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Thread: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

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    Halfling in the Playground
    mebecronck's Avatar

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    Mar 2012
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    The watched pot never boils.
    The watched clock never ticks.
    The watched forum never updates.

    @Lord Gareth
    I started reading your most recent work. I haven't finished it, but I like what I read so far. Lately it has been, "Too much to do, too little time to do it."

    Also, I have been trying to write a little something whenever I can. I wanted to try my hand at horror. Something simple at first.

    So, without further adieu:




    "I'm not going in! No way!" Bobby is hesitant, but his new friends are not going to let him out of the dare so easily. Being the new kid in town is never easy. Bobby had to deal with this before. Being a "military brat" means moving frequently, and making new friends is always a battle for him. A battle hard fought at the age of seven.

    "What's the matter? Afraid Suzie Sydell is going to get you!" The tallest one stands on his toes over Bobby and holds his arms over his head. The rest of the kids laugh at Bobby as he backs away.

    "Look if you want to be in the club, then you got to stay an hour in The Spook House." The shortest one in the jacket and backwards hat is the leader of this club. He creatively named the old building The Spook House. Appropriate for the imagination of someone almost eight. Being oldest makes him feel like he is in charge, despite being the shortest.

    "I can't stay in there for an hour, my curfew is in thirty minutes," Bobby tries to escape, "Guess I will have to do it some other time."

    The tallest kid blocks his path, "If you don't do it, then you'll be called a chicken for the rest of your life."

    Well, Bobby doesn't want that. He musters all his courage and marches towards The Spook House. He makes it about half way to the front door. The overgrown lawn with bushes and vines block any clear view of the windows. The paint flaking off the walls and the door, and rotted wood that remotely resembles a front porch gives the building the perfect atmosphere to call it The Spook House. It also has the same effect as two magnets with the same poles pointing at each other. The closer Bobby gets to the front door, the slower he moves.

    "Come on! CHIKEN!" All the kids start clucking and flapping their arms. One kicks at the ground with his leg, like a chicken digging for food. Bobby swallows and turns the doorknob on the front door.


    The inside of the house is pitch dark. Bobby feels around the wall near the door and finds a set of switches. He flips each one over and over again, but no lights turn on. He feels around in his pocket and pulls out a small flashlight. It is also a key chain, but no keys are on it. He will have a key to his home on it, once dad gets some copies made.

    He turns on the light and starts shining it around. Various insects scurry away when the light strikes them. He can see the only thing in the house is a TV set and a phone attached to the wall. He can see doors leading out of the main room, all of them are open.

    "Just one hour. I can do this," Bobby tries to calm himself, unsuccessfully, "It's just me, alone, in a dark old house. Nothing to be scared of."

    With just his thoughts to keep him company he starts to think about the legend of Suzie Sydell. A young girl, about Bobby's age, who was constantly bullied by the rest of the school. Every day they would find new ways to torment the girl. One day she had enough, and tried to stand up to the bullies. She gave them a piece of her mind and they gave her a beating. All the bullies ganged up on her, kicking and punching. All they meant to do was remind her of her place, but they ended up killing her.

    The bullies were never punished for the murder. Supposedly because one kid was the son of a judge and another was the daughter of a lawyer. Collectively they made an argument that they were too young to understand properly what they were doing. They said it was ridiculous to charge seven year olds with first degree murder. The kids didn't even get detention.

    A month after Suzie's death, the kids were found dead in their rooms. They were hung from the ceiling. Their own intestines making the noose. The walls were painted in the kid's blood. Just three words repeating over and over again.

    "Suzie Sydell Homocidal"

    Bobby shudders and tries to silence his mind.


    Thirty minutes in and nothing has happened. Bobby wonders if the other kids are even still outside. He is starting to relax. It is nothing but an old house after all.

    "I wish I brought a game with me. At least then ..." A light suddenly illuminates the wall. It flutters from bright to dim. Each time the light dims he can hear a click. Bobby slowly turns his head to see the TV is turned on.

    Nothing but static is showing, but he can see the channels are changing. The screen shows three. Bobby starts to walk slowly towards the television. Two. He makes it half way into the living room. One. He stands in front of the screen, looking directly at it. Input one. The screen turns glows blue. The walls glow with the blue light, making everything seem blue.

    Bobby turns off his flashlight and puts it in his pocket. He is mesmerized by the television screen. He just stares into it blankly and breathes in deep through his wide open mouth. He quickly notices how cold it is in the room. HE can see his every breath.

    When he takes his eyes off the screen he notices the bugs are moving around in tight circles. They are not crawling. They are hovering. Their wings are not even flapping. Cockroaches, spiders, flies, and other insects he doesn't recognize are hovering inches off the ground and moving in tight circles.

