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<blockquote data-quote="Taladas" data-source="post: 1637912" data-attributes="member: 448"><p>Round 1</p><p></p><p> Taladas vs. Greywolf-ELM</p><p></p><p></p><p>The sun is shining and the birds are singing and here I am in a dreary dank trailer reading the police report on Jared Mills. Shot six times with a shotgun. Medical Examiner’s cause of death: Suicide. </p><p></p><p>I guess he really wanted to die. </p><p></p><p>Perhaps it was the deaths of his three friends. They died in an accident involving diving equipment. The report doesn’t explain very well what happened just that the three were in a shack by the lake that they frequently dived in. One of the air tanks was dropped and ruptured and causes several other tanks to rupture. The chain reaction of exploding air tanks causes the shack and its occupants to be torn apart and thrown about the immediate landscape. Funnily enough their deaths were barely an hour before his. </p><p></p><p>It’s not even a very good cover-up. But this is not why I am in this dank little records trailer examining moldy old reports. No, I’m here for her, Becky Mellor. I’m here to find out what happened to her.</p><p></p><p>Her brother recently came in to some money and wanted to find out what really happened to his sister. He said that the authorities stonewalled any investigation and told his family to “drop it”. And now years later after he won the lotto he came to me.</p><p></p><p>“I just have to know, Mr. Bader, all these years.” He looked right at me. “Please, just find out.” </p><p></p><p>What I knew wasn’t much. She disappeared in the summer of ’66. The same day that Mills and his friends died. Jared was a family friend, who took Becky out to swim and dive at the lake. I decided to check out the records of the time. I found out from the county clerk that most of the older records were stored in “temporary” buildings. The county was having hard times and was taking all sorts of cost cutting measures, including emptying storehouses of all “unnecessary” items. Fortunately the records were still considered necessary. </p><p></p><p>Normally now would be the time I would be getting nervous. Cover-ups and murders are never good things for private eyes to stumble in on. However, everyone that worked on this case is long retired, dead or in prison. The mayor had a big embezzlement scandal that involved hookers and drugs. The sheriff was cleared of charged but voted out in the following election. I didn’t have anything to worry about. Besides I wasn’t getting any bad vibes, except a general dread about Becky Mellor. I expected that she died that same day in the summer of ’66. Her ghost probably floating around or something.</p><p></p><p>Most people would have little hope of finding a woman who disappeared 38 years ago but I have a little edge. You see I’m psychic. Yeah, I know Derrick Bader, the Psychic Detective. Totally cornball but also totally true. My particular specialty is psychometry. Reading the psychic residue left on objects by people and events. And sometimes that residue can leave a trail for me to follow. It’s very useful in the missing person’s biz but all to often all I find is a dead body and a jangle of images that make it almost impossible to identify who did it. But sometimes I find the person and/or catch the kidnapper. And those times it makes it worthwhile. </p><p></p><p>Anyway I’m in this trailer looking through these records hoping to find something with a psychic charge. And finding really bizarre stuff like this. (hatsoff picture) Apparently Jered Mills collected hats, a lot of hats, over 200 according to the report. Freaky, like he was the Imelda Marcos of Hats. </p><p></p><p>As I put down that creepy picture, I found one of Becky Mellor, Jared Mills, and two of the three of Jared’s deceased friends. The third was probably taking the picture. (dunked picture) And when I pull the picture up for a closer look my world fell apart. Everything was black or white, not black and white like an Andy Griffith Show rerun but black or white. Then the fear hits and to my surprise defiance. She resisted her attacker and fought back. Woah, color is back and I see a shack blowing up. Then Jared Mills dying as shotgun blast after blast hits him. A quick look at the lake and then running. </p><p>I start to relax. I can follow the trail now. She traveled very far. She traveled across the ocean to a foreign land, someplace with a crush of people, someplace with a name. A place with a name that is a mouthful of syllables, she’s in India. </p><p></p><p>She’s alive and me I go outside to throw-up. I get the shakes and dry heave for awhile but she’s alive. Still that black or white thing was just creepy. </p><p></p><p>Three days later I’m in India. I am walking around the streets, alternately enjoying the sights and smells and not enjoying the sights and smells. The crowd is working to give me a monster headache. The hustle and bustle of a busy city and crowded street are not conducive to the comfort of a psychic sensitive. But I still am able to follow her trail. And under a little tent, I find her. I think. (Hairextra Picture) She was green, skin and hair. But it was she, I could tell. She looks up at me and smiles. The teeth have seen better days. </p><p></p><p>“Come sit down Mr. Bader. May I call you Derrick?”