The kids had gotten to the front of the driveway when they stopped. Bradford's lawn was all overgrown. Great, green weeds grew tall, overseeing long grass that was burned yellow and brown from the hot sun. The mailbox was bent to one side. It was stuffed with letters and newspapers that spilled out onto the road and driveway.

The house looked like no one had taken care of during the last month since Bradford moved in.

"ummm...you should go Bobby." Tiffany said, giving Bobby a little nudge to get him moving towards the driveway and ultimately towards Bradford's front door.

"But I don't even know Bartholomew." Bobby complained, taking a step back.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 23:17, Thu 29 Mar 2018.

"Buncha babies! It's just grass!"

Run down houses always looked lonely and creepy. If she didn't know Bradford lived her (and if there wasn't a gang of kids watching) she might not have been so bold.

She shoved by Bobby, giving him a glare over her shoulder before marching towards the driveway and door.

The lawn might have been overgrown, but the house looked normal enough as Delilah approached the front door. A gaggle of kids streamed in behind her like wayward fish that were trailing this way and that. Each kid seemed to walk down the driveway with caution.

Delilah stood there looking up at the door. The porch provided much needed shade from the blazing sun and heat.

There was a door bell. A white plastic button on a thing piece of gray plastic. Behind the screen door, there was also a door knocker. A round face of a what looked like a ventriloquist dummy, a looping ring jutting from its mouth waiting for a guest to use it to knock against the door.

Delilah would have to choose which to use.

The dummy's face on the door looked too familiar. She didn't want her hand anywhere near that mouth. Delilah's eyes turned to the doorbell. She pressed it with her left index finger.

Shawn had been close to the front of the gaggle of kids, but the moment he had seen the door knocker, he'd backed right off. It was...best that someone else knocked on the door, definitely. Bradford clearly had some complicated feelings for him, so why make a bad first impression, right?

There had been some sort of expectation on the part of the rest of the kids that the door bell would resonate with a classic 'Ding Dong!'

Instead, Delilah and Shawn could hear the cartoonish sound of Mr. Clayton's voice humming after Delilah pressed the doorbell. They could both feel the press of the kids behind them move back in surprise, the sound of sneakers scuffing the ground as all the kids took a few inadvertent steps backwards.

After a few moments, the door began to open slowly....
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:23, Fri 30 Mar 2018.

Delilah shuffled back a bit. She wiped her hands nervously on her sides and rocked back and forth on her toes. Remembering the other kids behind her, she lifted her chin and set her jaw.

She silently prayed it was just Bradford coming to the door.

Shawn’s step backwards was extra big, and he seriously considered making up some excuse as to why he was needed back home. It was only the knowledge that Mom and Dad were probably still arguing that kept him here.

Slowly, slowly the door opened. A shadow appeared from the inside of the door. Bradford's head slowly poked out. He looked pasty, face sweaty, skin slightly gray.

"hello." Bradford said in mouse voice. It was only his forehead and thick glasses peaking out from behind the door.

Beads of sweat dripped down from Bradford's forehead.

From behind the rest of the crowd, Shawn gave Bradford a quiet, awkward wave. They didn't get along, for obvious reasons, but he wasn't going to give someone with a ventriloquist dummy any excuse to use it.

Delilah had a small sigh of relief. She was glad to see the dork, but noticed something off about him.

"Hey, Bradford. We came over to talk to you. Are you sick or something?"

Bradford let out a sniff. "Ummm...no. It's just that its a little hot in here." Bradford replied. "I think the air conditioner is broken."

"Want to come in?"

He swung the door open and a gust of musty air greeted the kids outside. Past the door and into Bradford's house the hallway was littered with cardboard boxes. They were stacked three or four boxes high on each side of the hallway. In the distance, behind Bradford, loomed a large grandfather clock before the hallway turned out of sight.

Delilah blinked hard and reeled back half a step.

"Why does your house smell like a fart?"

Instead of graciously accepting the invitation, she stiff-armed the door to march inside.

Shawn tried to time his own entrance with the other kids, making sure that when he passed by the door, someone else was between him and the dummy door knocker. "Hi Bradford. How're you doing?"

Delilah pushed past the entrance while Shawn followed. Even though the summer sun was hot and bright, the hallway just past the door inside Bradford's house was dark.

Dust lay over every surface like dirty snow, not a foot print anywhere, free papers piled up to the letter box and cascading all the way to the foot of the rough wooden stairs. There were old tea cups that lay on a coffee table thickly encrusted with dried up mold. Sitting in the adjacent room was an old Victorian couch and an end table with dust covered mirrors. The smell of mildew seemed to permeate the front entrance. The stale air thick enough with dust was enough to make Ralph sneeze.

"AHH-CHOOO!"

The kids slowly made their way down the hallway, Bradford not quite in front of Delilah, more along to the side. They past an old black and white photograph on the wall of a ventriloquist dummy with an inscription on the golden frame that read "Mr. Clayton's 50th Show, 1923"

Light streamed through the heavy velvet curtains of the Living Room, absolute silence, not even the hum of a refrigerator, the houses only visible occupants besides Bradford seemed to be spiders. They had weaved their webs between the spindles of the stair banisters and from the ceiling to the wall, old cobwebs billowed in the draft.

"Umm..want to go into the basement?" Bradford asked with unfitting cheeriness, as if nothing was out of place.

Delilah pulled a face at the state of Bradford's home. Her lip curled and she seemed ready to fire off a smart remark. Then she caught sight of the spiders. Her breathing quickened and she grew visibly pale.

"Tiffany was gonna ask you stuff. So..." She didn't seem nearly as brave anymore.

Bradford had seem to ignore Shawn's original question of how he was doing when the door had first opened. Now he attended to it too late. So late in fact that it was sort of out of place, given that almost a minute had passed by.

"I'm doing great!" Bradford suddenly said.

"Right." Tiffany replied in a tone that suggested doubt. "Well, you said you knew something about this Monster. So...." she said, letting her voice fade away the same way Delilah did.

"Sure do!" Bradford said in a chipper voice. "And..."

"...I want to help out in any way I can." Bradford said after a moment.

"Let's go sit down." Bradford said heading towards the kitchen, seemingly expecting everyone to follow.

Shawn looked on at Bradford with friendly placidity, as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all. He followed him into the kitchen. "I already told them some stuff about a monster, but I don't know nearly as much as you do!" He sounded earnest, making it sound almost not like flattery.

Delilah clenched and unclenched her fist three times. On the third squeeze, she broke away from the group and followed Bradford into the kitchen.

Bradford sat down on a kitchen chair that looked like it was from the 1950s. A little plume of dust puffed out from all sides as his butt hit the seat.

Ralph and Tiffany also sat down. Unlike Bradford, they looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"It's OK." Bradford confirmed, recognizing the tension. "It's sort of a long story. In order to tell it right, everyone should really sit down. Then I'll start to talk about just how I can...I mean, how we should even get started."

"In order to know about the monster, We all have to be on the same page. It isn't something that really can be told the way a normal story can be told. At least not if you want to know how, or what we can do about it."

"In order to do it right, we all have to pretend and to play the game the right way. We all have to relax."

Delilah pinched a chairback between her thumb and forefinger. Dust rolled under her fingertips. She sat in a chair close to Bradford as she could get. She couldn't decide on how exactly to sit. Lean on the table and kick up more dust or lean back against the chair and get it in her hair? She settled on sitting up uncomfortably straight with her hair pulled over her shoulder. The bulk of it pooled in her lap. She stroked the length of it nervously.

"Hang on, is this a game or is it for real?"

Shawn pulled out a chair and sat himself down, looking largely at ease, as if he didn't notice the decrepitude of the surroundings or Bradford's odd behaviour. He gave Delilah an odd look, as if he didn't understand the distinction she was making, but didn't want to set off another argument like the previous one.

"It depends what you mean by real." Bradford responded cryptically.

"It's not real like math class. But math can't tell you everything. It can't tell you what you're dreams are gonna be like. Or what the potential of a kid like you or me is."

"But potential is real. I mean, we all have it."

"Are you ready?" Bradford didn't wait for an answer. "OK. When you're ready, close your eyes."

