Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[Gelquie]

Kylie frowned as she watched her mother practically dash into the inn. This was commonplace, really... Even if some of it was kind of weird... But sometimes, she would have to promise to come home safely, just to make her feel better. Then again, with the murder that just happened... Kylie figured she couldn't blame her mother. She couldn't deny that she was worried too.

...Or rather, that she would be more worried if she weren't so distracted. And besides, Lucille was a nun. Well, a smuggling, charismatic, and lovely looking... Well, the point was that she would be safer with Lucille, she was sure of it. And her mother had left them alone... Something that Kylie hadn't expected to happen, but she didn't complain, and she found herself staring into the nun's eyes again, reflecting on the kind words spoken to her...

Not long after Kylie's mother left, Lucille spoke up again, suggesting that she not worry her mother, and telling her order. Kylie particularly made sure to memorize what Lucille said, but she heard the codes often enough that she memorized what most of them meant, if not from Lucille, then from her mother. So she nodded.

"Oh, what lovely languages, Latin and Russian," Kylie said kindly. "Thank you so much. We really need them now, with all that's happened today. I'll get back to work, but I'll reassure her that the prayers are coming s-soon..."

She felt a light brush over her hand and she saw another wink from Lucille's shining eyes. Kylie felt her face burn even more, but she tried to keep her voice level as she gave the nun a wave.

"Y-you too!" Kylie called out. "...That is, be safe."

She thought about saying more, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. She watched the nun go for some time before she eventually shook her head and began to lead her horse to the stables. It didn't take long; she wasn't really that far away. But it felt a lot longer to her...

Kylie did her best to try to calm down as she dismounted her horse and opened the gate to the field, where her horses were allowed to roam. At the moment, most of the horses were either still in their stables or lazily eating from the food provided to them. There was one horse trotting and following the perimeter of the fence, through from the other side of the fencing separating the males from the females. That horse was always an active one, Kylie thought very briefly before her thoughts turned back to the events of the day.

Her head still swam as she closed the gate and began to remove the bit and saddle from Prue. The forest, Lucille, the town, Lucille, the teashop, Lucille, her eyes, Lucille, Lucille crouching over...

The body.

A murder... If there was ever a murder in this town before, Kylie certainly didn't remember it. There were incidents, mostly from the tourists. But there had never been anything like this. And yet now... Enna. Why did they even want to kill her?

In spite of--or maybe because of--the gravity of the situation, Kylie couldn't help but keep thinking of the nun. She had definitely seen her before, and yet... This time was different. The nun had definitely noticed her before, Kylie was sure of that. And yet she'd been so busy with the business that she didn't notice if Lucille did anything more than look. Now...

"...She's so professional," Kylie said wistfully to Prue. "Her strength, taking action like that... I just sat there doing nothing, but..." Kylie paused. "...I hope you're okay too, Prue. I was worried about how you would react. You did good, though. You did very good. I'll get you a treat later, okay?"

Kylie finished taking off most of the gear, and now began to lead Prue to the other horses. "But even with all that... Did you see how she looked at me, Prue? I... I didn't think she... Me." Kylie spoke that last word with incredulity. "I wonder if she... I don't know, Prue. You know how much work I get. After your check-up, I have to go right back to the inn and then tell mom the order. And today is already really stressful for her. So she... I might not even..."

Kylie sighed before petting Prue with using her other hand to remove the rest of the gear. "Don't look down, Prue-y. We may have some problems right now... Or not-problems-at-all... But don't get me wrong. This is one of the best jobs in the world."

[Stal]

Mr Stal stood behind the bar, enjoying the peace and quiet before the bustle would get started. His cane leaned up against the wood nearby... He didn't really need the cane, but it went with his proper gentleman style attire. It completed the ensemble.

It was also good for beating people if things ever came to that. But it hardly ever came to that.

There was a sudden commotion at the door as his first customer came in.

"Mr. Stal!" Piper cried. "Snapping Turtle! Webster! Enna! The mafia! I need to order your Crab Cake Supreme, pronto, please!"

A quick nod, a word to the kitchen in the back, and he turned to his patron.

"Well slow down there, dearie. Why don't you start all over again. I've heard the news about poor old Enna, but what is the rest you're looking for?"

"Wait what happened to Enna?" said a somewhat plain and slightly squeaky voice behind him. Mr Stal closed his eyes. This was going to be an ordeal he didn't look forward to.

"Well, Miss Tumble, Enna was found dead this morning."

