The tunnel opened up into a large chamber. The ceiling stretched so high that it was hidden in the shadows. Julie couldn't believe something so giant could be hidden under Spirit Lake. Obviously the town held plenty of secrets, this cave system being one of them.
Julie stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, letting there guide get a few steps ahead of them. He walked quickly down a long runway that lead to a small, circuler stage made of stone. In the center of that stage was a throne. Moira's throne. They had officially entered her kingdom.
"Keep moving." The man's voice was little more than a grunt. A few days ago he had been a civil, kind man. Now he was nothing more than a huffing, puffing, grunting monster who took orders from his blood craving queen.
Julie took Roxanne's hand and they made their way down the runway, Paul and Roy a few steps ahead of them. Although the ground to the side of the runway was dark, Julie could hear the voices, the moans of people. She could feel their eyes watching them.
"Welcome guests!" Moira stood in front of her throne, William at her side, his head down, looking at the floor, his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry for the unpleasent nature of this visit, but it couldn't be avoided."
Julie was pretty sure this was the first time she had seen Moira in clothes.
The second the thought past her mind Moira dropped her robe, exposing her naked flesh once more.
"This looks like something out of a bad Italian horror film." Roxanne's voice was a welcome reminder that Julie wasn't alone.
"Lets keep thinking that. This is only a bad horror film. Maybe it'll come true." Julie regretted the snarky comment the second it left her lips.
"William, greet our guests." Moira looked at William, her hand gently resting on his shoulder.
William raised his head, and suddenly Julie felt ill.
He was smiling. The son of a bitch was smiling.
The man stopped, halting the entire group. They were only five feet from the stone stage.
"William and I had a little talk, and as you know I can be very persuasive." Moira stepped back. "Aren't I William."
He just nodded.
"Welcome to the family." She kissed her fingers and gently pressed them to William's cheek.
The whole scene playing out in front of Julie made her sick. What had that sick bitch done to William? What had she done to win him over? The first idea that came to her mind was to twisted to even entertain, and yet, after everything, it wasn't that far of a stretch.
Suddenly William revealed his right hand. In it was clutched a plain, but very sharp and very long dagger. Then, without warning her charged. Their guide lept from the runway into the pit, and William was heading straight for Paul.
"The weak shall perish first." William let out a loud laugh, and thrust the dagger forward.
"No!" Julie couldn't control herself, she screamed. Then everything seemed to move in slow motion.
Roy pushed Paul back, sending him into Roxanne's arms. The blade in William's hand found a mark. The blade sunk into the center of Roy's back, the long blade breaking through Roy's torso and bursting through his stomach.
Julie couldn't move.
William pulled the blade free, and Roy fell to his knees, his eyes filled with shock, and then, for a brief moment they found something to focus on. Paul.
"Your sacrifice will be appreciated." Moira laughed, sitting in her throne, throwing her arms up.
William stood behind Roy. He grabbed Roy's hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat. Then in one quick motion he sliced.
Julie could feel the hot spray of Roy's blood on her face. She stumbled back, to shocked to speak, to scream, to do anything.
"Roy." Paul's voice was a series of broken sobs. He reached out for Roy, tried to grab him, but it was to late.
Roy's body tumbled off of the runway, into the pit.
"Who's next?" Moira clapped her hands in glee.
Julie watched as Roxanne ran to Paul's side, pulling him to his feet.
"No more Moira." A deep, masculine voice filled the cavern.
Julie turned just in time to see a man, his body a mess of silver and flesh, emurge from the tunnel at the far end of the runway.
"Brian?" She sucked in a deep breath. The face, the remaining flesh part of the face, was her brother.
9/17/09
9/16/09
Spirit Lake Ep. 1.53
Roy sat in a cell so dark that the only way he could tell that others were with him was by the sound of their breathing. He pressed his back against the wall and felt cold, wet stone. They were underground. He felt a hand touch his and jumped.
"It's just me." Paul's voice was soft, a whisper.
The hand reached out again and he took it. Paul's skin was warm, a comfort. He slid, using the wall as a guide, until his shoulder pressed against Paul's.
"Are you okay?" Roy leaned close, letting his lips touch Paul's ear as he spoke.
"Yeah. I guess." Paul's grip tightened. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Who knows." Roy sighed, letting his head rest against the wall.
