"Say, Jed," Charlie begins, "We were just chit-chattin' with one Bert Sumpter in the cemetery, and he told us a funny story about some journalists who were out here not too long ago: makin' up ghost stories and publishing them in the paper. He mentioned that Joe might have a copy of the article somewhere we could look at. Mind if we check it out? Sounds like a good laugh, to me."
As you mention the article, Jed's face gets grave
The hills behin' Ol' Whateley's farm, huh...I be''er not say anthin' abou' that...
"Which...which paper was it published in, do... do you know?" Oscar stammers quietly, rubbing one hand with the other. The notebook has yet to leave his embrace. "I...I edited some ghost stories a week or two ago, for...for the Times. Might be the same ones..."
He trails after the others, otherwise staying quiet.
I think it was in the Ar'ham Investigator...its a rag and I told people no' to speak with the journalists...but as usual...no one lis'ened.
As you enter the general store again, the group of men from the village still sit together, while the newcomer, most probably the mentioned Mister Cummings, speaks to Osborne.
Osborne signals you to wait while he and Cummings seem to check some kind of list.
Cummings is barely thirty years old, wears a three-days-beard and a cheap suit.
Daniel looks longingly at the freezer for almost a minute, then puts some of his (little) money on the trey and graps another coke, hoping that the rooms won't be too expensive (if he overhears something while dropping the money, so be it, but he doesn't pay too much attention).
He then waits patiently, scanning the newspapers again, perhaps there still is the/a magazine with the mentioned article.
Now that you actively search for the newspaper article, ou suddenly spot a front page of the Arkham Investigator, titled with DUNWICH HORROR!!! pinned to the wall.
Meanwhile parts of Osborne's chat dripples in your mind
No....Cummings....not been there for....didn't pay?....road...two hourse...horseback....good luck.
As Osborne has finished his conversation with Cummings, he turns to you
Hey sir, back already?
Daniel turns to Mr Osborne before contiuing to read the article.
"Oh, yes, Mr Sumpter there," he points hit thumb in the general direction of the cemetary "Mr Sumpter mentioned a newspaper article by writers from Arkham. We were all curious to read this article. It is the one pinned here, isn't it?"
Yeah, you're right, that article will provide us with a host of tourists, I bet.
He takes the article off the wall and after exchanging a conspiratory gaze with the other villagers, he hands it over to you. The article reads:
It was a sunny day as our motor bounced over the two track "road" that wound along the edge of a dark forested vale called Cold Spring Glen that lies beyond Dunwich village. Once past the glen the road curved to the right and we suddenly were surrounded by strange domed hills that loomed on either side of us.
We then drove past the Whateley house, a huge and decaying edifice, over two centuries old and built into the very side of the hill. We drove on and then suddenly we heard the low moaning coming from the front!
No one was to be seen, just the hills and the strange farm behind us, yet we could clearly hear a low wailing sound all around us.
Our guide, Earl Sawyer, panicked and we drove back to Dunwich as soon as possible, sadly no one volunteered to accompany us again.
But dear readers, stay tuned, since we will retunr to Dunwich next week!
Looking over Daniel's shoulder James scans quickly through the article and cocks an eyebrow at the vagueness of it.
"So the basis for the Dunwich horror is an odd noise and a jumpy driver? Seems a bit of an over reaction, even from a rag like the Arkham Investigator. Was there more to the story in the next paper?"
Osborne grins and amits
Yeah, Earl is rather the superstititious type, ye know, but it's true, the hills bhind Whateley's farm are...strange, to say the least. Hey Mr. Cummings, didn't ye wanna drive there tomorrow?
Cummings looks up from eating his turkey sandwich and nods
Mhh sorry misters, but is it possible that you came here by taking the rat run south of the river? I drove past a bus, stopped, but didn't see anything besides a shoe and a cap?! Was going to call the bus company later, but since you are here I guess everything is okay, right?
Daniel blinks and turns to Mr Cummins.
"Sorry, what?, Do you mean there was no one there anymore? A shoe you say? At least Mr Patrick, our Driver should have been there...
Daniel tries to recall if there were nore passengers then the fellows that left the bus for dunwich with himm.
Cummings furrows his brows and stops chewing
No, there surely was no driver, but a bus driver's cap...umm...sheesh
You notice how Osborne exchanges a concerned glance with the villagers at the table.
Perception:
Daniel looks back and forth between Mr Cummins and the villagers. He sounds very concerned.
"What? What do you..., you don't think something happened, do you? Do you have wild animals in this area? Bears?"
He speaks faster now, but still perfectly accentuated.
That's odd. If there is one thing I know about the Irish it's that they wouldn't just up and vanish from property they owned...especially if there was alcohol on board. He says this last with a smile. I wonder what happened to the man?
"Perhaps they got tired of waiting out there and thought us boys were here in town living it up while they sweated it out on a backroad, wonder if they struck off looking for town or another passing bus"
"Say Mister, do you suppose that could have happened? Is there another town nearby that has another bus service or they could have walked to? I didn't get a good look at the map."
"Oh and it says in that article that the journalists were going to return a week later, did they?"
Murphy is no longer looking at his notepad, but instead staring directly at the townsman. In different clothes you'd see him very much as a Policeman interviewing a witness by his stance and posture.
No sir, the article is only four days old, we await their return every day.
