18970624 20:04:11

FA-N-0222

Stanley Deitz looked at the concierge desk in amazement as he approached it. Every time he came to this restaurant, there was a new girl behind it, and each of them was a stunning knockout. This girl couldn't have been older than 20 and sported immaculate features with an otherwise common body. Her skin was rather dark and held an unblemished glow under the soft lights overhead. Her straight black hair draped the sides of her long face and curled just under her chin, which was accentuated by her long lashes. The thin black ribbon tie clenched tightly to her neck helped to highlight her demure frame. When she noticed him approach, her eyes opened widely to reveal delicate light brown pupils.
"Good evening and welcome to Chordairs. Do you have a reservation?" He became even more enamored with her upon hearing her speak. Her voice wasn't too high pitched nor did she speak too slowly. He briefly wondered if it was an act.
"Actually, I have an appointment."
"Oh, I see." She peered down to the desk to look at the open book. "With who?"
"With Linda."
"Ah, I see. Please wait here a moment." Without hesitation she walked off to the dining area. Within a minute, she returned ahead of the escort. Linda wore her green dress today, which Stanley liked well enough.
"Good to see you, Stanley."
"And you, Linda."
She turned and offered her right arm out, which Stanley took into his left as the two returned to the table. Carbondale glanced up at them both when the two were nearby, and nodded to his girl when they were ready to sit with them in the booth. They shook hands over the table before Stanley sat down first and wiggled his way to the center. Once seated, the men turned their backs to each other and faced the ladies. They waited for the game to begin. All they had to do was mouth words silently and nearby to the men in alteration as the other's partner spoke.
"So what's the matter? This couldn't wait?" Carbondale kept a grin on his face as he asked this brusquely and maintained eye contact with his companion.
"I got a problem. I think it's in our interest to get it settled immediately." Deitz remained unemotional in his tone.
"Fine. What is it?"
"There's some Dutch faggot going into the Jew apartments and taking pictures of their shit in the middle of the night. He's making like some sort of social justice asshole, or a reporter. You know anything about this?"
"No, it's news to me."
"I asked around and it sounds like this guy's been doing this for a while. Seems like he's hit all the shitholes down there in the last few weeks. I heard the name 'Bojack' from a few of the people he busted on."
"So what do you want me to do about him?"
"Like I said, I think he's doing this for a show and not for a personal collection. I bet he's using them pictures to show to people in halls and such, to shock them and get their hearts to bleed so that they cry for the shit to get more cleaned. If that's what he's doing, he needs to be stopped."
"How badly do you want him to be stopped?"
"Oh, leave the guy alone. Yeah, I don't think it's that bad. If I were him, I'd double down if I got touched. Just shut him up."
Carbondale paused to calculate a price.
"Three." He said this referring to thousands.
"Phew, three? Three. OK, fine. Three. Yeah. You got it."
"Good."
With the price settled, the men each reached for their menus which rested on the table, giving their dates the indication that the business was settled and that they were now allowed to speak.

18351022 05:58:08

Jesse shot up awake on the end of a bad dream. All he could recall afterward was the sensation of running - of running endlessly as fast as he could, and feeling panicked in fleeing from something which he didn't see. The several nights of being alone still caused him to sleep very lightly and rise in this manner frequently. While that was unsettling to Jesse, he was more perplexed in seeing Whitney Poole stare at him as this all transpired.
Whitney was seated in the tent, but not merely seated upright from where he had laid to rest the night before. He was seated with his back to the side of the tent so that Jesse and Daron were under his immediate view. Jesse didn't see Whitney hold anything while he sat there, so he could only assume that he had remained in that position for some time without doing anything else. Jesse nodded to Whitney and received no response of any kind. He continued to stare directly at him and Daron. Jesse quickly determined now to be a good time to address his need to urinate and quietly left the tent.
After a casual walk to the tree line and taking care of business, he took up some of the lighter loose branches and returned to the tent with them to start the fire. Jesse carefully arranged the twigs to lean against each other and set the pot of water on the spindle over it to catch the heat. He held the match inside the ring of rocks before lighting it, remembering not to do as he did yesterday which caused sparks to fly all over. He was glad that such a thing didn't happen in the summer. One chore done. Next was to make sure Randall had food. Jesse ambled to the remains of the barn, took up a giant pile of hay with both arms, and brought it to the carriage where Randall was standing. Jesse ran his hands over the canvas which covered the horse as it bent its head down to graze.
When he started to walk back to the tent he saw Whitney standing by the fire, staring towards him. He paused in his step before continuing his return. Jesse became increasingly uncomfortable with Whitney with each morning that he bore witness to this bizarre kind of behavior. Whitney would only speak to Jesse out of necessity and otherwise spent the small idle time like this doing nothing but simply looking at certain things. One morning it was the house, another it was the horse, today it was him. It all made Jesse feel uneasy and concerned, as much for the simple and focused manner in which he did it as well as not knowing if this was simply his natural way of being. Was there any harm in just looking around? No, but Jesse felt like his eyes pierced the subject of his view. He felt like his way of staring at things was done to make some sort of internal calculations for a purpose which he didn't betray. Was there an ulterior motive being formed? He couldn't tell - and it made him squeamish.