"WOAH! Spoiler alert! Trigger warning: murder. Trigger warning: mafia. Trigger warning: spoilers! How could you just tell me that?! Where were your trigger warnings?!" The waitress set a glass of water down in front of Piper and turned her attention back to her boss.

Miss Tumble was a well meaning if somewhat extreme activist that worked at the pub. She had brought it on herself to make sure everyone in the town was always informed of the current political and social activities of the world and all the issues going on. Often she got lost in the details.

"Miss Tumble, were you triggered?"

"Well no. But you didn't know that I wouldn't be! Trigger warnings, sir!" And she stormed off to the back.

Mr Stal shook his head and turned back to Piper. "I apologize for my employee. Now you were saying?"

[Tiger]

Cheryl Roxanne Lewis was happy to ignore Travis’ ego-stroking narration - whatever he had to do to save face, she figured. It wasn’t as if there were any real cameras rolling to get his antics.

Then he touched her, again, and opened his mouth. Cheryl Roxanne Lewis was a news reporter, a professional, but also a pillar of their community. Being part of a community meant making that place a better one to live in. It meant standing up for community safety, for justice, for making sure people felt safe to walk the streets. A curl of black hair slipped from its styled place and swung in front of her eyes like a sharp-edged pendulum.

”Just thinking about Amy makes me weak at the thighs. Speaking of thighs, mine are rock solid. Like thunder. Why don't you just think about that for a minute?”

Pratchett choked on something on the other end of her earpiece and spat a curse. Albert actually hefted the camera, and not with the intent to shoot film. Cheryl held up a finger. Albert’s jaw clenched, but he held back. Cheryl caught the slight brush of the cameraman’s thumb against one of the camera’s buttons. The angle Albert was holding the camera was hardly of professional grade, but that wasn’t really the reporter’s concern at the moment.

”Maybe you should declare your love on air right now. I'd hate for people to think you hated me, girlfriend. Especially when we both know that isn't true!”

“Oh, I’ll declare something on air…” Cheryl lightly tossed the microphone to Albert, grabbed Travis’ hair in a none-too-gentle grip, and threw all her strength into introducing Travis to Ground IN YOUR FACE.

Digging her slight heel into whatever of Travis was on the ground and closest – his back, a hand, the back of his head, something like that – Cheryl leaned down and said, “A few things, Richem. My name is Cheryl Roxanne Lewis. I’m a reporter. Even in your own insane world you’re just a reality show actor. A prop bobbing around for the audience. A liar and a drama-hound, after the cheapest sensationalism you can find. I would never lower my standards so much that I would even want a drink with you and your thunder-thighs, Richem. Touch me again and you will regret it.

“Oh,” she added, snapping her fingers. “One other thing! I know you consider yourself a man – I guess you should know before you try, uh, ‘romancing’ me – I swing the other way.” She gave a grin that Fella C. Rapture might have been proud of, and turned on her heel to leave Travis behind.

Pratchett recovered enough to splutter, “Cheryl – you – you know you told Albert to tape – “

“Yes, I know.” She rummaged through her pocket for the keys to the news van.

“You – do you also realize he’s probably just going to turn all this into a plot on his…’show’? I had to watch that footage, you know.”

“I know. Hopefully he’ll let it go, but, wish in one hand…”

“You have some sort of plan, I hope?”

“Of course I do. I’m Cheryl Roxanne Lewis.” She pulled her glove back to check the time. “I think Mister Smith has had plenty of time to get to the mayor’s office. Albert, let’s see if we can get a statement. …I’ve had enough of this part of town, anyway.” The cameraman nodded in solemn agreement.

As Cheryl started the car, she saw Dakota and Christopher from the morgue making their way through the crowd. Good – at least Enna wouldn’t be sitting out in the snow all day. Maybe someone would actually get an investigation going; Cheryl made a mental note to stop by the morgue later to see if she could get any information from a coroner or similar professional.

[Avery]

While Enna Tweff's death was certainly a tragedy, most of the citizens of Aifam Cove was convinced-- or at least, tried to convince themselves-- that it was a one-off event. A fluke, really, that had occurred... not accidentally, but not quite intentionally either. Perhaps Enna had stumbled upon one of the mafias as they were committing another crime, and they'd killed her in a panic; or they'd meant to rob her, and she'd fought back, and things had gotten bloody. Very few in the town would entertain the possibility that Enna had been murdered with purpose, with malice aforethought, with her death as the end goal all along.

