a few nights ago i was sleeping behind a dumpster after leaving my idiot boyfriend. i just left all my stuff there and took only what i could carry. nothing i cant replace anyway. im a light sleeper so when i felt a rat crawling on my stomach i just brushed it away and kept on sleeping. but then the rat returned and i brushed it away again only this time it did not feel like a rat. it was wet slimy and cold. "youre just imaging things" i told myself and went right back to sleeping. in a few more minutes i was feeling this thing again and i opened my eyes and the street light shined brightly blinding me. i blinked a couple times and looked down at my stomach and then had a start as i saw a fist sized blobby thing on my stomach with a gelatinous tendril snaked under my jacket trying to get inside the inside breast pocket where i keep my good luck charm.

i jumped up and knocked the blob off of me and stomped on it but it didnt seem to do any damage. in fact it was just like stomping on a sponge. just some bright yellow phosphorescent shit squirted out underneath my boot. then i felt some powerful unseen force slam into my torso and i stumbled backwards into the dumpster. i pulled my pistol and blasted the blob and it exploded into bright yellow phosphorescent goo. i holstered my pistol and ran like hell from there down the alley. i spilled out onto the empty street in the neon night. i didnt slow down though and ran as long as i could. i stopped to catch my breath and entered a little 24 hour cafe to get some coffee and to calm down.

i fished out my charm and held in my palm. within seconds warm calm flushed over my body and i closed my eyes. finally i was relaxed. i slowly drank my coffee and after some time i paid the check with some coins and a bill i found deep inside my empty pockets. as i stood up from the table next to the window i saw another blob stuck to the outside. i ran out the back through the kitchen area and again ran as far as i could.

since then i havent been able to sleep longer than 5 minutes. i have to keep moving or the blobs show up where ever i stop. i urgently need some help.

I hope that I'm not too late.
You do need some help. I can help you. I will help you.
I have PM'd you ways to contact me. Please do immediately.
We can work on this unhealthy need for attention and then move on to the superstition. And whatever else that troubles your mind.

We can't help you if we don't know where you are, Pariah.

Skeptic, do yourself, and everyone else a favor, and don't assume that everyone here is crazy.
While the story may seem to be perhaps a little hard to believe for you. I have seen much stranger things.
Oh and before you even think of questioning my sanity. Don't!
Pariah, Willie is right, if anyone is going to be able to help you. We will need a bit more info. First off would be where are you. From there it can be figured out who is closest to you. Another question is, if you don't mind me asking. What is this good luck charm of your?

Well not to get bogged down into this tired old conversation again.
But since you've felt the need to address me personally, here goes.

Shadowstalker wrote:Skeptic, do yourself, and everyone else a favor, and don't assume that everyone here is crazy.

I wouldn't say crazy. Maladjusted, perhaps.
And I wouldn't say it about everyone here.

While the story may seem to be perhaps a little hard to believe for you. I have seen much stranger things.

Ah, yes.
I have piles of files of strange things I've seen and that others have seen, too.

Oh and before you even think of questioning my sanity. Don't!

It's already established?
Sorry, that was a jab.

Pariah, Willie is right, if anyone is going to be able to help you. We will need a bit more info.

With any lucky she'll get my PM and actually respond to it.
Asking for help is an important first step.
Actually doing something about it is equally important but infinitely more difficult.
I hope he or she comes in. I have deep concerns!

I'll never look at a bath sponge the same way again.

Heather Dawes wrote:I'll never look at a bath sponge the same way again.

This place has the tendency to warp the normal experience.

Heh. Glad to see you back Ms. Dawes. Are you also going to be looking into this story? If so I wish you luck. I would trust you to look into it with a less biased view than I would Skeptic.(Yeah that is a jab as well.)

It'll have to be something a bit more enticing then someone random street occurrence. I could chalk this down to a lot of things. I am more incline to go with Skeptic that there might something with the person then the lucky charm.

You never know. Seemingly small stories can turn into rather large stories. Also who knows Pariah could be somewhere in your stomping grounds.
Admitedly at present this is a curiousity, at least until we get more details.

Shadowstalker wrote:Heh. Glad to see you back Ms. Dawes. Are you also going to be looking into this story? If so I wish you luck. I would trust you to look into it with a less biased view than I would Skeptic.(Yeah that is a jab as well.)

Once you get to know me, you'll see that I'm the most logical and least biased guy you've ever met!
And pariah has contacted me. We made arrangements.
Fortunately, she's nearby. How's that for supernatural!
I'm off.

I fear this won't end well.

Shadowstalker wrote:I fear this won't end well.

Yep.

Shadowstalker wrote:I fear this won't end well.

Why?