</p><p></p><p>“Please do Ms. Mellor. May I call you Becky?” I didn’t bother to ask her how she knew my name. I‘ve been in this business long enough to know they never give you a useful answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you can call me Becky. Are you centered and ready to face the darkness and the light?”</p><p></p><p>“Uh, maybe in a minute. Becky, your brother sent me to find you. And to find out what happened to you since you disappeared. Could you tell me? Or perhaps you would rather talk to your brother directly?”</p><p></p><p>“I can show you but you must be centered and ready to face the darkness and the light.”</p><p></p><p>Crap</p><p></p><p>“Well I guess I am ready as I can be.”</p><p></p><p>She stares at me with piercing eyes. </p><p></p><p>“You must be sure.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, Yeah I’m sure. Let’s do this.”</p><p></p><p>She grabs the cup from the ground and hands it to me. </p><p></p><p>“Drink this. It will help protect you.” </p><p></p><p>It looks like a spit cup for dip. I force myself to drink it. I almost don’t make it, nearly vomiting right there. I don’t even know what this is supposed to protect me from. I put the cup down. </p><p></p><p>“Remember that you must be centered and strong. The potion will help some but you must be ready. I ask again are you ready?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, I am ready.”</p><p></p><p>She then tosses a handful of powder into my face. It goes into my mouth and nose starting a dry retching cough. I struggle to get up, about ready to strangle Becky when I am hit with euphoria. I feel like I am floating. I see Becky and she is smiling. She looks so serene but I see a faint trace of fear in her eyes. </p><p></p><p>Then boom a splash of cold water and we’re in the lake, at least I believe it’s the lake. Becky points down and ahead and we go forward. Not really swimming but just forward motion. We go deeper and deeper and the light from the surface gets dimmer and dimmer. After several more minutes it becomes completely dark. </p><p></p><p>Fear and panic began to ebb up from the back of my mind. I want to surface really badly, in fact it seems insane not to. I start to turn around and I see Becky. It’s pitch black and I see Becky. She motions me to go back, to keep going. I really want to tell her to do something rude but resist. First because of my Grandmother, who always taught me to be polite in even extreme situations and secondly I knew there was something down here and she wasn’t going to let me go until I saw it. </p><p></p><p>I breathed deeply (even though I was under a lake and over 10,000 miles away from here) and relaxed. I gathered my courage (It didn’t take long, there wasn’t that much to begin with) and went deeper. </p><p></p><p>And there it was, nice to look at but totally wrong. (abirdinthehand picture) She (more probably it) was draped against a much larger detached hand. </p><p></p><p>“We can only see her in symbols.” Becky speaks in to my head. “Its true form is incomprehensible to people. Our minds create the images from what our true sense detects.”</p><p></p><p>I was drawn to the figure in front of me. She/it was moving in a strange alluring way. It was moving in a fascinating dance. She/it almost moved like a puppet on strings, then I saw the strings. The detached hand had little nigh-invisible strings that moved the figure. It was moving the figure, controlling the figure.</p><p> </p><p>Snap. Suddenly I am in the little tent in India. And I am very glad I am 10,000 miles from that thing. Then Becky starts talking. </p><p></p><p>“It wants to control us, to control everyone. But it is limited, it can only control what it has a connection to. Derrick, you must stop it.”</p><p></p><p>“Stop it, She, It, whatever it is is at the bottom of the lake. It’s not going anywhere.”</p><p></p><p>“Derrick the signs do not lie, it will rise soon if you do not stop it. The seeds that were sown long ago are about to sprout.”</p><p></p><p>“What seeds? You just said it needed a connection. What is it going to conquer the world with a crop of rutabagas?”</p><p></p><p>“It only needs simple talisman, Derrick. Really anything will do.”</p><p></p><p>“And what does it have access to down at the bottom of a lake, catfish? I mean … the hats. (hatsoff picture) All those hats that Mills had those are the talismans. I bet the county is going release them from storage, probably even sell them.” </p><p></p><p>“Soon.” Something in Becky’s voice tells me that I don’t have time for a fast plane. </p><p></p><p>Twenty minutes later I find a working phone. I will never say anything bad about telecommunication companies ever again. </p><p></p><p>“Yes, I said that I will buy those hats for $10,000. But my conditions are that they are to be left in storage until I get there and they are under no circumstances to be touched. I don’t care if it’s fire or flood you are not to disturb those hats. Are we clear?”