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45 + 10 points
The Mysterious Collaboration by Darkaardvark
March 9th, 2007 9:44 PM
About two weeks ago, I received a message... I've been pondering what to do since then.
So I thought it over.
Our town had been quiet. It still is, I suppose. But for a little while, there was quite the stir. Well, actually, let me backtrack. I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself there. You see, it all started about two years, in the burning heat of a July sun. Maybe it was the heat that made everyone so stir-crazy.
Anyhow, I was 13. We were out playing baseball over in the fields, just like every year. Sam Jenkins, a kid from down the street, came running up, breathless. "She's dead!" he shouted, and then stopped, panting. "Who?" we asked- but he just stood there panting. After a minute, he finally managed to get his composure back. "Old Lady Stein. They found her this morning. I think it's murder." He had dropped to a whisper, using that conspiratorial tone that kids do. I spoke. "How do you know it was murder? What'd they find on the body?" Sam shrugged. "How'm I supposed to know? All I heard is that Mrs. Stein is dead and that they found her body."
Mrs. Stein wasn't exactly what you'd call eccentric. She never chased kids off of her lawn or nothing. We'd see her around, but she didn't talk too much. But she was never mean so we didn't give her a hard time. Still, as kids have a way of doing, rumors abounded about her. She was a government spy, they said, in hiding after being exposed. She had killed a man and was on the run, under a secret identity. One kid even had the audacity to say that she was the niece of Kaiser Wilhelm. When I pointed out to him that he had stolen the idea from The Great Gatsby, he didn't talk about it much more.
The baseball field by that point had erupted into chaos. Various shouts and suggestions were bandied about until someone finally yelled, "Quiet!" The field fell silent. "The way I see it," continued Mark, another neighborhood boy, "Is that now's our chance to see just what was going on with Mrs. Stein. Before our parents tell us not to do anything." There was a general chorus of agreement among us, with a few voices urging prudence. Prudence was drowned out and action won the day.
Mrs. Stein's place wasn't large, or anything. Nor was it up on a hill, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, or perpetually under a thunderstorm. But having never been in it, we were all a bit curious as to what was inside. By the time we got their, the sun had set, and for some of us, curiosity started to be replaced by caution. I'm still not entirely sure how it all happened, but by the time the discussion was over, somehow I was the one nominated to sneak in. What luck, huh? I wasn't even given much of a choice.
The house wasn't too much of a mystery after all, I guess. Typical old lady kinds of things. A kettle of tea in the kitchen. I wondered if it was boiling with Mrs. Stein died, and how long it must've whistled for. Stacks of old newspaper, fading away. Like I said, nothing spectacular. I wandered up decrepit stairs. In the bathroom, a toothpaste and toothbrush were laid out neatly. Boring. I moved on, and found the master bedroom.
There wasn't too much blood, but it still surprised me. I guess they moved the body. All that was left was a big patch of blood on the carpet and a few splatters around it. I wasn't too sure what to make of it. At this point, I begin to think that maybe I shouldn't be in the house, that I was disturbing what might be a crime scene, and wasn't that someone coming in I heard downstairs, and shouldn't I maybe just start to head-- but I steeled myself and kept going.
I looked through the room for a while, but didn't see much. Just old ratty clothes and stuff. I decided I'd seen just about all there was to see and started to leave the room to go back and report to the other kids. No doubt they'd lost hope in me by this point, at least some of them, and had probably gone their separate ways. Oh well. But as I was stepping out of the room, I noticed a small wooden box laying beside the door, on the inside of the room. Next to it lay a little knife. My first thought was to look at the knife- it was clean- no blood or anything like that. But then I glanced at the box. Carved onto the top, in shaky, crude lettering, was the word "HELP." Shaking, I opened the box…
I assume someone else will receive instructions after I've posted this up? Or maybe we're just expected to do it ourselves.
It begins.
Your task: Write. Mysteriously.
Keep in mind that this is a collaboration
The next collaborator must contribute through a different medium
So I thought it over.
