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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
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Character sheet excerpts:
shawnssica wrote: My name is Johnny 'Knuckles'And I am a ex-punk rockerWhat just happened to you? I've noticed a hallway that didn't exist before in the warehouse. It shouldn't fit where it is - the rooms on either side should fill that space... And there's another door at the end but I haven't opened it. Last night a chest appeared, like a concert gear case, with my ex-gf dead inside it. Exhaustion talent: Physical intimidationMadness talent: Tattoos 1-2 move across my skin into new shapes  3-4 stretch out from my body to aid me  5-6 leave my body completely and act while linked back to me Fight: 2 Flight: 1 Discipline: 3 Madness: 0 Exhaustion: 0
Another late night. You had to spend it out drinking, after that ... box appeared in your studio. Bar after bar, you remember some of the booze, some of the people, and a few fists flying, not all of which were yours. It was a long night, and when they kicked you out of the last place, you could see the sun starting to peak over the buildings in the distance. Staggering home, you walk inside, barely getting to the bathroom before you have to clear some of that fluid from your system. You think for a moment about sleep, but before you can even leave the bathroom, a particularly loud creaking sound draws your attention..... it almost sounded like a scream, but.... you push it out of your mind, grab a quick shower, and start to get ready for the day. That's when you notice it..... the hallway. It wasn't there yesterday. It can't be there today. It doesn't make any kind of sense.... walls don't spontaneously move like that. The door at the far end is staring at you, almost like it has eyes. You try and turn away, but it just won't leave your mind. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, after all that booze and that complete lack of sleep. Then again, maybe that door really is staring at you from a hallway that shouldn't exist. Maybe. Who knows? In any case, you might just have to find out for yourself.
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
-
I look back over my shoulder one more time as I head downstairs, trying to figure out the door. That room backs onto another just like it. Cinderblock walls that hold up the building shouldn't creak... they shouldn't move at all.
I nearly stumble down the stairs as my turned head throws me off balance. I catch the railing, swearing out loud, and make it to the ground floor that's been converted to my studio. The notebook containing my schedule is mercifully blank. Thankfully, I hadn't booked anything until late this evening. Tossing the book back on the counter, I catch sight of some remains of last night: a small pile of white powder. It lasts just a moment. Sniffling and wiping my eyes I head back upstairs.
The door. It shouldn't be here.
Neither should the box. I can't even deal with all this shit, I half-think, half-speak.
I test the opening of the hall, somehow expecting to feel brick. No such luck. It takes a few hesitant steps to reach the doorway at the end and I stare at the handle.
"Not real. Not real. Not real." I will the handle to not turn, even as my hand twists and opens the door.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
The handle feels solid enough, and as hard as you will the universe to obey you, it doesn't seem to listen - the handle turns with surprising ease, and the door swings open, without even the slightest effort on your part. Through the door is another hallway, much like the one you stand in now, and though it seems to go on forever, you're fairly certain that can't be the case. Something in your mind is telling you that there has to be something worth finding through here, but something else is screaming that only trouble can be down this hallway. You stand for a moment, gripped by the indecision of not knowing... are there answers this way, or only madness. As the moment passes, the walls around you seem to hiss.... like whispers just outside the range of hearing, and hum.... almost like high power lines in the summer air. The sound prods you into action, but what course of action is the right one?
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
-
The right option is obviously to wash back a few downers with some vodka and wait for the hallucinations to pass. But that's too escapist, even for me.
I'll pull the lockbox into this hallway - trying to hide it in case any of my friends come to visit. I don't want to have to explain a new piece of furniture especially when it's my girlf... ex-girlfriend is dead inside it. It doesn't help that the noise keeps getting louder like the walls are goading me on!
Once it's through this perplexing door I'll take a deep breath and continue down the hallway.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
The hallway really messes with your senses. Dragging the box into it easy enough, but once you start walking down it, it just gets weird. One moment, you're walking towards what seems an infinity, the next the walls seem to compact around you. It's like somebody built this hallway in a funhouse mirror, rather than in reality. Pushing through the weirdness of the hallway, you walk on, hesitantly, unsure where it leads.
