Hunched over in his kitchen chair, Avon stares blankly into the computer screen with his fingers lingering over the keyboard, not a single key falling to the tip of his finger. The sun just rising over the treeline in his backyard, Avon remains hidden by a cold emptiness, one devoid of sunlight or warmth. His eyes remaining wide open, Avon continues to stare into the screen, the only light coming over him resonating from the harsh white tones from the screen before him.
In his head, the prior night’s events continue to play on a never-ending loop, haunting his every thought by bleeding itself into each positive vibe he throws his own way. The thud from atop his doorstep the night prior, the screeching tires of the van speeding off into the error of evening, the featherlight finger left for him as a welcoming gift to the town all flashing before him. “I’m off” Penny calls out, tossing a case of makeup into her bag whilst stopped in the middle of the living room, the front door only a mere few feet away from being within the palm of her hand. Looking back toward her husband, Penny finds him still fixated on the computer screen, her call for his attention never having been processed by his brain. “Avon?” Penny calls out to yet another failure to respond, his stare remaining unchanged, prompting her to walk over. “Avon?” Penny calls out again, leaning forward as if she couldn’t get a better view otherwise, her hand placing itself atop the screen, shaking the picture just enough to get the man’s attention. “Avon!” Penny calls out for a third time, watching the man jolt out of his prior position and shake off the exhaustion, brushing the instance aside as nothing more than sleep depravity. “Are you alright?” Penny asks, watching her husband pull the bottom of his hands to his eyes and rub the crust from beneath his lids. “Yeah, I’m fine honey” Avon responds, clearing his throat as he pushes himself out of his chair, continuing to act as if everything were normal. “Have a lovely first day” Avon continues, his arms wrapping themselves around his wife’s shoulders, hands rubbing the middle of her back as Penny reluctantly returns the gesture. With a peck on the cheek, Avon allows Penny to pull away, walking her to the door as they continue their conversation as if the confusing event had never taken place. “I’ll be back around six, alright?” Penny concludes, offering her husband a peck on the lips before walking through the front door, the heavy metal divider between the inside and out slowly closes behind her, Avon’s hands gently guiding the door back to its space within its frame. With a deep breath, Avon puffs his chest out, allowing it to settle back to its original position as the air within his lungs empties, returning to the space he had taken it from. Head aimed toward the ground, Avon picks his chin up and returns to his seat, arms placed on the rests to each of his sides before he looks into the picture that returns to him, puzzled at what he finds awaiting. Confused, Avon assumes himself to be staring at the wrong page, clicking around with his mouse to find his original word document to no avail. Eyes squinted, Avon’s confusion remains ever-present, his finger dragging the mouse back to the original tab he started on before scrolling up. Of the near-eight pages he’s written, the most recent six of them contain an onslaught of illegible writings, just numbers and symbols plastered onto what would be a piece of paper. With a nod, Avon accepts the findings to have been an accident having occurred in a blank train of thought, every character of text highlighted in a light shade of blue before vanishing from the screen with the simple click of a key. With a nod, Avon returns to his original writings, unable to progress any further upon finding it difficult to recall where he was originally intending to go with his words. Considering his options, Avon leans back in his chair, feeling the need to create space between himself and his keyboard before glancing out at the view in his backyard. The neighborhood is one of quiet peace, the sights that are afforded to Avon exist as no different, woodlands as far as the eye’s sight can reach awaiting his appreciation, a gentle breeze rolling through the leaves. Beginning to bear the fruits of an ascending day, the woodlands give Avon a moment of introspection he needs to clear his mind of the clutter overwhelming it. Allowing his breathing to steady, Avon emerges through his back door and rests his arms against the bannister of his patio, glasses worn over his face so he can actually see the views from afar. The size of his yard creating a great distance between his patio and the start of the treeline, Avon has a heavy distance between the view and himself. Almost as a metaphor, Avon starts at a far distance with his place in the creation of his book, the yard representing the long distance he has left to venture before the accomplishment of peace on the other end. Lifting one hand and balling his fingers into a fist, Avon rests his chin against the knuckles beneath it, staring off at the sights with a smile before his expression inexplicably sours into a frown. Uncertain at first, Avon leans in to get a better view, still not able to accomplish the clarity he needs to see the sight through. Head shaking, Avon turns to the short staircase and steps onto the freshly-cut grass, walking for the start of the forest before halting mid-step. Eyes widened again, just as they had been before, Avon stands in the middle of his backyard looking out at the treeline in horror. Beneath the ascending morning sun, a figure cloaked in all-black garb and a smiling face mask stands in the corner of the treeline, hands to each side, just looking back at the man before it. “Who-” Avon says to himself, frozen in fear, unable to move without being prompted to, waiting for the figure to make the first move. Without warning, said figure lifts its left hand to its face, unfurling its fingers until only the index remains upwards, pressing against the mouth of its mask. Unprovoked, the figure quickly turns away from the man and dashes into the depths of the forest, a prompt that calls Avon into action, the writer hurrying after the man in hopes of getting answers for the night prior. Fear having eluded him, all Avon runs on is a mixture of adrenaline and curiosity, hoping to stop the man before he hurts his wife or himself, and needing to receive a reason for the events of the prior night. Stopping at the start of the treeline, Avon stares into the covering of trees to find nothing, not a trace of the man having given him a fair warning despite the sunlight leaving no inch of the ground ahead of him without illumination. Catching his breath, Avon stands in the place he stopped, head turning toward one side before darting to the other, astonished at the ease the figure had in vanishing before his very eyes. = Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “You’re new” a woman’s soft voice cries from behind Penny as her locker slams shut, prompting the woman to turn toward the source. “I am!” Penny replies enthusiastically, shaking the hand