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GRAVEYARD
THE GRAVEYARD
No two deaths are ever quite the same. Some might remember the exact moment their lives were cut short; others might only see a blinding flash of light; the particularly unlucky ones might not recall any details whatsoever.
No matter how it ended up happening, though, all of you here will always have one thing in common: one second you're dead; the next, you wake up to find yourself in a dark room. Before you can even start to try and get your bearings, a shadowy figure appears in the doorway of your room, face lit from the bottom up by a faint, almost ethereal glow. It stands still for a few seconds before murmuring,
"Oooooh... I see dead people."
... The voice is followed by a snicker as a gloved hand flicks the light switch on, revealing the mysterious entity to be Pumpkin, the fox-eared groundskeeper. Lowering the game console that had illuminated her face, she continues, "That one never gets old. Anyway, hey, sup, you're dead, that sucks, the house is probably gonna eat you as soon as this round is over. Wanna see what everyone else is up to on the other side?"
As you take in everything the gardener has told you, you suddenly realize as you look around... though you don't see anything, why does it feel like this place is already crowded?
locations 🐾 ic profiles 🐾 murder proposals 🐾 audience requests 🐾 statuses 🐾 private conversations
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heh, maturity!!!!!!]
Mine is unsigned.
Since they were sent at the same time, I wanted to know if they were the same person.
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[A shrug.]
I wonder why they were sent later than the rest, though...
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Who.
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Give me somethin' good, and I'll tell ya.
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what the FUCK
he stares at Mammon, truly flummoxed for a minute
oh wait]
I'll give you a fork.
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[And yet he'll still hoard them.]
Give me a better offer.
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A big spoon.
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[He stares at him for a moment, before he, uh. Blushes.]
Well, its not as if I don't mind being the little spoon...
[STOP]
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wh
what the fuck is happening]
Idiot, I'll give you a spoon!
You're not anything!
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[he's disappointed.]
Nah. Not that, either.
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What do you want, then?
[the cutlery's been exhausted because mammon already sleeps with a knife]
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Be creative, man! I don't want just any lame thing.
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And what are ya goin' to cook for me?
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...
A pie.
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I like pie! What kind of pie?
[GIVE HIM THE DEETS]
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Apple.
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