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 Posted: Sat Sep 23, 2006 10:49 pm
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Posted: Tue Sep 26, 2006 10:44 am
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Sabin Duvert Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Sep 29, 2006 9:58 pm
It had to happen sometime, right? It starts off early in the day after a rough night of little sleep, and nightmares when you were able to manage it. The next day... your joints have felt stiff, your head feels boxy, and you frequently find yourself thirsty. By midafternoon your jaw in particular and the base of your spine begins to ache something fierce. IT's like you have a toothache from hell.... but it's all your teeth and it feels like it's eating into your jaw - just getting worse and worse as the day progresses. Then... you feel a p***k - your tongue against a tooth. It's sharp! And then, then you feel it hit you like a wave of pain - your entire jaw begins to stretch, your teeth growing long and needle-like (especially those on your bottom jaw). As if it thinks it's missing in on the "fun" your lower back suddenly feels like you've been slammed with a sledgehammer as your coccyx unfuses and then begins to stretch.... and stretch... and stretch. Growing longer and longer, covering with a smooth scaling and tipped with a fan-like spray of bone covered in a thin webbing. The scales are dark, but there is a line of lighter-color dots down either side. And next time you walk into a dark room, you will find them glowing rather dimly. Your hands also feel strange as they beigin to discolor, a webbing growing up between your fingers. Strangely enough, by the time the process ends, while your hands are understandably sore, they also feel... more pliable? 
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Posted: Fri Sep 29, 2006 10:47 pm
Sid found himself lying stretched out on a recliner with his third wife straddling his legs. The only light in the room came from the TV behind her. The screen showed nothing but static, the speakers gave out nothing but white noise. The cable must have gone had while he was asleep. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim gray light, and when they did he saw Sarah was wearing that cute little spaghetti strap number he liked so much. That, and a pushup bra. A man could smother himself in her cleavage. He reluctantly dragged his eyes upward and saw her blonde hair was done up in a messy ponytail. The look on her face was hard to decipher, especially given the flickering light in the room. Before he could ask her was wrong, just as he was about to reach out to put his hands around her waist, he was distracted by something glinting at the corner of his eye. He turned his head just enough to the left to see she was holding a kitchen knife, the point of which was slowly boring into the armrest as Sarah idly moved her hand back and forth. Sid very slowly turned his head up to look at her and not the knife.
“I’ve been thinking,” Sarah said. The wading pool of her thoughts rarely went deeper than clothes or accessories, but he was using that tone, the one that implied they had to talk.
Sid tried to smile, tried not to look at the knife. So she was a little crazy, she still wasn’t that bright. He could reason with her. An odd feeling of déjà vu made him hesitate, and while he lay there Sarah raised the knife. A piece of stuffing from the armrest fell from the tip and landed on his chest.
“You hide too many things from me,” she said.
“Sweetheart,” Sid said. “Don’t be silly. You know me better than anyone.”
‘Know’ in the biblical sense, maybe. Sarah’s eyes narrowed. He desperately tried again. “Baby, honey, haven’t I been open with you?”
“No,” Sarah said. She pushed his shirt up. “But I think I can fix that.”
This, Sid realized, was not how things had gone the first time. She’d stabbed him in the shoulder, not the chest, and that had been… He couldn’t remember. Neither, it seemed, could he move.
Sarah dug the knife in just below his throat. Blood welled sluggishly around the cut. Sid felt the cold of the knife, yet no pain followed. Sarah slowly pulled the knife down, biting her lip as though it required the utmost concentration. Sid felt nothing from the act but horror. She stopped cutting just above the waistband of his jeans and drew out the knife.
“Sarah,” he said.
She ignored him and laid the bloodied knife aside. She smiled at him as she reached down with both hands and pulled the cut apart. A dark mass glistened and writhed inside. Instead of entrails, instead of even bones, his chest cavity was filled with a dark, writhing mass of something that was too hard to make out in the dimness. Sarah reached down and helpfully held one of them up in the lightly. It was a slender fish, nearly a foot long, with a gaping mouth lined with fangs. It flicked violently once, twice, and then fell still. Sarah scowled down at him. Other fish were, in the meantime, finding their way out. Sid was still paralyzed as Sarah picked the knife back up.
“What else are you hiding?” she asked.He woke up in a cold sweat before she could find out. The memory of the dream was already fading by the time his breathing slowed. He wiped the sweat from his brow, tried to place what it was about him that disturbed him so, but then all the drinks he’d had just hours before caught up to him. He threw the covers back and staggered to the bathroom. By the time he was done throwing up, all he could remember of the nightmare was that it involved his third wife. It was he hoped, probably just a side effect of the booze. Yes, that was it.
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Posted: Sat Sep 30, 2006 9:18 am
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Posted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 6:51 pm
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Posted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 6:54 pm
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Posted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 9:09 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 02, 2006 1:59 pm
Practice Makes Perfect Passable
Easy, right? Sid's leg was aching by the time he returned to his duplex from Zach's. If he had known it was that far he likely wouldn't have gone along with the request for food. He could have begged off, in his own barely decipherable way. Just thought of trying to communicate was enough to make him forgo sitting in favor of going straight to the bathroom. He hit the light as gasped once he saw himself in the mirror... he'd forgotten he hadn't looked since he changed. He approached the mirror slowly, touched his chin. So it was that bad. He moved his hand to just below his nose. Maybe some kind of face mask would help, but that still left the problem of sounding like he'd had a stroke. He lay the cane aside and put his hands on the sink. The porcelain felt odd under his fingers, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. "Awrigh'," he said to his reflection. The way his jaw wagged to form the one word made him cringe. He put a hand to his chin and tried to push his mouth closed. Closing it completely didn't seem possible, and those teeth were likely only to grow out. It might help if he could just work to the point where he wasn't afraid of hitting himself with his own jaw- or teeth. "Yuh cah do thih... thiss... fuh." He kept staring at the mirror, at his own twisted reflection, and kept trying... simple words, phrases, troublesome consonants. He kept trying for half an hour before the frustration was too much. He left the bathroom and went to the mini fridge. Learning how to drink without making a mess was just as worthy an effort. This was gonna take a while.
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Posted: Mon Oct 02, 2006 9:19 pm
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Posted: Sat Oct 07, 2006 11:51 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 10:45 am
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Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 4:42 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 5:16 pm
Richard's encounter had been replaying in his head since she ran off into the jungle. Notably how alone she looked. The grief (guilt?) ran deep. There was a kernel of an idea to help her and perhaps the other islanders but Richard wanted to hear the story from another perpective. He just hoped it wouldn't be as tramatic.
To this end he remembered Ambrose telling him some one named Sid had informed him of the killing. He found only one Sid in the duplex listing, number 58. Richard was now infront of said duplex, a bottle of scotch hanging in his jacket pocket. Talking murder required something harsher than wine.
Richard knocked politely on the door.
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Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 5:29 pm
The knock at the door sparked a lot of shuffling from inside. There was a crash as... something was knocked over, followed by a muffled curse. A few seconds passed before the door was opened a crack.
The mouth on Sid drew the eye immediately. It was, as always, hanging open, putting his many sharp teeth on display. The beard around his gaping maw was looking scraggly, and the gray hair framing his face looked like it was overdue for a good washing as well. The wrinkled jeans and Led Zeppelin t-shirt he had on, meanwhile, could maybe stand another day's wear.
"Wha'?" he asked irritably. He gave Richard the once over, but even as fuzzy as his memory could be he was reasonably certain they'd never met.
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