Spirit Lake Ep. 1.21

The Woman in Black sat on her giant stone throne in the dank crypt she called a palace, her minions lay before her, sleeping. She watched as their bodies tossed and turned, covered in sweat. Their fingers crept along their moist flesh in what she could sense was a mixture of pleasure and torture.

She had given them eternal life, but in their rest death and decay still flowed through their bodies.

They were weak, but in time they would grow stronger. In time they would be able to build the kingdom she desired, that she deserved!

"Awake!" Her booming voice echoed through the crypt.

Her followers sat up, slowly, glancing at her as a newborn baby would its mother.

"My children." She held out her arms, the cloak falling from her body leaving her exposed. "You are weak."

Carefully she stepped from her throne, and into the sea of people.

"Please, help us." One of her followers, a young man, reached out to her, his hand grasping for her.

"I will my children. I will." She looked towards the dark tunnel that lead into her stone palace. "Bring the gift!"

A young man, clad in a black robe that hid his face, but little else, led another young man, fully clothed, but battered and torn, into the room.

The woman walked towards her prey, watching as the homeless boy’s eyes gazed over her naked flesh. She smiled. He would not run. He was to intrigued, excited.

She touched the side of the boy’s cheek, her fingers wiping the dirt and grime from his skin. The boy was pitiful. He couldn’t be any older than seventeen, maybe eighteen.

Her smile grew, barring her teeth.

"Bleed him!"

Her follower squeezed the homeless boy’s arm, yanking him towards the front of the room. The boy struggled, knocking away his captor's hood.

"Harvey, cover yourself." The woman ran towards Harvey, throwing the hood back over his head.

Harvey bowed.

"I’m sorry mistress." His voice was quivering with fear.

She grabbed the homeless boy by the throat and lifted him from the floor.

"He will do nicely." She brought his face close to his. "Your sacrifice will help my kingdom thrive. Be proud boy."

She tossed the boy to her followers. The group surrounded him, circling the boy like a hungry pack of wolves.

"Get the hell away from me!" The boy was a crying mess, attempting to break through the circle, to find a way out.

A woman reached out, scratching his arm, drawing blood. She squealed with delight, rubbing the hot red liquid on her face and neck.

"I can feel his life force! It’s so strong!" She moaned, her body quaking.

"When can I join them mistress?" Harvey did not look up at the Woman in Black while he spoke.

"Soon, my child. You must complete your task at hand first, and then you shall join us in eternal bliss." She stroked Harvey’s cheek, and then placed her hand on his bare chest.

She smiled. She was tempted to rip out his heart, to steal his youth for herself, but Harvey was useful. He could still move through Spirit Lake without drawing attention to himself.

She walked back to her throne and sat, crossing her legs. She watched as her children began the ritual of bleeding their latest meal.

She closed her eyes, the sounds of the homeless boy’s cries giving her comfort. Her moment would come soon, and then she could move to the surface. Spirit Lake would be hers.

Spirit Lake Ep. 1.20

Roy stepped into Paul’s room making sure not to make to much noise. He didn’t want to wake Paul up.

"You came." Paul was sitting up, Charles’ journal in his hands. He smiled when he saw Roy.

Roy apparently didn’t have to worry. He walked over to the bed, pulling a chair up, and sitting down.

"Find anything interesting?" Roy gently took the journal out of Paul’s hands.

"No. Well, kind of. It’s kind of sick."

"Sex stuff?" Roy laughed, tempted to ask for details, but stopping short realizing the man he was talking about was his monster of an uncle. "Real kinky?"

"It’s not like that. It’s..." Paul took the journal back, and flipped the book open. "Here, read."

He handed the book to Roy.

July 7th, 1990

Brian no longer fights me. It makes like easier. Unlike his sister. She was impossible. I had to give up on her. It was to much of a risk. All the scratches.

Roy closed the journal, looking at Paul, shocked.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Roy’s voice was choked, and he could feel his jaw tightening. "Did my uncle..."

"No!" Paul took the journal back. "It wasn’t sexual. It was... he would steal Brian’s blood. It’s to bizarre to even describe, but he would steal little drops of Brian’s blood."

"What for?"

"I haven’t gotten that far."

Roy took the journal, hiding it in his jacket.

"When can you get out of here?" Roy leaned forward, kissing Paul gently.

"Well, Dr. Walker said I could leave in two days, why?"

"I want you to stay with me." Roy took Paul’s hand in his own. "It’s not really a moving in thing. It’s more of a... I want to take care of you until you can take care of yourself, thing. Plus, with all this weird stuff going on... I really don’t want to be alone."