of the scarlet-haired woman behind her. “Anne Silva” the woman introduces herself as, wrist peeking out from beneath the long, cotton sleeve of her undershirt, “it’s not often we see new faces in Remedy.” “Yeah, my husband clued me in on that pretty quickly” Penny chirps, the woman’s head tilting nearer toward her shoulder. “What does he do?” Anne asks, watching Penny’s expression briefly shift toward confusion, “your husband, what does he work as?” Eyes wide, Penny’s mind drifts toward the truth she’d never had to conceal before, though her instincts push her toward an alternative direction before a sound can leave her cherry-red lips. “He’s an… entrepreneur” Penny responds, clarifying the latter-most word upon its recitation from Anne’s lips. “What is he the entrepreneur of?” Anne questions, watching Penny’s hands lift into the air before throwing themselves aside, brushing off the question as unimportant. “He doesn’t really tell me much about his work” Penny replies, Anne’s head bobbing along with every word she utters, “he’s someone that likes to draw a fine line between work and relationship.” “Okay… Yeah, that’s a healthy choice to make!” Anne responds, finding sense in the response, “I think I might actually envy you a little bit!” Humored, Penny attempts to raise a question of her own to the woman before the pager on her hip begins to ring. “Duty calls” Anne exclaims, Penny shrugging her shoulders before tossing on a doctor’s coat, “I’ll see you around!” With a smile, Penny accepts the half-offer, flashing the woman a smile before heading off into the opposite direction. Rubber soles of her shoes tapping along the marble floors, Penny intends to advance her day forward, the ‘first day of work’ jitters settling over time, learning the layout of the hospital she wanders the halls of taking precedence over most else. “Doctor?” a strange voice beckons from behind, Penny hearing the single term flutter through the airways and grab her attention like a moth to a porchlight. “Hi” Penny replies, keeping her profile low, greeting the man with enough forwardness to afford him the comfort of being able to proceed with his line of inquiry. “Are you the new doctor my wife was telling me about?” the man asks, Penny assuring him of the accuracy in his statement, a grin being offered as a symbolic gesture. In a swift turn of events, the man takes a slushie from behind his back and throws it over Penny’s jacket, forcing security to restrain him immediately. “Tell your husband this city isn’t his personal play-thing for inspiration!” the man shouts with his finger pointed toward Penny, hands pulled behind his back as he’s led by the neck toward the front exit. Both astonished and in shock, Penny glances down at her coat to find it stained red from the man’s drink, muttering to herself the hopes that such an image isn’t a sign of things to come. “What was that?” a doctor asks, approaching the woman with a towel in his hand, Penny assuring him that it was an encounter she was warned would be semi-commonplace. “Dr. Kitts” the man introduces himself, returning to the front desk to collect a few additional towels before being waved off. “This isn’t coming out without a wash” Penny exclaims, pulling at the material in her hands to give herself a better view, “I appreciate the effort, though.” “I’m so sorry for this” Clark explains, “I swear, you’d think people would be smart enough to not piss off the people that might have to save their lives one day, but I guess we’d all be wrong.” Earning a laugh from the woman, Clark cuts himself off before he can get too chatty, cutting the introduction down to a welcome and handshake. “Thank you for the help again” Penny responds, the man walking back the way he came with a nod, “it was my pleasure” he replies with grace. | “How might I be of assistance?” Beth calls out upon the ringing of the entrance’s bells without looking up, finding a newly-familiar face greeting her. Entering the library with his hands in his pockets, Avon escapes the winter-like chill beginning to come over the town in favor of Beth’s warm welcome, surprised to find the man walking in so soon after he walked out. “Salutations” Avon says with a smirk, hiding the paranoid and cold exterior in favor of a less-daunting approach, taking the seat still left beside Beth’s desk from the night before. “Greetings, author… To what do I owe the pleasure?” Beth asks, starting a pot of coffee from the machine just beside her desk. “A sleepless night courtesy of that coffee you gave me last evening” Avon says with a hum, earning nothing more than a shrug. “I don’t think you’re Remedy material if you can’t handle nighttime coffee” the woman responds, the machine off to her side just now starting to fill the pot. With a smile, Avon folds his hands over his lap and pulls one leg over the other, accepting Beth’s opinion. “I’ve got a lot to learn” Avon concludes, Beth refusing to consider such a claim as anything but true. “So what can I do you for?” Beth continues, allowing the direction of the conversation to rest in the hands of Avon, the floor left with an empty space for him to occupy. “What was Remedy Hills like before the urban legend?” Avon inquires, the worn look on the woman suggesting the answer to be complicated. “Remedy was just like any other small town that got famous overnight” Beth replies, “just ordinary people going about their day. Nothing overly notable.” With a nod, Avon continues, his eyes roaming through the large interior of the building Beth remains the only consistent inhabitant of. “Who owns this place?” Avon asks, the woman wearing a smile of pride prior to her answer. “I do… My name is on the property lease and anything else required to keep this operating” Beth responds, her voice taking on a more prideful tone than the one of eagerness she had prior. “My dad passed a few years ago and left me all of this in his will” Beth continues, the machine behind her spurting out the final few drops of the warm, french vanilla brew, “it wasn’t always a library.” Reaching back, Beth takes the handle to the pot in her hand, feeling the warmth radiating off of the plastic handle and onto the palm of her hand, perhaps the only thing making the winter worth bearing through as far as she’s concerned. “This building used to be an old tavern. He knocked all the walls down” Beth continues, “when he passed it to me, I’d taken my rather large collection of books and brought them here… Soon other people did the same with the books they no longer wanted or needed.” Pressing his hand to his chin, Avon listens in with intrigue, the woman continuing her life story with a captivated audience. “I know libraries are usually things that cities make to consider themselves beneficial, but I don’t really care for all that jabber” Beth explains, pouring herself the first coffee, “people can come here for the conversation more than the books… But at least they actually want to come here.” Watching the beverage trickle over the curved edge in Beth’s coffee pot, Avon interjects a question in between the woman’s storytelling. “Why’d you tell me only the elderly and middle schoolers