By the time afternoon came, Enna's body had been carted off to the morgue. Despite her many friends in Aifam, Enna had little in the family department, so there was no one proper to claim the body-- nor pay for the funeral. But in the name of sympathy and good holiday cheer, the Aifam Morgue waived the cremation fee, and the Sisters at the Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather agreed to hold a memorial service at nine o' clock sharp the next morning, after which Enna's ashes would be scattered in the Netwah Sea.

If you'd interrogated some of the people involved in the decisions made after Enna's death about why, precisely, they'd decided to hold a gratis funeral, and had chosen to cremate her so quickly (just as soon as they'd finished the autopsy), they would have given you a long list of reasons: charity, karma, because it was best to return Enna to the sea as swiftly as possible, as was the funeral tradition in Aifam. But if you'd dug deeper, you might have found some less... noble... intentions running deep: the people were scared. They wanted Enna cremated and gone as soon as possible because then it would be easier not to think about her, and the terrible way in which her life had ended. It would be easier for them to keep on pretending that her death had been, as they wanted to think, a single stroke of lightning-- and lightning, as it goes, never strikes twice.

To this hope the townspeople clung.

**

The morning of Enna's death had been nippy, but the morning of her funeral service was downright bitter: -2F, and that was before taking into account the ever-roaring wind. Just about every resident of Aifam Cove arrived to the Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather, bedecked in all black. They hung their coats in the coat room near the entrance, then quietly, sadly, filed into the chapel, where a simple but classy urn sat on display. Enna's ashes.

The eulogy given by Father Niles was a lovely one; he spoke with great emotion and poise, lamenting the death of sweet young Enna whilst also assuring the mourners that our Blessed Weewoo would take care of her in the ether. Then came the speeches by a number of her friends: Khiran Chander, who talked of gifted cakes and Enna's kind disposition; Lindsey Lukas, who tearfully remembered all the afternoons she and Enna had spent together, baking and laughing; and then... Travis Richem, who was strangely using a wheelchair all of a sudden ("Because Tiffany and I had a lover's spat yesterday and she struck me!"). Travis gave a charming speech about the drunkard Amy, making sure to be overcome by hysterical sobs and hiccups at least twice per minute. He also spent the entire time staring at the Channel 24 news cameras, which were quietly filming the service, zoomed in on the pulpit-- and most in the chapel could swear that, at the end of his thirty-seven minute monologue, Travis deliberately winked at one Cheryl Roxanne Lewis.

"Am I in your good graces again, Tiffany?" he cried to her, as Father Niles at last grew frustrated and forcibly rolled him off the stage. "Can my thunder thighs impress you tonight, and take away your tears!?"

As Travis continued to croon, one of the Sisters spoke over him: "Thus concludes the service for our sweet departed Enna. As is customary in Aifam Cove, we shall now walk her ashes down to the beach together, and then scatter them into the sea. So if everyone could please go collect their coats, we will then begin our somber procession to Sirensong Beach; Father Niles will lead the way."

Several times during the service, mourners had gotten up and silently shuffled out of the chapel-- some of them perhaps to use the restroom, others so overcome by grief that they needed to be alone, and other still for reasons unknown. Now, everyone stood and began out the chapel, towards the coat room. The door leading into was shut, which was odd, but no one thought much of it. The mourners pushed it open. The lights, too, were off-- but the mourners flipped them back on.

And then the mourners screamed.

Because there, in the middle of the space, propped up against one of the racks, was a bloody corpse. Throat slit, just like Enna's. Dead, just like Enna. And resting in his flat-open palm was a playing card. An Ace. But after the requisite A someone had used cut-out newsprint letters to spell out: -bominable. Abominable.

Abominable Aifam.

"The mafia!" shrieked one of the mourners-- as from the back of the crowd, someone pushed forward, trying to shimmy through the mass of people. Trying to see what, exactly, had gotten everyone shouting.

"What's happened?" they cried. "What is it?"

"Dear, no! You don't want to see!" gasped Sister Melody, trying to hold the person back. 

"See what?" the person cried, and kept pushing-- and then, they saw. Dakota saw, and they fell to their knees, shrieking: "CHRISTOPHER! No! No, no, no!"

Christopher Dylans was an innocent townsperson.

[Sporty]

The sharp scent of blood reached Melanie's nostrils, and she gasped, shuddered and drew away from the crowd.

