❍ Cultch

[SHIVERS]

4:45 AM

 

▶ Woof Woof
ARTHUR

The alarm clock on the table cycles through garbled radio broadcasts as it struggles to seek a proper station.

It manages eventually,
music flooding the tiny, dingy apartment from the tinier, dingier speakers.




The lump in bed is compelled to rise, revealing its form:
A light elemental.
Or, a hybrid of one, at least;
scattered circular and polygonal markings denoting the difference, along with other minor body variations.



Howe rubs their head, pressing their fingers against their temple.

Show ContentThoughts:

nnnnnot enough sleep.
i think
4 hrs? maybe 5??

ok


head feels weird today
buzzy, heavy

think its just a headache.
yyaaay another thing to deal with for work

least its not that bad

You let out a yawn, then drag yourself out of bed,
stumbling your way into the bathroom.


What little clothes you slept in are pulled off.
Your shirt is tossed over the mirror, obscuring yourself.

Show ContentThoughts:

feel gross today

not looking at that.

You take a quick shower, feeling half asleep for most of it, but having to rush a little regardless.


Soon enough, you're dried off,
grabbing clothes from your 'closet' just outside the bathroom door - really just a clothing rack pushed haphazardly into the corner.

You slip on your work uniform:
A burgundy polo shirt featuring the country club logo,
tucked into cheap black slacks;
some non-slip restaurant shoes tying together the 'look'.



Your barely-working heater gives a good taste of just how cold the late-autumn air must be.
So, you grab a bulky blue hoodie with a fluffy collar and slide it on over everything.

Show ContentThoughts:

cathy griped at me over the hoodie last time

"you make an impression when you walk in. people expect to see certain standards here."
i get in at like. 5:50am. and the hoodie goes in a locker immediately
i even take the back entrance, nobody sees and they wouldnt care anyway

i know the strict dress code is Everyone And Their Children Wearing Polo Shirts
but its cold, i have to bus and walk here,
let me live long enough to get Into the heated building

With the essentials taken care of,
you pocket your phone, keys, and pills, and hurry out the door.
























It's a relatively short walk to the bus stop,
which you're plenty thankful for given the wind is making the air even colder.

The cold at least keeps you awake while waiting for the bus, though it mercifully arrives a little earlier than usual.




You hop on,
tap your card to pay your fare,
tell the driver 'good morning', and head to the back.

You get a funny look from one of the only other passengers - a karacel with their hair in a bun.

Show ContentThoughts:

should be used to it but i would loooove to not be stared at

im not even a real elemental, im a hybrid
dont even get the 1000-year lifespan or anything, i just look weird and glow in the dark

or are you just staring because im over six feet tall and still have tits

You scrunch yourself into the very back corner of the bus,
propping your shoes up on the back of the empty seat ahead of you.



You stare out the window listlessly, doing your best not to fall asleep.


































A familiar roadside sign catches your eye.

Show ContentThoughts:

a small town/city(?) that feels like it Wants to be a lot bigger than it is
lots of upper-middle class people who come there for the golf courses and the cheap local wine
who all Love to gawk and gossip



...think im just tired today.
ive seen more of the town a few times.
theres a movie theater thats nice. theres the little arboretum ive like. Heard about.
that sounds cool.
and it Does have some transit, unlike everywhere else nearby

maybe i just dislike it because i work in a country club
probably




i still prefer my town

Gold Mills is even Smaller
just a couple hole in the wall places, a donut shop, grocery store, and thats basically it

its dead quiet. i get stared at less, nobody cares
and a Lot cheaper than living in Cultch, for whatever reason

no jobs in Gold Mills, though.
glad theres a bus that heads into Cultch or id be screwed
feels like about 5 people ride it though

think i heard somewhere theyre debating getting rid of it

maybe by the time they do, ill have saved up enough to move out of Eva Sierra in general



hopefully

You scratch your neck, yawning as you muse on whatever happens to occupy your thoughts,

waiting for your stop.




































The bus shakes.


Or-




The ground Under the bus, shakes.



 

 

▶ El Regreso De Patagrande
Mica Levi

 

A noise cuts through your ears.

High-pitched, or low-
You can't tell.














Is it even a Sound?
It feels like


Something pulsing its way through the atmosphere
through the bus
through Your Head











As if the physical space you reside in is being
Occupied.
