Our town had been quiet. It still is, I suppose. But for a little while, there was quite the stir. Well, actually, let me backtrack. I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself there. You see, it all started about two years, in the burning heat of a July sun. Maybe it was the heat that made everyone so stir-crazy.
Anyhow, I was 13. We were out playing baseball over in the fields, just like every year. Sam Jenkins, a kid from down the street, came running up, breathless. "She's dead!" he shouted, and then stopped, panting. "Who?" we asked- but he just stood there panting. After a minute, he finally managed to get his composure back. "Old Lady Stein. They found her this morning. I think it's murder." He had dropped to a whisper, using that conspiratorial tone that kids do. I spoke. "How do you know it was murder? What'd they find on the body?" Sam shrugged. "How'm I supposed to know? All I heard is that Mrs. Stein is dead and that they found her body."
Mrs. Stein wasn't exactly what you'd call eccentric. She never chased kids off of her lawn or nothing. We'd see her around, but she didn't talk too much. But she was never mean so we didn't give her a hard time. Still, as kids have a way of doing, rumors abounded about her. She was a government spy, they said, in hiding after being exposed. She had killed a man and was on the run, under a secret identity. One kid even had the audacity to say that she was the niece of Kaiser Wilhelm. When I pointed out to him that he had stolen the idea from The Great Gatsby, he didn't talk about it much more.
The baseball field by that point had erupted into chaos. Various shouts and suggestions were bandied about until someone finally yelled, "Quiet!" The field fell silent. "The way I see it," continued Mark, another neighborhood boy, "Is that now's our chance to see just what was going on with Mrs. Stein. Before our parents tell us not to do anything." There was a general chorus of agreement among us, with a few voices urging prudence. Prudence was drowned out and action won the day.
Mrs. Stein's place wasn't large, or anything. Nor was it up on a hill, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, or perpetually under a thunderstorm. But having never been in it, we were all a bit curious as to what was inside. By the time we got their, the sun had set, and for some of us, curiosity started to be replaced by caution. I'm still not entirely sure how it all happened, but by the time the discussion was over, somehow I was the one nominated to sneak in. What luck, huh? I wasn't even given much of a choice.
The house wasn't too much of a mystery after all, I guess. Typical old lady kinds of things. A kettle of tea in the kitchen. I wondered if it was boiling with Mrs. Stein died, and how long it must've whistled for. Stacks of old newspaper, fading away. Like I said, nothing spectacular. I wandered up decrepit stairs. In the bathroom, a toothpaste and toothbrush were laid out neatly. Boring. I moved on, and found the master bedroom.
There wasn't too much blood, but it still surprised me. I guess they moved the body. All that was left was a big patch of blood on the carpet and a few splatters around it. I wasn't too sure what to make of it. At this point, I begin to think that maybe I shouldn't be in the house, that I was disturbing what might be a crime scene, and wasn't that someone coming in I heard downstairs, and shouldn't I maybe just start to head-- but I steeled myself and kept going.
I looked through the room for a while, but didn't see much. Just old ratty clothes and stuff. I decided I'd seen just about all there was to see and started to leave the room to go back and report to the other kids. No doubt they'd lost hope in me by this point, at least some of them, and had probably gone their separate ways. Oh well. But as I was stepping out of the room, I noticed a small wooden box laying beside the door, on the inside of the room. Next to it lay a little knife. My first thought was to look at the knife- it was clean- no blood or anything like that. But then I glanced at the box. Carved onto the top, in shaky, crude lettering, was the word "HELP." Shaking, I opened the box…
I assume someone else will receive instructions after I've posted this up? Or maybe we're just expected to do it ourselves.
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posted by star5 on March 16th, 2007 9:29 AM
ooh exciting! i've been wondering about this for a long long time.
posted by Rao on March 19th, 2007 1:49 PM
FYI
I for one think this was a brilliant idea, no one actually knows what The Mysterious Collaboration was supposed to be, but now it is certainly something pretty cool. Therefore, I think Darkaardvark should get to keep the points and that this should become the true task.
Ooo..creepy. I want to know what happens next...