came around every once in a while?” Avon asks, watching the woman cover the pot with it’s attached lid with a smirk. “I didn’t want you to think visiting the town’s resident librarian was a thing to put on the daily to-do list” Beth replies, “but seeing as you’ve now come here two days in a row looking for a story, I figured it’d do no damage.” His teeth showing, Avon remains quiet, Beth noticing this expression and asking about it. “What’re you all smiling over?” Beth wonders aloud, watching the man’s lip part with confidence, every word he utters carrying the obvious weight of truth behind it. “I didn’t come here for a story” Avon responds, removing a notebook from the satchel over his shoulder and tossing it onto the top of Beth’s desk, “this is a ‘I wanna get to know the people I’m living with’ visit.” “Is this an invitation to read?” Beth asks, Avon leaning back in his chair, hands folded together and gliding back, offering a cushion for his head to rest against. “If you wish it to be” Avon replies, the woman nodding at the man’s suggestion, slowly reaching out in a sign of goodwill before pulling the notepad into her hands. “Then I guess I’m down to my last two wishes” Beth responds, crossing one leg over the other and letting the booklet fall onto her lap. With an easy glide, Beth flips open the front cover and reads the text that rests just beyond the cover, her eyes holding an excitement to read words put together in sentences she’s never followed before. Satisfied, Beth closes the notebook and returns it to Avon, his hands lifting into the air to reject her advances. “I want you to hold onto that until I leave” Avon replies, “I want you to know, beyond any doubt, that this conversation is as I have said it is.” Her smile now growing, Beth slowly guides her hand back to her side, placing the notebook upon one of her desk’s shelves. “Where were we?” Beth asks, Avon’s smile matching the wide-berth of her own, invested in the conversation enough to lift his mug to his lips with glee. | Fist tapping against the front door of the King residence, Jake awaits Avon’s answer whilst Beau leans against the cruiser, watching on with a smirk. “I wonder if he skipped town already” Beau mocks, Jake looking back at the man, reminding him of how illogical it would be for Avon to have played a part in this mystery. “Why? The guy buys a house he can afford not to live in and settles in a town no one with his wealth would even point to on a map” Beau responds, “he’s guilty.” Shaking his head, Jake turns back to the door, his knuckles taking to the metal exterior in hopes for a response, Beau having to break the news to him that the man isn’t coming to answer. With a sigh, Jake turns away from the door and removes his phone from his pocket, looking toward Beau, the man having walked away from the cruiser with intentions set on investigating the property. “We can’t look through his home without a warrant, Beau” Jake calls out, dialing Avon’s phone number as his partner acknowledges their legal obligations. “I don’t need a warrant to just have a look around” Beau replies, hands draped over his belt as he looks around the edge of the home, Jake remaining patiently standing on the front steps awaiting an answer from the other line. As Jake leaves a message for Avon’s voicemail, Beau continues to walk around the edge of the house, his body shaded from the house next door, allowing him an unobstructed view. Shaking his head at the empty flower bed, Beau glances off into the distance before looking back at the home, only to return his eyes to the treeline ahead, taking interest in the sights he’s captured out of the corner of his eye. Fingers becoming untucked from his belt, Beau’s hands move to the grip of his firearm, not yet ready to pull his weapon on whatever he finds staring back at him. “Jack!” Beau calls out, his voice not loud enough to catch the attention of what he finds standing in the distance, the man hanging up his phone and returning to Beau’s side. “You find something, kid?” Jake asks, rounding the corner to find Beau with his weapon ready to be pulled, staring off at the trees. “Do you see that?” Beau asks, Jake approaching his side and staring out at what glances back at him in the distance, a figure draped in black with a plastic smiley face mask. “Let’s flank him” Beau says, cautiously moving forward with his gun now removed from his belt, Jake creating distance between the two, his gun newly drawn as well. “Police! Step forward with your hands up!” Beau calls, nearly halfway into the backyard, still uncertain as to whether or not he’s speaking to a person. “I’ll repeat, we’re police!” Beau shouts, “come forward with your hands where we can see them now!” The figure remaining without movement, Jake recites the same warning as offered by Beau, hoping the target they approach is nothing more than a poorly-dressed scarecrow. “I’m gonna say this one more-” Beau begins, his tension lowering as he begins to recite his call for the third time, stopping himself mid-sentence the moment the figure surprisingly turns around and takes off running. “Call in re-enforcement!” Beau shouts, he and Jake both running into the woods with the weapons to their side, breaking into a stride as they keep the figure constantly within their sights. As seconds turn into a few minutes, the figure continues to run at the same pace as it had burst into the moment it’d taken off. In the same breath, Beau begins to slow himself, energy depleting and the ability to move forward at the same pace he has vanishing. Seconds later, despite the refusal to give up, Beau collapses into the dirt, the calls of his name from his partner a great distance away are unable to come within hearing distance. Struggling to catch his breath, Beau grunts as he climbs to his knees, staring out at the depths of the woodlands where the figure had escaped to, internally beating himself for having allowed the masked watcher to escape. | “How did it all happen?” Avon asks, hands folded beneath his chin as the daylight has long faded into night, the streets lighting up with the storefront displays while the pair within the confines of the library pay it no mind. “It happened just like it’s always been told” Beth responds, her hand tucking the loose hairs in front of her face behind her ears, “a kid went missing in the middle of the night and was found in pieces on the backroads the morning after.” “I know that part, I’m talking about the legend… How did it start?” Avon replies,watching Beth lift her feet from the floor and place them beneath each other, sitting cross legged in her old-school wooden chair. “They never found the killer, which pretty much made it impossible to avoid anything other than being reminded that we’d never have closure” Beth responds, “I was only twelve, but I remember hearing about the phantom at recess from a few of my friends.” “So you don’t know where it originated?” Avon inquires, the woman disappointingly shaking her head in refusal, admitting that she wished she had. “Everyone that cares about this town wants to protect it… Keep it from being trifled on by people looking to turn a