This was a mess, a big one. It was one that he wasn't so sure they could all get out of. He knew one thing though. Paul would get out. He would make damn sure of that. He couldn't sit idly by and watch another person he cared about... a person that he loved, die. He had done it with Chester. What could he have done then? Now he had some power, some control, even if it was just a tiny bit.
"I wish it hadn't taken so long for us to..." Roy spoke into the darkness, not caring if the others around him heard.
"That was my fault." Paul moved closer. "I'm sorry."
"At least it finally happened." Roy laughed. "Even if it did take an insane cult of blood thirsty maniacs to do it."
Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening, squeeling on it's hinges, followed by the bright light of a torch.
Roy shielded his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light.
"You'll come with us now." An older man, in his forties, stood in the doorway. He was the owner of the grocery store.
Next to him was a younger man, probably in his late teens. His son. Roy had seen those two thousands of times. He'd talked to them, laughed with them. Now they were willing to slit his throat for what? Some lie Moira had told them?
Roy went to help Paul up. In the light he could get a good look at him. Paul was pale, his eyes watery. He had been crying. He was covered in dirt and sweat, and pretty much looked like death warmed over.
The young man, seeing Roy move, pulled a machette from his belt, pointing it at Roy's face.
"No funny business faggot." The boy's voice was high. He hadn't even hit puberty yet.
"He's wounded." Roy ignored the blade and continued to help Paul up.
The boy didn't take being ignored well, because he raised the blade, aimed, but before he could stop his father lashed out, bashing the base of the torch into the back of the boys head.
The boy crumpled to the ground, but the act had caused Roy to stop.
"Are you an idiot? She said bring them to her alive." The man reached down, pulling his son to his feet, and flung him back through the doorway. "I can handle them. Go back with the others."
Roy watched Julie and Roxanne stand. It seemed to be agreed that they would play along. Fighting back now, in such a confined space, would probably only end with them all getting hurt, or worse, killed.
The man motioned his head towards the door and started walking. Roy threw Paul's arm over his shoulder, helping his boyfriend to his feet. Slowly, carefully the four of them made there way into the dark tunnel, making sure to stay close behind the man. If they lost the light who knew what would happen.
"It's just me." Paul's voice was soft, a whisper.
The hand reached out again and he took it. Paul's skin was warm, a comfort. He slid, using the wall as a guide, until his shoulder pressed against Paul's.
"Are you okay?" Roy leaned close, letting his lips touch Paul's ear as he spoke.
"Yeah. I guess." Paul's grip tightened. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Who knows." Roy sighed, letting his head rest against the wall.
This was a mess, a big one. It was one that he wasn't so sure they could all get out of. He knew one thing though. Paul would get out. He would make damn sure of that. He couldn't sit idly by and watch another person he cared about... a person that he loved, die. He had done it with Chester. What could he have done then? Now he had some power, some control, even if it was just a tiny bit.
"I wish it hadn't taken so long for us to..." Roy spoke into the darkness, not caring if the others around him heard.
"That was my fault." Paul moved closer. "I'm sorry."
"At least it finally happened." Roy laughed. "Even if it did take an insane cult of blood thirsty maniacs to do it."
Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening, squeeling on it's hinges, followed by the bright light of a torch.
Roy shielded his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light.
"You'll come with us now." An older man, in his forties, stood in the doorway. He was the owner of the grocery store.
Next to him was a younger man, probably in his late teens. His son. Roy had seen those two thousands of times. He'd talked to them, laughed with them. Now they were willing to slit his throat for what? Some lie Moira had told them?
Roy went to help Paul up. In the light he could get a good look at him. Paul was pale, his eyes watery. He had been crying. He was covered in dirt and sweat, and pretty much looked like death warmed over.
The young man, seeing Roy move, pulled a machette from his belt, pointing it at Roy's face.
"No funny business faggot." The boy's voice was high. He hadn't even hit puberty yet.
"He's wounded." Roy ignored the blade and continued to help Paul up.
The boy didn't take being ignored well, because he raised the blade, aimed, but before he could stop his father lashed out, bashing the base of the torch into the back of the boys head.
The boy crumpled to the ground, but the act had caused Roy to stop.
"Are you an idiot? She said bring them to her alive." The man reached down, pulling his son to his feet, and flung him back through the doorway. "I can handle them. Go back with the others."
Roy watched Julie and Roxanne stand. It seemed to be agreed that they would play along. Fighting back now, in such a confined space, would probably only end with them all getting hurt, or worse, killed.