She told me to meet her outside Martyr's Pub. "I'll be the skinny white girl, blond hair, you'll know when you see me," she explained.
She gave a time and said that if I was late, she'd bail. And nobody would ever see or hear from her again.
So I got there 2 hours early. I waited in the minivan for her to show up. I looked carefully at every passerby.
When you're looking for something, you find it in spades.
It seemed that just about every girl that came by was skinny and blond.

My mind wandered, but I never stopped paying attention to the door to Martyr's.
I wondered about this woman and tried not to speculate why she was living the life she was.
I've seen it all. That's what I used to say a few decades ago. Now, I realize how foolish I was in those days.
Would she tell me her story? If so, would she be honest about it?

I started to feel a bit nauseous. Residuals from a recent mystery illness that kicked my ass for weeks on end.
I tried to stay focused on the task at hand.
I was hoping to spend some time in the Caribbean--turkey dinner on St. John's to be precise.
But people need help more than I need a vacation. Such is life. Such is my life anyway.

The beep on my watch marked the passing of the first hour.
One down. One more to go.
I started the minivan up and blasted the heater. I hadn't realized just how cold my feet and fingers had become.
After a few minutes I switched off the engine.
The remainder of the hour passed much like the first.
More skinny blonds, more wandering thoughts about turkey dinners in the Caribbean, more concern, more nausea.

I felt how the time was approaching. I started up the minivan to warm the interior.
The beep on my watch coincided with a small figure in the side mirror approaching the vehicle.
I knew that it was her. I just knew it was.
After going through the prearranged rigmarole, she climbed into the minivan.
She was shivering and sweating.
She tucked a lock of her bright blond hair under a ratty black sock hat.
"You shouldn't sweat in weather like this," I quipped.

She looked at me briefly, but only long enough for me to take in her emerald green eyes.
She didn't respond, however.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her. "I have some..." but she just shrugged and said curtly, "no."

"Is your piece legal? How old are you anyway?" I inquired as we pulled away. She couldn't be older than 18 from all I could see.

She just shrugged, staring out the front of the minivan.
When I looked over at her, she didn't move a muscle. The next time I looked over, she was sound asleep.
I half-heartedly and quietly said, "hey?"
No response. It was a silent ride back to my office.
I nibbled on the food that I had brought for her.

Before we arrived I called Peter and had him make some preparations for our arrival.
My office is like my home away from home. It has all the amenities of home: bed, bath, and beyond.
Though it is decidedly spartan. I'm not one for clutter and collectibles.
Since I spend so much time in my office, however, it has to be comfortable.
Upon our arrival I carried her inside and put her on the bed. I pulled off her boots and covered her with blankets.
I went to remove her gloves but she was holding something in her left hand, so I left them as they were.
I managed to wiggle her pistol free and laid it on the bed table. I don't know but I imagined it wouldn't be comfortable sleeping on it digging into the ribs or something.

"Now what?" Peter asked.

I shrugged. "Wait until she wakes, I suppose." He nodded to me. I set to work clearing out my near-term schedule.
Peter was fussing about getting some towels and the coffee station set up near the bed side.
When I peeked my head inside he was holding one of her boots. He didn't notice me.
I just shook my head and went back to my desk to make some more phone calls.

Sometimes the smallest things can be the most dangerous.

skeptic wrote:She told me to meet her outside Martyr's Pub.

Martyr's Pub ... I know where that is. Are you still in that city?

Willie Long wrote:

skeptic wrote:She told me to meet her outside Martyr's Pub.

Martyr's Pub ... I know where that is. Are you still in that city?

Yes.
She woke up but she is refusing to talk at the moment. She and Peter seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. And I don't think she ever liked me.
I think that something is going to happen soon. After all, she can't sit in the corner forever.
In the meantime, I will keep the Society up to date on events just as soon as they happen.

Would you mind if I dropped by? Maybe I could get her to open up.

Finally. An update. All of what follows happened over the last couple of months or so.

She had run away and after some good old fashioned investigation work we found some places she frequents.
One of them is a real slummy place where humanity's finest pieces of shit float to the top.
Not that she's a piece of shit but she has made some real shitty choices.
That's what I'm fixing to fix.
Went with Peter and Willie to check it out but "Gonzo" only had insults and threats to offer. All bark, no bite, that little doggy.
Gonzo told us he hasn't seen "the little whore" in a few days. Gonzo wasn't going to tell us if he saw her again.
And then promised that we would never see her again.
I told him to never say never.

So we moved on to the next lead. It turns out she hangs out at a pawn shop owned by a rather eccentric fellow.
According to him she tried to sell her charm to him.
He told her no way because it's cursed. He told her to bring it to the Society because people here could deal with it. She as we know decided to hang on to it.
The owner told us that he hadn't see her in a week.

