》Eureka Starter Blog

In Fliss’ eyes sports would always be more about the social aspect than the competitive one and bowling was no exception. And it was just as well when for most of the evening her throws had been wayward, aim thrown off when her attention was inevitably drawn elsewhere by her friends or something else happening around her. It was almost a running joke by the time the game was nearing the end that her ball was almost certainly going down the gutter. Each unsuccessful throw had been laughed off by both herself and those around her. A bet had been made that she couldn’t make a strike by the end of the game and she took it for the fun of it despite feeling as though she was going to be the one to have to pay up. There’s slightly more focus in her movements this time and her eyes widened as the ball collided with the pins, hitting them just right to earn her a strike. The throw was undeniably a fluke but arms were still thrown up in the air in celebration and  as she turns back to collect her winnings with a bright grin on her face. “Lucky shot or not, a bet’s a bet.” Hands held out as she approached them with a spring in her step to claim her prize.

location. Delish on 5th

“—with swiss cheese, and um, the spicy mustard, please.” Having finished ordering his sandwich, Kevin turned to the person behind him in line, and added, “And whatever they’re getting. My treat.” It was one of the rare half days where he, too, could leave early — at least to grab lunch — and Kevin had an extra spring in his step for the excuse to deviate from his usual weekday lunch of leftovers. If he could pass a little of that happiness on to others, he would, for friend or stranger alike.

open starter

It had been a long day on the docks but his walks with his dog, Sundance, were habitual. No matter how draining the day it still managed to make him feel at peace and so he rarely ever skipped them. They took the same route every night, and Sundance was good enough to be off leash which usually left him a little further ahead than Ephram. Sometimes they cam across a familiar face causing the dog to stop, as he did tonight. Ephram approached with a small but warm smile, greeting them with a small wave. “You could at least pretend you are happy to see me somewhat as much as you are him,” he teased, nodding down to the dog.

Insanely early morning walks weren’t completely out of the norm for Levi. Sometimes he’d awake with a start, a dream having disturbed him enough that forced him into consciousness.  He could never remember what they were about, although he had a fairly good idea.  And then the pain would start.  It always began as a pin point in his back, and he was fairly sure if someone were to hold their finger over it, they’d be x marks the spot on a fairly nasty exit wound from a decade and another life time ago.  The pain would slowly get less specific and more diffused as it worked it’s way over his entire left side, and it was at that point LJ always found him throwing on a shirt and shoes and hitting the dunes.  And he’d walk until it didn’t hurt anymore.  Sometimes that was twenty minutes, sometimes it was two hours.  He had never been able to get a straight answer on whether the pain was physical or psychosomatic, although at this point he guessed it didn’t really matter.

It wasn’t until rain splattered against tanned skin did he realize just how far he had gone, all the way to Ma-le'l Dunes this time.  Despite the time of year, the California rain still had the ability to chill someone down to the bone, so in efforts to avoid it, Levi ducked under the small awning attached to and informational hiking trail board, figuring he could wait it out.  He was looking over the landscape, appreciating the fact that it almost looked more beautiful as the rain washed away the humidity that had hung in the air and cast the landscape in a grey-blue hue, when he saw a figure begin to emerge through the gloom, a bit down the trail, seemingly running for what he could only assume was a car waiting for them all the way back at the parking lot.  Without thinking about how frightening the idea of a person hopping seemingly out of nowhere, he did so anyways, calling out and trying to wave them down to relative dryness. 

Summer had granted Natalie an expanse of time with which she could do whatever she’d wanted, and what she’d wanted to do, more than anything, was run. With her grandparents emphatic permission–and the assurance they’d be cared for by a few neighbors–she left. New York for a couple of weeks, revisiting old haunts and older friends, and then off to Greece for nearly a month, where she holed up in her rental home, drinking wine and listening to music too loud, sunbathing during the crystalline clear days and chasing away her yearning each evening, sometimes filling the void with a warm body but always regretting it.  Once again unmoored, Natalie had been forced to reconcile with her oppressive loneliness, the ache that couldn’t ever seem to be resolved. She hadn’t changed at all, hadn’t felt better for the time spent there. So while she wouldn’t venture as far as to say she was glad to be back in Eureka, she knew that, ultimately, her return was an inevitability–and if there was one thing Natalie knew well, it was that there was no point in delaying the inevitable. 