tragedy into a sad ghost story” Beth explains, “but for whatever reason, an asshat slipped through the cracks and made people like you a target more than anything else.” With a deep breath, Avon nods at the notion, a gesture that Beth takes notice of, apologizing for her wording. “It’s all going to get better over time, just look at it as growing pains” Beth explains, the man flashing her a smile to assure her that he’s fine, though hiding how much worry runs through his mind over the idea. “Tell me about the phantom” Avon quickly quips, “why, of all things to call what was responsible for this, did people settle on a phantom?” With a shrug, Beth admits that the reasoning has never been something that people cared to look into. “I don’t think it matters much… There’s no phantom roaming the streets of Remedy Hills...” Beth explains, her head tilting down, fingers twirling amongst themselves as she pauses, words evading her as Avon observes. The woman slightly overcome with emotion, Avon reaches a hand onto hers, watching her face light up with an apologetic smile as her eyes latch onto his. “Have you ever admitted to yourself how that statement ends?” Avon inquires, the woman looking back at him with her head shaking in refusal. “I’m twenty-five now, so it’s been thirteen years of my life spent thinking about that day… Over and over again” Beth says, a single tear she doesn’t care to wipe away falling from her eye, “never once have I finished that sentence.” Stricken with grief, Avon leaves his seat and walks around the desk, Beth leaving her seat as well to accept the hug the man gives her, emotions bringing the pair to a similar page. “When you want to finish that sentence, I’ll be happy to be there for you when you do” Avon promises, the woman unable to hold back the smile that forms on her face. “I wish the writers that came here were as nice as you” Beth mutters, the man patting Beth on the back as the embrace ends. Returning to his seat, Avon begins his final line of dialogue, Beth downing the rest of the beverage in her drink before throwing another load of grounds in to brew. “There are some people that say this town doesn’t play by the laws of nature” Avon explains, watching Beth’s face go red with embarrassment, “what do you make of all that?” Opening her mouth to speak, Beth breaks out into laughter, her head hanging low as her hand covers her mouth, Avon confused as to what is happening. “I mean… They’re not wrong” Beth responds, putting a look of surprise on Avon’s face, the man having been pulled in with intrigue. “So you’re sold on there being no such thing as the ‘Remedy Phantom’, but you’re also convinced Remedy is pretty much a world of its own?” Avon inquires, becoming lost the longer he speaks. “Some things just happen that shouldn’t” Beth replies, looking through the scattered halls that her brain has historically been described as, searching for the perfect example. Suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had just struck the street outside, Beth pops into action with her response. “A few days ago, the bells over the door rang and I called out to someone coming in” Beth explains, Avon leaning forward as if he were listening to a ghost story. “When I looked up, there was no one there, and the bells hadn’t moved an inch” Beth concludes, Avon looking on with skepticism. “There is no draft, those bells swing for a long time after they’re hit, and that’s never happened before” Beth explains, “you can call me paranoid or delusional all you wish, but that shouldn’t have happened and yet, here we are.” “Are you sure you didn’t-” Avon begins, Beth immediately cutting him off. “Imagine it? No, it happened” Beth responds, “it may be one of many stupid reasons to believe in something so strange, but it’s a reason that I buy.” With a chuckle, Avon admits defeat, giving Beth the point and finishing the coffee left in his mug. Graciously accepting his notebook being returned to his possession, Avon prepares to leave before thinking twice, still reeling from the weight Beth carries on her shoulders. Quickly opening his notebook, Avon tears a single page from within and pulls a pen out of his pocket, his name and phone number being jotted down in dark blue ink. “I can tell you still have some fear in your mind- regardless of how old you are now- that you’d still be the next one to be found like that” Avon says, “so while I’m only thirty-four myself, therefor not creepy enough for this to be odd, I still want you to have this on you.” Extending his hand, Avon gives the woman his phone number and home address, promising to be there in the event she needs him to be. “Small town, everyone knows each other, I get that there are people you’re probably better off going to than me” Avon accepts, “but I made you a promise, and now I have no excuse to not go through with it.” With a full heart, Beth walks up to Avon again, pulling him for another hug, and thanking him for caring. Having left the library and driven the short ride home, Avon takes the final turn onto his quiet, residential street to find a surprising sight, one that he takes grave concern with. Parked outside of his home, a flurry of police cruisers flash their red and blue lights throughout a neighborhood filled with concerned fellow residents. Short of his driveway, Avon puts the car in park and quickly exits his vehicle, racing to the scene where his wife stands, watching the events unfold. “What’s going on!?” Avon calls out, his wife having to hold him back from dashing into the house, telling him that they have a warrant to search the property. “On what probable grounds!?” Avon shouts back, enraged, Beau calling out to the man from afar with the answer he was looking for. “For whatever the fuck we want it to be” Beau shouts back, watching Avon look toward him in anger, “we may not have much to go off of, but the judge doesn’t like writers very much.” Walking away from his wife, Avon marches toward Beau with an angry expression, prepared to exceed being just confrontational. “Put your hands on me and I’ll take you in on assault charges” Beau warns, Avon stopping short of getting physical, instead, staring Beau down. “What exactly is it that you think I did, but that you don’t have the balls to come out and say?” Avon inquires, challenging the man to outright admit what his motives are. “You know exactly what I think you did” Beau replies, Jake being forced to order Beau to stand down and walk away, his efforts coming up fruitless. “You’ve got blinders on, cop” Avon responds, leaning forward to keep himself close to the man, “you want me to be guilty… Well, sorry to burst your bubble.” “My bubble’s intact, dude” Beau replies, refusing to give up ground, instead inching his face closer to Avon’s, “but I promise you this… I’m gonna bring you down for murder, don’t you forget that.” Shoving his partner away, Jake turns back to Avon, asking the man where he was earlier in the day. “I was at the library the entire day” Avon responds, “Beth Ovorre will tell you the same thing I am… I was down there the whole day asking about Remedy and her life.” With a nod, Jake turns toward a third officer to put in a request, Avon stopping him before the tires can kick too far, asking what Beau meant when he called him over. “Failing to cooperate with authorities, what is he talking about?” Avon clarifies, Jake recalling the events that allowed all of this to transpire, asking Avon if he owns a smiley face mask. “No, I don’t own a-” Avon replies, looking riddled with fear for the moment he pauses before finishing his statement. “No” Avon responds, Jake’s face falling as he pleads with Avon to be honest with him. “If there’s something going on, my department can protect you” Jake promises, “but in order to do that, you need to tell me the whole story, Mr. King.” Looking the man in his eyes, Avon forgets about the neighborhood-bathing lights and his wife’s trembling hand grabbing at his arm, answering the question as it’s recited by Jake. “No, I don’t own a smiley face mask” Avon responds, watching Jake pause for a moment in hopes of getting more, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath before nodding seconds later. “Okay” Jake replies, “we’ll be done with all of this soon.” “What was that?” Penny asks, Avon watching Jake walk off, Beau still mean-mugging him from afar. “The young cop thinks I killed that truck driver” Avon responds, “and whilst the older one doesn’t think I did it, he thinks someone’s coming after me.” Looking toward her husband with surprise, Penny asks the man to clarify his prior statement, worrying that she heard him correctly. “We’re not wanted in this town, likely for good reason, honey” Avon replies, turning to his right to look his wife in the eyes, “but we’re not going to let them run us out.” Returning his gaze to the officers, Avon watches Jake climb into the driver’s seat before Beau looks back at him, stepping into the seat with his eyes on Avon, a anger-infused thousand-yard stare being given to the town’s newest resident before he takes his place, slamming his door shut with authority. == Remedy Hills ==
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Series Premiere
Kicking up dirt with each passing mile, a car veers down the quiet back roads that have been swallowed by lucious woodlands in every direction. “We’d be better off out here if we actually knew where we were going, Avon” a woman lovingly calls out to her partner, sat beside him as he takes the vehicle through winding passageways. “The sign said this was the way into town- you’re just impatient” the man replies, “you’ve never really been good at that.” “Are you trying to say I need to work on my patience?” the woman remarks, a quip Avon sarcastically responds to. “No, Penny” the man assures, his eyes returning to the woman for the moment the opening is afforded to him, “I’m saying you should work on learning how to read signs.” With a wink, the man looks back toward the road ahead, his enthusiastic face falling into a state of disappointment as his foot eases onto the brake, slowly guiding the vehicle to a stop. Shaking his head, Avon throws the vehicle into park in the middle of the road, considering it safe to do so in light of having not seen another vehicle for what feels like hours by this point. Unclasping the buckle of his seat belt, Avon emerges from the car with his hand placed against its roof, half of his body remaining within the car’s confines. “Is that helping you?” Penny jokes, a thick layer of fog just ahead keeping their progression from moving forward. “Not as much as I’d prefer it to” Avon replies, returning to his seat and pulling his car onto the side of the street. “I don’t want to take any chances on these roads” Avon explains, lending his decision support, “racers wouldn’t navigate an oval in fog… Neither will I.” With a sigh, Avon rests his head on the back of his seat, head dropping to the side to face Penny, who sits similarly to himself. “I think we’re gonna be a little behind schedule” Penny mutters, swirling her fingers around each other. “We’ll make due” Avon responds, flashing the woman a smile whilst wearing a tired expression on his face, a full night’s worth of driving beginning to take its toll, “we always do.” Closing his eyes, the driver allows the dark insides of his eyelids to prompt his breathing to calm, hiding his disappointment in the situation at hand with composure. “New town… New job… New people… We’re moving up in the world” Penny quips, receiving a chuckle from the man for her efforts. “Not as much of a new job as it is a hobby becoming a career, Pen” Avon replies, “and I’d put a lot of money on Remedy Hills being a bit smaller than Boston.” “Fine, I’ll stand down” Penny responds with hidden laughter, head falling onto the man’s shoulder as her eyes close as well, “a lateral move at worst.” With a laugh, Avon repeats the prior statement, ‘lateral move at worst’ as he wraps his arm around the woman, making due with the cramped space. A minute passes, the couple remains tucked away in the front seat of their vehicle, taking a break from the sleepless night of the journey from the prior evening. Out of the fog, the noise of an approaching vehicle grows nearer, the cracked windows of their car doors allowing for the sound of rubber stretching over asphalt to call for their attention. “What a brave soul” Avon chirps, watching the faint light of a large truck’s headlights begin to emerge from the thick clouds, the driver behind the wheel careful in their navigation through the winding, maze-like paths afforded to him. “Keep going buddy, you’re almost there!” Penny cheers with a motivated, yet tired voice, watching the headlights continue forward until the truck’s body slowly emerges from beyond the unseen. With a thunderous slam, the headlights of the oncoming vehicle are suddenly thrown to the side, the sound of metal slamming into metal ringing throughout the tight roadways suggesting a massive crash to have just occurred. Shouting expletives, Avon and Penny adjust to the events they had just watched unfold, the truck having vanished seemingly in the blink of an eye. Coming to his senses, Avon throws open his car door and bursts into a sprint, the site of the crash leaving behind little more than some twisted metal and shattered glass. His eyes looking in every direction, Avon suddenly overhears Penny’s voice, the fog disappearing almost on command as his eyes dart back to her. Now with a clear scene to inspect, Avon’s head turns on a swivel, his eyes finally coming across a broken guardrail, the wound in the safety precaution leading to a steep drop into more undeveloped woodland. Hurrying to her husband’s side, Penny joins the man in peering over the edge, eyes stumbling across the view of two mangled vehicles crumpled into a heap at the very bottom, covered in dirt and debris. Without a word, Avon drops to a seat, pushing himself over the edge until his feet make contact with the leaf-covered hill, the summer having begun to fade into autumn. Inch by inch, Avon slithers away from the asphalt, sliding down the wet leaf-covered hill before touching down at the bottom. In a sprint, the man hurries toward the site to check on the well-being of the drivers involved, Penny remaining at street