beyond the church that sits on the edge of town, there lies a wood. this wood, this forest, is filled with trees that stretch their branches so high the birds dont fly above them in fear of finding heaven before they are meant to. the wind whistles between branches that struggle to grow leaves even in the warmth of spring, babbling brooks winding between weary trunks that seem to stop without reason โ drying up at both ends, but flowing in the middle.
no one in ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ญ๐จ๐ฐ๐ง, ๐๐ก๐ข๐จ is brave enough to venture into the woods, especially on their own. . . well, no one of sound and sane mind, that is. many say that the whispers often to be confused as ones from the church are actually coming from the trunks of old oak trees and the wildlife that live amongst them, deer hooves snapping twigs being confused for murmurs of a foreign language, murky creek water bubbling over mossy stones sounding more like a shush than an instrument of nature.
shh. shh. shh.
one day . . . you open your phone to find a message. the number is blocked, untraceable, and the message that follows either plagues you with excitement, morbid curiosity, or a deep, harrowing sense of dread.
an invitation . . .
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ ๐๐จ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ฅ . . . presented by . . . by . . .
( it's smudged out . . . you can't make out the name of who is hosting. . . )
the invitation reads:
ย โ come celebrate with us on the TWENTIETH OF JUNE as we welcome the ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐๐. follow the lit path into the woods at 4:50PM to the bonfire in the clearing. there will be vendors, food, and drink provided. music, fun, celebration, and prayer for the better, warmer, and longer days ahead.
this is a private invitation.
join us. โ
a private invitation ?? why was this sent out via text and not announced by the mayor or put in the newspaper ?? is this an event being sponsored by the town or . . . someone else ?? SOMETHING else ??
all you know is, you're not sure if you'll go. maybe you will, but can you bring a friend ?? the invitation does say private but . . . maybe those you know received one too. are you the only one on the guest list or, are there others ??
there must be a catch. this is ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ญ๐จ๐ฐ๐ง, ๐๐ก๐ข๐จ after all . . . but maybe, maybe, it could be fun. could be harmless, just someone wanting to throw a party without the town finding out, and who doesn't love a bonfire ??
so many questions . . . but are they the right ones ??
this is a task preluding our first plot drop of chapter one !!
part one of the actual event will take place on JUNE 1ST and go until JUNE 20TH. it is up to you whether or not your muse attends, but more details will be posted on the first day of the event. . .
until then, you can decide what your muse chooses to do with the invitation . . . if they choose to do anything at all, that is.
a self para, a thread, texts chains โ whatever you choose to do, please tag it as ' helltownhqtask1 ' so we can read :-)
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the burning of st. michaels middle school was a tragedy that struck a small town and disturbed the seemingly quaint and simple lives of helltown residents in march of 2022. no one knows what, or who, started the fire . . . but all that is known is the rubble has yet to be cleaned up all these years later. some residents will comment on how it still smells like smoke is in the air, and some will swear the ash clings to their clothes as if the embers are still burning. maybe the embers are still burning, or maybe there's something off about the fire, and what started it, that the people of HELLTOWN, OHIO can't really shake. a tragedy no one can truly wrap their heads around.
odd and strange things have always happened in helltown โ that's part of its charm. the sole reason so many come to visit this seemingly underwhelming town in ohio is to see the rumored mystery of this place for themselves. these visitors keep businesses afloat, keep rooms at the motel full, and keep the kitchens in bars, restaurants & shops open. yet, with helltown, a visitor is not always . . . appreciated for what they are; they are seen as a stranger, an unknown, often times just as daunting as the mysteries they come here to seek out themselves.
is it the strangers, they fear, or what they might uncover ?? for a town full of skeptics, it seems everyone's closet has a skeleton or two tucked away in the furthest corner with outgrown shoes, dust bunnies, and sweaters the moths have chewed holes through. their secrets aren't on display at a cash-grab museum or in memoirs written by old residents and ghost hunters, but instead, buried in time capsules or shallow graves, tucked behind vents or taped up in shoeboxes.
but . . . that's the thing about secrets โ everyone has them.
so, it's better not to stick ones nose where it doesn't belong. to be so open about skepticism and confusion, because the truth always comes with a cost. there is always a PRICE.
โ how much are you really willing to pay to uncover it ??
the story as we know it is . . . we don't know much of anything. we know there are people missing, we know there was a fire, and we know this town gives us chills even in rooms without a draft and makes us feel as if we are always being watched. even if we were to have everything decoded in front of us . . . there'd still be unknowns. now, with our cards dealt and the dealer looking at us expectantly, we have to decide whether to FOLD or PLAY OUR HANDS โ regardless of how much information we have.
at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of townies with a bunch of unanswered questions, but then again, is it a matter of not having answers to those questions . . .
