𝗡꩜ 𝚂𝑰𝕾𝙽⛧𝙻

*   ...   𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝟶𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐐        ⁝           a    conspiracist,    a    recluse,    a    town   lunatic.    a    dependant    blog    affiliated    with    miserylooms,    broadcasted    by    cas    (    thirty³.   they   /   them    )

here lies fletcher 'fletch’ knox, a wonderfully paranoid person that was known around misery as THE CONSPIRACY THEORIST. taken from us too soon, at only 53 years old, the town might never find another radio host as talented ever again, or be able to walk by mariner’s tavern without being reminded of his heavily caffeinated ramblings.

𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴: fletcher knox. 𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂: fletch. 𝙰𝙶𝙴: fifties. 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: cismale, he/him. 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴: one bedroom apartment unit at breakwater lofts. 𝙾𝙲𝙲𝚄𝙿𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: radio host. 𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴: 6’3”. lean and wiry. salt and pepper brown hair that’s often in need of a haircut. grey blue eyes featuring prominent dark circles. 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃: black coffee, cigarette smoke, peppermint gum.

𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂    .    .    .    people whisper in small towns like misery. they whisper between one another, about one another, then turn and look away with soft, pitiful smiles.

fletch has never been a stranger to those whispers, to the sympathetic glances. to the pity.

at some point, people stop paying attention to the old, paranoid conspiracy theorist who sits hunched over a battered notebook stuffed with newspaper clippings, determined to prove something not even he can fully explain. they go from offering sympathetic smiles alongside a refill of coffee, or a whiskey when he’s especially anxious and needs to stave off the shakes, to looking straight through him as though he isn’t there.

eventually, they stop whispering as if he’s still there. instead, they speak openly, mockingly, scoffing at the ramblings of a madman until he’s backed himself into a corner, cementing his reputation as nothing more than the town fruitcake.

but fletch never lets it deter him. he wears a thick skin that keeps him warm, letting every mocking word and every harsh stare bounce harmlessly away, because one day he’ll prove them all wrong. one day, they’ll have to admit that he was right all along.