level above, calling for the police. Doing his part, Avon checks in the front seat of the accident-causing vehicle to find its interior unoccupied, not a soul at the driver’s wheel nor one in the front seat. Confused, Avon brushes it off as something with a reasonable explanation to be found further down the line. Racing toward the truck, Avon leaps onto what remains of its boarding platform to look into the little that remains of the passenger’s side window. “Do you need-” Avon begins to call out on instinct, staring into the driver’s seat before stopping himself mid-call, jaw hanging at what he finds awaiting him. “Are they alive!?” Penny calls out, her husband unable to answer just yet, staggering away from the truck before walking around the hood of the car. “Avon!?” Penny calls out, her husband disappearing behind the skeleton of the vehicle, looking toward the ground with fear. A trail of blood leading from the driver’s door and across the grounds, Avon stares in horror as he follows the trail with his eyes, losing sight of its whereabouts as it leads deeper into the thick forest. “We’re gonna need some help out here!” Avon shouts back upon his attention being called for a third time, swallowing the fear that follows him. = Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “I just want to forget about it, that’s all” Avon answers his wife’s question, placing a heavy box atop their newly-furnished kitchen countertop. “You can’t just tell me what you saw?” Penny replies, naturally curious toward her husband’s withholding of information. “No, I don’t want to tell you what I saw” Avon responds, slightly overwhelmed the moment his wife asks for a reasoning. “Because what I saw is not something I’d want in the back of anyone’s mind, especially yours” Avon replies, returning for the doorway of his new home, surprised when he stumbles upon two men in overcoats approaching his door. “Can I help the two of you?” Avon inquires, watching the men casually reach into their pockets and remove a leather-covered casing. “I’m Jake Mansoor, this is my partner Beau Donovan” the man introduces, “we’re investigating the crash you two reported. Do you have a second to answer a few questions?” Confused, Avon stares at the men silently for a moment, Penny walking onto the front step in the time between their introduction and her husband’s response. “Detectives?” Avon replies, “I’m sorry, I thought this was just a car accident?” With a nod, Beau responds in kind, glancing toward the man’s wife before leaning in, proceeding to explain their presence to the man in a whisper. “I think deep down, at least the three of us saw the same thing down there” Beau replies, “I’m fairly certain you’re well aware that this isn’t just a car accident.” With a nod, Avon looks back toward his wife, assuring her that everything is fine and directing her back to unboxing. “Can you please recite your story for us?” Jake requests, watching Avon lean against his car with his arms folded. “My wife and I were stopped on the side of the road because of the fog, and we saw the headlights coming on and then they disappeared” Avon begins, immediately interrupted by Beau upon conclusion. “There was no fog in the area, sir” Beau remarks, Avon shaking his head with a loss to a reply adequate for the man’s suspicions. “There wasn’t any fog when the cops came, but there was when it happened” Avon explains, not lending favor to his cause when answering Beau’s following question. “When did the fog lift?” Beau inquires, Avon letting out a sigh before replying with his fishy, yet truthful response. “Just a few seconds after the crash happened” Avon responds, watching Beau glance toward Jake out of the corner of his eye, visually expressing his disbelief in the story. “And you said the crash came from the side?” Jake follows, “like a straight-up side-swipe?” With a nod, Avon pushes himself further into a hole, Beau quick to lend skepticism to his claim. “There was no road opposite the barrier… Just a small hill” Beau replies, “also, there were no tire tracks in the mud… So none of that checks out.” Hanging his uncoupled arms, Avon tells both detectives to stop their efforts. “Have the two of you just come here to get me to incriminate myself?” Avon questions, his inquiry matched with one of Beau’s own. “Is there something you can be incriminated over?” the on-point cop questions, watching Avon’s look sour, his head leaning in as he responds with a sturdy declination. “No, detective” Avon replies, watching Beau remove a pad of paper from his pocket, taking down notes as Jake continues the questioning. “Did you remain on the road or did you climb down once you saw the crash site?” Jake asks, the man in question giving the same false response he had offered to officers prior. “I stayed at the top of the road with my wife” Avon responds, quickly called out on his lie by Beau, prompting the man to look toward the heavens with a smirk before dropping his head into the outspoken officer’s direction. “We’ve got tracks in the dirt that I promise match your shoes at the hill leading to the scene” Beau responds, “stop feeding me nonsense.” “Okay, I lied” Avon quickly replies, assuring the officers that such a lie was the only one he told, “everything else I’ve told you- as unbelievable as it all sounds- is nothing short of the truth.” Forcing the point of his tongue into the corner of his mouth, Beau asks Avon the obvious question left to raise. “Why did you lie?” the man asks, tapping the tip of his pen against the top of his notepad. “Because then I’d have know-it-all’s like you breathing down my neck” Avon responds, his face inching closer to Beau’s with each syllable until Jake places his arm between the two. “That’s enough” Jake replies, taking a less-provocative route toward the questioning, keeping his hand suspended between the men until Avon returns his back to the side of his vehicle. “We can’t arrest you for any of this unless we have probable cause, and that’s at the very least” Jake explains, “I don’t have a problem not trying to trick you into believing otherwise because I think you’re an intelligent man.” Clearing his throat, Jake- two decades-or-so older than Beau- lifts his arms into his pockets and faces Avon fully, leaning in and whispering a follow-up question. “Tell me what you saw when you got to the bottom” Jake asks, Beau standing back with a snarky grin on his face. Looking into the corner of his eyes at Jake’s face, Avon gives into the man’s persuasion, leaving his answer simple, brief and vague. “I saw a long trail of blood leading somewhere I didn’t want to look” Avon responds, his stance on the matter convincing Jake enough to take it easy on him, “and since I didn’t want to look… I didn’t go look.” With a nod, Jake backs off of the man as Penny walks out to the front step once more and calls out her husband’s name. “Are you almost finished?” Penny inquires, Avon looking toward the detectives, who nod to themselves as Beau flips his notepad shut. “We’ve got all we need for now” Jake calls back out, giving the nod to Avon, allowing him to return to his unpacking. “Thank you for your cooperation” Beau