#afterdusk.event

there were to be years of rest to be had, years of wanderlust as well. this year for aubrey ichabod was a year of the ladder. a year of joy, of laughter, of- “a land of fun?” he muses, a smiling curling. a year of fun. few things could rival awakening to stride headfirst into a land worshipping such a thing. they look beyond, infatuated by the blinking lights and sounds of whirring machinery. she places her hand on a strangers shoulder with unintentional force, grabbing their attention. “tell me, what oddities are housed here at this.. ‘funland?'”

“listen- i didnt do anything to that old dude, okay! i know, ‘it’s mel- the guy whose always up to shit.' i get it, i get it, but-" not uncommon was the stammering and stuttering of a criminal with a lengthy history. mel always seemed to have a defense when inevitable justice came knocking. even being cleared by the police department hadnt stopped many judgmental stares from falling on him. “it wasn't me- okay? i don't care about old dudes who like to get lost in the woods.”

' it's positively tragic about mr. jones. ' sally hummed softly as she sat across the other dining on the outside patio , staring at the newspaper and the police bulletin plastered on the front. ' to think , our silent woods would lurk something so sinister. ' sometimes she was the very thing that lurked in the woods but she wasn't going to announce that out loud.