|Lewis Carroll | Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (twas__brillig) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2016-03-01 16:29:00
|Entry tags:||lewis carroll, piper addison|
WHO: Charles, open to Piper
WHEN: Monday afternoon
WHERE: Wonderland Oddities and Antiques and then his house
WARNINGS: Ghosts and memories of sexual abuse
It had been a fairly unremarkable day even well past noon. It was edging towards spring and usually the slightly warmer days meant more foot traffic, but no one seemed to really want oddities this particular Monday. Charles was behind the counter, scribbling notes to himself in his leather-bound diary. He wasn't sure if he would ever write another story again, but he did like to keep little ideas here and there if the need struck him. He tended to write half-poems as well, throughout the day, as well as little reminders to himself of things he needed to do.
Send Piper flowers, just because he scrawled up the margins in far fancier script than the note necessarily needed. He smiled to himself and went to write something else where a crash sounded from the store room in the back of the shop. Charles startled and drew a thick black line right through the page, in shock. Throwing down the pen, Charles edged into the store room. "Oh god, don't be a rat," he whispered to the air as he eased around the corner.
The store room was empty, but a rather expensive lamp which had been constructed out of the skeleton of a rabbit, lay smashed on the floor. "Well. It was ugly anyway," Charles breathed, headed for the broom. His hand froze in midair, however, when the broom leaned up off the wall and crashed to the floor directly in front of his face.
"Oh my stars," Charles whispered, shaking now and somehow frozen at the same time. What on earth was happening?! In fear, he swirled around as several more priceless antiques slid off the shelves and shattered on the concrete floor. Charles backed towards the door until he was overcome with a mind-numbing, skin-crawling sense of dread. Wide-eyed, with his heart pounding in his chest, Charles froze and then ever so slowly, he turned his head. Directly over his shoulder was the blackest shape he had ever seen, like an oil-slick hanging in mid-air. Charles screamed and darted forward towards the employee break room near the back of the storage area. Once inside he dove under the table and fished his phone out of his pocket. He managed to dial Piper's number, after several failed attempts, and he clung to the phone waiting for her to answer.