The man motioned his head towards the door and started walking. Roy threw Paul's arm over his shoulder, helping his boyfriend to his feet. Slowly, carefully the four of them made there way into the dark tunnel, making sure to stay close behind the man. If they lost the light who knew what would happen.
9/15/09
Spirit Lake Ep. 1.52
Moira walked down the long, stone path towards her throne. She had been disappointed that it had been so easy for her. She had wanted a struggle, a battle, and yet they had fallen at her fingertips so easily.
Now she could do anything she wanted with them, and she planned to have a little fun.
"My robe!" Her voice echoed through the cavernous room, and on command a woman entered, naked except for a few rags still dangling from her form, dried blood crusted to her skin.
The woman knelt, handing Moira a long black robe.
For what she had planned it was best to be modest.
"I want you to bring William to me." She sat crossing her legs at the knee. She leaned back shaking her hair free of the robe, letting it fall across her shoulders.
The woman, her servant, ran from her presence.
Even though these people, these weaklings, craved immortality they still clung to normal, human emotions. Fear most of all it seemed. How pointless. Fear would hold them back. No god could fear anything, and only gods could be immortal. After she was done with her recent batch of trouble makers she would clean house, weed out the weak.
"Let go of me you bitch!" William's voice was raspy. He had been crying.
Moira cringed. Her last remaining relative was in her presence, and yet he was just as weak as the others.
"Such language William." She stood, pulling the robe tight. Her body would not help her now. "I would have hoped your mother would have raised you better."
The servant threw William at Moira's feet. He didn't look up at her.
"Don't talk about my mother." He tried to stand.
Moira gently placed her hand on William's shoulder. Then carefuly she placed her fingers under his chin, lifting his face towards hers.
"We have much to talk about." She smiled.
Now she could do anything she wanted with them, and she planned to have a little fun.
"My robe!" Her voice echoed through the cavernous room, and on command a woman entered, naked except for a few rags still dangling from her form, dried blood crusted to her skin.
The woman knelt, handing Moira a long black robe.
For what she had planned it was best to be modest.
"I want you to bring William to me." She sat crossing her legs at the knee. She leaned back shaking her hair free of the robe, letting it fall across her shoulders.
The woman, her servant, ran from her presence.
Even though these people, these weaklings, craved immortality they still clung to normal, human emotions. Fear most of all it seemed. How pointless. Fear would hold them back. No god could fear anything, and only gods could be immortal. After she was done with her recent batch of trouble makers she would clean house, weed out the weak.
"Let go of me you bitch!" William's voice was raspy. He had been crying.
Moira cringed. Her last remaining relative was in her presence, and yet he was just as weak as the others.
"Such language William." She stood, pulling the robe tight. Her body would not help her now. "I would have hoped your mother would have raised you better."
The servant threw William at Moira's feet. He didn't look up at her.
"Don't talk about my mother." He tried to stand.
Moira gently placed her hand on William's shoulder. Then carefuly she placed her fingers under his chin, lifting his face towards hers.
"We have much to talk about." She smiled.
Format Change
So, because of time constraints, and for the sake of trying new things, I'm going to be trying a new format for the second season of Fashion Victims.
The new episode format will be condensed little bits. Each episode will only be five typed lines long. No more, no less. Why do this? Well, I need to find a way to streamline the writing, and so far this is what is working. This also means that seasons will not have a set number of weeks, as they did before. The series will run for as long as I see fit.
If this doesn't work then I will go back to the old style, but I'm going to give it a try. The new season starts after Spirit Lake ends.
The new episode format will be condensed little bits. Each episode will only be five typed lines long. No more, no less. Why do this? Well, I need to find a way to streamline the writing, and so far this is what is working. This also means that seasons will not have a set number of weeks, as they did before. The series will run for as long as I see fit.
If this doesn't work then I will go back to the old style, but I'm going to give it a try. The new season starts after Spirit Lake ends.
9/14/09
Spirit Lake Ep. 1.51
Brian stepped out of the shadows and into the foyer of the hell hole he once called a home. He had sworn to himself that he would never set foot back into the Kramer mansion, but tonight he had no choice.
He could see Carla's eyes watching him as he walked. She tensed, let out a whimper. She had already lost so much blood. Her skin was starting to take on a grey hue. Her hair was matted in the cooling, red liquid.
