#mocc

TITLE: Murders of Crow Creek, first of ? in the Hidden Gods series

GENRE: western supernatural/paranormal

SETTING: kind of an america set in an alternate timeline or universe, but ultimately set in the southwest, deserts, dry mountains, etc

TROPES/THEMES: really big on “you don’t have to be what they made you to be” if that makes sense; choosing your own destiny, if you will; what is justice, and is it possible to bring justice to someone without causing pain in the process; is justice always righteous; corruption of the state and of the soul and mind

STORY: Sheriff Lou Wesley works with a witch, a demon killer, a bounty hunter, and a barkeep to solve the murder of a young girl. Then another murder occurs. And another. Lou quickly realizes that the murders are not localized events, and that they may be connected to something far greater, and much, much, darker.

STATUS: still in the process of outlining and plotting, but i have a lot of ideas set in stone!

CHARACTERS:

*image descriptions in alt text*

What's your favourite thing you've ever written?

hi! i did have a good day and i hope you did too! i’ve actually never really thought about it, i adore a lot of the stuff i write, but this possible beginning to Murders of Crow Creek is something that i consistently take pride in, if you’re interested in reading:

The air smelled of sulfur. The scent was thick, filling Lou’s nostrils and making her eyes water. The sun, orange and unrelenting, glared across the horizon at her. She glared back. A faint ringing filled her ears. Her chest was full of rage, a rage she could not pinpoint the origin of. All she knew was pain and anguish, and standing in the desert heat, glaring at the sun which in turn glared at her, she realized that pain and anguish were all she would ever know.

The smell of sulfur grew stronger. Lou rubbed her nose and took her hat off, keeping her eyes on the sun. She watched, and waited.

A noise squeezed its way through the ringing, wedging itself into her head, banging against her eardrums. The noise was more irritating than harmful, yet Lou could not stand it. She lowered her gaze to the ground.

A crow, scratching the cracked dirt below it and pecking at a small rock. The sound of its talons against the ground should have been minuscule. Lou should have barely heard it under the ringing in her ears; but every time this crow’s feet came down on the earth, Lou flinched. It was as if a drummer was standing right behind her, hitting his drum so ferociously he might break it.

The noise grew louder, and louder, until it was so loud Lou thought she might faint. All she could do was watch the crow with a strange, underlying feeling of dread.

Finally, the crow stopped. It looked up at Lou with a look in its black eyes. It was an expression Lou knew well: an accusatory glare, as if the one receiving it had done something drastically wrong.

What had Lou done wrong?

The crow opened its beak and screeched. Lou cried out, falling back. Her hands hit the dirt, the skin peeling from her palms. All she could hear was the crow’s cry of anger. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the noise to go away.

She just wanted it to go away.

——

Lou stared blankly at the paperwork on her desk. The sunlight, orange and soft, peeked through the window of the station, wrapping her in its warmth.

Lou had been startled awake by her dream that morning. She had been sure the vision had been just that: a vision. Yet her palms had been scratched and bloodied, like she had fallen and caught herself on her hands.

It was early.

Lou waved a hand dismissively at her paperwork and leaned back in her chair, stretching. She was too distracted to do any paperwork.

Lou pulled her pocket watch out. Quarter ‘til seven. She whistled, kicking her feet up and placing them on her desk.

The door to the sheriff’s station opened and Caroline Oakwood, Lou’s deputy, walked in. The heels of her boots clacked against the wooden boards as she crossed the room to her desk and sat down.

“Morning, Sheriff,” she sighed, placing her hat on her desk. Lou grumbled a greeting back to her, closing her eyes. Caroline peered over at Lou, raising an eyebrow. “Slept well, I assume?”

Lou gave her a certified Sheriff Wesley Side-Eye. She grabbed the stack of papers and walked to Caroline, slapping them down in front of her. “Some paperwork for you to do, Deputy.”

“I see,” Caroline scoffed. “Why don’t you rest for a while longer, Sheriff? I’m sure a woman of your age could use it.”

Lou stopped to look back at Caroline, who snorted, prompting Lou to laugh as well. The Sheriff sat down in her chair, kicking up her feet once more. She waved a hand. “Bah, you don’t have much room to talk, Oakwood.”

“That’s true.”

Caroline was only a few years younger than Lou, who was nearly fifty. They weren’t that old, but they both liked to joke with each other about ‘getting up there.’ Lou wasn’t sure what ‘up there’ was supposed to be, but she hadn’t reached it yet. She became a sheriff when she was twenty and she hadn’t stopped since.

Lou was quite fond of Caroline Oakwood. She was responsible and organized, traits that were hard to find in this town. She respected the law, and Lou respected that. Caroline was also the mayor’s sister. The Oakwood family was a loyal, highly respectable family in town; Caroline upheld a lot of expectations without crumbling under the pressure.

“What’d’ya think about these complaints?” Caroline asked, holding up a paper from her pile and straightening it with a flourish. She cleared her throat and began in a haughty voice, “‘I am reporting suspicious activity of my neighbor, whom I believe to be a worshipper of the Dark Gods and is —‘“

“If I hear anything from that old coot again it’ll be too damn soon,” Lou pulled her hat down over her face, groaning.

Caroline glanced up at her and grimaced. “From Pete again? Yeesh. Here, I’ll read more: ‘In my honest opinion, they’re all witches. I swear to Calandria that a group of them was dancing naked under the moonlight with their demon whores, and —‘“

A large black shape barreled through the window behind Caroline with a loud crash, sending the deputy out of her chair and across the room.

“Shit!”

“What in the name of —“

Lou stood, watching the bird fly around the room, her eyes narrowed. She began to take off her coat to trap the animal, but she could see the action would be unnecessary. The bird cried out weakly as it flew into the hat stand, knocking it over. The bird fell to the floor with a thud and twitched once, then lay still.

Lou and Caroline stared at the bird. Caroline chuckled nervously, looking up at Lou. “Well, that was certainly, uh, interesting, wasn’t it?”

Lou didn’t answer. Her eyes were still on the bird. She took a step closer. “Caroline, is that... Is that a crow?”

“I think so, Sheriff,” Caroline breathed. “Why?”

A feeling of dread prickled up Lou’s spine, like a finger slowly dragging itself across the length of a fine-toothed comb. She stared at the dead bird, searching its eyes for another condemning glare.

“Sheriff? Lou,” Caroline was suddenly at the Sheriff’s side, reaching out for her. “What is it?”

Lou shook her head. “Nothing. Stupid damn crows. Get that thing outta here.”

Caroline nodded, grabbing the broom from the corner and pushing the bird towards the door. She was only halfway there, however, when a man burst through the door, screaming for Lou.

“Sheriff! Sheriff Wesley!” It was one of Lou’s employees, a watchman for the town named Jack.

“Jack, kid, calm down!” Lou held her hands up, reaching for Jack. “What is it?”

The boy was out of breath. “You have... to come... hah, behind Tom’s...”

He doubled over, panting. Lou put a hand on his back and leaned down with him. “What? What is it, boy? Spit it out!”

Jack straightened, taking in a deep breath: