Sometimes a man just needs to get away, have some time to himself to sort out what he has learned and figure things out.
@Snake Eyes Please write and interlude for your character coming to awareness and how he got to Skagit Valley.
Time to Myself
- Ndreare
- Savage Siri
- Posts: 4410
- Joined: Tue Aug 08, 2017 12:55 pm
- Location: Skagit County, Washington
- Contact:
Time to Myself
, and of course update your signatures!
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
- Michael Callahan
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Thu Feb 17, 2022 9:02 pm
Re: Time to Myself
I've seen all the photographs. I've analyzed each one. Of course there are fakes. Of course there are profiteers. It's human nature.
He refers back to a book opened up and resting next to a map of the Skagit valley.
But I know sasquatch is out there. He has to be. He breaks his stare to look at the wall, and breaks the silence of one man in a secluded forest cabin, lit only by lantern-light, to say to no one in particular: "I'm going to find him."
As if taken aback that he was talking to himself out loud, or that he assumed sasquatch to be a male, he chided himself. "Or her. Really, Michael. You don't know."
He returned to his study of the region. There was another stack of books piled on a different table, picked up in a weird Seattle bookstore, that had nothing to do with sasquatches. Ridiculous flights of fancy, these spellbooks. Magic isn't real. Still, this was more interesting reading than the latest John Grisham or Tom Clancy novel. So when he grew weary of cross-referencing sasquatch sighting tips and landmarks in the valley, he would pore over incantations to blind your victim, or quicken your own physical or mental abilities. This was the idle sort of reading one would do before bed.
Bed wasn't in the cards this evening for Michael Callahan.
A strange storm had appeared almost out of nowhere, and he'd been dealing with the howling winds and beating rain for the last two days. At the peak of the tempest, though, a different sort of thunder rolled, preceded by a frantic whining jet engine. The "thunder" shook the whole cabin and even knocked a stack of books to the ground. "...the FRICK?!" he exclaimed as the earth rolled beneath his feet, aftershocks of a man-made earthquake. Donning his heavy coat quickly and grabbing the hunting rifle next to the door, he opens the door and points a flashlight into the gloom. The beam is practically swallowed up in the darkness and rain and wind. Muttering to himself, barely audible to himself over the torrential downpour and the wind, he almost wishes into the night. "Would be nice to be able to Vide in tenebris..."
In an instant, he feels a very slight drain of his...spirit, for lack of a better term. At the end of that momentary internal gasp, though, he finds the darkness holds no more mystery for him. Aware fully that there is no sun or moon to be seen, he can still see through the darkness as if his eyes were made for it. "Holy Toledo..." He shakes off the strangeness to investigate the noise.
He stumbles upon the wreck of a jet airliner. Amidst the flames are survivors, all scampering for shelter. Well, almost all. Some of them are tearing the plane apart, making travois for the injured or even scavenging spare parts. What the frickin' heck is going on...are those people wearing body armor?!
Curiosity getting the better of him, he moves closer to the action...
He refers back to a book opened up and resting next to a map of the Skagit valley.
But I know sasquatch is out there. He has to be. He breaks his stare to look at the wall, and breaks the silence of one man in a secluded forest cabin, lit only by lantern-light, to say to no one in particular: "I'm going to find him."
As if taken aback that he was talking to himself out loud, or that he assumed sasquatch to be a male, he chided himself. "Or her. Really, Michael. You don't know."
He returned to his study of the region. There was another stack of books piled on a different table, picked up in a weird Seattle bookstore, that had nothing to do with sasquatches. Ridiculous flights of fancy, these spellbooks. Magic isn't real. Still, this was more interesting reading than the latest John Grisham or Tom Clancy novel. So when he grew weary of cross-referencing sasquatch sighting tips and landmarks in the valley, he would pore over incantations to blind your victim, or quicken your own physical or mental abilities. This was the idle sort of reading one would do before bed.
Bed wasn't in the cards this evening for Michael Callahan.
A strange storm had appeared almost out of nowhere, and he'd been dealing with the howling winds and beating rain for the last two days. At the peak of the tempest, though, a different sort of thunder rolled, preceded by a frantic whining jet engine. The "thunder" shook the whole cabin and even knocked a stack of books to the ground. "...the FRICK?!" he exclaimed as the earth rolled beneath his feet, aftershocks of a man-made earthquake. Donning his heavy coat quickly and grabbing the hunting rifle next to the door, he opens the door and points a flashlight into the gloom. The beam is practically swallowed up in the darkness and rain and wind. Muttering to himself, barely audible to himself over the torrential downpour and the wind, he almost wishes into the night. "Would be nice to be able to Vide in tenebris..."
In an instant, he feels a very slight drain of his...spirit, for lack of a better term. At the end of that momentary internal gasp, though, he finds the darkness holds no more mystery for him. Aware fully that there is no sun or moon to be seen, he can still see through the darkness as if his eyes were made for it. "Holy Toledo..." He shakes off the strangeness to investigate the noise.
He stumbles upon the wreck of a jet airliner. Amidst the flames are survivors, all scampering for shelter. Well, almost all. Some of them are tearing the plane apart, making travois for the injured or even scavenging spare parts. What the frickin' heck is going on...are those people wearing body armor?!
Curiosity getting the better of him, he moves closer to the action...
Michael Callahan