</p><p></p><p>She verifies my credit card account number and the world is saved. </p><p></p><p>Man, I really hope Becky’s brother covers my expense bill. No, I really hope nobody takes a hat.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Taladas, post: 1637912, member: 448"] Round 1 Taladas vs. Greywolf-ELM The sun is shining and the birds are singing and here I am in a dreary dank trailer reading the police report on Jared Mills. Shot six times with a shotgun. Medical Examiner’s cause of death: Suicide. I guess he really wanted to die. Perhaps it was the deaths of his three friends. They died in an accident involving diving equipment. The report doesn’t explain very well what happened just that the three were in a shack by the lake that they frequently dived in. One of the air tanks was dropped and ruptured and causes several other tanks to rupture. The chain reaction of exploding air tanks causes the shack and its occupants to be torn apart and thrown about the immediate landscape. Funnily enough their deaths were barely an hour before his. It’s not even a very good cover-up. But this is not why I am in this dank little records trailer examining moldy old reports. No, I’m here for her, Becky Mellor. I’m here to find out what happened to her. Her brother recently came in to some money and wanted to find out what really happened to his sister. He said that the authorities stonewalled any investigation and told his family to “drop it”. And now years later after he won the lotto he came to me. “I just have to know, Mr. Bader, all these years.” He looked right at me. “Please, just find out.” What I knew wasn’t much. She disappeared in the summer of ’66. The same day that Mills and his friends died. Jared was a family friend, who took Becky out to swim and dive at the lake. I decided to check out the records of the time. I found out from the county clerk that most of the older records were stored in “temporary” buildings. The county was having hard times and was taking all sorts of cost cutting measures, including emptying storehouses of all “unnecessary” items. Fortunately the records were still considered necessary. Normally now would be the time I would be getting nervous. Cover-ups and murders are never good things for private eyes to stumble in on. However, everyone that worked on this case is long retired, dead or in prison. The mayor had a big embezzlement scandal that involved hookers and drugs. The sheriff was cleared of charged but voted out in the following election. I didn’t have anything to worry about. Besides I wasn’t getting any bad vibes, except a general dread about Becky Mellor. I expected that she died that same day in the summer of ’66. Her ghost probably floating around or something. Most people would have little hope of finding a woman who disappeared 38 years ago but I have a little edge. You see I’m psychic. Yeah, I know Derrick Bader, the Psychic Detective. Totally cornball but also totally true. My particular specialty is psychometry. Reading the psychic residue left on objects by people and events. And sometimes that residue can leave a trail for me to follow. It’s very useful in the missing person’s biz but all to often all I find is a dead body and a jangle of images that make it almost impossible to identify who did it. But sometimes I find the person and/or catch the kidnapper. And those times it makes it worthwhile. Anyway I’m in this trailer looking through these records hoping to find something with a psychic charge. And finding really bizarre stuff like this. (hatsoff picture) Apparently Jered Mills collected hats, a lot of hats, over 200 according to the report. Freaky, like he was the Imelda Marcos of Hats. As I put down that creepy picture, I found one of Becky Mellor, Jared Mills, and two of the three of Jared’s deceased friends. The third was probably taking the picture. (dunked picture) And when I pull the picture up for a closer look my world fell apart. Everything was black or white, not black and white like an Andy Griffith Show rerun but black or white. Then the fear hits and to my surprise defiance. She resisted her attacker and fought back. Woah, color is back and I see a shack blowing up. Then Jared Mills dying as shotgun blast after blast hits him. A quick look at the lake and then running. I start to relax. I can follow the trail now. She traveled very far. She traveled across the ocean to a foreign land, someplace with a crush of people, someplace with a name. A place with a name that is a mouthful of syllables, she’s in India. She’s alive and me I go outside to throw-up. I get the shakes and dry heave for awhile but she’s alive. Still that black or white thing was just creepy. Three days later I’m in India. I am walking around the streets, alternately enjoying the sights and smells and not enjoying the sights and smells. The crowd is working to give me a monster headache. The