At long last, after walking what seemed at moments to be miles, and at other moments mere steps, you walk out the end of the hallway.... into a street. Looking around, you see people walking on the sidewalks, an occasional car passes by. The people are dressed.... oddly. There is a mix you can't really explain. A woman walks by in a classic flapper outfit, lifted straight out of the 20s. Another woman walks by in a very modern looking red dress. A man in a pinstripe suit, another in a world war two era sailors uniform, and a third man with long hair, a beard, and tight, patchy jeans and a tie-dye shirt all walk by, chatting about the weather. A man in camouflage, wearing a band around his arm that says MP, stops and looks at you a moment before speaking.
"Is there something I can help you with? You look a little lost."
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
-
I'm thrown off by the cop being right there but not really nervous - after years of being tossed into the backseats of cop cars, I finally caught on that it's nothing personal and they're just doing their job.
"I uh, think I just took a wrong turn maybe. Never realized this door faced out onto this street, I guess." I look back at the door and try to figure out where I've ended up, and check my watch after that hallway messed with me.
"Actually maybe you could help me. Where am I?"
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
The officer gives you a funny look. "What do you mean, where are you? This is Baker Street, the bazaar is 3 blocks that way." He points to the left relative to where you came through the door. "The district is the other way. Are you drunk or something? Everyone knows their way around Baker Street." He looks at you, trying to stare into your eyes as though to get a sense of what's wrong with you, if anything. As he gestures about, you notice the slowly turning key sticking out of his back, like the keys from old toys you barely remember from childhood.
He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Well, in any case, have a nice day sir. It's almost 13 o'clock, and the bazaar will doubtless have something you'd like. If you're truly lost, perhaps someone there can trade you a sense of direction. I, however, need to get back to the station. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for that got you so turned around you can't even find your way around Baker Street." He wanders off, shaking his head a bit, with a little bit of muttering.
He turns from you and starts off to your right. The rest of the crowd moves about on the sidewalks, mostly heading in the direction that the officer indicated was the way to the bazaar, and you look around a bit more before you decide what to do. Across the street, you see a sign that says "Mike's Alehouse and Brewery". A few doors down is another sign, which reads "Michael's undertaking services". In between is a building which looks roughly like an old warehouse, with no distinguishing marks at all, though the three buildings look to be related in some way that, on some level, worries you a bit.
As you look about, you notice down the street to your left a large clock tower, which stands tall above the other buildings in this area. You look at the clock, and are surprised to see the hour hand approaching 13. You've never seen a clock with a 13 on it before, and your mind takes a moment to process it before you decide on a course of action.
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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Hmmmm. A sense of direction, he said? I didn't realize you could buy things like that but maybe he just meant I could find a map or better directions. Was he the the only one with a key in his back?
And 13 o'clock? I check my watch again - does it still go to 12 or is there an extra number now?
I'll cross the street to the pub and the other buildings, trying to look casually into any eye-level windows. I won't go into them yet but I'll head down with the flow of the crowd towards the bazaar. Maybe someone there will explain what's going on or at least where I've stumbled into.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
Your watch looks exactly like it did when you put it on after you got out of the shower. Looking in the windows of the alehouse, you see exactly what you expect.... a fairly high end style of restaurant and bar. Something seems not exactly normal about it, but you can't seem to put your finger on it. The warehouse has no windows you can see in, and the undertakers... well, there's not much to see there. The lights are off, and the street lights simply don't shine enough light in. You continue down the street, walking with the crowd.
As you walk, you catch snippets of conversation.... about all kinds of different things. As you walk, a young looking couple - a lady dressed like a classic hippy and a gentleman wearing the outfit of the modern hip-hopper, his pants seemingly held up merely by force of will - step out of the apartment complex on this side of the road, mere feet in front of you. The gal is speaking, and you listen in.
".... replacing the old microphone. I can't stand the way that moment feels whenever I pick it up."
"I know what you mean. I'd love to trade it for something... happier, you know. That scene is just depressing."
"Right. Happy memories. Maybe something about love. Or a peaceful moment."
"Well, I'll still be somewhat sad to lose it. That is still one of the most powerful memories I've ever felt... the violence of that death... it cut short such a creative life. But still, it'll make you happy, so we'll trade it in."
The whole conversation sounds unusual, but at least they seem to know something of what they're talking about. You slip a little bit closer to the couple, hoping to pick up a little something more. Perhaps they could even help you out with direct answers. While you ponder the question, they continue their conversation.
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
-
"Excuse me... Excuse me!"
I hurry after them down the sidewalk until I've caught up beside the woman.