With the dwindling summer in its twilight, she was keen to spend the rest of her truly free time doing whatever pleased her. She’d ended up dawdling around town after an impromptu lunch trip had led her on a sort of scavenger hunt for more bursts of temporary joy, and, after a trip the theatre where she’d spent most of the movie crying in the dark, she’d finally ended up at the mercantile. She knew she didn’t need anything for the new place, of course, but was not intent on dissuading herself should something pique her interest. Basket hanging from her arm, she headed toward a display of homewares, eyes trained on an interesting light fixture. She was captivated by it, but couldn’t determine the attraction; as someone came beside her to survey the same wares, she weighed the potential annoyance of asking them their opinion, before deciding it wasn’t insurmountable. “Is this great, or is it hideous? I am having a genuinely hard time deciding.” 

As it turned out, holding out a flyer with a class schedule and pleading ‘please take a flyer for my studio and pretend you’ll come take a class so I don’t lose another night’s sleep worrying over financial collapse’ was not, in fact, a stellar marketing plan. Of course, even that might have been a step up from the half-hearted attempts at talking with strangers she’d mustered up this afternoon. At some point, she was going to have to ramp up her marketing attempts if she expected to stay afloat, on top of the loans and contracts she’d signed. Who knew exactly how much risk went into running a dance studio? Surely the community had a need for one, right? While Susana walked down the pathway to the fountain, she took in an unmistakably phallic drawing on the stones surrounding the landmark. A laugh escaped her, and then another – it might have been childish, but it was so stupid she couldn’t help but laugh. After letting out a soft sigh to recent herself, Suze looked up and locked eyes with another pedestrian. “Well, you know what they say about compensating,” she said wryly, “but this is awfully detailed so … how much you think they’re compensating for?”

For someone who allowed himself to be lead by his emotions as much as he did, it was something of a miracle he didn’t end up in more difficult situations. Or perhaps the miracle was that he somehow managed get himself out of the ones that he did find himself in. It was no surprise that in his eagerness to celebrate pride he’d gotten swept up in the crowds and split off from his friends. The realisation had only hit him when he’d turned to make a joke and noticed that they were no where to be found. With the battery on his phone already running low (predictably he’d forgotten to charge it the night before) he tried to call, only to find himself battling with the noise around him. “No, I’m not by the fountain. Not the fountain.” Voice was raised as he tried to speak clearly enough that his message would carry. “I’m by the -” Before his location could be given the phone went day and he was greeted by a familiar black screen. But he’d never been one to feel much frustration or let himself feel defeated and so he instead chose to turn to the person nearest to him, easy grin on his features as he prepared to insert himself into their day. “Some turn out, right?”

location. Lumbermill Mercantile

Kevin didn’t usually mind serving as a chaperone; for field trips, for class trips, even for school dances. He hadn’t yet served as a chaperone for Prom, though, and it seemed his time had come. The Senior Prom wasn’t until June, but still, Kevin knew better than to leave this particular shopping endeavor for the last minute — particularly as he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Something dressier than the slacks and blazers he usually wore to work, or than the one real suit he had in his closet ( navy blue, and a leftover from the tail end of college; he wasn’t entirely sure it even fit any longer ). He didn’t think he had to go full tux; he was just a chaperone, after all, but as he looked around the store, he was starting to wonder if maybe he’d picked the wrong place to even start looking. “I’m so in over my head,” he muttered as he looked over a rack of clothes, unaware someone else was standing close enough to hear.

Sara wouldn’t exactly call herself a recluse since becoming a mother of two. But she certainly hadn’t been making trips into town very often. Had even, somewhat, fallen out of touch with those closest to her. But, striking a balance between handling the two-month-old, one-year-old, and herself had proven to be more of a struggle than she had anticipated. One that often left her feeling like leaving the house was in nobody’s best interest. 

Today, however, she had readied them all and tucked the two boys into the stroller. Arlo, leash in tact, walked beside them, his tail wagging as the four of them made it up the road. Happy Tails Dog Park wasn’t too far from the cabin that Sara couldn’t walk and the weather wasn’t so chilly that it kept them inside. In other words, it was as good a day as any to get out of the house. So, Sara did. 

In a matter of minutes following their arrival, both Bennett and Patrick were crying and Arlo was eager to be let loose. And Sara? Well, she could do little more than pray for patience as she dug around in the diaper bag, pulling both a pacifier and bottle from its depths. No sooner than she popped the bottle into Patrick’s mouth Bennett launched his pacifier into the air, Sara watching as it bounced off someone. “I’m so sorry.” Her tone was tired, but polite with just a hint of amusement as she curled a smile onto her lips and moved forward to grab for the Nuby. “We’re training for the MLB,” she joked. “Never too early to start, right?” 

