OOC: In this thread, Shawn is experiencing a dream. He may think and control the speech of his character but not control any of Shawn's actions. Independently, the ST will control actions, thoughts and speech during the dream.

Shawn looked around. He could hear his breathing. Soft, slow, warm breathing. Shawn licked his lips. His nerves were rising. He could feel and see the box.

The Numbers Game.

The box sat in the middle of the room. His room. Bobby and Ralph were gone. No where to be seen. Mom and Dad were gone. These things were things that Shawn knew to be true.

"It wants to be opened." Shawn said. Almost as if he was saying it to himself. Saying it to Shawn. Not the Shawn that was speaking, but the Shawn that would be speaking. A convincing tone. The tone of someone who wants to win an argument.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:35, Fri 17 Mar 2017.

Shawn was alone, as far as he knew. He didn't question why or how he knew that, it simply was. There was no one to perform for or impress here, just him. He found himself unsure of what to do, without someone else to please. "Should I open it? It was dangerous last time."

He was breathing fast, in ragged gasps, and couldn't make them slow, and every breath he took was full of the sting of smoke and the stink of the Numbers Game box. His eyes were bulging, his throat was burning, he could not swallow.

"The Clowns are downstairs." Shawn said. He stammered it. It was true. They weren't there a few seconds ago, but Shawn could sense that the Clowns were in fact, downstairs. Mr. Cherrywinks was down there.

"They're going to get Bobby." Shawn said, this time--to the other part of Shawn's mind. The part of Shawn that was Shawn.

He wasn't sure when he had grabbed the Numbers Game box, but now the orange light flashed and flickered on the bare, wooden box, his right hand bunched into a fist around the sides of it, grip, painful tight.

Shawn tried to breathe, tried to swallow, tried to run downstairs, tried to unclench his fist, anything. "I have to protect Bobby."

The Shawns moved in unison, united in their desire to save Bobby and know that he was in danger. With one hand outstretched, a single hand--their hand--grabbed the Numbers Game box and moved with quickness outside of the room.

Shawn could hear movement downstairs. It sounded like it was coming from the base of the stairs...

Shawn felt terrified and sick to his stomach, but he tried to walk towards the stairs.

Shawn looked down from the top of the stairs. At the bottom step, the ragged Clown's pants flapped in a hot breeze. He stood there, larger than life, shadow looming over the steps.

"You're too late." he said. He held out his arm, outstretched. His hand was bald into a fist, holding Bobby's severed head up with one arm.

"I found Bobby. And Ralph is next." He added.

"B-but we had a deal!" More than the horror at seeing Bobby's head, or fear for his own self, Shawn felt a pathetic sense of injustice. He'd done everything Mr. Cherrywinks wanted; this wasn't fair!

"We did." Cherrywinks explained, frowning all the while, shaking his head like the whole business could have been avoided.

"Bobby started remembering after a spell. He started poking around. And then he made his own deal..." Cherrywinks explained. He tossed the head towards Shawn and it landed on the floor in front of him, past the steps. It rolled over and over, bits of hair and matted blood sticking on the floor.

Shawn wanted to fall to his knees and vomit. Everything he'd tried, it hadn't been enough. "Why..."

OOC: Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: Wake Up!