"I wasn't eavesdropping but heard you talking about buying - or trading - memories. I don't know how that's possible but I'm trying to find a memory too. One of my own, really, or even something to help explain what's going on. Am I headed the right direction? Is there someone who can help me?"
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
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The woman looks at you with a smile. "You must be new here, huh? I don't know that you'll be able to find any of your own memories, but there's always something worth remembering at the bazaar."
She pauses for a moment, as if waiting for you to respond. You're about to speak when she resumes. "I remember well my first time here.... I would never trade that memory.... It's the only thing that keeps me stable. This is the Mad City. This is the place where all the lost things wind up. It's the place where nightmares live. The thirteenth hour, which the real world has forgotten, exists here.... it's the best time to be at the bazaar. I guess you've woken up.... seen the way into the city. Be careful. The nightmares here are vicious, and quite real... and they're always looking for a new plaything. And trust me, you do not want to be the plaything of a nightmare. I've managed to survive here, made a little niche for myself, but I'm not like most of the other locals.... I still have myself. I haven't forgotten what I am. Who I am. This place.... it eats at you, if you let it."
She lets out a long, slow sigh. The gentleman she's walking with gives you a moment's consideration before speaking. "We both found the way to survive here, dog. It's real simple. Just make yourself useful. Get the nightmares to owe you a favor. Then you can make it. Just stay away from Tock and the Tacksman. And the paperboys. They ain't no good, and they papers is junk anyway. You get into a really bad way, you can get back to the outside, to the city slumbering we call it. If you there, the nightmares can't touch you, 'cept when you sleep. But you sleep here.... well, here you sleep, you dead. The wax king, he owes us some favors, so we survive. You've got to find your own road through the city, though. We all on our own here."
The gal speaks up again. "I don't think we can tell you much more. If you're looking for your own memories, you might find them at the bazaar, but if you've nothing to trade, it's doubtful you'll be able to take them back, at least not without giving up some of your other memories. But maybe you'll get lucky. In any case, the Bazaar is just ahead. Just look around. I'd strongly recommend you hide there for a good hour, as you can't get home right now anyway. And nightmares always like to pick off the newly awakened before they can become a threat."
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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I'm still not sure whether to trust these people much more than the police officer, but they at least they seem friendlier.
"Why the hell won't anyone here quit talking crazy" I'll ask as I continue along the street. I guess I'm not good at playing cool because I catch some weird glances as I look back over my shoulder at the the door I'd come through and the bar/morgue and set off into the Bazaar.
"Look. Will you show me to someone who can help? This Whack King or whatever, dog."
... even trying to beg for help, it seems I can't avoid being abrasive.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
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The guy gives you something of a look. "I don't think I can help you there, but if you go underground, you'll find the wax king eventually. As for your other question, perhaps we're the sane ones here. You just assume your mind is still all there. Weren't you saying you were trying to find some memories you lost? Maybe you lost your mind while you were at it. In any case, no need to be all angry about it. Anyway, we're going shopping. Try not to piss off the wrong people here.... it'll just cause problems. And fights in the bazaar are not helpful to anyone. They just draw the ire of everyone not involved, and sometimes the attention of Tock."
The bazaar, which you're just reaching, has a big sign over the entrance, which reads simply "Bizarre Bazaar". To the right of the entry arch is a smaller sign that says "always open". Through the arch is a massive crowd of people, milling about. The same mixed styles of clothes are easy to spot. You can also see from the entrance numerous stalls and tables, filled and covered with things. Entering, you begin to wander. One table you find is covered in old toys, many of which appear broken. Another table is full of empty perfume bottles and old jewelry, with a few bits of women's underwear piled on one end. Another table is covered in old beer and whiskey bottles, though none of them appear to have any liquid in them. The couple you were walking with quickly disappear into the throng, and you go in to see what else you can find. Maybe there is some help to be had here?
As you wander the bazaar you find a large covered stall, full of artworks - mostly paintings, though there are a few sculptures. Each painting has a unique feeling to it, a vibe you get just looking at it, and you can’t help but walk into the area and look closer. A particular image catches your eye.... a blood red splatter over a black and white shape that you can’t quite make out. You’re drawn to it.... without thinking, you reach forward with your hand, and gently place your fingertips to the canvas.
