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WEEK TWO: THURSDAY
When: Thursday Feb. 14th, Early evening
Where: The Towers, apt. C5
Who: Abigail (Narrative)
What: Abby gets a package, and does some research.
Thursdays were usually rather dull. No classes, no commitments...generally, Abby used to time to finish assignments, read, catch up on housework or errands, and just generally veg out. Today had been not exception. She'd spent most of the morning dithering around the apartment, half-heartedly cleaning up, but in reality spending the majority of her time combing the usual paranormal forums and message boards she frequented on-line. That had proved rather boring. Same old, same old - no new stories, mostly just thirteen year old girls spinning bullshit stories about an encounter with bloody mary, or a post that featured the same tired 'ghost photo' from thirty years ago that had been consistently debunked ever since.
Around lunchtime, out of boredom and hunger, she'd headed out, spending a few hours downtown, growing increasingly annoyed by all the pink hearts and teddy bears holding roses or banners that proclaimed 'I <3 you'. She'd grabbed something to eat, done some grocery shopping, and spent an indecisive half hour in the lingerie section of Nordstorm, for no apparent reason. Eventually, after much deliberating, she'd purchased a black bra and panty set. She blamed the marketing, really. It was bloody ridiculous to spend so much money on something that, quite likely, nobody would see. Certainly not tonight.
It was early evening by the time she'd returned home, her arms aching from carrying three bags of groceries five blocks. Next time she spoke to her father - if she ever spoke to him again, that is - she'd have to drop severe hints about requiring a car. She could drive, after all...and she knew he had the money for it. It wasn't really safe for someone like her to be wandering about the streets at night, as she so often did. Not that she cared, particularly. But he might. It might work, as leverage.
She'd been surprised, to say the least, to find a package propped up outside her door. She'd thought, initially (and with more emotion than she liked to admit), that it might have been from her father, but the contents put that to rest rapidly. It had only taken her a few minutes to figure out who it was from. She'd run a quick google search of the name on the card the stranger had given her, the other night, and had been surprised to find out what he did for a living. She'd heard of the Theatre. It got discussed, occasionally, on some of the boards she posted on - not seriously, of course - just as a recommendation for a night out, to those who were in to 'that sort of thing'. It was supposed to be pretty creepy. A throwback to some of those dodgy Victorian theatres, like the Grand Guignol in Paris. The original slasher movies, only on stage, rather than on screen. She'd always been rather interested in going, but it was pricey, and she hadn't really fancied going alone.
It didn't seem that she had much of an option, now. She bit her lip as she surveyed the package, and its contents, her arms folded across her chest. It wasn't everyday a hot guy she'd met once sent her an expensive (not to mention sexy) dress and theatre tickets. On Valentine's day. That was the problem, really. Somehow, it seemed...off. Maybe she was just too cynical.
She snapped out of it momentarily when she tasted something metallic in her mouth, and realised she'd made her lip bleed from worrying it so much.
"Oh, come on." she said to herself, out loud. You're being really cynical. It's a nice gesture. And you have always wanted to go. Catch a cab down there, take money so you can catch one back...what's the worst that can happen? You'll be in a crowded theatre with a bunch of other people. Well lit, public. Besides, he seemed nice. He didn't try to murder you last time, did he? And he could have. You're just self-sabotaging, again.
It was a convincing argument.
She put the groceries away, and headed to the bathroom to have a shower.
Where: The Towers, apt. C5
Who: Abigail (Narrative)
What: Abby gets a package, and does some research.
Thursdays were usually rather dull. No classes, no commitments...generally, Abby used to time to finish assignments, read, catch up on housework or errands, and just generally veg out. Today had been not exception. She'd spent most of the morning dithering around the apartment, half-heartedly cleaning up, but in reality spending the majority of her time combing the usual paranormal forums and message boards she frequented on-line. That had proved rather boring. Same old, same old - no new stories, mostly just thirteen year old girls spinning bullshit stories about an encounter with bloody mary, or a post that featured the same tired 'ghost photo' from thirty years ago that had been consistently debunked ever since.
Around lunchtime, out of boredom and hunger, she'd headed out, spending a few hours downtown, growing increasingly annoyed by all the pink hearts and teddy bears holding roses or banners that proclaimed 'I <3 you'. She'd grabbed something to eat, done some grocery shopping, and spent an indecisive half hour in the lingerie section of Nordstorm, for no apparent reason. Eventually, after much deliberating, she'd purchased a black bra and panty set. She blamed the marketing, really. It was bloody ridiculous to spend so much money on something that, quite likely, nobody would see. Certainly not tonight.
It was early evening by the time she'd returned home, her arms aching from carrying three bags of groceries five blocks. Next time she spoke to her father - if she ever spoke to him again, that is - she'd have to drop severe hints about requiring a car. She could drive, after all...and she knew he had the money for it. It wasn't really safe for someone like her to be wandering about the streets at night, as she so often did. Not that she cared, particularly. But he might. It might work, as leverage.
She'd been surprised, to say the least, to find a package propped up outside her door. She'd thought, initially (and with more emotion than she liked to admit), that it might have been from her father, but the contents put that to rest rapidly. It had only taken her a few minutes to figure out who it was from. She'd run a quick google search of the name on the card the stranger had given her, the other night, and had been surprised to find out what he did for a living. She'd heard of the Theatre. It got discussed, occasionally, on some of the boards she posted on - not seriously, of course - just as a recommendation for a night out, to those who were in to 'that sort of thing'. It was supposed to be pretty creepy. A throwback to some of those dodgy Victorian theatres, like the Grand Guignol in Paris. The original slasher movies, only on stage, rather than on screen. She'd always been rather interested in going, but it was pricey, and she hadn't really fancied going alone.
It didn't seem that she had much of an option, now. She bit her lip as she surveyed the package, and its contents, her arms folded across her chest. It wasn't everyday a hot guy she'd met once sent her an expensive (not to mention sexy) dress and theatre tickets. On Valentine's day. That was the problem, really. Somehow, it seemed...off. Maybe she was just too cynical.
She snapped out of it momentarily when she tasted something metallic in her mouth, and realised she'd made her lip bleed from worrying it so much.
"Oh, come on." she said to herself, out loud. You're being really cynical. It's a nice gesture. And you have always wanted to go. Catch a cab down there, take money so you can catch one back...what's the worst that can happen? You'll be in a crowded theatre with a bunch of other people. Well lit, public. Besides, he seemed nice. He didn't try to murder you last time, did he? And he could have. You're just self-sabotaging, again.
It was a convincing argument.
She put the groceries away, and headed to the bathroom to have a shower.