18970625 12:38:17

EG-S-0680

Momence stood next to one of the chairs which the secretary offered for him to sit in while he heard his arrival being told to the auditorium's manager, Martin Leasar. The friction of his chair against the parquet floor inside echoed into the hall before he saw Mr. Leasar lean out from the doorway and wave him over to approach.
"Please! Please come in, Richard."
As he approached the doorway, Martin held his hand out to him while speaking to secretary, whom Momence didn't recognize.
"Dottie, this is Richard. Any time he comes here asking for me, you bring him to me immediately. Okay honey?"
"Sure, boss. Nice to meet you, Mister Richard..."
"Just Rick is fine." Momence said this with a smile and taking her hand to shake.
Dottie quickly withdrew from the room and shut the door with a swift slam behind her. The noise caused Momence to stare at the door with a blink.
"She needs to get some grace about her, I say. Anyway, this is unexpected! I Would have told her to look out for you if I knew you were coming. Sit, sit."
"I would, but I am busy and just need to convey this message to you directly. I understand that you just recently starting having presentations by a person named Ryan Bojack."
"Oh, him, yeah. Just did his first show last week. Brings in his own lantern and talks about those bums and whores by the factories. It's all for shock and show."
"Right. You are to disallow him from making those presentations here."
Martin stared at Momence in contemplative response. He found it seem curious for it to apply specifically to this one individual and his show.
"Really? I mean, he did draw a decent crowd for it. Did you...", Martin now leaned forward in his chair and spoke in a reduced volume, asking, "did you want a direct taste from his pull instead? Would that be good?"
"No. He cannot make that presentation here. At all."
Momence issued the command with cold rigidity and an unwavering stare. The motive for him not sitting down was clear to Martin at this point. This wasn't something to be negotiated or discussed. This was an order to be followed.
"OK, Rick. OK. I'll tell him."
"Good. See you Tuesday."
"Yeah, will do." Martin's voice was timid and soft when saying this.
Momence immediately took leave of the room and closed the door gently after he stepped out.
"See you Tuesday, Miss Dottie." As he said this to her, he continued walking on and didn't stop to look back at her as she filed her fingernails and hummed softly to herself.
 "Oh, see ya later Just Rick." Dottie said this cheerfully, but the features on her face turned dour as he left the room without so much as acknowledging her beyond that.

