in his mind. The next words out of his mouth, however, were not ones that she expected.
“You need to forget about them.”
“Wait - what? You don’t find it strange?”
“Yes, and no. You forget what the Mayor said.”
“The thing about us liking it so much we don’t want to leave? That’s one thing, but another to -”
“Fion.” His voice was low, serious, and it stopped the woman mid-conversation. “I know what you mean. But you need to forget about it - for your own sake. And you need to stop heading out at night.”
“Why? Have you seen -”
“For your own good. Listen - this town is, as you may have noticed, strange. Your stay here is already odd enough, and for it to be this long is - unheard of. When you can leave, you must, but for now - stay in the motel.”
“I’m not going to -”
“For me, if no one else.”
Fion gaped at him, holding up one finger to point at him, then retracted it. What was there to say to that? She forced her mind to work, come up with some sort of intelligent response, and came up with -
“I still stand by the fact I’m not going to get mugged.”
Christian did smile then, and he inclined his head.
“Follow me.”
“Wait, where to? I normally don’t -”
“Back to the motel.”
“What? It’s just about midnight! God I sound like a whiny kid.”
“At the moment, you are. I will not leave you wandering the streets at this hour. Come.”
The tone of his voice brooked no argument, and with a roll of her eyes, Fion dutifully followed him, wondering exactly which bit of her had failed to put up a stronger resistance. The walk to the motel would last maybe a good fifteen minutes or so, and she was grateful for her large, thick winter coat. It warded off the chill, the very least, but tonight, she felt a little more at ease, compared to the other nights - whether at the motel, or in the high street of Blackthorne. Eventually, Christian broke the silence.
“You have very little inhibitions for someone who is foreign to a town.”
“If you don’t live a little, what else can you do? Besides, you don’t get to experience a town unless you go out and hang out with the locals.”
“You imply Blackthorne has things that hold your attention.”
“People, culture, lifestyle. There’s a difference, even in the smaller hamlets. And if you don’t go out to experience it - when will you?”
“There are plenty of safer ways to do so.”
“Do you see me coming back to Blackthorne?”
This got a chuckle out of him, and Fion wanted to treasure that sound, hoard it away for her own memory. Christian had seemed reticent, distant, and if there was one thing she understood about this type of person, it was that smiles were rare, precious things - any form of laughter moreso.
Still, the man had no further answer to that, and they walked the rest of the way in amicable silence. Eventually, they reached the main doorway to the motel, where he stood under the porch.
“I will see you again.”
“Yeah, thanks for the walk home.” She smiled, the most sincere one she mustered since entering Blackthorne. “I’ll be good now.”
And he was gone, melting into the shadows outside. Fion watched him go, and made her way back to her motel room, picking off her outfit, her makeup, and got ready for bed. But what she saw in Pandemonium, along with Christian’s words, lingered with her long into the night.
Finished!
Last edited by Jadis (23/03/2020 at 19:06)
