...all long pig, all the time... (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
froodle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eerieindiana2016-10-13 06:33 pm
froodle) wrote in eerieindiana2016-10-13 06:33 pm
Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Househunting
Oops, just realised I forgot to post this yesterday, sorry! Anyway, this is for Day 12 of the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31daysoffandom October challenge. The prompt I used for this one was "costume"
The shunned house stood alone at the end of the street. Once it had been part of a long terrace of three-story redbrick homes, but not anymore. Now it was surrounded on both sides by rows of empty lots, separated from one another by fences of rusting chain-link and each home to a thriving colony of fast food wrappers and the feral pigeons that scavenged from them.
The house’s windows, the ones that were still intact, were opaque with dirt and grime, and their wooden frames were damp with rot. White paint peeled away from the dissolving wood in scabrous lumps, and fungus sprouted from the cracks between pane and frame. Whole swathes of tiles had fallen from the roof, and the felt beneath lay exposed like the pasty skin of a stray dog with mange. Lichen and creeping plants had made their home on the crumbling red brickwork, and now the lines of the building were blurry and uncertain under the encroaching layers of greenery.
Rusting supermarket trolleys lay on their sides in the ruined garden, visible as raised hillocks and recognisable only by the glimpse of a wheel or a handle through the long grass and the brambly undergrowth. The door had once been stained a light golden-brown, but neglect and the elements had tarnished it to a deeper colour, almost black, with a distressingly slimy sheen. It hung crooked in its warped frame, the top half bulging outwards, revealing the darkness within.
A faded sign, sun-bleached and spotted with mould, hung in the bay window of what was presumably the front room. In crooked hand-writing in thick black pen, it advertised rooms to rent, reasonable rates, bills not included. There was a telephone number.
The robed and hooded cultists clustered on the cracked pavement, heads bent as they conferred. Sinister whispers emerged from the deep shadows beneath their heavy cowls, tainting the crisp autumn afternoon with a miasma of conspiracy and bad intentions. A dairy tanker rattled past, and the unwholesome shrubbery in the front yard shuddered in the resulting slip-stream. The gnarled bare branches looked like the scrabbling fingers of a man in his death throes.
Their leader, a tall figure with red velvet trimming at the collar and cuffs, a clear indicator of rank to those in the know, nodded decisively. A black-gloved hand rummaged in the unknowable recesses of the ceremonial raiment of house-hunting and produced a bulky mobile phone. The keypad was sticky with a substance not of this earth, but it still worked okay.
The voice on the other end of the line was bright and perky as a summer’s day, and couldn’t quite drown out the sound of screaming in the background.
“Hellscape Realty, Indiana Division. This is Chrissy speaking, how can I help?”
The cult leader glibbered wetly, globs of mucus splattering against the mouthpiece of the portable telephone. The plastic began to blacken and char on contact. On the other end, Chrissy giggled, and it was the giggle of a pre-teen with a box of matches and a bottle of Daddy’s home-made moonshine.
“Absolutely,” she purred. “We will of course require a security deposit from your organisation; one month’s rent or souls equivalent to ten percent of your dues-paying members.”
The cult leader made a quick gesture. Two hooded figures, a green lampshade fringe hanging limply around the edges of their cowls, grabbed the smallest member of the group. A black blade that seemed to suck the light and warmth from the air around it plunged once, twice into the struggling cultist. Chrissy’s hum of satisfaction crackled through the melted earpiece.
“That’s lovely,” she sighed. “The key’s in the mailbox. We’ll send a copy of your contract in tomorrow’s post.”
There was a click like dry bones rattling in a forgotten tomb as the line disconnected. The surviving cultists coughed and gagged at the sudden stench of sulphur. The cult member who had generously provided the security deposit slumped to the ground, a dark ichor staining the front of the machine-washable house-hunting robes chosen specifically for this reason. His fellows did not spare him a second glance as they stepped over him to enter their new home.
Trusted Associates, Inc.
