My first build in a custom world I'm attempting to build called Westbrooke. This is gonna take a loooooooong time :0 Every house is build with a sim/sims in mind so the decorations reflect their character.
This apartment belongs to a journalist and her two cats who have just moved into this mysterious city.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“Who are you?” she asked, the gun out, raised, aimed at the man just a few yards away. He was facing away from her, his matted hair hiding his face and his layers hiding his body. He could have been anyone under all that.
He smirked though, as he turned, looked over at her. His weight was poorly distributed, much of it resting against the golf club at his side.
“Is that the kind of question you usually ask someone at gunpoint?” He ignored her question. Even though he was thin and haggard, his posture sloped and the bags under his eyes were dark, there was still a glimmer of resilience in him. He still had the urge to fight, the need to, and that was obvious. He had to have that, there was no way that he could have made it so far without that.
“No,” she argued, “but you’re leaving me here, and I need answers. So, tell me who you are.” She was trying to keep the fear out of her voice. She didn’t want him to think she was afraid. There was nothing that she could be though, not with how this place was.
“And you think that my name is the answer that you need?” he took a step towards her, his limp looking painful with how he twisted his hip to get closer.
“It’s a good starting point,” she bit at her lip. Her palm was sweaty around the handle of the gun. She could feel it slipping. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and then put her hand around it, steadying her aim. “Or do you want me to start with ‘what is this place? What are those monsters?’”
“The latter would definitely be more efficient.” He kept walking, kept growing closer. He didn’t seem to have any trepidation in approaching her. He had no fear in him. She wasn’t a threat. “You want to go somewhere private? Somewhere they won’t sneak up on you?”
Yes. She wanted to scream yes. She wanted to go somewhere safe. She wanted to go somewhere far away from here. He didn’t make her feel safe though. He made her feel like a caged animal. He could survive, he could fight those things, the fact that he’d been here long enough to gain so many scars and have them heal being proof of that. He was alone though and she knew that other people had come here, Car and wannabe cultists and stupid teenagers. If he was any good at keeping people safe they would be here.
“I’m fine here. You don’t want to tell me who you are, then, whatever, but you have to tell me something.”
He cocked his head and his neck popped loud enough that she could imagine how the vertibre rubbed against one another. He was even closer. His eyes were bloodshot. His golf club was as bent as his gait.
“You’re in the Westbrooke Mall, still, nothing to worry about there. You are in the same place that you entered, you are in the same world. The fact that there is such evil here does not change that. Do you want to put the gun down?”
Her arms were growing tired but using the second hand was helping. She kept her aim steady. Her father would love to see this, he had always tried to get her out to the range with him, make her stronger, more like her brothers, more like he wanted her to be. She never wanted a gun. It would keep those monsters away from her though.
“I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that. Do you think I’m a monster as well?”
She shrugged with one shoulder. “You could be. Or you could be a lonely man in an abandoned shopping mall. I’m a woman, I’ve dealt with men my whole life; I know how you can be.”
That made his smirk grow into a smile, as if she had said something funny. She decided, in that moment, that she didn’t like him at all.
“Here’s some information for you. This place is alive, it is the monster, not those things that have been chasing you. Buildings feed off of being inhabited. Houses live off of families, malls live off of shoppers. Abandoned and hurt like this one was, it starved and it bled. It attracted parasites. Those parasites are what are hunting you now and they are feeding the mall as it hunts you.”
“What are you talking about?” She squinted. It made sense and it made no sense at the same time. She had seen the mall shift, seen it move, but buildings weren’t alive. That wasn’t how it worked.
He was close enough now that she could smell him, stale sweat and rotting teeth. She had no idea how long he’d been in here but she doubted he’d seen a shower in all that time. There was the smell of rotting flowers upon him as well, like perfume that had expired, and a bit of smoke. He couldn’t have been here when the mall had burned. That would have been too long.
“The mall doesn’t physically eat people, not like the parasites do. No, it feeds off of emotions. It had thousands of visitors back in the day, feeding it with mundane joy, a few shocks of exuberance. Now it’s starving, but you know what is a stronger emotion? What feeds it more?”
She raised the gun, noting how her arms had been drooping. He was right there, inches away from her. His teeth were rotting in his head. His skin had pock marks and black lines. He grabbed the gun, his hand around the barrel. She could see all of the patterns in it, black dug in, something worse than just dirt, staining the creases.