Paul smiled.

"Me either."

They kissed again, then Paul scooted over in the bed, making enough room for Roy to join him.

They just lay there, until both of them drifted off to sleep.

-*-

The woman in the black cloak watched Paul and Roy from the bushes. She could only hear bits of what they had said, but she already knew that they knew to much.

"Helen," as the woman spoke, Paul’s former nursed stepped out of the shadows. "Do not rush it, but I want you to talk care of those two."

"And the journal?" Helen lowered her head, making sure not to glance at the cloaked figure in front of her.

"Destroy it." The woman’s voice was a sharp hiss. "Charles was stupid to keep it in the first place."

"Yes mistress." Helen bowed.

When the nurse finally looked up, the woman was gone.

Nurse Helen Fitch walked back towards the hospital, her mission clear. She would take that meddling Dr. Walker out in the process.

She would protect the society, and cure an annoying headache at the same time.

For the first time in years, Helen smiled.

Spirit Lake Ep. 1.19

Roy put down his cellphone, slightly confused. His brain wasn’t processing much though. He had only managed to get a two hour nap in between leaving the hospital and opening up the bar.

He had to make sure Paul was safe, and that William stuck to his word, and kept that nurse away from Paul. He had been so paranoid he hadn’t left till the nurse’s shift had ended.

A young woman, probably early thirties, sat down at the bar in the seat right in front of him. She wore a jeans that were just a little to tight, and a had a few to many holes in them, and a top that could barely contain her small, but full figure. She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder, and gave the bar a once over.

"How can I help you?" He smiled. Just because the rest of the world was going crazy didn’t mean that his business had to suffer.

"What would a girl have to do to get hired around here?" She leaned forward, making sure her cleavage was on full display.

Roy nearly laughed. She obviously wasn’t from Spirit Lake.

"Well, that isn’t going to work." He leaned forward. "You’re not my type."

"I can be any type you want?" She was whispering. "What type do you like?"

He pointed towards the rather large, muscular trucker who had sat down at the end of the bar.

"I can change your mind." She was practically purring.

"Many have tried, and failed." He stood up. "So, let’s try your resume instead. Okay?"

She sat back, seeming to relax.

"Okay." She fixed her top, covering herself up a bit. "First off, the name is Roxanne Baker. Originally from Chicago. Worked in a few bars there. I’ve been a waitress, did some bartending. One guy even had me doing his books. I don’t want to do books."

Roy nodded. She seemed like she would be able to handle herself alright at the Hub. It wasn’t the most exciting bar in the world, but sometimes, if the mood was right, a guy would get a little fresh or a fight would break out. Roy handled things fine with the aid of the bat he kept under the bar, but he was a little worried about leaving someone as small as Roxanne behind the bar alone.

"Okay, then here’s your audition." He pointed to a table towards the back. It was full of mostly local guys. They looked big and mean, but were mostly harmless. The worst thing any waitress had gotten from them before was a grab on the butt and a cheap tip. "Get that tables order."

She glanced over, took in her target, got up and sauntered over. Roy watched as she worked the guys over. They were like putty in her hands. Roy was impressed.

She came back, placed the order. Two pitchers of the cheap beer and a cup of nuts.

"You make it there and back without spilling a drop, and you’re hired." He handed her the tray.

She winked, and turned, walking over the table, and nearly got knocked over by Julie as his cousin rushed towards the bar.

"That does not count!" Roxanne gave a yell as she put the tray down.

"It’s fine. You’re hired. Hit the rest of the tables, and we’ll talk pay." Roy had to yell over the crowd, which had decided it was just the right hour to get nice and loud.

Julie looked like a wreck. She was shaking, her eyes were bloodshot, and she kept glancing around the place.

"What’s the matter?" He didn’t wait for her to speak and placed a shot of whiskey in front of her. "Drink that. It’ll calm your nerves."

Julie nodded, downed the shot, and he watched as her face tensed up as the bitter burn of the liquid hit her throat.

"Someone’s trying to kill me." She pointed to the glass, motioning for him to fill it up.

"Wait, what?" He didn’t pour. He was a little to shocked at what he had just heard.

"Someone has been sending me these flowers, black roses. Morbid, I know, and last night I found one on my bed." She stopped, looking around the room, the panic returning to her eyes. "They got in my house and put it right there, on my bed. I woke up this morning, and I felt like hell. I mean real hell. I look at the flower, and it’s leaking this weird... black slime. I watched a bug touch that thing and die in two seconds. Someone left a poisoned flower in my room Roy! Someone wants me dead."