Halloween by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
froodle, in which Mars and Simon celebrate a Von Orloff-free All Hallows Eve
Surprise byfroodle, in which Mars tries to make sure Simon's birthday goes a little better this year
The Glade byfroodle, in which Simon and Mars visit a place that only exists on February 29th
Egg Hunt byfroodle, in which Simon and Mars partake of some traditional Easter activities
Boardwalk byfroodle, in which Simon and Mars are swayed by radio advertising
Lady in Red byfroodle, in which Simon experiments on the old-fashioned radio in the Secret Spot, and horror ensues
Waiting In byfroodle, in which there is an ice-storm and a handyman does not arrive
Seafoam byfroodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the seaside
A Night at the Circus byfroodle, in which a carnivale comes to town, and Marshall and Simon do not enjoy themselves
Taking a Break byfroodle, in which Simon and Marshall enjoy some much-needed R&R
Model Railway byfroodle, in which a new business prepares to open in Eerie
Shoreline byfroodle, in which Simon and Marshall investigate strange happenings on the shores of Lake Eerie
Parade byfroodle, in which Mars takes issue with the Eerie Beekeepers Association's choice of mascot
Homestead byfroodle, in which Marshall finally gets something useful out of shop class
Hound byfroodle, in which Simon makes a friend
Errands byfroodle, in which Simon has a to-do list
Slyboots byfroodle, in which a certain corporal of the infernal regions comes to Eerie. Crossover with Johannes Cabal the Necromancer.
Waterlogged byfroodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall
Festival byfroodle, in which Eerie's local businesses celebrate the summer
Strawberry byfroodle, in which there is unauthorised hubbub in Eerie
Wildlife byfroodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach
Facilities byfroodle, in which the Eerie Bus Station and Supper Club has a problem with the men's toilet
Anticipation byfroodle, in which Simon and Harley look forward to the Equinox
Castle byfroodle, in which there is unexpected architecture in Eerie
Visitor in which Marshall's grandma comes to stay
Euclid byfroodle, in which Marshall and Simon investigate strange events at the Eerie Cemetery
The Hut byfroodle, in which Simon takes on the forces of Eerie solo
31daysoffandom October challenge. The prompt I used for this one was "costume"The shunned house stood alone at the end of the street. Once it had been part of a long terrace of three-story redbrick homes, but not anymore. Now it was surrounded on both sides by rows of empty lots, separated from one another by fences of rusting chain-link and each home to a thriving colony of fast food wrappers and the feral pigeons that scavenged from them.
The house’s windows, the ones that were still intact, were opaque with dirt and grime, and their wooden frames were damp with rot. White paint peeled away from the dissolving wood in scabrous lumps, and fungus sprouted from the cracks between pane and frame. Whole swathes of tiles had fallen from the roof, and the felt beneath lay exposed like the pasty skin of a stray dog with mange. Lichen and creeping plants had made their home on the crumbling red brickwork, and now the lines of the building were blurry and uncertain under the encroaching layers of greenery.
Rusting supermarket trolleys lay on their sides in the ruined garden, visible as raised hillocks and recognisable only by the glimpse of a wheel or a handle through the long grass and the brambly undergrowth. The door had once been stained a light golden-brown, but neglect and the elements had tarnished it to a deeper colour, almost black, with a distressingly slimy sheen. It hung crooked in its warped frame, the top half bulging outwards, revealing the darkness within.
A faded sign, sun-bleached and spotted with mould, hung in the bay window of what was presumably the front room. In crooked hand-writing in thick black pen, it advertised rooms to rent, reasonable rates, bills not included. There was a telephone number.
The robed and hooded cultists clustered on the cracked pavement, heads bent as they conferred. Sinister whispers emerged from the deep shadows beneath their heavy cowls, tainting the crisp autumn afternoon with a miasma of conspiracy and bad intentions. A dairy tanker rattled past, and the unwholesome shrubbery in the front yard shuddered in the resulting slip-stream. The gnarled bare branches looked like the scrabbling fingers of a man in his death throes.