Suddenly, your mind is flooded with images. First, you see a room - dark. You can feel in your hand the coldness of something metal. Your hand raises, of its own accord, and you see not your own arm, but a thin woman’s arm and hand, which swings a knife it holds effortlessly, making a quick X in the air, right to left, high to low, then back, left to right. It’s only as the motion finishes that your eyes focus, and you see the man in front of you, now bleeding profusely from the deep gashes in his chest. As the warm blood splatters on you, the scene changes.... you’re lying on your back, you can feel the silk beneath you, the cold air on your bare skin. You look down and see the same man you just saw die... he’s on his knees between your legs, naked and smiling. You can feel your own face smiling back at him, and the quickness of your breath as you anticipate the moment to come. He moves forward, his hands finding places on the bed on either side of your body. You close your eyes, waiting for the touch you know is coming, but an instant later they snap open.... you find yourself looking in a mirror, standing over a sink. The face staring back at you is that of a beautiful blond, early 20s, on top of an incredible body, which is without a scrap of clothing, though it does appear to be quite wet. She stares intently back at you from the mirror, and as you watch her, you see her flesh begin to melt in a disturbingly real way. You feel your arm raise, and watch as the woman's fist plunges into the mirror. It shatters, pieces falling into the sink below. Each piece reflects her face, and the broken shards paint a picture of a broken woman..... she reaches down into the sink and grabs one of the larger pieces. You feel the glass, sharp to the touch on the skin of your palm. Her left arm now raises, and you feel the glass as she uses it to trace a curving pattern on her arm... lightly at first, but as she goes over it, you feel it deepen, more forcefully tracing the lines again and again. With each trace, you feel like you’re spiraling downward, moving towards death. Just a little bit harder, and the wrist will be slit. Just a little bit deeper, and death’s sweet embrace will take you....
Without warning, you find yourself back in the bazaar. The show is over, the painting sits before you, your hand now at your side of it’s own accord. The shopkeeper walks over. “See something you like?” he says, moving his eyes between you and the painting you’re still staring at.
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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"This one," I gasp, lifting my arms in front of me - twisting my wrists and craning my neck to inspect the hidden sides of my forearms. Even though I don't recognize the people I just saw in my hallucination, I feel a connection, maybe just a parallel.
"This one, what is it? How much is it?"
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
"Ah, yes, that one. It's a unique piece. I liked that one ever since it arrived here."
He continues to look at you, as you continue to look at your arms. "This is your first time in my booth, huh? I only trade in the best memory paintings.... canvases, painted to evoke a feeling, and infused with specially cut memories.... beautiful to look at, and a joy to experience as well."
He looks back at the painting you were looking at, and pauses a moment before continuing. "I've always been a fan of that one.... a unique blending of sex and violence, a true reflection of life itself. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to sell that one.... I like it, but most people just think it's weird. I tell you what, though. You like it, I'll give it to you.... I need the space for new artworks and my favorite artist is short on canvases. Promise to bring me a dozen canvases from the city slumbering, and you can walk off with that painting right now. How's that sound?"
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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Finally assured that what I'd experienced was separate from reality - even this sideways version of reality, I let my arms fall to rest and then dig in my pockets.
"Joy, hey? I definitely didn't catch much joy in there, 'cept maybe near the middle. But I never liked owing a man a debt... is there any other way I could pay you for this? I've got a few bucks, more than enough to buy some canvasses for sure. I don't really know my way around yet, so even if I take the painting now I don't have a clue where to find more canvas."
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
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"Well, your money's not much good here. Wax coins are the only currency anyone bothers with here, so unless you've got some of those.... but I can tell from your face that you haven't."
He thinks a moment longer. "Truth be told, your best place to get canvas is not down here, it's back out in the city slumbering, like I said. Out there, you can find canvas at any good arts and crafts store. Down here, the only canvases tend to be in use already. As for not liking to owe a man a debt, that I can understand. I'll be here again tomorrow, come by then if you like. As for another way to pay.... hmmmm.... I don't think you have anything I want. Your memories are too.... scattered. And you've already given more than you should have away, it seems."
He gives you a smile, which seems far more wicked than it really should, but you put it out of your mind. He starts to walk away, as another customer gives him a wave, and you head back out into the main walkways of the bazaar. You wander around, wondering at the weirdness of it all. You get lost in thought easily, and before too long, you notice that the crowd is starting to thin out a bit. You look towards the clocktower, and notice that it's almost 1 o'clock.
