12:10 p.m.
“He left his axe,” said the shop keeper. “Take it. You might need it too.”
So I have the .45, an axe, a flask of whiskey I always keep in my coat pocket for celebrating closed deals. I have no idea why I have all these items. My organizer doesn't know either. I check it again and the rest of the pages are blank. I'm pretty sure those pages are not supposed to be blank. Something really strange is happening right now.
I was about to leave when the shopkeeper stopped me and gave me a weird blue piece of glowing chalk. It looked like a blue Christmas light and he told me that I could use it to draw elder signs.
“I don’t know what those are,” I told him. “You’ll figure it out,” he said. He starts laughing, and laughing, and laughing. “It’s happening again,” he says. “The Ancient One slumbers, you better seal those gates before he wakes up, otherwise, you’re going to have one hell of a slumber party,” he chuckles as he walks out the store to the Rivertown Street to look at the evil fog.
He stops laughing and looks at me and says, “There are more of them… at the graveyard.”
From out of nowhere, a robed man attacks him from behind. Out of instinct, I pull the .45 and shoot. The man falls to the ground. “A cultist,” the shop keeper says and he starts laughing again. “I guess your gun’s working,” he says.
“I guess it does,” I tell him.
Then the shop keeper breaks down and starts to sob in the middle of the street. I help him inside and tell him to stay there. "The graveyard," he said earlier. There are monsters in the graveyard.
I guess we'll find out if monsters do exist.
An evil fog envelopes the city.
No comments:
Post a Comment