Setting Post:

The thunder rolled across the sky and a flash came soon after. The rain pelted down on heads, umbrellas, and the streets all the same not caring where it splattered. Most of the people in downtown Seattle had already made their way safely into little domiciles. The news of the recent murders had almost everyone in an odd silent panic. The count was up to seven as of last night. The latest victims a family of three, a single mother and twin six year olds. There was no connection between the murders other than the violence of the crimes themselves. The killer already being bestowed a horrifying nickname of ‘The Ravager’.

You could not turn on the radio, tv, or browse the net without hearing abhorrent news about the recent prey that had been torn into the tragedy of death. Rumors flew everywhere about who this beast was, because no one wanted to admit that a man was capable of such atrocities. There was a single place that seemed to be buzzing with this and that of the current conundrum of who done it. Set off in a back alley of downtown sat a small coffee shop. As if straight out of a horror novel, a squeaky sign swayed protruding from above the black wooden door , the paint faded by the constant exposure to the elements. A small raven wearing a top hat sat upon a bushel of roses and thorns. Outcasts, rebels, bookworms, and goth kids were commonplace within this little business that was hidden from society's eyes.

The sound of a bell would ring out into the night in a break through the thunder as the door opened. A heavy scent of coffee, sage, cloves, and leather escaped into the night air for just a moment before the door would swing shut once more. The deep sound of bass thumped under the sounds of soft whispers, clicking of keyboards and the hissing sounds of the espresso machine. The lighting was dim though enough that it was not hard to see enough to sink down into one of the many chairs or couches that were scattered around the shop with a good book. Candlelight flickered each time the door would open or close as a random patron would come or go. Whispers would be heard in the dark corners of mystical, unnatural things, could it really be true? The stories told to you as a child that made you fear the darkness? Only the whispers in the shadows would help unravel this mystery. And this my wonderful watchers is where the main stage where the actors of this play would find themselves upon.

Chapter 1: -Locked-
Chapter 2: -Locked-
Chapter 3: -Locked-
Chapter 4: -Locked-
Chapter 5: -Locked-
















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