Need: 400 intel, level 50, strength 50 for Subeta Tribune job.
Story Segment/Concept
The chocolate-skinned woman in an elaborately costumed outfit, more befitting a priestess of some old island tradition than a saloon bartender, turned towards me. She was unmistakably seductive, but I had other things on my mind. Namely, that extraordinary house on the hill overlooking the town.
He sighed, putting down his pen. The note was a bit more "telling" than "showing," and had it been one of his college professors, he'd have gotten a stern rebuke on writing something so weak. To his credit, though, he was not in the best state of mind. He stowed the pad of paper beneath his under-stuffed pillow and laid his body gingerly back on the bed. Every mattress spring prodded at his back as he stared blankly at a ceiling that was peeling with quickly degrading paint.
He never should have asked that woman about this place. At the time, he'd thought it could be a travel piece, a little something for those eccentric ghost hunters and tourists who enjoyed the macabre. An old, plantation-era house, nearly concealed by trees in the midwestern United States; easy to get to for a little thrill and some fun for the adventurous. But now, he wished he had never caught a glimpse of a light coming from an eerie building almost out of sight, wished he'd never thought that he would "do anything for a story."
Because what was he to do now? Here he was, locked away in an 11 x 11 room, nothing but a nightstand, the prison-style bed on which he lay, and the clothes on his back. That, and his notebook, pencil, and tape recorder, of course. The things he had kept concealed. His bag, however, the one that contained his laptop and files of the digital sort, was gone... along with his memories of the past two days. His notes and recordings stopped short after the visit to the bar... had the disconcerting, attractive young bartender slipped something into his drink?
"Fuckin' shit," he growled aloud, feeling one of the more loosely attached paint chips finally release its hold on the ancient ceiling and hit his face. "I gotta get out of here. This place is gonna drive me crazy."
Somewhere far beyond the man's perception as he lay, cramped and alone within his room, a masked woman smiled. "I hope it does..."
Glade Kanis
Syl