Delilah was hesitant. She licked her dry lips and flicked her gaze over each of the girls. She had a hard glare for Shawn, but turned her attention back to Bradford. She closed her eyes and frowned.

Ralph looked around and then closed his eyes. His pudgy body slumped into his seat. His hands rested on his lap, fingers opening so his palms were upward and limp.

"Ughh..fine." Tiffany agreed impatiently. She shut her eyes and then said. "But it better be something I don't already know."

Shawn noticed Delilah's gaze on him, but didn't react. He simply closed his eyes complacently.

Everyone could hear Bradford breathe in deeply and then exhale.

"OK. Today, I'm going to be leading everyone through the four stages of....The Mindfulness of Horror Practice." Bradford said, clearing his throat.

Although everyone's eyes were closed, they could hear Ralph shuffle in his seat at the word 'Horror.' Bradford continued in a soft, relaxing voice.

"...closing your eyes. Now become aware of your environment. The air on your skin....the temperature of the room...any itches or irritations you might feel. Any aches or pains, within or without."

"And acknowledge the sounds around you. Cars honking outside....the neighbor's music playing...the chirping of birds outside...Any smells. Perfumes. Or body odors."

"Just become open to these sensations and experiences. Accept them. Good or bad. And then, you can begin to take your attention, inwards..."

Delilah let out the breath she'd been holding. The muscles of her face relaxed and the scowl faded away. It felt like the moment before a routine. She was aware of the surrounding distractions, then pushed them away as she counted down to zero in her head.

Shawn played along - this was a lot like Mrs. Worthington's acting exercises, really. But while he acted like he was relaxing and opening himself up to sensations, he was just maybe a little too high strung to really concentrate on this right now. He had a lot to think about.

Bradford continued his voice becoming now more smooth and relaxed like someone well experienced in having an audience for this kind of relaxation technique.

"You can begin to take your attention inwards, into your body."

"...becoming aware of your feet. Feeling the skin, your veins, muscles and sinews. And finally, the skeletal structure of your feet. The dead bones of your future self. Feel them becoming more solid than the transitory flesh-core that covers them..."

"...and the more awareness you can take into your skeletal feet, the more you can let go..."

Delilah struggled to concentrate. She wondered why her future self would have dead foot bones. Maybe she was supposed to think life into the bones? She scrunched her brow and started the countdown over.

Shawn found himself being distracted by the skill Bradford was showing at this kind of thing. He knew from experience that monologues were a real pain to do in front of audiences, but Bradford sounded like he'd been practising a bunch.

Bradford's voice began to gradually move from the soft monologue of a child to the practiced technique of what sounded like a professional adult. The voice came out smooth and relaxing. Soothing, yet firm.

"...now, let that sensation spread from your skeletal feet up to your calf bones. Thigh bones. Pelvic bones. Straight up to your spine. Poised and balanced. Shoulder blades. Flexing ribs. And collar bones..."

"...the bones growing heavy...heavy down your arms...elbows...straight to the tiniest finger bones...letting the top of your spine grow long...long..."

"Noticing, that your skull is the only part of your skeleton that feels light. As if the rest of your head, hair, skin, eyes, brain --- has disintegrated. Filling only your dome with the gaseous remnants of your non-skeletal self."

"And then, begin to experience your skeleton as a whole....."

Shawn had started paying closer attention to the actual things Bradford was saying, and it all sounded super weird. He cracked his eyes open just a little bit, enough so he could see, but not enough that it was obvious, and looked around to see how the others were reacting to 'experiencing their skeleton'.

Delilah sat impatiently with her arms crossed. Her heel drummed softly against a chair leg.

"...scanning through it. Upright. And open..."

"And in the midst of these experiences. Notice a deep, aching. Within your skeleton self. A throbbing hurt. Concentrate on that skeleton ache. Let it expand within its marrow....Become absorbed. Become fascinated by the wellspring of discomfort, you have discovered within yourself."

"This...is the horror of being."

"And...in the midst of these experiences. Notice your breathing. The physical sensations of your breathing..."

"And you can let yourself become absorbed. Become fascinated by these sensations. Letting your consciousness fill your breathing. And letting your breathing fill your consciousness..."