18970623 22:18:40

TR-S-4918X0755

Carolina Leicht was the first to notice the strange noises coming from down the hall. There were unfamiliar voices, and the volume was loud enough to carry over the sewing machines which she and her husband Simon were hunched over. Neither of them nor their son Freiderich were interrupted by the noises to incur so much as a moment's pause in the operation as it neared the final hour which they would normally allow themselves to work. While running the dark fabric through the flying needle as it deftly threaded the seam which she held at both sides, she idly wondered who the stranger nearby could be. There wasn't any forewarning and there hasn't been any sort of loud screaming or altercation, so it wouldn't be any sort of Health Inspector, and it wasn't the landlord either. Deliveries wouldn't be requested at this hour, and she didn't recall anyone new undertaking that task in several days. She spaced for a moment on the latest boy's name - William came to mind. That should be it. He seemed a nice boy, whatever his name was. But anyway, who was down there? There was no good reason for anyone unfamiliar to be in this apartment at this hour. Then she heard footsteps approach their room. There were two sets of steps coming near them. Soon, a small middle aged man stood in the opened doorway and addressed them in their native Yiddish.
"Can we take a picture of this room?"
A picture? Here? Now? How is that possible? There wasn't any camera equipment being lugged around which she could see. Regardless, she had nothing to hide and knew neither person standing nearby as anyone important, so she instinctively said yes without wanting to debate or discuss the request. The three Leichts remained motionless for the brief moment while the second man, taller than the first who spoke, came from behind and held out a small box into the open area with one hand and a small tube with the other. Suddenly, the tube shot out a puff of light which pierced their eyes and caused all three of them to vocally express their shock. Carolina blinked several times and started to panic while her vision slowly returned. The last hour was drawing to a close and this was time being wasted. The shorter man spoke again.
"The gentleman would like to know how much your family is earning for your work. Would you be willing to tell us about what you do?"
Her confusion increased with the question. She had no idea why any of this was happening, and became as irritated as she was perplexed with the intrusion into her work as it was being delayed.
"Is he, are you the police? Do you work for the city?"
"No, madam. He is documenting the lifestyle of people like you for journalistic purposes."
"Us? Why us? What does he care about us? What's important to see here?"
"He wants to investigate the conditions of the workers like you. He would like to ask questions about your work and lifestyle from it."
Carolina was not satisfied with the response. She saw no reason why someone would want to be here to take pictures of her room and her work area. It made no sense. Something didn't seem right. She responded with finality after a moment's contemplation.
"If he has questions, he can ask my boss Stanley. He should know that we are going to sleep soon and we need to keep working until we do. I have nothing further to say."
The man nodded and mumbled some words to the other man in words she knew to be English. The taller man then nodded with his hat tipped and a smile, and turned away without further action. The shorter man spoke before following him.
"Sorry to have bothered you, madam. Thank you for allowing us to take the photograph. Please have a good night."
As the two walked away, Simon resumed his sewing and their son resumed the folding of the finished garments. Carolina remained still as she watched them walk away.
"I wonder what that was all about." Her husband asked the question with a tone of indifference.
"I haven't the slightest idea - but I think I should tell Stanley what has just happened. Something isn't right."

18351016 15:48:11

Jesse saw the horse drawing cart from nearly a half of a mile away, but didn't know for sure that it was Daron returning until he was able to make out the horse's brown hair that he knew it to be Randall. What confused him more was that he was able to discern two men seated in the carriage as it approached. The other man was bulkier and sat at a taller height than Daron in comparison. Rather than wait for them to approach, he began to run towards them when they were nearby. After being alone for so long, he was desperate to see another person.
"Hold on, Jesse, hold on." Daron yelled the command loudly to carry the voice over the squeaking wooden wheels of the carriage. "We're bringin this to the house." Jesse nodded and walked along the side of the carriage as they approached the front walkway to the charred remains of the house. Daron snapped the reins and Randal stopped immediately, then tossed his head side to side with a rough sigh as it was finally allowed to stop. The two men descended from opposite sides. Jesse ran to Daron and wrapped his arms around him.
"Praise God for your return, Misser Daron. It has been awful out here alone."
"I don't doubt it, and I am as thankful that you stayed to keep this place. I take it you're hungry?"
"Oh, starving, Misser Daron." When Jesse said this, he released his grip from Daron and made a point to rub his belly with both hands. "I feel like I can eat dirt, no lie."
By this point, the other man had walked around Randal from the side and stood before the both of them. He folded his hands under his stomach and stood still while staring at them.
"Jesse, this is Mister Whitney Poole. He heard of our plight when I was in Baltimore and decided to assist us here, with intent to remain and establish himself here."
"Nice to meet you, Jesse." Whitney extended a hand for Jesse to shake, which he did promptly. Jesse noticed that his voice was a lower timbre than Daron and his pace of speech was slower.
"Well," said Daron, "among the goods we have brought is some dried meat and a tent, so I think we should see to making it before night falls. Cmere and take the stuff, Jesse."
Jesse obliged and walked with Daron at his side as the pair went to the side of the wagon to get the tent and some other supplies. Jesse noticed that as they did so, Whitney remained in place and looked around at the entire area, inspecting the remains of the house and barn, and studying the surroundings. He wondered why he didn't volunteer to help acquire the supplies.

