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Frederick Wood

What the hell am I supposed to tell his mother?

0 · 337 views · located in Newport

a character in “What Lies Beneath the Water”, originally authored by Crichton, as played by RolePlayGateway

So begins...

Frederick Wood's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Frederick Wood
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It took him five minutes after he came home again to realise he bought William's favourite brand of cereal. He realised when he opened the cupboard and found three identical boxes in there: He buys them on Thursdays like clockwork, because William used to shove breakfast down his throat like his life depended on it, and Frederick could only watch in awe. He had been so glad the boy was turning out to be a morning person. It would have served him well later in life. Two of the boxes were still full, because Frederick couldn't stand the stuff. He didn't know how this habit has persisted when the rest of his groceries were so dominated by what his life had become. He put the cereal away and grabbed a six-pack by the cardboard packaging, sliding the garden doors open to let the fresh air in. He put the beer down by the empty cans from yesterday and sat down in his lawn chair, pointed towards the sea even though the view was obstructed by the trees. 

He would get a phone call soon, or maybe several. Office hours were drawing to an end, and there would be questions. A part of him was grateful that his friends seemed to have latched on to this idea that Frederick could be brought back up from this. They stopped by the house, speaking to him in a low monotone about the weather. They were all reading the same manual, in which the most important thing was to Not Upset Him, and apparently to treat him as similarly to a troubled child as possible. He'd like to get his hands on the writer and wring his neck, but then there was probably a chapter on that too.

"The anger issues of the bereaved: understanding why your close friend or family member wants to murder you after you utilise the advice written in this book."

He chuckled, wincing at the small pssht his beer made as he opened it. He had an underlying fear that the beer would explode in his face– a fear that came very recently, as he began to see death everywhere. Though he doubted anyone had ever been killed by a shaken beer can. Frederick sipped his drink, and leaned back in the lawn chair. By the time his phone began to buzz, his eyes were closed– his chest moving slowly up and down as the can slipped from his fingers and fell on the ground.

When he woke up it was dark. He squinted in the low light, forgetting for a moment where he was and getting out of the chair. Feeling the soft grass beneath his feet he remembered, and then felt very small in the complete blackness as he stumbled over the lawn chair with his hands out, trying to find his house with his fingers. With some trial and error he found the door, pushing it the wrong way at first but then taking hold of the handle, managing to push it open. When the light came on in the kitchen it flooded out on the lawn, his little sleeping spot illuminated. He trotted back out to pick up the surviving cans, and paused by the chair.

A woman was walking through the woods, wearing little else but a t-shirt (that he could see– or at least pick up on). It was as though she had stepped right out of bed and into the night, and she didn't react to the light of his house, or indeed his presence as she continued on, deeper into the woods– towards the sea.


There was no response, even when he tried again, a little louder. Feeling the cold crawl up his shins, Frederick retreated into his kitchen. His hand rested on his cellphone for a moment, uncertain who to call. After all, who was to say she was there for any sinister purpose? He thought about that. But then, he also thought, with all the disappearances...

He unlocked the phone.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Laurel Pierce Character Portrait: Frederick Wood
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He was wearing little else than flip-flops, a pair of well-worn shorts and a shirt– not made for the grass and ground of the woods, much less so in the middle of the night as he tried to hurry after the ghostly woman who was no well ahead of him. She seemed to walk without much regard for the branches on the ground, despite being barefoot. Frederick had to find a balance between walking hurriedly, but carefully– he was losing precious time, and his phone refused to make the call he tried so desperately to make.

"Excuse me?" he shouted again, but she was on her way down the hill now, and he lost sight of her for a while. Panic growing in his chest, he broke into an awkward run after her. His speed wasn't greatly increased by this feat, especially as the plastic strap of his flip-flops was pulled tight into the sensitive skin between his toes, forcing him to break as he went down, finally standing behind the small businesses on the dock of Newport.

There was no sign of the girl. He was breathing heavily now– sobered up, but still dulled by the alcohol, from his recent nap, and from the general state of his health. Hands on his hips, he took a deep breath, looking for signs of where she might have walked. Eventually he decided to run out into the street from between two buildings. There was no way she wasn't headed to the docks– though how he knew that, he wasn't sure. Instinct, perhaps– a gnawing premonition starting at the edges of his panic, creating red-hot flashes across his face.

Before he knew it he was standing on the precipice of the asphalt and the wooden docks. He couldn't see a soul– scantily clad young women or otherwise, except a boat pulling up towards the harbour. He didn't recognise the boat, but he soon recognised the face behind the staring wheel as he waved her down.

"Miss Pierce!" he shouted, hoping she could hear him. "Did you see a girl walking by here?"

He was standing on the docks, catching his breath while he looked feverishly around, his eyes eventually drifting to the waterfront. It was impossible, however, as the Exodus came in, creating small waves that would have erased any signs of a jumper. He wiped at his mouth, drawing his hair away from his face as he looked up to Laurel, waiting for her reply.