“Fear.”
He brought his face so close to hers but she couldn’t move. Her heart was stammering in her chest. She had been watching him the entire time, had her gun trained on him, but he had appeared so quickly. He couldn’t have gotten there so fast. She wanted to turn the gun, get it aimed on him again, keep him away. She could feel his rancid breath on her skin.
“Why would the mall give you a gun if it wanted you afraid?”
She swallowed.
“Fear is one thing it feeds off of but the other is hope. The fact that you have a weapon, it gave you hope, did it not? You could finally defend yourself, save yourself from the monsters of this place. You didn’t have to hide all the time.”
His fingers traced hers, went along the barrel and to the trigger.
“But that’s the thing isn’t it? That swelling anticipation, that adrenaline, that moment when you know you can fire and save yourself and then-
He pressed against her finger, pushing down on the trigger. The gun fired, but only with a click. The chamber was empty. She had just been carrying around a heavy piece of metal, hoping it would save her from the darkness.
“Nothing.” She closed her eyes, feeling his words against her ear. “If it weren’t me, if you were cornered by one of those parasites, you would be killed by now, but not before it savored the influx of your terror.”
She dropped the gun to her side. He let her. She felt a little cold now and realized that he had taken a step back, given her space. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was digging in one of the massive pockets of one of his massive jackets. He wore so many of them but she could see that the cuts in them only went a few layers. It wasn’t the cold that he was keeping out. He was wearing them as cloth armor over that thick leather apron.
He reached out his hand. She opened hers palm up. He dropped out a few bullets, all shiny and new. His fingernails were surprisingly clean, albeit short, the edges of them all white.
“False hope does it favors but not you,” he explained, “I cannot tell you how to leave this place. If I could I would have left myself. But here’s a hope that will do you some good. Perhaps it will aid you long enough to find your friend, if he’s still alive.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I’m not doing so hot on the writing these days guys, like this took me 3 hours to write when it would normally take 1 and it’s not something I’m remotely happy with. I just took a week long break from writing too, in which I itched to write the entire time. Feedback, or just the knowledge that this is being read, would be greatly appreciated.
Pen snatched up the remote and turned up the television, pretending that the walls of her apartment were thick enough to protect her from a noise complaint. Her phone was silent but it was still on vibrate and, while she was doing her best to ignore it she still didn’t want to turn it off. She knew it was Carson, calling her for the third time in this last episode to cry to her about Magda. It was always Carson these days, multiple times a day, and, she loved him, but she really wished he would quit it.
He was the one that did the breaking up and they’d only been together for four months. She was tired of holding his hand through every break up. She was certain that her shoulder was pruning up from how long he’d been crying on it.
Every ring was louder than the last, the phone buzzing and spiraling on her coffee table. They’d been best friends since college, they were the ones who stood up for one another, he was was the only one who could call her Penumbra. She needed a break but each call was more urgent than the last. Her show wasn’t doing enough to distract her.
“Car, it’s almost one in the morning, can’t-
“Oh thank god! Oh shit!” he interrupted, the panic in his voice obvious, his breathing close to hyperventilating. She stilled, muting the tv as she sat up straighter. There was static on the line, but not the kind that came from bad reception, the kind that came from the radio. “The old Westbrooke Mall! I need you here! Please!”
“What, the old abandoned mall? What are you doing there?”
“Fuck!” The static was getting stronger. She thought she heard a woman’s voice mixed in there, swirling through the white noise. “No time! Just. Get here, Pen, Please!”
She had more questions, she had to know where in the mall, what he was doing there, what was going on. She had to pull her phone away from her ear though, the static getting so loud. She thought that she could understand what the woman was saying but it wasn’t a song, it wasn’t real words, it was more of a coughing, sputtering sound. If she had to describe it she would go with definitely not human.
“Shit,” Carson whispered, the pitch of his voice rising. “shit, shit, shit, she found me! Please, Pen, you have to-
The phone went dead.
She stared at it for a moment, considering calling him back, but no, he sounded terrified. He sounded like he was in danger. If she called him back that would give away his location, she would make it worse.
She threw on some clothes and her clunky old sneakers and a jacket, almost calling the police before shoving her phone into her pocket and dashing down the stairs to her car. There had to be a reason that he’d called her instead of the police. It wasn’t like he was supposed to be at the mall anyway.