@eureka-starters​

Catalina had a little more than a month left of the pregnancy until her daughter was here. If she was honest, she wished it was sooner because she was constantly tired. Her feet were swollen and her back ached constantly. She rolled her head side to side as she let her eyes rest on the game board in front of her, pressing her lips together. “Why did I think playing Life was a good idea?” She laughed as she turned her head to look over at the person who walked into the bakery. Her brother had mostly came in to entertain her during the low part of the day. She turned in her seat, chuckling once again. “Give me one second and I’ll be there to take your order. I move a lot slower now a days.” She joked. 

Clayton glanced around the crowded bar for a few seconds before letting his dark hues drop towards the person on the other side of the pool table. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched them line up the shot to break the balls up. As soon as they hit the cue ball, his eyes watched it jump right over the triangle and straight onto the floor. He pressed his lips together to keep the amusement from spreading along his features. “You were right. I’m impressed.” He teased.

Max was supposed to be doing his fatherly duty for the weekend - make sure Penelope had enough food to survive the last few weeks in her dorm before she moved home for the summer - instead, he found himself sitting at the bar at Cal’s waiting for his daughter’s text that she was done with her other errands and ready to be seen in public with her father. Granted, he knew that part of this was so he could carry the heavier items and grab the goods off of the top shelf that she couldn’t reach. It was an even exchange, he got much-needed and missed time with his youngest and she got the assistance that he could only assume the boys in the dorms wouldn’t even think about doing. 

“I’m not exactly a wagering man,” Max began, directing his attention to the person sat a couple of stools down, “but how much do you wanna bet that my kid is going to call me to ask for help either taking something down, putting something together or carrying the furniture she doesn’t need right at this moment and storing it at my place until she’s done with school for the semester?” He didn’t doubt that part of what was taking so long was that Penelope was doing more than just window shopping and actually making purchases and plans. If his daughter took after her mother at any given time in their years together, it would be the first thing he’d expect to come from her.

Days when she was working were the easiest, she knew how she was supposed to plan her day and what to do to fill in her time. After years of her schedule planned out to the last minute for her, she was still trying to figure out how to do the same for herself without leaving herself too much time on her hands. Spare time usually meant silence and silence meant that her thoughts could echo around her head freely. It had become a weekly challenge for her to find something to occupy herself with and she had mostly ended up using it as an opportunity to reconnect with her home as well as explore what had changed. Maybe a part of her was hoping to take some comfort in the fact that maybe Eureka had changed just like she had. Today her distraction of choice was the art gallery and Ava had been weaving her way through the exhibits, gaze flickering over each one before she found herself stood at one that left her only with blank confusion.

Usually art in any form left her feeling something, even if it was a different media to her own it had never stopped her appreciating it or being moved by it. But this time she was struggling to find any stirrings of emotions that she might have been able to lean into to bring about something stronger. Frown had begun to settle onto her brow as she looked at the piece, almost certain that it was herself rather than the art that was lacking. To prove her point to herself she turned to the person next to her, words leaving her lips without any form of greeting. “What does it make you feel?” No sooner had she caught their attention her eyes were back on the painting, wondering once again if it was supposed to invoke a feeling of a void or that was simply her view.

If she had known that buying one of the old Victorian’s in Oldtown would have required this much time a the historical society….Okay, well she probably still would have gone through with it, but she may have dragged her feet a bit more.  They had bought it cheap, the home in definite need of some loving, figuring they had enough elbow grease and brains between them to get most of it done themselves, and had planned to keep it’s character as much as possible.  But then of course somebody, or rather a group of somebodies, had to go and get a whole bunch of houses on the block declared historical landmarks, and dealing with the historical society and every other form of government who cared about historical integrity, became a full time job.  “Hello?” she called out at the front desk yet again, head craning in attempt to see around the corner and into the back offices, “This place should not be allowed to be empty, it’s disconcerting,” she muttered, eyeing the portraits of old white dudes that littered the walls. 

location. Humboldt Botanical Garden

His father’s house — his house, really — had many wonderful qualities, but a spacious yard, or well-kept garden, wasn’t one of them. Spring was still coming on, but he needed a little change of scenery, needed to get out of his head. Jason didn’t like to noodle around in public; it felt presumptuous, arrogant, to inflict the same three bars over and over on someone just trying to get on with their day, but here, at the botanical gardens, it was a little different. There was plenty of space, and he could find a quiet, empty space to tuck himself away with his guitar. That was the plan, anyway, as he approached an empty bench — only to discover someone else approaching from the other direction. “If you were gonna — it’s all yours, if you want it,” he said, indicating the bench. “I’ll find somewhere else.”