Shawn lugged the suitcase into the guest room. Or his room. Or just the room on the right. When he opened the door he was greeted by large, spacious room. It was clean and smelled of freshly washed bed linens, not unlike the kind that he may have found in a new hotel room when on the road auditioning, although admittedly that seemed like a long time ago. Many things had happened since Shawn had last gone out on auditions on the road.

Next to the bed their was a small night stand next to a dresser with a Micky Mouse clock on top of it. In the corner of the room there as a closed armoire and next to that a desk and chair with what looked like picture frame. Chris and what looked like his parents were in the frame. Shawn could tell that the picture was taken a few years ago in what looked like Disney land.

Shawn let Mr. Clayton's suitcase rest on the floor next to the desk. It had been quite a long day.

Shawn passed through the threshold, and after taking a few moments to look around the room and get his bearings, he sagged a little as he stopped performing, even just for a little. The day had gone on forever, and he still had so much to think about, so much to worry about...

He sat down on the bed, and spent five minutes just staring off into space, not letting himself think about anything, not worrying about what his expression was doing or what he needed to appear to be doing. The moment couldn't last forever, though. He needed to make plans, and prepare for whatever came next. The neighborhood was in danger, and he was one of the few people who knew why. He glanced at the clock, and then at the suitcase. He sighed. He'd had his break, but he had to keep going.

The absence of any noise in the room made it easier to feel all of the nuances of Shawn's own body. Sitting on the bed, he could hear his own inhalation and exhalation, his own breath coming out in a sigh.

The bed had a soft but springy feel to it, the blankets neatly folded and inviting. Looking down, Shawn's eyes were drawn Mr. Clayton's suitcase. There was a jittery, metallic sound. Then another. The suitcase hopped once. Then twice. Then it fell over, one latch undoing itself as if Mr. Clayton wanted out.

Shawn stood up and made sure the door was closed before returning to the suitcase. He was still in his Halloween costume, so it didn't take much for him to get back into the ventriloquism 'zone' as he opened up the suitcase.

One puppet hand, grasped the outside of the suitcase as Mr. Clayton pulled himself up, his body flopping onto the floor in a mangle of limp arms and legs.

"I'm....so...tired." Mr. Clayton said to Shawn.

Shawn gently scooped up Mr. Clayton and settled him into the crook of his arm as always. He yawned as he walked over to the bed and set himself down on the edge. "Me too...but we can both sleep once we figure out this stuff Edith told us."

Mr. Clayton's head nodded forward, the Puppet catching it before it fell limp. He raised his head to look at Shawn, his plastic eyes catching the glimmer of the bedroom lights.

"I'm....going to fall asleep....a long sleep...I won't be around for a while...you...have to do it yourself...yuc....yucka.....yucka...." Mr. Clayton said to Shawn, though the 'yuckas' came out without the Puppet's characteristic joy.

"C'mon Mr. Clayton, I can't do this by myself. I don't know how to stop evil dreams..." Shawn had been warned about Mr. Clayton going away repeatedly, but there was a big difference between that being a future possibility and it happening right now. He found himself immediately switching to bargaining. "You've gotta give me something to help. Some, I dunno, some power or secret or something. I did everything you asked, that's gotta be worth something."

"I'll give you a secret...a secret...that...you never...expected...about...about...your father...and your family. " Mr. Clayton said weakly, head nodding forward.

Shawn wasn’t sure what sort of secret it could possibly be, but Mr. Clayton seemed to think it was important. He leaned in closely to hear. “What is it?”

"He knows about....me." Mr. Clayton said, voice frail and dropping to a whisper.


"Because....."Mr. Clayton said.

"...of when he was a kid...like you." Then Mr. Clayton slumped over, tottering to one side and fell.

Shawn tried to catch Mr. Clayton, and sit him back up so he could keep talking. "How? What did he do with you as a kid?" His mind was racing, trying to figure out what this meant!

One of the slatted lids on Mr. Clayton's eye shut itself, leaving only one eye open.

"He knows about....me." Mr. Clayton said, voice frail and dropping to a whisper.


"Because....."Mr. Clayton said, repeating the words that he had just said, even weaker this time.

"Wait. I already said that." Then Mr. Clayton's puppet head shook, trembling. "Put me in the case, would you?" Mr. Clayton said. "I'm so tired. We won't be seeing each other for a while." Mr. Clayton advised.

"You need to burn down that house." Mr. Clayton said. "Burn down Ralph's house." His other eye closed, and now the Puppet was speaking to Shawn, with eyes closed like he was talking in his sleep.

"Burning down the house is the only way that Mr. Cherrywinks will go away."

"It's the only way to seal up the place. To stop what the Proprietor is doing in the basement."

"It's kind of like what I told your Grandfather to do when he was a kid. It's not his fault."

Shawn was already reeling at the revelation about his father; his grandfather being involved and being urged to burn down the house just made him more conflicted. “I, but, we…we’ve gotta get Ralph out first. You’ll help me with that, right? Then we can stop him…” He was desperately searching for a way out, one that let him keep the people he cared about safe.

Now Mr. Clayton's mouth stopped moving, his head slumped forward. He gestured with one floppy arm towards the suit case, as if he wanted Shawn to put him in.

A stillness had come over the room. As if Mr. Clayton was some kind of electronic device, a source of static, white noise that had turned off. The Puppet's dead expression, vacant stare and more than anything, total silence allowed for other sounds to be heard.

A rustling of leaves outside. The passing of a car and the sound of the tires fading into the distance. Shawn even thought he heard the distant sound of 'trick or treat' from outside, kids that were clearly out too late.

Shawn stared at the immobile puppet for a long time, hanging on every errant twitch or shift of his own body as a sign that Mr. Clayton was coming back to life. When it didn't happen, he visibly deflated, and then slowly trudged back over to the case and gently set him down.

Shawn set Mr. Clayton down in the case. The Puppet looked like any other ventriloquist dummy but older. The stillness in the room seemed to encompass him. He was no longer an animate, jovial or mischievous puppet. Folded up in the old case, it was a wonder that Mr. Clayton had ever appeared that way to anyone.

Shawn stared at the dummy for a moment or two, and then slowly closed the suitcase. He felt more alone than he had in a long time. Mr. Clayton had been mean and crude and downright cruel most of the time, but he'd been the only being in the world that Shawn had actually been totally honest with.

He returned to the bed and sat down heavily. He'd need to figure out what to do, figure out something by himself.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure with the following results

0 Successes - Shawn sits on the bed, reflecting and then...

1+ Successes - Shawn sits on the bed, thinking about what happens next, when all of the sudden he realizes...

OOC: 07:53, Today: Shawn rolled 2 successes using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 4,9,9,2.  Wits + Composure.

Shawn sat on the bed, thinking about what might happen next. He was staring at Mr. Clayton, folded up lifeless in the suitcase. All of the sudden. he noticed the old flap on the interior portion of the suitcase was partially open. It's old leather straps were rusted at the buckle and the folds of the fabric were weighed down by something inside. A single, yellow piece of aged paper was sticking out a few inches above Mr. Clayton's lifeless head.