Their leader, a tall figure with red velvet trimming at the collar and cuffs, a clear indicator of rank to those in the know, nodded decisively. A black-gloved hand rummaged in the unknowable recesses of the ceremonial raiment of house-hunting and produced a bulky mobile phone. The keypad was sticky with a substance not of this earth, but it still worked okay.
The voice on the other end of the line was bright and perky as a summer’s day, and couldn’t quite drown out the sound of screaming in the background.
“Hellscape Realty, Indiana Division. This is Chrissy speaking, how can I help?”
The cult leader glibbered wetly, globs of mucus splattering against the mouthpiece of the portable telephone. The plastic began to blacken and char on contact. On the other end, Chrissy giggled, and it was the giggle of a pre-teen with a box of matches and a bottle of Daddy’s home-made moonshine.
“Absolutely,” she purred. “We will of course require a security deposit from your organisation; one month’s rent or souls equivalent to ten percent of your dues-paying members.”
The cult leader made a quick gesture. Two hooded figures, a green lampshade fringe hanging limply around the edges of their cowls, grabbed the smallest member of the group. A black blade that seemed to suck the light and warmth from the air around it plunged once, twice into the struggling cultist. Chrissy’s hum of satisfaction crackled through the melted earpiece.
“That’s lovely,” she sighed. “The key’s in the mailbox. We’ll send a copy of your contract in tomorrow’s post.”
There was a click like dry bones rattling in a forgotten tomb as the line disconnected. The surviving cultists coughed and gagged at the sudden stench of sulphur. The cult member who had generously provided the security deposit slumped to the ground, a dark ichor staining the front of the machine-washable house-hunting robes chosen specifically for this reason. His fellows did not spare him a second glance as they stepped over him to enter their new home.
Trusted Associates, Inc.
Halloween by
froodle, in which Mars and Simon celebrate a Von Orloff-free All Hallows EveSurprise by
froodle, in which Mars tries to make sure Simon's birthday goes a little better this yearThe Glade by
froodle, in which Simon and Mars visit a place that only exists on February 29thEgg Hunt by
froodle, in which Simon and Mars partake of some traditional Easter activities Boardwalk by
froodle, in which Simon and Mars are swayed by radio advertisingLady in Red by
froodle, in which Simon experiments on the old-fashioned radio in the Secret Spot, and horror ensuesWaiting In by
froodle, in which there is an ice-storm and a handyman does not arriveSeafoam by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the seasideA Night at the Circus by
froodle, in which a carnivale comes to town, and Marshall and Simon do not enjoy themselvesTaking a Break by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall enjoy some much-needed R&RModel Railway by
froodle, in which a new business prepares to open in EerieShoreline by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall investigate strange happenings on the shores of Lake EerieParade by
froodle, in which Mars takes issue with the Eerie Beekeepers Association's choice of mascot Homestead by
froodle, in which Marshall finally gets something useful out of shop classHound by
froodle, in which Simon makes a friendErrands by
froodle, in which Simon has a to-do listSlyboots by
froodle, in which a certain corporal of the infernal regions comes to Eerie. Crossover with Johannes Cabal the Necromancer.Waterlogged by
froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfallFestival by
froodle, in which Eerie's local businesses celebrate the summerStrawberry by
froodle, in which there is unauthorised hubbub in EerieWildlife by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beachFacilities by
froodle, in which the Eerie Bus Station and Supper Club has a problem with the men's toiletAnticipation by
froodle, in which Simon and Harley look forward to the EquinoxCastle by
froodle, in which there is unexpected architecture in EerieVisitor in which Marshall's grandma comes to stay
Euclid by
froodle, in which Marshall and Simon investigate strange events at the Eerie Cemetery The Hut by
froodle, in which Simon takes on the forces of Eerie solo
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
so generously provided the security deposit
ahahahahaha
no subject