He held his good hand, his whole hand, to his lips and made a gentle shooshing noise. He knew that the very sight was something less than pleasent, and after what Moira had done to her... he didn't want to imagine what Carla thought of him.
"No." Her voice was weak. She tried to turn, to crawl away from him. She didn't have the strength.
"Carla, I won't hurt you." He gently laid his good hand on her arm.
She looked back at him, and he could see that she recognized him now. His face had been damaged, and then later replaced with molded silver. The mask, although he could never take it off, covered the right side of his face, stopping just above his jaw. The mask's maker had gotten creative, mangling what was supposed to be his image into that of a monsters, with high arched eyebrows, and a deep set eye socket.
Still, underneath the monsterous face he was forced to wear, Carla could see him.
"Does it hurt?" His voice was soft.
She nodded, letting out a faint whimper. She had become to weak to speak.
Brian pulled her close, cradeling her.
She coughed a few times, and then she went still.
"I'm so sorry." He leaned down, gently kissing her forehead before picking her up, lying her on the bottom stair.
Moira would pay. He would make sure of that.
He could see Carla's eyes watching him as he walked. She tensed, let out a whimper. She had already lost so much blood. Her skin was starting to take on a grey hue. Her hair was matted in the cooling, red liquid.
He held his good hand, his whole hand, to his lips and made a gentle shooshing noise. He knew that the very sight was something less than pleasent, and after what Moira had done to her... he didn't want to imagine what Carla thought of him.
"No." Her voice was weak. She tried to turn, to crawl away from him. She didn't have the strength.
"Carla, I won't hurt you." He gently laid his good hand on her arm.
She looked back at him, and he could see that she recognized him now. His face had been damaged, and then later replaced with molded silver. The mask, although he could never take it off, covered the right side of his face, stopping just above his jaw. The mask's maker had gotten creative, mangling what was supposed to be his image into that of a monsters, with high arched eyebrows, and a deep set eye socket.
Still, underneath the monsterous face he was forced to wear, Carla could see him.
"Does it hurt?" His voice was soft.
She nodded, letting out a faint whimper. She had become to weak to speak.
Brian pulled her close, cradeling her.
She coughed a few times, and then she went still.
"I'm so sorry." He leaned down, gently kissing her forehead before picking her up, lying her on the bottom stair.
Moira would pay. He would make sure of that.
9/11/09
Spirit Lake Ep. 1.50
Julie watched as Moira paced in front of them, her eyes moving from captive to captive. She stopped at Julie, smiling. She reached down, gently gliding her fingers across Julie's jaw.
"You know, this really is all your fault." She tapped Julie on the nose. "If you all had left well enough alone you would have been spared... for a short while at least."
Moira resumed pacing, and Julie suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She knew this couldn't have been avoided. Moira and her followers would have attacked at some point. Hell, the whole town had no idea what she had planned. This night was just one small battle in Moira's grande scheme. Still, she couldn't supress the guilt. If she had just left then everyone would have been safe. They wouldn't be stuck here, in this hell house, surrounded by blood thirsty cult members and their ancient, nudist leader.
"My mother..." Julie spit the words through swollen lips. The man who had hit her had done a number on her face.
"A sacrifice." Moira looked away, admiring her surroundings. "Not so willing though. She fought me to the bitter end. A quick end though. You take after her."
Julie fought back the tears. Her worst fear was just made a reality. Her mother was dead.
Moira turned, clasping her hands together, a wide smile on her face. She looked like some perverse version of a grade school teacher.
"We're all going to go on a little trip."
She sounded like one to.
"We're not going anywhere you crazy bitch." Carla struggled, tried to stand, but one of Moira's followers pushed her back down to her knees.
"Such language." Moira stepped towards Carla, looking down at her, her face changing, becoming darker. The smile vanished, and then, without warning she back handed Carla, sending the woman sprawling on the hard marble floor.
"Don't touch her!" William screamed, tried to get to Carla, but it was no use. He was held back.
"Don't question me boy." Moira's head snapped towards him. "We share blood. Show some respect."
Julie reached out, her left hand touching William's. She knew that if he began to freak out, things would only get worse. She looked to her right, towards Paul and Roy, and they nodded in agreement. It was in everyone's best interest to play along.
Julie watched as Moira advanced on Carla, but the woman stopped short, looking back at one of her followers. She nodded, and the follower approached, handing Moira something. Something shiny. Something that seemed to catch the moonlight, and glow in Moira's hand. Something sharp.