    Bobby feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He feels as if someone is looking at him. Someone behind him. He slowly turns around, his eyes tightly shut. He bites his lower lip and when he is turned completely around, his back now to the TV, he opens his eyes.

    He sees a young girl, about his age, in a plain dress, and stringy hair. She is standing in his shadow, the blue light from the TV gives her a blue outline. Her features are obscured in the darkness of his shadow and the blue light reflecting off the wall behind her.

    She stands perfectly still. Bobby pulls out his flashlight. His hands shake as he tries to turn it on. In the panic he drops the flashlight. Out of instinct he drops to his hands and knees to pick it up. Realizing his position, he looks up to see the girl. The blue light from the TV reveals her face. All of her features are normal for a young girl, except her eyes. No iris, no pupils, just black. Ebony black eyes. She is looking right at him. Her whole head has turned to face his directly.

    Her mouth opens slowly and she sings.

    "Every night when I get home
    The monkey's on the table
    Take a stick and knock it off

    He hears a loud thud, like a door slamming shut, and the TV goes off at the same time. The whole room goes dark. Bobby brushes his hand across the ground and eventually finds the flashlight. His hands shake even more as he tries to find the button to turn it on. He can feel his heart beating in his chest. His breathing deep and rapid. He finds the button and turns on the flashlight. He points it all around the room.

    The light moves rapidly up and down with the shaking of his hands. The girl is gone and the bugs are moving away from the light like normal. At first everything seems back to normal, but then he realizes that all the doors are now closed.

    Bobby takes a deep breath and runs for the front door. He slams into it with force, dropping the flashlight with the impact. The flashlight lands pointing away from the door. He starts feeling around the door until he finds the handle. He twists and turns, but the door won't open. He slams his fists on the door and screams for help.

    A sudden feeling of hopelessness strikes him as he looks at his feet and backs away from the door. Tears well in his eyes and strike the ground. The silence in the room is broken by his tears hitting the ground. He looks at his flashlight and sees the bugs standing near it start to rise off the ground. They start to move in a circular pattern.

    Bobby wants to scream but the sound won't come out. His legs feel like they are weighed down with bricks. He has to force himself to turn around. The light of his flashlight illuminates the far wall. The head of a young girl is resting on the ground in front of it. Slowly the head rises as the rest of the girl emerges from the floor.

    Bobby opens his mouth trying to scream for help, but the word won't come out. He backs away from the girl until his body is pressed firmly against the door.

    The girl moves slowly and silently towards him. Her head hanging low, with her stringy hair covering her face. As she gets closer, Bobby can see her body is transparent, as he can see the TV through her dress. Soon the girl is standing directly in front of him. Her head inches away from his.

    She lifts her head slowly. Her stringy hair parting to reveal her face. Bobby looks directly into her ebony eyes. Nothing reflects from them. Just pure black. She moves her head so her lips are right next to his ear. She whispers one word.


    The door opens behind him, and he falls backwards out of the house. He runs as fast as his feet can carry him. He pushes through the kids trying to stop him in front of the house. He doesn't stop at crosswalks. He only hesitates for a moment to open the front door of his house. He runs upstairs and hides under his sheets. He doesn't even take off his shoes.


    Bobby barely sleeps through the night. He keeps his whole body under the covers.

    "Bobby, breakfast is ready," his mom calls from downstairs, "Hurry up. You don't want to be late for school."

    Bobby feels like he has no choice. He has to get out from under the sheets. He wonders if he can fake being sick so he can stay under his covers forever. He takes a deep breath. He moves his hands to grab the top of the sheets and grips firmly. His hands are still shaky. He pulls the sheets down enough so he can peek out into his room. The morning light shines through his window and illuminates the room well.

    He slowly sits up in his bed. He stretches his arms and then looks down. His eyes open wide in terror. His flashlight is at the end of his bed. He didn't pick it up before he left The Spook House. How did it get here? Did his mom or one of his friends return it?

    He picks it up to see a note attached to key chain part of it. Only two words are on it.

    Forget something?

    Here is a new one. The inspiration of the story just hit me today.

    Minor spoiler alert for later in the Jessica story. Nothing big. You are probably expecting it anyway.


    Teacher Parent Conference

    A Jessica/Jack Short

    "What's that you got there?" Isabelle, as nosy as ever, sneaks up behind Jessica between classes. She notices the envelope that Jessica won't stop staring at with an expression like the envelope holds her execution orders.

    "It's a letter from Mr. Pierson," Jessica says softly, "It is for a parent teacher conference, to discuss my grades in Algebra."

    "You're kidding? A studyholic like you is failing!? Stop kiddin' me and tell me what it really is?"

    "I'm not kiddin'. It's not my fault. I get confused by the equations and when I raise my hand to ask a question, Mr. Pierson just ignores me."

    "This is pretty serious," Isabelle says while placing a both hands on Jessica's shoulders, "Look, if you need help with the work, then I'll get a study group going. We'll help you understand whatever is confusing you."

    "I don't want to be a burden," Jessica backs away holds the envelope close to her chest, "I don't want to take time away from your band. I know it is important to you."

    "Hey, I'll still have plenty of time for my hobbies, but you need help and I'm not letting you do it alone," Isabelle grabs Jessica and pulls her in for a big hug, "like you always try to do. You don't have to do everything alone just to prove you are independent. Sometimes people need help."

    "Thank you," Jessica tries to hold back tears, "Do you think Janet will be mad? I still have to give her the letter."

    "She will take it well, and if not, I'll be there to help defend you."


    "Who's that guy staring at you?" Isabelle points at the tall man in the suit standing between them and the school bus. School just let out and Jessica was looking forward to the calm ride home that would lead to handing over the letter to Janet. She was looking forward to it, until she saw her dad.

    "That's my dad." Jessica says with an even tone.

    "YOUR DAD!" Isabelle's voice breaks an octave in terror, "As in, rain death upon the legions of Hell, feel my wrath, stand before me and suffer damnation, DAD!"

    "One and the same," Jessica sighs and walks up to him. Isabelle takes several steps back away from him.

    Jack is in a human form. His wings are gone and his eyes look normal, except the iris is pure white. His hair is the same white, styled back and held in a ponytail. His beard is well trimmed and shaped to conform to his strong chin. His suit is black with a tie and his shoulders are blocked with his arms resting behind his back. His shoes well polished and toes pointing straight forward. Standing a little over six feet tall with a very muscular frame, he looks like a soldier standing at ease.

    He doesn't pay attention to the many kids walking around him, pointing and laughing. The scowl on his face is aimed with purpose. He stares directly at his daughter as she approaches.

    "What are you doing here father?" Jessica says softly while looking around. "We had a deal. This breaks it."

    "I also made a deal with Janet," Jack says in flat tones that doesn't match his angry expression. He speaks with clarity and enunciate each word perfectly. "When she became your legal guardian I made an arrangement. Whenever an event which requires the presence of a legal guardian or parent should arrive I may choose which of us should be present. Under my discretion."

    "Just like you to make loopholes." Jessica stomps her foot in protest. "I would have appreciated being told about that."

    "May I have my letter?" Jack sticks out his right hand.

    "Fine, but exercise more 'discretion' next time." Jessica digs through her binder and produces the letter. Jack pockets the letter without looking at it.

    "Your bus is waiting for you. I made sure it won't leave until you are on it." Jack starts to walk towards the school. After a couple of steps he stops. "You should hurry home. Janet plans to order a pizza."

    Isabelle walks around Jack as he passes by, keeping a wide gap around him. She runs up to Jessica and asks in a panicked voice, "Your dad isn't about to kill Mr. Pierson, is he?"

    "I sure hope not." Jessica says with a sigh as she walks towards the bus.


    Jack waits directly outside Mr. Pierson's classroom door. He stares unblinking through the glass divider at Mr. Pierson directly. His grimace unchanging. He can see that the teacher is in the middle of a lecture with another student and parent. A mother and son. The lecture is made up of shouts mostly. Coming from the teacher as well as the mother. Apparently, he was shooting spitballs in class.

    The short, slender woman is dressed in mostly purple and wears a loud hat with feathers sticking out of it. She wears far too much makeup and long false fingernails. Her son is a little taller than her and wears blue jean pants hanging too low on his legs. He wears a white tank top and a red, white, and blue bandana.

    After the conference is over, the mother grabs her son by the arm and starts walking him out of the class. She continues to scold and wave her free finger at her son as she moves. She doesn't even look as she runs directly into Jack. She feels like she ran into a brick wall.

    "OH!" She backs away without letting go of her son, "I'm sorry. Didn't see you there." She looks Jack up and down and lets her son go. The kid runs off as his mother eyes Jack. "I'm Miss Dunn," she puts extra emphasis on the miss, "and you are?"

    "Jack," he answers without breaking his concentration on Mr. Pierson, "Excuse me." He walks around Miss Dunn and enters the room.

    "Oh, well if you are interested in joining the PTA ..." Jack closes the door. "Ah ... heh."


    "Who might you be?" Mr. Pierson says to the point, sitting in his chair. He takes his eyes off his papers for just a moment to assess the man who just entered the classroom.

    "You summoned me." Jack pulls out the envelope and places it on the desk with force.

    "Jessica's father I presume?" Mr. Pierson stands up from his desk and eyes Jack, "We have much to discuss."

    "I have much to tell you." Jack stares back.

    "Why don't you take a seat." Mr. Pierson waves his hand at student chairs and desks.