Julie spoke so quickly that Roy wasn’t sure he understood what she was saying. He wasn’t sure he believed it either.

"Did you go to the hospital?"

"No." She reached behind the bar and grabbed the whiskey bottle. "I feel fine now, but..." She poured and slammed another shot. "Where did you put my father’s journal?"

"I hid it. Why?" He was getting confused.

"Look, whoever is doing this to me doesn’t want me finding out anything about my mother. They keep leaving these notes telling me to stop searching." She leaned in real close. "I think whoever did this is the one who cleaned out my house, not my mother."

"So what’s so important about the journal?"

"Well, you must have thought it was important enough. You hid it." She poured another shot. "So did my father. It was important enough to him that he created a little hole for it in the wall. I think they might have missed it when they first went through my family’s stuff."

"I’ve been reading it, and I have to say, there isn’t much there. Just a lot of bitter stories about how much your father hated people."

"Keep it safe, okay?" Her eyes locked on to his. "Do it for me. I may just be going crazy, but if I’m not, and that journal is important, then I can’t let it end up with the wrong people."

Roy nodded.

Roxanne walked back up to the bar, eyeing Julie as she placed her order.

"Sorry about earlier." Julie smiled, her face turning red.

"Don’t worry about it." Roxanne gave a little nod. "I’m from Chicago. I’m used to it."

-*-

The first thing Carla saw when she opened her eyes was Harvey looking down at her. The next thing she saw was stars as the pain in her head kicked in full force.

"What the hell happened?" She checked the back of her head. She wasn’t bleeding.

"I don’t know." Harvey helped her stand. "I was about to come down to help you out, and then you screamed. I came down here, and... " He pointed to the papers thrown all over the room, ripped to shreds.

Carla could see the volume cover lying loose on the floor. Someone had destroyed 1928.

"What happened?" Harvey looked like he was about to wet himself. "I mean, are you okay?"

"I’m fine. Got a nasty bumpy and bruised ass, but I’m fine." She reached back, and could still feel the piece of paper in her pocket. She let out a sigh of relief. "We have to clean this up."

She started walking, but made sure that her shirt was covering the little sliver of white sticking out of her back pocket. She didn’t feel like getting mugged again.

Carla started picking up papers and tossing them at the large garbage bin next to the copy machine.

"Who did this to you?" Harvey was helping, and moving a lot faster than she ever could.

"I have no idea." She stopped, sitting down. She could feel a small wave of dizziness come over her. "It all happened so fast, and it’s kind of dark down here."

"Should I call the police?"

Carla shook her head. She had what she needed, and the volume could probably be replaced. They kept more copies over in town hall, although she was guessing that the article about Moira Clawson would be missing in those volumes.

How could a bunch of old, and now probably dead, widowers be a threat to anyone?

She stood, then sat down again quickly, the room spinning a little bit.

"You should go to the doctor. You hit your head pretty bad." Harvey stopped, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She wasn’t exactly thrilled that the boy was touching her, but she couldn’t deny that his hand helped her from not falling over.

"I’ll have William check it out when I go check on Paul." She stood, slowly this time. "I’m going to go upstairs and sit in the office for a bit. Think you can handle this?"

Harvey glanced around the basement. He had already gotten half of the papers up already.

"Yeah, no problem. Go rest, but don’t go to sleep."

"I’ll remember that."

Slowly Carla made her way up the stairs, but she couldn’t help glancing back at Harvey. He was watching her, his face a blank slate.

A chill ran down Carla’s back.

"Is something wrong?" He smiled as he spoke, letting out a little laugh at the end of his question.

"No. Just nerves I guess." Carla made her way up the rest of the stairs, and into the main library.

She suddenly didn’t feel so safe with Harvey around. Something about the boy seemed kind of off today. She didn’t know what, but something about him worried her right then.

She stopped. She was just being paranoid. Someone had attacked her, and now everyone was a monster, out to stop her from telling the world about a woman who started a support group for widows and widowers.

Psychos needed to get the damn priorities straight.

Carla stepped into her office, and her breath caught in her throat.

There, on top of her papers, was a long stem black rose.

She ran over, grabbing the flower. She was not going to let this go on. When would they stop? When she had a dozen, or when she was dead?

She ran to the back door of the library and flung the flower into the giant blue dumpster. Even there the flower felt to close.

