It's never quite summer in Innsmouth. There's a strange, humid place between the rainy spring and the foggy autumn, but I wouldn't call it summer. I spend most of it walking. Just walking, down the street, along the cliffside, through the smattering of forest at the edge of the town. Usually alone. It's nice, I guess. Therapeutic.
Every now and again, I go walking with some of my friends. They're sort of my friends, anyway. We're just the weird ones, and the weird ones have to stick together. Or at least, be alone together. We often just meet up in a group and ignore each other, each one of us consumed in our own hobbies. Some of them I hate, like Wallace. He's a snob who refuses to believe anything you say, no matter the proof you give. He's also a preacher of tons of bat-shit crazy conspiracy theories. I think the irony is lost on him. He's not very bright for a straight-A student. Then again, neither am I.
Others in the group I find intriguing. Fascinating, even. Stacy Marsh is one of them. Her appearance is one of the things that interests me. She has an odd narrow head, with large, bulgy eyes and a flattish nose. Her family doesn't let her out after school very often, and she's not allowed to cut her hair short or wear certain clothes. They're a strange family, almost cultish. I would try to get to know her better, but I'd rather not get involved with them.
I perhaps get along the most with Eric. He's quiet, sweet, and a foot taller than me. He rarely makes conversation, but I can talk at him as much as I like. He reminds me of a great big St. Bernard puppy. Sad eyes, not a barker, but absolutely adorable.
I do like walking with Eric the best. It was one particular day in the summer that Eric and I were walking along the waterfront that we found something rather strange.
Well, walking along the waterfront isn't quite what we were doing; it was more like rifling through the ruins of old demolished buildings. And by old, I mean old. They were blown up in the 1920's, something to do with the war on liquor. You can find some really neat things there that weren't completely ruined by the government raid.
It was there we scoured up something that was truly bizarre. It was a dirty, sooty thing on a withered strap of leather. Eric had found it and called me over, using his shirt to rub off the dirt. It was a little charm, carved out of a dark stone, and at first I barely recognized it what with its state of disrepair. But in a moment, I realized what it was. There were a few small differences, yes, but the charm was remarkably similar to the one I wore around my own neck. A family heirloom, in fact.
That's when I realized that something was off.
Every now and again, I go walking with some of my friends. They're sort of my friends, anyway. We're just the weird ones, and the weird ones have to stick together. Or at least, be alone together. We often just meet up in a group and ignore each other, each one of us consumed in our own hobbies. Some of them I hate, like Wallace. He's a snob who refuses to believe anything you say, no matter the proof you give. He's also a preacher of tons of bat-shit crazy conspiracy theories. I think the irony is lost on him. He's not very bright for a straight-A student. Then again, neither am I.
Others in the group I find intriguing. Fascinating, even. Stacy Marsh is one of them. Her appearance is one of the things that interests me. She has an odd narrow head, with large, bulgy eyes and a flattish nose. Her family doesn't let her out after school very often, and she's not allowed to cut her hair short or wear certain clothes. They're a strange family, almost cultish. I would try to get to know her better, but I'd rather not get involved with them.
I perhaps get along the most with Eric. He's quiet, sweet, and a foot taller than me. He rarely makes conversation, but I can talk at him as much as I like. He reminds me of a great big St. Bernard puppy. Sad eyes, not a barker, but absolutely adorable.
I do like walking with Eric the best. It was one particular day in the summer that Eric and I were walking along the waterfront that we found something rather strange.
Well, walking along the waterfront isn't quite what we were doing; it was more like rifling through the ruins of old demolished buildings. And by old, I mean old. They were blown up in the 1920's, something to do with the war on liquor. You can find some really neat things there that weren't completely ruined by the government raid.
It was there we scoured up something that was truly bizarre. It was a dirty, sooty thing on a withered strap of leather. Eric had found it and called me over, using his shirt to rub off the dirt. It was a little charm, carved out of a dark stone, and at first I barely recognized it what with its state of disrepair. But in a moment, I realized what it was. There were a few small differences, yes, but the charm was remarkably similar to the one I wore around my own neck. A family heirloom, in fact.
That's when I realized that something was off.