hustle and bustle of a busy city and crowded street are not conducive to the comfort of a psychic sensitive. But I still am able to follow her trail. And under a little tent, I find her. I think. (Hairextra Picture) She was green, skin and hair. But it was she, I could tell. She looks up at me and smiles. The teeth have seen better days. “Come sit down Mr. Bader. May I call you Derrick?” “Please do Ms. Mellor. May I call you Becky?” I didn’t bother to ask her how she knew my name. I‘ve been in this business long enough to know they never give you a useful answer. “Yes, you can call me Becky. Are you centered and ready to face the darkness and the light?” “Uh, maybe in a minute. Becky, your brother sent me to find you. And to find out what happened to you since you disappeared. Could you tell me? Or perhaps you would rather talk to your brother directly?” “I can show you but you must be centered and ready to face the darkness and the light.” Crap “Well I guess I am ready as I can be.” She stares at me with piercing eyes. “You must be sure.” “Yeah, Yeah I’m sure. Let’s do this.” She grabs the cup from the ground and hands it to me. “Drink this. It will help protect you.” It looks like a spit cup for dip. I force myself to drink it. I almost don’t make it, nearly vomiting right there. I don’t even know what this is supposed to protect me from. I put the cup down. “Remember that you must be centered and strong. The potion will help some but you must be ready. I ask again are you ready?” “Yes, I am ready.” She then tosses a handful of powder into my face. It goes into my mouth and nose starting a dry retching cough. I struggle to get up, about ready to strangle Becky when I am hit with euphoria. I feel like I am floating. I see Becky and she is smiling. She looks so serene but I see a faint trace of fear in her eyes. Then boom a splash of cold water and we’re in the lake, at least I believe it’s the lake. Becky points down and ahead and we go forward. Not really swimming but just forward motion. We go deeper and deeper and the light from the surface gets dimmer and dimmer. After several more minutes it becomes completely dark. Fear and panic began to ebb up from the back of my mind. I want to surface really badly, in fact it seems insane not to. I start to turn around and I see Becky. It’s pitch black and I see Becky. She motions me to go back, to keep going. I really want to tell her to do something rude but resist. First because of my Grandmother, who always taught me to be polite in even extreme situations and secondly I knew there was something down here and she wasn’t going to let me go until I saw it. I breathed deeply (even though I was under a lake and over 10,000 miles away from here) and relaxed. I gathered my courage (It didn’t take long, there wasn’t that much to begin with) and went deeper. And there it was, nice to look at but totally wrong. (abirdinthehand picture) She (more probably it) was draped against a much larger detached hand. “We can only see her in symbols.” Becky speaks in to my head. “Its true form is incomprehensible to people. Our minds create the images from what our true sense detects.” I was drawn to the figure in front of me. She/it was moving in a strange alluring way. It was moving in a fascinating dance. She/it almost moved like a puppet on strings, then I saw the strings. The detached hand had little nigh-invisible strings that moved the figure. It was moving the figure, controlling the figure. Snap. Suddenly I am in the little tent in India. And I am very glad I am 10,000 miles from that thing. Then Becky starts talking. “It wants to control us, to control everyone. But it is limited, it can only control what it has a connection to. Derrick, you must stop it.” “Stop it, She, It, whatever it is is at the bottom of the lake. It’s not going anywhere.” “Derrick the signs do not lie, it will rise soon if you do not stop it. The seeds that were sown long ago are about to sprout.” “What seeds? You just said it needed a connection. What is it going to conquer the world with a crop of rutabagas?” “It only needs simple talisman, Derrick. Really anything will do.” “And what does it have access to down at the bottom of a lake, catfish? I mean … the hats. (hatsoff picture) All those hats that Mills had those are the talismans. I bet the county is going release them from storage, probably even sell them.” “Soon.” Something in Becky’s voice tells me that I don’t have time for a fast plane. Twenty minutes later I find a working phone. I will never say anything bad about telecommunication companies ever again. “Yes, I said that I will buy those hats for $10,000. But my conditions are that they are to be left in storage until I get there and they are under no circumstances to be touched. I don’t care if it’s fire or flood you are not to disturb those hats. Are we clear?” She verifies my credit card account number and the world is saved. Man, I really hope Becky’s brother covers my expense bill. No, I really hope nobody takes a hat. [/QUOTE]
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