"Such a waste, but I can't have you drawing attention to us, now can I?" Moira raised the knife. "I mean, with a mouth as big as yours you'd wake the whole town."
Julie could see the terror in Carla's eyes.
"No!" William screamed, tried to break free again, but it was to late.
Moira brought the knife down, burying it in Carla's chest. A crimson river began to seep down Carla's torso.
Julie held back her scream. She had a feeling that if she expressed any kind of grief it would only make things worse.
Moira yanked the knife out, a spray of blood splashing out onto the marble floor. Carla fell back, still breathing, but her skin was slowly getting whiter.
"Leave her." Moira turned towards her circling minions. "We have the others."
Moira's followers nodded, then Julie felt herself being pulled to her feet.
"To my kingdom." Moira licked the knife in her hand, then closed her eyes. She seemed to vibrate with the pleasurable taste she had just experienced.
Julie felt like she was going to vomit.
The front door was thrown open, and Julie and her surviving friends were ushered out into the dark night.
"You know, this really is all your fault." She tapped Julie on the nose. "If you all had left well enough alone you would have been spared... for a short while at least."
Moira resumed pacing, and Julie suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She knew this couldn't have been avoided. Moira and her followers would have attacked at some point. Hell, the whole town had no idea what she had planned. This night was just one small battle in Moira's grande scheme. Still, she couldn't supress the guilt. If she had just left then everyone would have been safe. They wouldn't be stuck here, in this hell house, surrounded by blood thirsty cult members and their ancient, nudist leader.
"My mother..." Julie spit the words through swollen lips. The man who had hit her had done a number on her face.
"A sacrifice." Moira looked away, admiring her surroundings. "Not so willing though. She fought me to the bitter end. A quick end though. You take after her."
Julie fought back the tears. Her worst fear was just made a reality. Her mother was dead.
Moira turned, clasping her hands together, a wide smile on her face. She looked like some perverse version of a grade school teacher.
"We're all going to go on a little trip."
She sounded like one to.
"We're not going anywhere you crazy bitch." Carla struggled, tried to stand, but one of Moira's followers pushed her back down to her knees.
"Such language." Moira stepped towards Carla, looking down at her, her face changing, becoming darker. The smile vanished, and then, without warning she back handed Carla, sending the woman sprawling on the hard marble floor.
"Don't touch her!" William screamed, tried to get to Carla, but it was no use. He was held back.
"Don't question me boy." Moira's head snapped towards him. "We share blood. Show some respect."
Julie reached out, her left hand touching William's. She knew that if he began to freak out, things would only get worse. She looked to her right, towards Paul and Roy, and they nodded in agreement. It was in everyone's best interest to play along.
Julie watched as Moira advanced on Carla, but the woman stopped short, looking back at one of her followers. She nodded, and the follower approached, handing Moira something. Something shiny. Something that seemed to catch the moonlight, and glow in Moira's hand. Something sharp.
"Such a waste, but I can't have you drawing attention to us, now can I?" Moira raised the knife. "I mean, with a mouth as big as yours you'd wake the whole town."
Julie could see the terror in Carla's eyes.
"No!" William screamed, tried to break free again, but it was to late.
Moira brought the knife down, burying it in Carla's chest. A crimson river began to seep down Carla's torso.
Julie held back her scream. She had a feeling that if she expressed any kind of grief it would only make things worse.
Moira yanked the knife out, a spray of blood splashing out onto the marble floor. Carla fell back, still breathing, but her skin was slowly getting whiter.
"Leave her." Moira turned towards her circling minions. "We have the others."
Moira's followers nodded, then Julie felt herself being pulled to her feet.
"To my kingdom." Moira licked the knife in her hand, then closed her eyes. She seemed to vibrate with the pleasurable taste she had just experienced.
Julie felt like she was going to vomit.
The front door was thrown open, and Julie and her surviving friends were ushered out into the dark night.
9/10/09
Spirit Lake Ep. 1.49
Roy felt his arms wrap tighter around Paul. The sounds coming from the rest of the house had woken him up. He was pretty sure he had heard a scream, a man, maybe a woman. A scream, with everything that had been going on so far, was a bad sign.
"Roy, you're hurting me." Paul pulled Roy's arm away. "Stay calm."
"Calm?" Roy just looked at him, unable to even process the word.
"Bad choice of words, I know." Paul stood up, scanning the room.