Of all the residents of Aifam Cove, it felt as though Melanie was one of only a few who hadn't been to the cake shop the day before. She hadn't known Enna Tweff as more than an acquaintance, and even if she had it would've felt horribly wrong to just rush over and gawk at the grisly scene down the street from her shop. Even so, coming to the funeral had just felt... necessary, somehow. Enna's death had been cruel and needless and tragic, and Melanie needed to show support and sympathy for her neighbors. She was thankful that she hadn't had to see Enna's body in its broken and bloodied state prior to the service.

Now, it seemed, she would have to extend that thankfulness to the fact that she hadn't yet seen the inside of the coat room. The cries echoing to the mourners in the back were panicked and confused, but combined with the scent of blood, it was enough for her to understand what must have happened.

...Was blood really that strong a scent, that a regular human could pick it up from that far away and through so many people? She'd had to deal with bleeding wounds before, of course – everyday accidents, bites from upset animals, and the like – and she was certain she'd never been able to smell it like this. Was there simply that much on the victim, or was she...?

Melanie gave another shudder. These tragedies were starting to mess with her head. Pushing her personal thoughts away, she looked around and listened for some instruction on what she and the other mourners should do now.

[Tiger]

One moment, Cheryl Roxanne Lewis had been tapping her foot angrily, furious with the thirty-something minute debacle that he was still carrying on with. If only Father Niles had rolled that wheelchair right into a wall... They’d resumed filming, with Pratchett doing the best possible job of cutting out the occasional blurts from Richem.

The next moment, there was a scream.

The camera was mounted and so it took a minute for Albert to retrieve it for over-the-shoulder use. Even then, Cheryl kept them back – there was too big a group to get through without pushing. At least, with the camera in tow.

“Wait here, I’ll be back.” Cheryl Roxanne Lewis started working her way through the mourners, heart pumping painfully fast. She heard screams of mafia – so Enna’s death wasn’t the last…

”CHRISTOPHER! No! No, no, no!”

Cheryl halted, but it was at that exact moment that the mourners’ heads shifted and let her see the full bloody scene. Throat slit. The A of an ace and ransom-letter-style cutouts spelling “Abominable.”

Christopher was just a kid, and an extremely quiet one at that…what could the mafia possibly have on him? Nothing, Cheryl thought. Just like they didn’t have anything on Enna…

She backed out of the crowd. The moment of herself and others brought the smell of blood just barely to her nose. Albert was waiting for her, with the camera. The people watching were waiting for her. All they could see of the chaos were the crowd of people trying to see what was in the coat closet. They could probably hear Dakota’s cries.

For a moment, Cheryl Roxanne Lewis hesitated.

“I – Aifam Cove. There’s been a second murder. Christopher Dylans…morgue-worker…left with the body was an…an item claiming the Abominable Aifam mafia is responsible. Viewers – please exercise extreme caution. If the mafias have an attack pattern, we don’t know what it is yet. Please be careful, and – and report any suspicious activity to the mayor’s office. We’ll bring you more information when it becomes available.”

[PFA]

Cassidy Jackson was surprised when she came back to Aifam Cove to hear that Enna Tweff had been killed. She and her college buddies used to hang out at that cake shop all the time—birthday parties, post-finals celebrations, or just the random desire to eat cake, you could always count on the folks at Everington Cakes to make you something nice. That said, it seemed only appropriate to attend the funeral service. She didn't have any black dresses to wear, so instead she wore the nicest outfit she had, hoping it would be enough.

She just wished she had thicker leggings. Knee-length skirt plus -2ºF weather was not the best combination.

Oh great, we have to go outside again, she thought to herself when the Sister announced this. She hated to be bitter about something so comparatively inconsequential, but she felt like she had just barely gotten warm again. She let out a sigh, adjusting her wavy blonde ponytail before standing up to follow everyone else to the coat closet. At least her coat kept part of her warm.

"I didn't know you'd be here, Miss Jackson," came a familiar voice, which came as a surprise to Cassidy. She turned to the speaker, who was none other than Professor Bardsley, her anthropology teacher. Unlike his usual teacherly attire, for the funeral he was wearing a nice, black suit.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I heard about what happened," Cassidy replied. "I didn't know you knew Enna, Professor."

"I didn't know her well, no, but her death caused quite a stir yesterday morning. Killed by the mafia, they say," Professor Bardsley told her. He shook his head sadly, which, with the professor's usual relaxed demeanor, looked more like a gentle parent's disappointment with a naughty child. "Such a terrible tragedy, indeed."