She went back, checking her desk for a note. There wasn’t one this time. She was sure there hadn’t been one on the flower. Did they just want her to know that they were here, and that they were the ones who attacked her?

"Carla?"

Harvey’s voice nearly sent her flying to the ceiling.

"What’s up?" She turned, trying to hide her nerves, but her hands were shaking to much.

"I’m all done in the basement."

"That was quick. Just man the desk for a while, okay? I’ll handle returns later." She walked over and began closing her office door. "I just need a few moments alone."

The door clicked shut, and Carla flipped the dead bolt.

Two Things...

First off, I am in a great mood today for one reason. Dean Koontz finally released the third Frankenstein book! I waited four years for the release, and finally I was able to sit down and read it last night, and I have to say, it was worth the wait. If you guys are looking for some quick, exciting reading then pick up the Dean Koontz's Frankenstein series.

Second, and this one makes me less happy. Spirit Lake just doesn't seem to be taking off. I don't know the reason, but I'm guessing the story just isn't catching ya'll like Fashion Victims did. So, here is what I'm thinking. Fashion Victims RAW isn't to a point where I'm happy with it yet, but I really don't want to keep waisting my time on a series that is failing. So, I have two more weeks of Spirit Lake prepaired. If I don't see an upswing in readers then I'll stop posting Spirit Lake and take a short hiatus and get Fashion Victims ready for publication.

I hate doing this, because Spirit Lake is a series that is kind of close to my heart, but I also don't feel like devoting time to something that no one is reading. So I'm giving Spirit Lake two weeks to pick up, and if it doesn't then it's cancelled. I'm going to need more than numbers though. If you want Spirit Lake to stick around, email me at rstringini@gmail.com . Let me know why I should keep the series going. Otherwise I'll end it early (really early) and fast track RAW and Season 2 of Fashion Victims.

Spirit Lake Ep. 1.18

Julie awoke, her body drenched in sweat. She felt horrible, both emotionally and physically. Her body ached, and she was pretty sure that horrible odor she was smelling was coming from her.

She sat up slowly, and she felt her stomach lurch. Her hand instinctively went to her mouth, and her feet began moving her as fast as possible towards the bathroom.

After she had finished emptying out the small amount of food she had eaten the night before, she sat, leaning against the bathtub. The cold of the tiles felt so good, but every time she would get close to relaxing the smell of her own body odor would make her want to vomit again.

She stood, stripping off her clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was greasy, and her skin was pale. She had dark circles under her eyes.

She had stayed up all night before, but it had never wrecked her so physically.

She turned on the water, and watched the tub begin to fill. The water seemed to hypnotize her. The shapes and waves of the light reflecting off of the clear surface allowed her mind, for a brief moment, to just empty out. The sound of her cellphone ringing forced her mind into reality. It had all the subtly of a brick wall, and it actually made her head begin to hurt.

As she walked back towards her room she was shocked at how badly her joints hurt. She was twenty five, but her body felt like it was eighty.

She flipped on the light in her room, and started towards her cellphone, but the rose from last night caught her eye.

It seemed to be... she couldn’t believe it, but it seemed to be bleeding.

She walked towards the small, wilting flower slowly, scared to get to close. She had never seen anything like that before. A thick, dark ooze dripped from the flower’s petals, and onto her table.

She reached out, but stopped, taking a step back. A centipede had made it’s way onto the dresser, and was crawling towards the small puddle forming under the flower. The second it reached the liquid, getting only as close as a few inches, it stopped, shook, and then died.

She grabbed her cellphone and rushed from the room.

Someone had tried to poison her! It wasn’t grief that was causing her to hurt so much, it was that damn flower.

She slammed the bathroom door shut, turned off the water, and dialed Roy’s number.

"Roy, where are you?" She spoke quickly.

"At The Hub, why?"

"I need to come and see you."

"I’ll be here till around five."

"I’ll be there in five minutes."

"What’s the matter? Julie, you sound terrified."

"I’ll tell you when I see you."

She hung up her cellphone, and stepped into the hot water, scrubbing every inch of her body. Whatever that was, she needed to get it off of her skin, out of her lungs, out of her body.

Spirit Lake Ep. 1.17

Carla had tried to sleep, but no matter how hard she tried sleep seemed to allude her. Why had she been so hard on Julie? She had only told her the truth, but all at once, and when she was so tired, so beaten up after seeing her cousin nearly fall apart in fear that Paul was going to die?

She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away. It didn’t matter. Julie knew everything... well, almost everything, and Carla could clean up the mess later.