The moonlight illuminated almost everything, and it was obvious they were alone, that much Roy could tell. For how long? That one was up in the air. Roy stood, slowly walking over to the fire place at the far end of the room, trying to make as little noise as possible. He was pretty sure that the Black Rose members already knew where everyone was in the house, but he didn't want to help them. He carefuly picked up a fire poker. If he was going to get attacked he was going to be armed.
"Good idea." Paul's voice was a loud whisper. Loud enough to make both of them suddenly hold their breaths.
There was silence, only the sounds of the woods around the mansion occasionally breaking through. Roy knew the silence was misleading. It was only a matter of time before someone attacked.
As if on que the window next to Paul exploded into a shower of glass shards. Paul covered his face, falling back onto the couch. Roy was over to him in a second. Paul still wasn't in the best shape after his accident, and if left on his own he probably wouldn't fair so well.
Roy didn't even bother to look back. He just threw Paul's arm over his shoulder and bolted for the foyer. As he ran he could hear footsteps keeping in time with his, almost perfect pace. Occasionally he would hear a quiet laugh, distinctly female.
"You'll never get away." The woman's voice was perfectly calm.
Roy on the other hand was winded. Paul was heavy, and the hallway from the family room to the foyer seemed longer than ever. He knew he needed to loose some weight, but if he didn't get his act together then he'd never get the chance.
When Roy finally did get to the foyer he skidded to a stop, his jaw falling slack. That woman was right. He never would get away.
Standing in the center of the foyer, naked as the day she was born, was Moira Clawson. In front of her, on their knees, were his friends, knives held to their throats. Roxanne looked half awake, a trickle of blood dripping down her forhead, and Julie's face was pretty bruised, but for the most part they all seemed to be alive and well. For now.
"Welcome to the party." Moira held out her hands, gesturing to the loved ones whose lives she know controled.
Roy felt the wind get knocked out of him, Paul falling from his grip, as the woman who had been chasing him collided with his spine.
"Now we can get started." Moira laughed, her eyes seeming to burn holes into Roy. He looked away.
He had run Paul right into her trap.
"Roy, you're hurting me." Paul pulled Roy's arm away. "Stay calm."
"Calm?" Roy just looked at him, unable to even process the word.
"Bad choice of words, I know." Paul stood up, scanning the room.
The moonlight illuminated almost everything, and it was obvious they were alone, that much Roy could tell. For how long? That one was up in the air. Roy stood, slowly walking over to the fire place at the far end of the room, trying to make as little noise as possible. He was pretty sure that the Black Rose members already knew where everyone was in the house, but he didn't want to help them. He carefuly picked up a fire poker. If he was going to get attacked he was going to be armed.
"Good idea." Paul's voice was a loud whisper. Loud enough to make both of them suddenly hold their breaths.
There was silence, only the sounds of the woods around the mansion occasionally breaking through. Roy knew the silence was misleading. It was only a matter of time before someone attacked.
As if on que the window next to Paul exploded into a shower of glass shards. Paul covered his face, falling back onto the couch. Roy was over to him in a second. Paul still wasn't in the best shape after his accident, and if left on his own he probably wouldn't fair so well.
Roy didn't even bother to look back. He just threw Paul's arm over his shoulder and bolted for the foyer. As he ran he could hear footsteps keeping in time with his, almost perfect pace. Occasionally he would hear a quiet laugh, distinctly female.
"You'll never get away." The woman's voice was perfectly calm.
Roy on the other hand was winded. Paul was heavy, and the hallway from the family room to the foyer seemed longer than ever. He knew he needed to loose some weight, but if he didn't get his act together then he'd never get the chance.
When Roy finally did get to the foyer he skidded to a stop, his jaw falling slack. That woman was right. He never would get away.
Standing in the center of the foyer, naked as the day she was born, was Moira Clawson. In front of her, on their knees, were his friends, knives held to their throats. Roxanne looked half awake, a trickle of blood dripping down her forhead, and Julie's face was pretty bruised, but for the most part they all seemed to be alive and well. For now.
"Welcome to the party." Moira held out her hands, gesturing to the loved ones whose lives she know controled.
Roy felt the wind get knocked out of him, Paul falling from his grip, as the woman who had been chasing him collided with his spine.
"Now we can get started." Moira laughed, her eyes seeming to burn holes into Roy. He looked away.
He had run Paul right into her trap.
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