"Uh, yeah." Cassidy fidgeted a little, uncomfortable at the thought. When she came here to Aifam Cove, to Prettyboy College, she was looking for education, and preferably some, well, pretty boys. She absolutely did not expect that there would be mafia in town. People getting murdered. Would it even be safe to stay here anymore? She really didn't want to die. She was too young to die.

Much to her dismay, these thoughts were interrupted by the sound of screaming. Coming from the coat closet.

"Oh dear, what was that about?" Professor Bardsley wondered, following the sound of the screams. Cassidy, not sure what else to do, followed after him nervously. Those were not nice screams. Those sounded very much like murder screams.

And sure enough, when they got there, there was a body. Though barely visible through the crowd of heads, they could tell that someone had been killed, and it was not a pretty sight. Just the brief glimpse that Cassidy caught of the scene was too much for her, and she immediately turned and ran for the nearest restroom, feeling completely sick to her stomach. This can't be real, she tried to tell herself. This has to be some kind of nightmare.

Professor Bardsley frowned, watching her run off. The poor child was too young to see such trauma. The poor boy who was killed was far too young to die, as well. As he listened to the reporter give her report on the situation, he was, again, not terribly surprised to hear that apparently it had been done by the Abominable Aifam. After all, only the mafia could have such blatant disregard for human life. To kill a child at a funeral... how utterly tragic, indeed.

[Avery]

After arriving to the inn yesterday, Bea had spent most of the day languishing in bed with copious amounts of sherry, rum, and aspirin. She'd fallen asleep early, and her sleep had been... fraught, at best: nightmares of the dead Enna intermingled with other tragedies from her life. She awoke gasping for breath several times, and finally gave up on slumber a few hours earlier than she would have liked. After showering and dressing herself (and taking a few more aspirin for good measure), she stalked into the dining room and started up breakfast.

Someone had left the TV on overnight, and had flipped it back to channel 24. The news ticker at the bottom announced that funeral services would be held for Enna at nine o' clock sharp at the church. Bea did not really want to go to the funeral. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine and terrible memories surging through her head-- long ago memories, a coffin at the front of a chapel, her head filled with fog, on a bleak December morn--

"Are you okay, Miss Devon?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Bea turned her head, and found the businessman from yesterday. She smiled thinly at him. "Oh yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"Are you going to the services?" he asked, gesturing to the TV.

No, she wanted to say-- but then, realizing that this might reflect poorly on her, she forced a nod. "Of course, of course," she said.

**

A few hours later, Bea found herself in the drafty chapel of Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo, Kylie at her side. It was a lovely service, up until the point when Richem took the pulpit and gave a rambling half-eulogy, half-narration about Amy... and himself... and Tiffany, whoever the hell that was. Bea rolled her eyes at the crazy idiot and took an inconspicuous sip from the flask she'd tucked into her purse-- and pretended not to notice the way Kylie was shooting her a sidelong glare. Kylie wouldn't understand why Bea had such a thing about funerals.

Kylie couldn't understand.

Afterward, when Sister Melody told everyone to go get their coats, Bea was a little relieved, really. Sure, it was freezing outside, but at least outside meant away from this chapel, and those memories. Then, of course, came the scream from the coat room. And the shouts of Dakota: "CHRISTOPHER!"

Bea and Kylie were towards the back of the pack, and therefore could not see the body. But the emotion in Dakota's words... the sheer terror and agony in their voice... Bea knew. At once, she knew. The little blind boy was dead. Bea swallowed hard and glanced over at Kylie-- her gorgeous daughter, with her bright, curly hair and creamy skin. Bea found herself reaching out and taking hold of her daughter's hand. As if just to confirm her warmth, her realness.

"I will not let anyone hurt you," she murmured, so quietly that she wasn't even sure Kylie could hear her over the sound of Dakota's screaming.

[Lizzie]

Dakota fell to the ground, sobbing and screaming. The image of their cousin laying there, throat slit and mafia calling card nearby, was burned into their brain. Their little baby cousin, a teenager too fast at 15 and just starting to get used to living with them. He had been through so much, and now... he was gone.

"Christopher," they whined, crawling closer to the body. The commotion around them blared into their ears, the room was spinning, and Christopher wasn't replying. Which they didn't expect, he was dead. But then, they whispered, "Somebody pinch me, this is all a joke, right?"