In her half dazed state Carla found herself in the basement of the library, fishing through old newspapers, looking for anything she could on the Black Rose’s. So far she had found nothing.

Still, something in her gut told her to keep looking. She felt close, and Carla had learned at a young age that it paid to listen to her gut.

She could hear Harvey walking around upstairs, and the footsteps gave her a sense of comfort. She was stuck in a very dark, very depressing basement all alone, and with things being as odd as they were it felt good to have someone close by.

As flipped through the old volumes a picture caught her eye. It was an older woman, very stern looking, her greying hair pulled back into a bun, and her clothing very proper, conservative. She sat, hands folded on her lap.

What caught Carla’s attention was what was clasped in those folded hands. It appeared to be a long stem black rose. It was hard to tell in a black and white photograph, but the headline of the article said everything Carla wanted to know.

LOCAL WOMAN FOUNDS THE BLACK ROSE SOCIETY FOR WIDOWS AND WIDOWERS.

That woman’s name was Moira Clawson, and at the time of the picture she was sixty seven years old. Apparently her husband had died and, in her grief, she founded the Black Rose Society to help people in similar situations deal with the grief.

Carla couldn’t believe that any woman who looked like that could help anyone with grief. She looked like the type of woman who would hit your knuckles with a ruler if you looked at her funny.

Carla checked the date on the article.

November 13th, 1928.

"Well Moira Clawson, you may be dead, but you’re the best lead I have right now." Carla sighed and dragged the large book over to the copy machine.

She was pretty sure that if she moved it again her back would give out.

She took her copy, folded it, and slipped it into her back pocket. Julie would want to read this. It could be Carla’s little peace offering.

She glanced back at the table she had been sitting at and sighed. Stacks upon stacks of giant volumes of collected newspapers made her back ache just looking at them.

She walked over to the small intercom located next to the stairs that led up to the main floor of the library.

"Harvey, could you come down here and give me a hand?" She let the button go and waited. No response. "Harvey?"

A small rustling sound on the far end of the basement made her pause.

She held back the urge to ask if anyone was there.

Suddenly, in a flash, a giant, flowing black shape rushed her, knocking her back against the cement wall. Carla heard the thud of her head making contact with the hard surface, and then there was only darkness.

Bits and Pieces

Hey guys, so I apologize for not having much up right now as far as personal posts go. Life on this end has been pretty hectic.

Anywho, I think I need to explain something about Spirit Lake. Due to work and all that fun stuff I really haven't had time to write and plot out a new series. Well, luckily I had the first nine weeks of Spirit Lake already written! If there are any flow problems blame it on the fact that each week was written as a complete piece, and I've been breaking them down into five episodes. Hence how uneven some episodes are in length.

Please stick with it. It's a little slow going now, but it does pick up speed soon. Although I do have to warn ya'll, it gets messy. Very messy.

On a soaps level, I have officially given up on General Hospital. The show has nothing going on that interests me. Every time I hear about a plot that may be good, it is then followed by either talking about Claudia and Sonny or Rebecca. I'm sorry, but those characters need to go bye bye.

One Life to Live is back to its normal fun self, and it is nice to see Vicki and Charlie get some screen time. A lot of the newer stories are amping up to be real winners, and guess what, they aren't all depressing! The Crayfish (Cristian/Layla/Kyle/Fish) storyline is interesting, and I love that it is giving Roxy even more scenes, and Matthew's battle with his parents over his surgery, and the nice light relationship between Rachel and Shaun is a good change of pace from where the show was a few months ago.

Young and the Restless is great. The stories are twisted and fun, but the characters are still human. I do have some issues with Phillip Chancelor the III. Seriously? That's why you faked your own death and put your family through hell? And they had to rewrite a whole lot of history to make that plot twist work. I guess once everyone gets over the whole "you faked your death because you thought we would disown you because you're gay" thing, and they hook him up with Rafe (who is still recovering from getting dumped by Adam) then it might pick up.

All My Children is... All My Children. The show has reached a level of high camp drama that cannot be properly described. It has a great mix of humor thrown in there, but the drama is always on high. And I swear, I think Kendall may have actually made a completely unselfish choice... and then Zach went and screwed it up.

As for the rest of soaps? Well, Summer stories are at their peaks, and will probably begin to wind down soon, but I recommend picking up a show before the summer ends. Relax, clear your mind, and escape for a little while into a world where no one pays bills, but everyone has either a)shot someone b)stolen a baby or c)been addicted to something (cough syrup anyone? Loving fans?).