calls back out toward Avon as the man returns to his home, earning a side-eye from the citizen as he returns to the newly-purchased sanctum. Ascending the steps, Avon directs his wife back inside, telling her not to pay an eye to the officers now returning to their vehicles. Stepping through the door, Avon places his hand against the doorknob and keeps it there, staring through the entrance of his home without the intention of closing it. The engine in the cruiser outside roaring up, Avon stares at the younger man with the cocky smile on his face, Beau looking back at the new homeowner with a wink and nod. The vehicle disappearing behind a mirage of shrubbery and other lawn-related flora, Avon shuts the door, locking the knob immediately thereafter before moving on with his day. | “Beth Ovorre?” a male voice calls out, his inquiry toward the name of the woman stationed behind a desk at the back of her store following the chimes of the old-fashioned doorbell. “Whom may it conc-” the woman replies, looking up mid-sentence before stopping herself, head tilted to the side in confusion. “Avon King?” the woman responds, the man ahead of her losing his lost expression in favor of an enthused one, his arm extended in a greeting. “It’s nice to meet you!” Beth replies, “I heard you were moving to Remedy Hills, but I didn’t expect to see much of you.” Amused, the man expresses his liking for how small the town is, considering himself lucky to have found a home nearby. “Not a whole lot to do around here, so you see the same faces fairly regularly” the woman explains, hands placed upon her hips, wondering what business the man has in her neck of the woods. “Yes! So sorry!” the man blurts out, explaining that the day had been longer than he’d like for it to have been, “I’m actually trying to get ahead of my stay a little bit… Trying to find out first-hand thoughts on everything out here.” Intrigued, the woman assures the man that she’ll be able to answer any question he has for her in short order. “Give me five minutes to insert some of these check-out dates and I’ll throw you on a pot of coffee” Beth assures, returning to her desk. “You’re the librarian?” Avon asks, watching an amused expression come over her, expecting such a response from most of those new to town. “Not typical for a college-grad to be working a job like this, huh?” the woman jokes, her light-hearted humor putting a smile on the man’s face. “I typically expect the young, pretty post-college women to be partying at bars when the evening comes to a close” Avon responds, “checking books back into their library pockets is a new one to see.” Gesturing a bow toward the man, the woman takes pride in being a rarity, thanking him for the compliment. “Feel free to look around, help yourself to a few pages of a book if you please” Beth offers, Avon returning her bow with one of his own. Looking throughout the building, Avon finds shelf upon shelf adorned with vintage, hard-cover books as far as his eye can see, not a single book out of place from the alphabetically-categorized order they should be in. Marveling at the proper order the pieces of literature have been placed into, Avon loses track of time, five minutes passing in what feels like a singular minute to him. Still at her desk, Beth watches the man roam through the building at every step, taking humor in how stolen by the collection he is. “Find a few thousand that you like?” Beth quips, ending the man’s introspective journey with a well-timed jest. Throwing her hair into a messy bun, Beth stereotypically throws a pencil in to hold the gathering together, standing from behind her desk and approaching Avon with two cups of coffee in her hands. “I’ve never seen such a collection of books so well-maintained before” Avon exclaims as he takes the first cup into his hands, the handle pressing between his fingers. “I’m glad you appreciate books as much as I do” Beth replies, the man turning to her with a smile. “I’m glad the people that come in here appreciate them as much as you seem to, too!” Avon remarks, the woman humored. “Yeah, this place is empty most days… Which I don’t mind by any means” the woman responds, “but it typically comes down to one of the elderly wanting to return a book in favor of a new one or school children coming in on an assignment.” “The elderly I’d expect to take books out with care, but the kids?” Avon replies, looking toward a still-amused Beth. “The girls will come here to see the woman that sneaks them candy through the fence when they’re at recess” Beth explains, “and I’ve been told that I’m reasonably pretty before, so the boys are even easier to get to cooperate.” With a smile, Beth looks toward Avon, who nods to himself. “If only I were a pretty girl in my mid-20’s” the man jokes, “I’d be on top of the world!” With laughter, Beth nods, pleading for Avon to keep dreaming of loftier aspirations. “You’re not too far off from the top of the world” Beth exclaims, walking back toward her desk as Avon follows her lead, “you’re one of the most-notable re-tellers in literature today.” Shrugging off the accomplishment listing, Avon admits to just re-telling the stories of others through his own narrative. “I’ll get creative when there are gaps in something I can plug well-enough to stop from water leaking through” Avon explains, “but the rest of everything is always about imaging.” Following along, Beth asks him to illustrate, challenging his ability to describe their conversation in different lights. Agreeing, Avon begins to unravel the descriptions he’d use for a horror-focus narrative, painting the importance of the way objects and scenery are described rather than the actions of those around them. “I’d mention the dim light radiating from your desk-lamp, how the bulb appears to be on its last legs- though has likely appeared in such a way for years by this point” Avon begins, watching the smile form on Beth’s face as the warm mug presses to her soft lips. “If it were a drama, I’d paint the picture of how they reacted” Avon exclaims, adjusting course as Beth listens in with a raised eyebrow and focused sight, delight coming across her expression as the narrative is pushed onwards. Chest lifting with each breath, the steam from the warm beverage rises from within the cup, curling over the brim and running across her face as Beth settles in with a smile. “I could take the story from the perspective of a narrator to my own” said confidently, “I’ve always liked switching courses when offered the opportunity, this would be no different… Just a change of pace from what people have come to expect from me.” Clearing his throat, Avon leaves behind the possibilities at his disposal to the past, knowing what he wishes to do going forward. “So that’s why you’re staying in Remedy Hills?” Beth asks, eyes narrowing as she tries to read the man’s change in expression, “because you want the telling of the story to be solely your own?” Looking away, Avon stares into the quiet, yet bright streets of the town’s main road with a smile. “Partially” Avon says with assurance, “I suppose you could say that’s a partial reason for it.” With an