She hadn’t been to the Westbrooke Mall since she was a child and she’d only gone there rarely. A fire had taken over the building before she’d even become a preteen and it had never been rebuilt. She had never heard what the cause was. She was sure that there was an investigation still going. She’d never really cared about why it had burned or why it hadn’t reopened. Now though, as she sped through the quiet streets, going just slow enough as to not draw attention to herself, she had to wonder about it.
It wasn’t just whatever Carson was so afraid of in there, it was the infrastructure that she had to consider, the fire damage, the squatters. She didn’t know what could have drawn him there at this time of night, but there were a dozen dangers that she could think up.
She hadn’t forgotten the way though.
The parking lot was still in use and there were a few dozen cars scattered around, the owners either vagrants or bus commuters. She could see a few people sleeping in their cars but most of them were empty. It didn’t matter. None of them were going to stop her. She parked as close to the entrance as she could before grabbing the industrial flashlight from under the passenger seat and dashing out, running towards the building.
There was a white notice sign and police tape and boards in place over the door, but they had all been torn halfway free, so teens and the less favorable could sneak in over time. The exterior still looked like a normal building, plagued with mildew and rats but nothing too terrible, just the effects of time. That didn’t stop it from smelling though, and when she pulled the door open the odor washed over her. It was more than just the smell of fire, of charcoal, that scent buried under a more sour smell, like curdles milk or rancid butter or parmesian cheese. She almost gagged on it, the sensation making her hesitate.
She couldn’t hesitate. She had to find Carson.
She turned on her flashlight. There would be no electricity in there, not unless some teen had bought a generator for some partying, but Pen couldn’t imagine anyone staying there of their own volition for very long, not with the smell. She pulled out her phone. It had taken her a whole ten minutes to get there. She hoped that Carson was still alright.
She called him. The screen didn’t light up all the way and, when it rang the numbers shifted, switched and flickered to other numbers and symbols. She caught a few dollar signs and it kept flickering even as the dial tone ended and a long groan crackled through the static on the line.
“Carson?” she pulled the phone to her ear, “Where are you? I’m at the mall but this place is huge! I need more directions!”
The groan was just a long note, reverberating. She heard a sound that must have been a laugh but it was crooked, all wrong, and there was no mirth in it. It wasn’t Carson’s voice. It was closer to that woman’s voice, that terrible, not human quality to it.
“Do you have Carson?” she asked, feeling her lip quiver, feel it in her hands. “Can you tell me where he is? What you want?”
There was a chance that this was some elaborate prank, but at this point she didn’t care. She would take the humiliation of being duped like this. There was a chance that it was something serious too and she could have kicked herself for not having brought a weapon. All she had was the flashlight, which she was sure could be used as a bludgeon, but then she’d be left with only her phone for light.
“Carson?” the woman mocked and it was close to Pen’s voice, closer than before and it felt nearby too, terrifyingly so. “Carson? What do you want Carson?”
She could hear him, sniffling in the background. She hadn’t heard him cry like this before. She thought that the breakup with Magda was bad but this was a different kind of crying. This was pain and terror. This wasn’t something Pen ever wanted to hear come from him.
“Please,” she could hear him try to speak through the cracking of his voice. “Please. I want. To go home. Please.”
“What did you do to him?” Pen practically screamed over the line and she could hear it echo down the hall, hear something else sniffing in response.
“Do to him?” The woman laughed in her voice but it was just as dead a sound as before. “Do to Carson? What you want?”
Pen started down the corridor. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this conversation. She didn’t remember what any of the stores used to be, she didn’t remember where anything had been. There were a few benches, here and there, and there were store fronts, but the glass had all broken from the displays and everything that she turned her light over was just black and burned, having lost most of its shape.
She could still hear that sniffing, like a large dog sniffing. She could still hear that static over the phone.
“Carson, I need to know where you are. Can you hear me?”
“Where you are. Carson. Where you are. Can you? Can you want?”
“Food court!” it hardly came out as a whisper but it was enough, it was a direction. Pen wasn’t sure which direction but there was a fifty percent chance that she would be correct with her guess. She went down to the right, running through the darkness. She kept the phone to her ear. “Hold on, I’m on my way. I’m coming for you Carson!”
“Coming for you? Coming?” the woman laughed again. “What you do to him, what you want to do to him. Hear! Hear!”
The phone went dead after that but she kept running, even as the sniffing ended and the barking began.
@sebcastellanyes let me know if you want on or off of my tag list.