Dakota's voice got louder.

"Right? RIGHT?" their voice cracking on the last word, "April fools?"

Dakota wiped the blood off Christopher's neck with the collar of his shirt, trying to pretend this was all a cruel, sick joke.

"Don't worry, Topher, it'll all be okay..."

[Nova]

He hated funerals. Full of black wearing sobbing people, somber church-choir tunes, people in wheelchairs breaking into sobs and hiccups twice per minute... it was so sad and heart-wrenching. It was despicable. Why couldn't they call it a 'Celebration of Life' where they could share happy memories of the beloved Enna, dance as she loved to, eat some of her favorite cake and listen to her favorite music? That would honor Enna much more, Nathan thought, than having that Travis up there talking about 'Amy'.

He barely made it through. He wanted to get up and leave like some of those around him, but he stayed put. He wanted to respect Enna as much as he could, considering the circumstances. He stayed there, sipping his earl gray tea with two sugar, hoping to make it through the entire service.

Finally the funeral was over, and everyone was heading to the back to grab their coats. He was still in the sanctuary when he heard the screams. Shouts of questions over confused townsfolk were made. Then he heard: "CHRISTOPHER! No! No, no, no!"

Christopher Dylans.

This town wasn't going to get any more joyful now, was it? Shucks.

He put a brave face on. Christopher had to be in a better place now, after all, the poor kid died in the Church of the the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather. That's probably the best place to go, right? He could only hope.

He then heard the end of the Cheryl's news bulletin. He had wondered how many had even heard it, since everyone would most likely be at the funeral. Maybe a couple stragglers stayed at home? The town was getting bigger, that is, until the killings.

Maybe it was best to stay at home.

But he decided to approach Cheryl Roxanne Lewis when the camera wasn't facing her. "Hello," he greeted lukewarmly, adding in a sigh. "Shame, about Christopher.. and Enna. You haven't heard anything more yet, have you?" There was little hope for answers in this confusing time, but he had to ask.

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

"I... can't stay here." Christopher whispered to his cousin. He couldn't do it, he couldn't hear everyone talk about Enna and he couldn't sit there. It was too much. He got up shakily. He knew Dakota would be concerned, but he couldn't stay right now. He walked away, praying he wouldn't bump into someone. Maybe it was because they were in a church that he didn't. He walked a bit, sure he was still inside the building. It was too real. No one had cried over the Captain because everyone blamed him for the wreck. He felt suddenly bad for not crying over him. He felt suddenly bad about all those terrible thing Thomas had said about the captain (They weren't true but it was still horrible). He suddenly felt horrible about every single person who survived that boat crash just to die on some island in the middle of no where. Even the killers. It was their fault but they still... still didn't deserve to die.
Now the towns people would hang someone, they hung Mina, even though Mina never did anything wrong, even though Mina was nice and kind, they hung her up, and acted like they had clean hands. Someone was going to die again. And they were going to hang them up in the town square as if everything was all right in the world.
He felt sick.

He passed through a door. He knew that because he bumped lightly into it. Here he could collect his thoughts and breathe. It would be alright. It would be alright. No one else would die. The mafias would go into hiding and nothing bad would happen and everything would be fine.
And no one would die on the island and the ship wouldn't crash and maybe his mother wouldn't hate him so much.

Maybe Nelly wasn't dead... that wasn't human meat, and his mother wasn't his mother and he got Nelly instead. And she didn't do anything terrible. And Kota's parents weren't mad at them. And everything was fine. And Thomas Everington talked and talked with his calming voice forever and Danielle got to go to a beach resort and Cassie and her mother had a good trip and Moonflower Journey and Luanne reunited and were happy.

And Enna never died either.

He breathed deeply. It was a lie but it was a nice one.

The door opened, he heard it squeak. Someone else needed some air.
Or two. Two pairs of footsteps.
Or three.
Or.... four.

Oh no.

"I-I" his voice was shaking. Death had caught up to him at last. His face felt wet. He was sobbing.
How weak.
"I'm sorry." he squeaked out. He felt two people come from either side of him.
"I'm sorry for whatever I did."
He had to have done something wrong. Made them mad. Whatever it was it couldn't be undone now.
"I really am." he mumbled. He felt two sets of arms grab him from both sides.