Shawn looked around, eyelids heavy.

Delilah felt a fluttering sensation in her eyelids but was suddenly too overcome with a sense of relaxation and heaviness to be able to lift them. She found that she was too tired to speak or move.

Meanwhile, Bradford continued.

"...And now moving into the second stage of the practice, focus on your breathing..."

"Noticing your breathing. Counting one.... Breathing in... And out... One... In and out... Two... In... And Out... And so on...until you reach ten. And when you reach ten...then starting over."

"..and then suddenly noticing...your awareness...becoming aware...of itself"

"And with it, a growing panic. Traveling through your body and all the way up to your skull as you breath in..."

Delilah sank into herself. Her body was a heavy, iron cage and her mind was a little bird fluttering within. It was dark now. The little bird should perch for sleep.

"...so every time that you breath in, your mind is becoming more and more at one with panic.....until every count of number becomes a testament to self-suffocation..."

"this, is the Whole of the Mind."


"and onto the third stage of the practice...you can let go of your counting, and simply follow the flow of your panicked breathing..."

"*cough*...*glurghh*..." Delilah and Shawn could hear Ralph, his difficulty breathing, gurgling sounds and gasping.

Shawn tried to move himself experimentally, but mostly tried to remain calm.

"As you continue to breathe in and out...beginning to focus, on your panicked thoughts..."


"Notice, how they flail against the growing agony...of the becoming within you...Your panic, helping you to stay in awareness...becoming that awareness..."

"Now...imagine your every inhaled breath drawing black fog in...."



Delilah felt a wet, spongy substance drip out of the left side of her mouth and plop onto her bare wrist. As Bradford spoke, the image of a swirling well came into her mind. An old well, with something dark and evil inside. Something unknown that contained an unspeakable horror. The pace of Delilah's heart began to beat faster. Involuntarily fast as she felt herself being pulled towards that old, dark well.

Shawn sits there placidly, trying to look around.

Delilah's posture flagged and she sat listening, breathing and letting the words flow around her. Felt like floating.

"...black fog in, a killing toxin...that exterminates those stray redundant parts of you that writhe and jerk within the emptying hole of your mind..."

"This...is the Horror of Being."

"And now, moving into the last stage of the practice, you can finally stop breathing altogether....and began focusing more and more, on less and less...you may begin thinking that you hear something like static...or even the roar of an airliner...you may feel light-headed, like you are going to pass out..."


Delilah heard someone fall out of the chair next to her, crashing to the floor in a loud thud. Bradford paused before emphasizing the following words:



"..ignore these feelings, they are normal."

"They indicated that your are coming into perfect sync with your empty, skeleton body and your empty skeleton head..." Bradford said, his voice smooth and silky.

"Giving yourself a few moments to assimilate the effects of the practice, and you can begin to take your awareness again, to the outside world...becoming aware of the space around you, and your experiences, and of that space, as hideous and alien without as within..."

Shawn, not knowing what else he could do, tried to think of the opposite of whatever Bradford was saying, trying the visualisation exercises he'd thought were so silly back at acting class. Skipping merrily through flower-filled meadows. Eating an ice cream sandwich. Dancing to a song on the radio. He imagined as much detail as he could, trying to blot out Bradford's words.

Not floating. Falling.

The familiar sick feeling roiled in Delilah's stomach. The moment after her fingers slipped and clutched empty air. The millisecond where momentum fades and gravity remembers.

Nothing to do now but let it happen. Go limp. Take the fall and roll with it. And when it was over, stand up. That was the most important thing. To get back up and get right back into the fight. Just remember to stand up and walk it off like a champ.

Tears threatened to leak from her closed eyelids.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Sun 08 Apr 2018.

"...Accept, as the days and nights go by, that you are a waking skeleton...an ambulatory miracle of meat."

"New thoughts come...but they emerge from beyond the foam...beyond the foam...beyond the foaming, spongy parts of your brain..."

"NOW.....open your eyes." Bradford finished, cementing his control and ending the exercise.

OOC: Shawn and Delilah Join Thread

Shawn, Delilah: The End is the Beginning