inspecting nod, Beth sets her drink back atop the table, feet lifting onto her desk as one leg crosses over the other, her next question already pre-selected. “What’s the other reason?” she asks, watching the smile come across the man’s face, Avon having waited for this question to be asked since before he loaded the first box out of his old home. Without needing to put his answer into words, Avon allows a short smile to break away from behind his lips, Beth’s head nodding, her assumptions having been proven correct. Leaning to the side, Beth opens a drawer and removes a book entitled ‘Remedy’ from within her desk, the book one of many removed from the almost missable space in the wooden contraption she refers to as a desk. “You knew right away, didn’t you?” Avon asks, the woman extending her arm toward Avon with the book still in her hands. “It’s not every day your whispered-about little town welcomes a big-time author” Beth responds, “but when it is… It’s always for a reason other than the clear lakes in the summer.” “I should have come around before autumn got underway” Avon says, graciously accepting the book, Beth having been pleased at her correct assessment. “Have people come to expect this kind of thing? Avon asks, standing from his chair with the book under his arm, “someone coming in to write about the story that never was?” Her eyes bouncing from one side of her head to the other, Beth replies with a contradicting ‘yes and no”, standing from her seat alongside the man. “We’ve come to expect people coming for the story, but not exactly staying for it” Beth responds, following the man to the front door, “you’re not gonna be welcomed in with open arms for at least a little while.” “And why aren’t you welcoming me with a cold shoulder and day old coffee?” Avon asks, a charming smile adorned on his face, his feet stepping onto the sidewalk just beyond the doorframe. “Because I’m used to people coming here looking to write the same story time after time…” Beth replies, beginning to close the door in between her response, “...But I’m not used to people coming here looking to write a new one.” With a smile, Avon’s head hangs low, Beth telling him to check back soon if he needs to just as the door shuts. “Welcome to Remedy” Beth concludes before shutting the entrance and locking the latch below, her dainty fingertips flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ before her legs carry her back to the front desk. | Head sunken into his pillow, Avon’s eyelids part suddenly in the middle of the night, the urge to use the bathroom coming over him. With a groan, Avon lifts himself out of bed, telling his wife to go back to sleep through whispers as her body turns, sensing his departure from bed. “I’m just using the bathroom,” Avon says, pecking his wife on the head before descending into his dark, spacious home. Hallway entrenched in the pitch black at every spot left untouched by the light in the woods every other few feet, Avon continues to stammer further into the home with his sights on the end of the hallway. Groggy, the man wipes away the crumbs from his eyes and turns to face the bathroom, hand held out toward the dark interior before his attention is stolen, eyes darting to his front door, where he overhears a loud thud resonating from his patio. His need to use the bathroom disappearing, Avon’s actions become motivated by curiosity, his eyes falling onto the paths through his hallways that lead to the front door. Every other few steps pulling him into the darkness of the hallway, the steps that are not taken plunge him into harsh moonlight, every shadow on the way being that of his own until he reaches the main foyer. Stepping into his sandals, Avon peers through the peephole before jolting back in surprise, fear taking over automatically the moment he finds something other than a vacant front porch. Careful not to make a noise, Avon lets his hand fall from over his mouth, a deep breath leaving his lungs before he prepares himself to lean forward once more. Pressing his eye to the hole, Avon’s mouth falls when he acknowledges what he discovers staring back at him. A sigh of relief coming over, Avon smiles at the sticky note with a smiley face drawn in pen staring back at him, taking the gesture as a joke by his wife. With a subtle nod, Avon begins to back away from the viewfinder, feeling a sense of overwhelming dread looming over him, his heart telling him to give the slot another look. Doing as instructed, Avon leans in yet again, staring at the sticky note for an additional few seconds. Carried by the wind, the sticky note loses its grip on the front door and flies off, revealing the sights hidden behind it the entire time. Parked on the sidewalk directly outside his front door, a van awaits the man’s attention, its sliding doors left open to provide the man a look at a figure sat nonchalantly in the cabin. Feet pressed against the asphalt, a figure draped in all black remains before Avon’s eyes, the only noticeable feature to his appearance being an animated smiley face mask. As Avon pushes the door open, the man having awaited his appearance pulls his legs into the cabin, closing the door behind him as the van speeds off into the night, leaving nothing but dust in its wake. Prepared to run after the van screaming for attention, Avon’s attempts are thwarted the moment he looks down at what remains left for him on his porch, a sick gift given to him by those responsible. From the end of his driveway to the top of his patio stairs, a trail of fresh blood and gore leads to Avon’s feet, the sights capped off with a severed index finger wrapped in a sticky note. Without rational thought, Avon’s mind tells him to discard the scene in an effort to clear his name, already believing the detectives from earlier to find him guilty. Putting the severed finger atop his mailbox, Avon hurries to the foot of his patio, turning for the flower bed and powering on the hose. In a lapse of judgment, Avon sprays down the trail of blood, allowing the red, runny liquid to be carried off with the water down the street for a few feet until reaching the gutter. Patio, driveway and lawn soaked, but clean, Avon turns the handle on the hose and watches the water dribble out of the end, dripping onto the dirt beneath his feet. Shaking his head, Avon places his hand atop his banister and pulls himself up the stairs, unwrapping the sticky note around the finger and reading it beneath the moonlight. “Don’t ask, don’t tell… Happy writing!” the note reads, another smiley face drawn at the very bottom. Staring back toward the end of the street, Avon shakes his head in disbelief, tossing the finger in the trash and the sticky note into the flower bed. Rubbing his eyes, Avon walks back inside his home and turns toward the street, giving the view outside another glance before his door shuts. In the quiet night, a few seconds of silence ensue, crickets chirping around the neighborhood until the deadbolt locks, calling it an end to the night. == Remedy Hills == |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
December 2023
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