"You don't have to do this." he managed get out, "You don't have to k-k-ill me."
Was he really trying to reason this out?
"You can just s-s-top. You don't have to kill anyone. I know you're sorry for killing Enna."
Was it even this mafia that had killed her?
It didn't matter.
"You can just stop! And I won't tell anyone! I'm blind." he laughed nervously, "No one has to know."
The grip loosened.

He was being naive, of course they would keep going. Even if they let him go now.
Someone would die in his place... he wasn't even sure if they were going to let him go, they could be playing with him. But he couldn't risk it, he wouldn't let someone die in his place.

"W-w-ait." he stuttered. That had done it. The grip tightened. It was almost unbearable. He felt like he was being dragged back.

"Just... please don't make it hurt too bad ok?" he mumbled.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.


xxx

Christohper always wondered how you became a ghost. Did you sign something? Did you check a box? He knew about ghosts. Thomas had kept talking even after he was dead, the doctor still babbled ever after he died.
He wondered if he could get out of it.

It was dark. But it wasn't whatever came after, he was sure of that.
He felt funny. Like airy. Like a fluffy cloud or something.
He didn't feel that different.
In fact, he didn't look that different. The only thing that had changed was if you looked at him too long you noticed he was semi-transparent. Like a rainbow or something. Like a wisp of a dust cloud before you blow it away.

He could hear Dakota yelling. They must have seen his corpse. They shouldn't have to go through that.
He stretched. He determined he was in some off set of the room he had been in before. He got up shakily, it didn't seem any different from before, though he felt like he was walking on air.

He wasn't sure what he could touch or not. He started out of the small confined space when he tripped over something and fell through the door.

And he screamed.

Because he saw the room of crowed people. Because he saw Dakota sobbing. Because he saw everything.

"MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP"

He was on the floor, writhing. Clawing at his eyes but it didn't do anything. His hands simply stopped at the place his eyes appeared to be.


"PLEASE MAKE IT STOP"

It was too much. It was too much.

He had never seen.... anything and now he could see everything and he hated it. It was too much. It was the whole world crashing in on him.

"TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF" He was begging and pleading.

"I'M SORRY PLEASE TURN IT OFF. I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYMORE I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYMORE."

[Ginz ❤]

Talking at Enna's funeral was hard for Lindsey. Tears flowed freely and she had to stop briefly a few times when her voice cracked and theatened to fail her, but after the conversation she had with Nathan over tea the previous day, she was able to remember a lot of happy memories to talk about. That was the thing about her brother, he was optimistic almost to a fault, but he had made a very good point: Enna wouldn't have wanted her to be sad.

Lindsey was emotionally drained after Enna's service. The Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo was depressing that morning, and all she wanted to do was get out, walk down to the beach to scatter Enna's ashes, and then go back to work. It might have seemed weird to anyone who didn't know her, especially considering Enna's death happened right there, but Lindsey was fiercely loyal to Everington Cakes, and was determined to get it back on its feet, even if she had to do it alone. Lindsey believed cake could solve everything (except, perhaps, death, she thought with a sigh), but now more than ever, the residents of Aifam Cove needed some sweetness in their life, and she made it her mission to provide it for them. She felt the need to bake like her life depended on it. And who knew, maybe one of these days, Thomas would come back with ludicrous stories about the places he'd been to and the "delicacies" he'd eaten. He would lament his trip had to "be cut short", or something. He had been gone for ages, but Lindsey could just picture him saying that.

She was about to make her way to the coat room and get ready to face the dreary morning, when she heard screams coming from that direction. She was there within seconds, but what she heard and saw next made her wish she hadn't come to look.

"The mafia!"

"CHRISTOPHER! No! No, no, no!"

Lindsey didn't know the boy, but she was distraught. She needed to get out. She didn't make any attempt to look for her coat or grab any of them. She ran outside, jumped on the snow mobile she used for her deliveries during the winter months, and didn't stop until she arrived at Everington Cakes completely breathless. The snow, which had been red the day before was brownish and dirty, but she hardly noticed. She went inside the shop, closed the door behind her, and cried.

[Kristykimmy]

Anna had sat in the church for the service, the occasional tear rolling down her cheeks as Father Niles, Lindsey, and Khiran talked about Enna's tragically short life. Then Travis got on stage. To cope with his awful antics, she put her head down and folded her hands, saying prayers for Enna's loved ones. The little bouquet of forget-me-nots, so beautifully arranged by Miko, sat in her lap.

She was so relieved when Father Niles finally rolled Travis off the stage. Cheryl really hadn't hurt Travis quite enough yesterday. She should have gone for his jaw, Anna thought. That would give them a few weeks of silence while he mended, if anything short of removing his tongue could.