I left Willie and Peter to their own devices while I attended to work things.
Bills don't pay themselves. Phone calls don't make themselves. And patients sure as hell don't treat themselves (not ideally anyway).
My schedule was a mess. Bills were late. Clients were anxious. I couldn't put my life and work on hold any longer.
Although sometimes I did think about dropping it all.
She's just a kid. She deserves a chance at a full life.
It just might be worth it.

Either road I was soaked up by work and didn't notice that it wasn't until 2AM that I heard from Peter and Willie.
They had found her.
And apparently it was an adventure, too.

She agreed to stay put and get her GED but that didn't last for long.
Since then though her running away episodes have been less frequent.
As I spend more time with her, the paranormal illusions she was having have subsided.
Obviously. That is to be expected.

She even has regular employment now at the pawn shop. The owner rents out a condo he owns real cheap, too.
Things are looking up. Well, they were.
Now what follows has just happened over the last few days.
But something has just happened that jeopardizes the whole damn thing. Apparently Gonzo cannot keep a lid on his stupidity.
When that's resolved I'll send an update from my office, from jail, or speak through Peter from the grave haha.

i will make everything right between alonzo (aka "gonzo") and sebastian (aka "skeptic"). everything will be square then. and maybe then sebastian will leave me alone and stop trying to be my fucking grandpa.

pariah wrote:i will make everything right between alonzo (aka "gonzo") and sebastian (aka "skeptic"). everything will be square then. and maybe then sebastian will leave me alone and stop trying to be my fucking grandpa.

It is not being grandpa when I say don't go back there.
It's beyond unhealthy. It's dangerous and it's deadly.

Well...I could offer the girl a place to stay out in the little apartment above the boathouse, and I need someone to help me out in the shop if she is handy.

I am out in the country though, so she might get a little bored.

She ran away to confront Gonzo. And I went after her.
She thinks she has it all figured out and when she realizes that she doesn't, her dissocial issues take of it by blaming somebody else.
Doesn't really matter who gets the blame, as long as it isn't her.

I arrived at Gonzo's in the projects and Paco was standing at the door.
"Let me in," I told him.

"Fuck you, old man," he responded, his English was soaked in a heavy Mexican accent.

I'm getting up in years but I have a little left in me.
I kicked him hard in the nuts. I kneed him hard in the face as he doubled over.
I felt and heard something give under the pressure. From the blood gushing from his split lips and teeth on the ground, I had a clue of what that may have been.

The door caved in after just two good kicks against the handle.
The room was darkish but I saw a body roll off the bed as I clicked on my flashlight, which lit the little shit hole apartment completely. And I saw Gonzo rushing me with a knife.
The light flashed around the room as I side-stepped and redirected the knife.
It found a home deep inside Gonzo's upper thigh. He went down screaming like a bitch on the Titanic.
As he slipped into shock I found her lying on the bed. She wasn't moving. For fuck's sake she was barely breathing.
She had a white wife-beater t-shirt on which was bunched up around her neck. Her skin was flush, pasty, and bluish; she was coldish to the touch.
No time to wait. Her clothes were crumpled on the floor next to the bed. I grabbed them and then I scooped her up in a fireman's carry and hauled ass out of there.

She was conscious when we arrived at the hospital, but barely so. Quite miraculously however she was cussing me 100 ways to Sunday and refused all help from the hospital staff.
She didn't want to owe me anything...
...even if she didn't owe me anything.

I don't know what happened. I was rather quickly under questioning by the cops. After being questioned by the cops there was nothing more for me to do...
...but to leave.

No telling where she is now.

Clarity Grace wrote:_____Good luck, Miss Pariah. I wish I could help you, but I don’t know how, and I don’t want to leave Ethan right now, either. I’m really very sorry.
_____P.S. Has anyone else seen the blobs? Are they still coming after you?

Sometimes I feel like getting right back into the supernatural is what I need.

I want to look for these blobs.

But in light of what Sebastian has revealed, being totally honest, I'd like to look for the missing girl more.

I might know someone that could point you in the right direction. Shes really good at finding things.

I admire your enthusiasm Mack but you really need to rest.
Your brain has been under control of a giant slug, if we are to believe Ms. Krilova. And you do believe her. But all that hocus pocus aside, repressing your emotions won't solve anything. It just sets it all up to explode later.
Which is probably what just happened to you.
After all, you're not even sure if you feel good about being alive.
Take a break.

Joe, any assistance would be appreciated.

I will ask my friend. I will probably have to get more information. Usually she wants at least a picture of the person.

It's been a cold winter.
I still think about her. Wondering where she is, if she's alive or dead.
Nobody has seen or heard from her in months.
Until today.
I got a postcard with a picture of Navy Pier on it.
It was dated a few days ago with just her name scrawled on the back of the card.
No return address.
Peter pretty quickly took it from me and disappeared in his office.
Joe, you may want to contact Peter directly.....