    "I will stand."

    "Fine," Mr. Pierson sits down and rests his elbows on his desk. He gestures with his hands as says, "Let me begin by saying that Jessica is a very well behaved student. A little timid, maybe even shy, but well behaved. The problem is her grades are slipping. Lately everything she turns in is D's and F's. Now, I believe ..."

    "As Jessica's only teacher for her first sixteen years," Jack interrupts; he stands on the other side of the desk looking down on Mr. Pierson, "I know well my daughters learning capabilities. I find her to be eager to learn and very studious. From my observations of your teaching techniques I find the failings here do not belong to the student. They belong to the teacher."

    "Now, wait a second here. We are here to discuss ..." Mr Pierson stands up from his desk and waves his finger at Jack.

    "You will be silent, or I will silence you." Jack lowers his disguise and reveals his glowing eyes. His holy aura starts to reveal itself and the energy shakens Mr. Pierson. He loses the energy to stand and collapses in his chair. He leans back in the chair and stares at Jack. His mouth clenched shut and eyes wide open.

    "I observed my daughter in this classroom," Jack continues, his voice flat, "I watched as my daughter struggled to understand your lessons. She sought your guidance and you failed to show any concern. I witnessed her study in her room. Her lack of comprehension impedes her progress. This could have been easily rectified should you have properly educated her."

    "Now, I can't stop the class every time she has a question." Mr. Pierson's voice shakes with his body.

    Jack reveals more of his divine aura. Holy energy releases like smoke from his eyes. His aura glows brilliantly. His wings become visible. The classroom itself starts to reflect his holy presence. The painted cinderblocks that make the walls slowly transform into polished marble. The carpeted floor becomes solid, smooth stone.

    Jack speaks with a voice that holds more authority than before, "You may have dealt with a discontent protective parent before," Jack waves his hand and teacher's desk moves away, "but know this; the deepest darkest imaginings you may conjure cannot fathom my wrath."

    Jack leans in and looks Mr. Pierson in the eye, and says with utmost clarity, "I will be watching. I will judge your methods. Should I find you wanting as the teacher of my daughter, then I will rectify this problem."

    Mr. Pierson bites his lip and closes his eyes tight.

    "LOOK AT ME!" Jack's voice seems to shake the very foundation of the building. Mr. Pierson opens his eyes to see he is staring at a man even taller than before in ornate medieval armor. Holy energy pours from the eye slit.

    "Do we have an understanding?" The voice echoes from all directions. The whole room starts to resemble the Parthenon.

    "Yes, sir." Mr. Pierson says meekly.

    "Then we have an arrangement." Jack stands upright and backs away from Mr. Pierson. "I'm glad we had this discussion. Should you fail as my daughter's educator again, then we will have this conversation again. Except, it will be under more uncomfortable terms."

    With that Jack vanishes. The whole room returns to normal, except Mr. Pierson's desk is on the other side of the room, with several student's desks fallen over in between. Without bothering to straighten anything up, Mr. Pierson grabs his bag and runs from the room.


    Jessica sits at her desk. First period is about to begin, and no matter how many times she reads through Pythagorean Theorem she just can't understand it. All the letters and symbols just give her a headache.

    "Still having a hard time?" Isabelle interrupts her thoughts. This is her free period, so she decided to surprise Jessica with some good news, "I got a couple of friends to join us for tonight's study group. They need help in history and, get this, their strongest subject is Algebra."

    "That's great," Jessica beams a smile, "Now all I have to do is survive through class today." Her smile slowly turns into a frown.

    "Stop looking at the downside. That's not like you." Isabelle playfully pushes Jessica's shoulder.

    "I'm sorry. I just can't help but worry about what my dad talked about with Mr. Pierson yesterday."

    The bell rings as Mr. Pierson walks into the class.

    "Got to run, Jessica. Tell me how it goes after class, okay." Isabelle speaks while heading out the door. The school has a rule about interrupting other classes while on free period, so she can't stay while class is in session.

    "Bye." Jessica waves weakly. At least Mr. Pierson is still alive.

    "Alright class, we last left off on the Pythagorean Theorem." Mr. Pierson's hand is a bit shaky as he writes the equation on the board. "Did anyone have trouble understanding what we covered so far?"

    Jessica raises her hand, expecting Mr. Pierson to ignore her again.

    "Jessica, what did you have trouble with?"

    Jessica smiles from ear to ear as she stands up to cover what confuses her about the equation. It must have been a good conversation.
    Last edited by mebecronck; 2013-09-01 at 06:14 PM. Reason: Grammar and editing

    Some of Murphy's other laws.
    "Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs."
    "No plan survives the first contact intact."
    "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid."
    -Capt. Edward A. Murphy-
    Newton's Law of the Road
    "The object with more mass has the right-of-way."