#narrative.open

“put that down right now.” buck points to the seemingly last box of cereal in the grasp of another's hand. buck, often serious could only ever be taken as he presented himself. he hadn’t been in town for a while and suddenly he appears looking like a caveman. he’s unshaven and his one pointed finger is covered alone with all the mud of holy cross.

“i drove through high hell to get here. i’ll pay you an extra couple of bucks to take that off your hands.” he’s serious. "lucky charms are my childhood staple.” 

leona peeks over the counter. cat-eyes stare for a moment before the blonde ducks beneath a old chandelier. “hey there.” her voice is soft. she was never the type to force a sale out of a potential customer. her eyes drop to the object. a rare piece. “emerald stone pocket watch.”

she allows the silence between them to build for a moment. “great choice. rare as they come. discounted because of the tiny chip of course.” 

her head tilts for a moment towards the individual. she can hear the voices of their past. ancestors and all. she had become good at avoiding her gift.  “i’ll take an extra twenty off if you’ll take this...” she pauses before reaching for a matching emerald ring. something that resembles the roaring twenties. “with it.”  

CAL’S BAR. 8:09PM do you know what it’s like to be truly haunted? in a place like this  ⸻ no end in sight. i do. he thinks of this so often in his daydreams. it’s rare for cal’s to be quiet, yet the news of pastor north has brought holy cross to a halt. he can hear it now. the cult making it seem as if it was some type of miracle. 

he, like his mother had spent his life rescuing people, animals and even the nature that surrounded him. even after everything he finds himself bound to this place. angel is a protector and he knows this. he cares to deeply to even think of what he would do if he had to get out of this place. he could never. he owes them everything. 

“hmm.” hand under his chin leaning against the bar. the news of pastor north plastered on the small tv hung in the corner. “ain’t that a shame.” he truly doesn’t mean it. yet, his tone is left at ease that the other likely couldn’t tell. “now back to you” his sight returns to the familiar face in front of him. “what’s going on with you?”