It feels like your skull is Fizzling


















Disoriented.

Your eye twitches.


















You want to run.
You try to stand.














You can't move.

Muscles don't respond.





Neurons fail to fire.



Do you Have a body, anymore?































Your eyes.


With great effort, your eyes can move;
sluggish,
dragged like a brick across concrete.














You can't see much of the driver, just their hat and shoulder;
the bus somehow still moving forward, although it's beginning to list to the side.

But, you have a full view of the other passenger;
they're frozen, too.
Wide-eyed, looking at you in shared horror and confusion.








In this moment, you find a macabre thankfulness.

You are not alone with this.


























You don't know how much time is passing.

Everything is hazy.
Your body dead-still.










You ache with a Need to feel Motion,
Activity,
Normalcy again.






























Lights at the front of the bus catch your gaze.


Off-yellow light is coming from where the driver sits.
It flickers in a strange, strobing pattern.








The bus's lights follow suit in a way that makes your head hurt.





It feels like the sky outside is doing the same.














Your brain throbs like a piston.


















The yellow strobe turns to an off-putting cerulean,

then dissipates entirely.








You can't see the driver at all anymore.





















The bus is shifting further and further to the side.

It's slowing gradually, but you can tell:  It's drifting to the edge of the road.









It's darker outside than you swear it was before, but you can't tell in the chaos.
You want to get up and hit the brakes.

You can't move.

























The yellow glow from before appears around the karacel passenger,
enveloping them.


You watch as their eyes somehow grow even wider, glancing frantically around.

The manic, glitchy strobing is back.
It's a little closer this time,
it's More disorienting.




You try to close your eyes.
You can't.























The blue flash comes faster this time.

It's too bright to see much,
but you could swear you spot a horizontal line - like the slit pupil of an eye -
appearing across the karacel in that moment.



Just as they disappear entirely.























Panic truly strikes you now, even through the fog of half-consciousness.










You want to breathe.





Your lungs don't move.






Surely you're choking.



You must be,
your thoughts tell you.






You think you may pass out.


That would be easier.






















The yellow light swallows you.

Along with a sensation far stranger than any you've experienced.









T o u c h


vibrates your skin


thundering through every part of you








you grow warmer, then Hot






as if you're being boiled
a magnifying glass trained on you from the sun itself.














Just as you can't stand it


the final flash signifies the end of it









only






yours is Red.








You swear you see two diagonal lines in your vision, just as it does so.
An X.























 

⏸

You can MOVE again



You stand






The bus SLAMS into something outside.









You're thrown forward.


Your shoulder catches a pole on the way to the floor, where you smack your head.







































You groan,
picking yourself up off the floor.





The bus is almost pitch-black;
lights off, save for the occasional flicker.
You can hear some part of the bus steaming, and it's tilted forward somewhat.







Your head is sore.
Your shoulder is worse.

But nothing broken, as far as you can tell.















Unsteady, you manage to make your way forward,

and pull the level to open the door,
stumbling your way outside.






















 

▶ Intro Cymbal Wind
Dean Hurley

The bus has crashed into some fence poles on the side of the road.
An open field is past them.

You expected to see livestock, maybe, but the field is empty.




















The sky is now unnaturally dark, and it's difficult to tell if it's cloud cover, or something else.



Tendrils of light flash above, on occasion.

At first glance, you assume it's lightning,
but it's too straight, too oriented.

Looking at them makes your head hurt, like you're seeing something you shouldn't.







Square, ember-like sparks flit through the air, seeming to appear and vanish at random.




The air itself feels

dense, heavy,
still; the wind is gone.





You could swear you smell metal, or something similar.
Blood?
Smoke?
You aren't sure.

No matter what, it makes you uneasy.












Something tells you that it isn't safe outside.





Up the road, you spot a gas station, with a motel across the street.
The signs for both flicker and pulse in odd, gradual patterns, like slow-burning flames.

The gas station is devoid of cars, and it's difficult to tell, but it looks to be empty.
The motel, meanwhile, has a couple of cars in the parking lot.

Further up the road, past both of them,
there's a concrete point where everything past it looks to be covered in a thick, still smoke.
The smoke doesn't seem to drift past there, as if it's all contained on the other side of some invisible barrier.

There's a similar wall of smoke far behind you,
only this one is so dense with smog as to look almost solid.