Anna rose and walked to the coat room as Father Niles directed, the little bouquet held in her hands, ready to be tossed into the sea, and float away with poor Enna. Her thoughts were far away, remembering the woman who she had worked across the street all those years. It was such a strange world that she could be dead in such a senseless way.

Ahead of her, screams broke out from the mourners who had entered the coat room first.

A crowd was gathering, but Anna was near the front and saw poor Christopher Dylans, dead. Anna knew him because he was a new arrival, but not much more. Poor Dakota broke past Sister Melody and knelt by him, whispering to the dead boy, seemingly unable to take what had happened.

For a moment, Anna was as frozen as the others. Then she realized something had to be done.

“Get back,” she said to the other mourners.

She walked in and touched Dakota's shoulder. “Dakota, I know this is hard, but we should leave. We'll close up the closet and wait for someone who can do a proper investigation this time. The mayor has to be able to call back the police. I know this is awful, but that's two deaths now. I doubt either of them did anything to provoke this. We can't keep hoping that they are going to stop, we need to figure out who is doing this, and keeping the crime scene intact is the only thing we can do to that end. Please, come?”

She looked back over her shoulder. “Someone, find the assistant mayor!”

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

She smelled it before she saw it. Blood. And lots of it.

Alma rushed to the bathroom to do what she had to--she couldn't help it--since about three months after her husband left, she'd been more than sensitive to these kinds of things.

Wiping her now-rinsed mouth as she emerged, she felt another icy finger caress her spine as Dakota's shrieks pierced the air.

She looked--and immediately wished she hadn't--and there was Christopher, throat slit, gaping like a fish--dead, of course.

Mrs. Fitzgibbon turned away, fighting the bile rising in her throat. She swallowed, her throat drier than an abandoned fish tank--and flung the door open wide.

"We need to leave now! Anything can happen! They could come back...!"

She swallowed again, another thought bubbling to the surface: Christopher was just a kid.

So was Lynna.

If the mafia targeted children....NO. Mrs. Fitzgibbon jumped in front of the camera and gripped the lower part of it.

"Lynna, if you're out there, come home immediately! It's not safe here! It's not safe at all! I'm worried about you!"

She glanced at the reporter lady, Cheryl Roxanne Lewis. She gave her an apologetic look, then dashed out of the church, fearing for the lives of everyone, especially her only child...

At least, what she hoped was her only child...

[TJ Wagner]

Miko had sat quietly through most of the service. It had been a long time, much too long, since she had left her shop for this long of a time, but there really hadn't been any other choice to be made. Yesterday, she had delivered the flowers Anna ordered in person, and now she was actually sitting in a pew surrounding by people. These people were her neighbors but they were practically strangers to her, but she had a feeling things were about to change. She was about to change. There was a certain boldness and courage suddenly rising up within her.

It sure picked a funny time to surface.

A giggle rose in her throat but she quickly contained and hoped that no one had noticed. Many people had spoken to her today. Most were just gave her compliments on the many arrangements that she had put together in record time. (She noticed at least two that she hadn't made, and she would have to check the cards later to see who had sent those.) She thought, however, the real reason that they were talking to her is that she looked like a different person today. Her brown hair, which she usually just hang loose about her face so that she could hid behind it, had been curled and styled in a way that complimented her features. Her dress, although appropriately black and somber, was also shorter and more form fitting than her usual three sizes too big attire. She looked good and for once she knew that she did.

The only odd thing was she couldn't actually remember dressing up this way.

She had a long black skirt and sweater chosen last night and she could distinctly remember pulling that sweater over her head, but she had arrived her in a totally different outfit. Oh well. Maybe her new plant could explain it to her later. It had spoken to her last night and this morning, and a part of her itched to run home to see what else it would be willing to say.

Her mind was occupied and she only half-noticed Travis' antics, but she still found it all very amusing. This town boasted quite a few interesting characters, and she decided it was high time that she started paying more attention to them. Her conversation with Anna the other day was the most she had spoken to someone for far too long - if you didn't count how much she talked with her flowers of course. She had wasted far too much of her life being quiet and shy.

Suddenly, a scream erupted in back and sliced through her thoughts. She turned and watched as others ran towards the noise, but she didn't follow. With an odd calmness, she walked up to the front instead.

It was time to see who had ordered their flowers from out of town.