18970722 05:56:11

MP-S-7918X0418

Ryan Bojack shot up from his bed when he heard the door knocked open. The proximity of the volume from the impact and subsequent scattering of his cat as it dashed off of his bed confirmed it instantly in his mind. Was he really being robbed? Why him? Why now? More importantly - what to do? He heard multiple footsteps quickly entering his apartment, so taking out the intruders was out of the question. He had no gun or any sort of weapon with which he could strike someone. He wasn't about to rush out to get into a fist fight with someone who likely would be armed. Regardless, he jumped out of the bed and backed to the corner of the room, clenching his fists tightly and bracing the heels of his feet against the sides of the walls. He felt that he had to make a stand, and thought of no better way to quickly do so.
The footsteps approached his room - both pairs did. There were two men. The weight and heavy sound of the steps registered to Ryan as men. But they were approaching his room - were they targeting him? Were they not here to steal? The confusion distracted him enough that when Exeter and Secor entered, he didn't have enough time to discern any recognizable features of them against the faint light coming from the hallway light which reached the dark room. Before he could throw a fist out at Secor as he came within range, a thick fabric was thrown over his body which was quickly wrapped around him, tight enough to bind him. He felt a rope being raveled around his torso and tied to keep the fabric cinched on his body. The other man stepped forward and leaned his mouth by Ryan's ear, and issued the command in a whisper.
"All right, faggot. Where's the camera and the film."
Ryan was even more confused with the request.
"You... you're looking for, for my cam-"
Before he could finish speaking, a fist was thrust into his stomach. It felt to him like the knuckles managed to make contact with his spine. He moaned loudly and felt ready to vomit but somehow managed to contain himself enough to only cough violently instead. The whisper came to his ear again.
"Answer me. Your camera and your film. Now."
"Cl. Closet." Ryan struggled to say the word through fits of gasping for air in coughs.
One man walked away while Ryan was still held in place by the other. His bedroom closet was thrust open and all of the contents were rattled and sifted about. Ryan heard strikes hit the glass plates as if they were hit by a bat, but he didn't recall seeing either of the men bring in a bat. He then heard a metal pan hit the floor, followed by some film prints being thrown into it. Next, he smelled the developing fluid being poured on top of the prints as the liquid dripped into the pan. Then the sound of a match strike rang in the air with the smell of sulfur in its wake. He could see an orange glow through the sack which covered his face. The pictures! Three weeks of work was being consumed in an instant! The man who was restraining him now leaned by his face to speak. His whisper had more volume and came out as a coarse grunt.
 "No more pictures of the bums and their houses. Got it, cocksucker?"

18550519 22:18:06

"Were you scared?", she asked.
Cook contemplated for a moment before responding.
"No, not scared. Not like, shivering and babbling and crying out like 'oh what in the world are we gonna do' scared. I was just more or less just like shocked, yknow? I had no idea why anything was happening but when you see the house you was in burning and the barn burning next to it and watching it from a hundred steps away because you can't get no closer without the heat choking you, you see all that. That's the end of the world, basically, right there. I'm asleep and next thing I'm running to the woods and turning around to see that. And just watch. No way to stop it. We were just dazed. Yeah, that's it. Dazed. Dulled and awestruck. But once we could start diggin things out, we had some luck on it right off."
"Mhm." Elise curled into Cook's body, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against his arm.
"We found Randy, then once we could get back to the place, we found the chest there. They just there to burn the place, they didn't steal nothin. And that chest was just in the right place or somethin because it was still there and the coin still inside. Then he go for three days to get the stores, and then - then, yeah, I got scared yeah. All I could do was lay down some dead branches by a tree, make a fort like thing, and find a place to lay down and store some berries or whatever I could find. Randy had some of the hay left behind, and I started chewin on that some days too, I was so hungry and there was just barely nothin to find. And it was just that clearing in the woods that whole time, just me in there. Me bein a child and alone there, yeah I was jumpin and spooked by damned everything I heard."