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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This thinning crowd makes me nervous, especially after the woman's warnings about Nightmares. Apparently I stick out like a sore thumb and I'd rather not be too noticed. I'll head back up that street and check out that bar. I'm at home in them back in normal land, hopefully it'll provide the same sort of anchor here at least till 1 o'clock.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
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Most of the crowd seems to be slipping out of the bazaar through the entryway, and you join into the flow. You work your way back down towards the bar you remember seeing, and walk up to the door. When you open it up, you take a look around. It's fairly empty, just a couple of guys at the bar, and a few couples at various tables. No more than a quarter of the seats are taken. You pull up to the bar. The other customers don't seem quite your usual drinking mates.... none of them seem like rockers of any kind. Most of them look like yuppies.... but no need to judge. You grab a stool at the bar.
The bartender comes over. "What'll you have? The house specialty is our Black and Blue Brew, a dark beer with a great flavor."
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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"If you don't mind running a tab, I'll take one of those. It's been a pretty dark day so far."
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
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"I don't usually like to run a tab for strangers. I don't know what you can pay me with anyway. But.... This one's on the house - but just the one. You look like you've been through hell, and I think you could use a drink."
He walks away for a moment, then comes back with a big mug full of a very dark looking beer. You take a sip, and as the beer touches your tongue... it tastes incredible. The flavor is deep, rich, and amazing. It is quite possibly the best beer you've ever tasted.
You wait a moment before taking another sip, just to let the flavor wash over you. As you reach for the beer to have another sip, you see a flash of the image from the painting. You wait for it to pass, then grab the beer and have another, larger swig. You set it down and wait... and see an image of a large blonde haired man. He looks vaguely familiar, but you're not sure where you've seen him before.
You continue to drink from the beer, each swallow bringing an image to your mind.... some people you haven't seen in ages, a guitarist you used to play with all the time, a girl you remember from high school, the first guy who ever gave you a tattoo, your most recent (now deceased) ex-girlfriend.... and some folks you don't recognize. After a bit, you find yourself staring down into an empty glass, all these faces stirred up in your memory. Then the moment is gone, and you're not sure what to do now. All those faces.... some you haven't seen in ages, some you just saw in the last month or so. But why did those particular people come to mind?
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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"You're right, this beer does have an interesting taste. Really subtle hints of... and the bodies... I mean, body. You know what, pour me another."
I don't phrase it as a question. Time for some self medication and hopefully some self discovery.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
"You got anything to pay me with?"
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Shawn McCarthy
Canada
Winnipeg
Manitoba
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"Couple 'a fists if I need to. I'll be back here with some wax tomorrow if you're cool though."
By this point I'm off my barstool, leaning in with my hands gripping hard at the bar rail. Angling towards throwing in Exhaustion dice.
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Kendall Merriman
United States
San Jose
California
-
"Fine, fine, just don't hurt me." He goes and fills you up another. "Just be careful, man. Debt collectors in this town are not people you want to mess with, if you know what I'm saying. And if you cause a scene, the police here are not forgiving in the slightest. Not that I'm saying I'd call them..... just, drink the beer and go. Pay off your debt, and we won't have a problem, OK?" He walks away from you muttering something to himself. The only word you hear clearly is "trouble".
(You're plenty intimidating, but you do gain one exhaustion for the effort).
You start drinking the beer. Each sip and swallow brings one of the images from the last beer into focus - you see two of your old friends dead on the floor. The guitarist you remember is tied up with his own guitar strings, and he seems to be begging someone you can't see for.... something. You can't hear anything, but the look of terror in his eyes is unmistakable. Finally, as you get about halfway through the beer, you see an image of your ex, being shoved into the music crate you found her in in your studio, but you can't tell who's doing it. Desperate to know more, you take another swallow, but nothing happens. You drink a bit more, but you can't see anything else. Finally, you down the whole glass, but the image is gone. All you can see is the bar around you, and that not even too clearly. Confused and shaken by the image, you push away from the bar and stumble out into the street. Across the street, you see the same familiar hallway. To your left, you see a kid with a couple spray paint cans hanging from his belt, tagging the wall with an image. You look closer, and see that he's painting the silhouette of a beautiful woman. To the left of the woman on the wall is a man's face, smiling with an evil looking smile. Looking closer, you see that it's your face he's painted!
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Posted Wed Feb 1, 2012 8:00 pm
