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quietplacememes2018-02-28 08:56 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacememes2018-02-28 08:56 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #003
TEST DRIVE MEME
You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.
Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits.
A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.
Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, a child hugging her leg, and a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.
This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message.
Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid. You're to settle into your new home.
Caught me unawares
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day
The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.
That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the happiest moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything good and sweet and fun. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restful and pleasant sleep. But on the third night it changes.
For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that dream from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the dream together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.
Falling down the stairs
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day
The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.
That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the worst moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything bad and sour and awful. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restless and dreadful sleep. But on the third night it changes.
For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that nightmare from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the nightmare together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.
OOC
From your mods:
Please remember to mark your content in your starters or subject lines as material comes up. The threads on this meme can be used as game canon. Feel free to thread out arrival style meetings as well! If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment below. Have fun!
b.
He is an intruder, He should do something, let her know that he's there. That he's seeing things he shouldn't. That she never would share with him willingly. But he can't. They're happy. His heart twists in his chest.
They're in the park and he can feel the sunlight on his skin. That old, ugly jealousy flares once before he manages to quell it. This is what it was really like for you? But things were never so simple. If it was, Raven wouldn't have left with him.
They're so young.
He doesn't realize she can see him until she tags him. ]
Raven.
[ He curses under his breath and chases after her. ]
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Laughing, she darts away, blonde hair bouncing behind her.] You have to catch me! That's the game, Erik!
[A voice calls to the right, Charles, a boy of nearly thirteen now and in the beginnings of an awkward growth spurt. But it seems he knows Erik too, smile broad, as he peaks out from behind a tree.] Or me!
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[ His voice is higher, squeakier. His accent much thicker, his mouth and tongue not used to shaping words in English, still trying to force the phonemes into a more familiar, more Teutonic, shape. He looks at his hands, they are thin, as are his wrists and arms and legs and every part of him. The ever-present hunger gnawing at his gut, mixing with the towering rage he's still trying to fit into a manageable shape that he can carry with him without burning himself alive.
This is wrong. He wasn't here. He was in Europe, in a refugee camp, and then once he was released from there left to fend for himself until he was able to get to Israel. Years later.
He certainly didn't know either of them for nearly twenty years. ]
Raven, this is wrong.
[ His tone is as harsh as his accent. He is angry. He is always so angry. ]
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We were having fun. Don't you know how to have fun...?
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[ He insists stubbornly, clenching his fists. ]
This... this isn't real.
[ He doesn't know what it is. He just knows that they're not supposed to know each other. Not yet. Not like this. ]
And you don't look like that. Why are you hiding?
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"Hey!" [ Charles protests, his sunny smile disappearing with Raven's. They were happy, until Erik messed it all up. ]
I"m right. [ He insists stubbornly. ] And I should not be here.
[ He looks at his hands. They still look wrong. He tries to will them into a shape like they're supposed to be. ] It's like a bad dream. [ He says to himself quietly. ]
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Although his conviction that this is wrong, somehow leads him to chase her. Or some other force compelling him, it's hard to say. There's a logic at work that isn't his, which irritates him. ]
I'm not being mean. I'm telling the truth!
[ He declares with all the conviction of a very angry fifteen year old boy who has yet to learn that truth and cruelty can be one and the same. ]
no subject
How long had she had to fend for herself before Charles? Years, since she could talk, practically. Her parents had left her for dead and there'd been no one to protect her. She peers up at him when he approaches, flinching slightly like she expects he might strike her.] I just want to be n-normal...