An' no, there is no town nearby, just some farms sca''ered all over the valley, but its qui'e a number of miles to Innsmout or Ar'ham.
Cumings pipes in
Hey you, been a cop, eh? I was also one, Arkham Police Dept.
My name's Cummings, Bill Cummings. I'm here since I'm collecting bills for the Aylesbury Bell Company. I got a car and if I shall take you to the bus, just tell me.
Cumings pipes in
I got a car and if I shall take you to the bus, just tell me.
"Well you don't say eh? I'm Murphy, was a beat cop over in New York in some of the worst of it, did my time with the shield and now work freelance." He extends his hand in greeting to shake "and a quick ride out to the bus would be swell, real swell!"
Beat cop, eh? What neighbourhood? I still have some buddies at the N.Y.P.D., tough ciddy, man. Yeah surely, I can take you to the bus tomorrow, have ta visit a farm nearby anyway.
"Lower East Side. Not too bad in its own way. There's a lot of organised crime down there, but organised crime is easier to deal with than the disorganised crime in other areas. At least when you turned up dressed in uniform most of the crimanals took that as a sign to scram"
The good thing about being' a beat cop is that the people know and respect ye. I guess ye have made acquaintance with Giorgio's and Luigi's, eh? Why did ye quit the job?
"How long can any man do that job? I guess we all have an amount of time we can do what we do and see what we see before we need to pass it on to new blood eh? You meet some interesting characters, thats for sure. I miss the colourful types and their oddball ways, perhaps thats why I still work in the game, but now it's cheating spouses, missing money, and other such pedestrian stuff"
Yeah, but funnily, cheating spouses and missing money result nearly as often as browbeat, blackmailing and alcohol smuggling in murder, heh. Mr. Murphy can I invite you to a turkey san'wich an' a beer? One rarley meets ...ummm...people like you in Dunwich.
"You sure have THAT right. By the way it's just Murphy, and a turkey sandwich and a bit of fine old brew would be swell."
Cummings signals Osborne to bring a sandwich and a bottle of beer and adds
Best if we just meet shortly after dawn tomorrow, these people get up early an' I don't wanna disturb their daily routine more than necessary.
"Then its a date; your car wont be hard to spot on the main street"
"Shall we continue our tour of the town, or have we had enough and want to find ourselves a bed for the night? I'd be inclined to crash over at the Sumpter residence, if anyone would like to join me. Though I don't know if they'll have room for us all..." his speech slowly putters off, as he realizes everyone is looking at him and he'd rather avoid being the center of attention.
"I'd like to join you tomorrow if you are heading back to the bus. My trunk contained a few pieces of delicate scientific equipment and I would much prefer to have them close at hand.
As to a place to sleep, I am not averse to bunking on someone's floor and with this abominable heat I would not even require a blanket."
James pulls another few dollars from his wallet and drops them onto the shops counter before pulling a few more bottles from the cooler and opening his briefcase with a click and settling the bottles inside.
"Right then, unless anyone else objects I say we get an early night so that we can head back to the bus as soon as possible tomorrow."
I agree though I wouldn't be opposed to a bed myself. I would be happy to pay for a night's lodging.
Osborne, overhearing your recent conversation pipes in
Ye better go over te Mrs. Hobbes (MAP 43), she often boards guests and it's only one buck te stay at her place, she go' plen'y o' room an' her place is fa' cleaner then the Sum'ter house.
"Well then that is excellent. I'll make my way over there now. Any of you fellows going to join me?"
I will accompany you James. It definitely sounds more comfortable than sleeping in a barn somewhere, eh chap?
Together you walk along dusty Carrier Street until you reach the well-kept small house of Mrs. Hobbes. A canary cage hangs from the ceiling of the veranda and a small yellow bird sings a song you know will get annoying afer two minutes.
As you approach the house, the door is opened and a woman of about 60 years, with grey-black hair and a friendly, wrinkled face greets you
Oh hello, good evening sirs. Look Cheeps we have some visitors!
"Good evening madame, would you happen to be Mrs. Hobbes by chance? My friend and I have been reliably informed that the aforementioned lady has rooms to spare for visitors to Dunwich and we are two such visitors."
James takes a step up onto the verandah and holds out a hand to shake, smiling his warmest smile as he does so.
"I am Dr. James Chilcott and this fine gentleman is Dr. Victor Alden. Our bus threw a tire some miles outside of your fine town and we find ourselves without a bed for the night."
Daniel went along with Dr Alden and Mr chilcott, only a few steps behind, because he mused over thze article and the missing bus driver a moment longer. Realizing his fellows must have missed that he tagged along, he inroduces himself, after Mr Chilcott, Dr Alden and Mrs Hobbs exchanged pleasantries.
"Godd evening, madame. My name is Daniel Tauber. Like my fellow travellers I am stranded in this good town for the day at least, and if you are able to provide one more room, I would love to join them as your guest."
The elderly woman beams at you, but adresses her bird
Awww Cheeps, aren't they nice fellows from the big city?
Then she turns to the bird but adresses you
Yes, I have two spare double rooms, so technically I had enough room for four. Boarding is 50 cent per night gentlemen.
Of course madam. Thank you so much for taking us in on such short notice. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Victor then will hand her a five dollar bill and say. I am not sure how long we will need to stay and I don't want to put you out for meals. What a beautiful bird you have.
Charlie says, as the group heads to Mrs. Hobbes' house, "D'you think she'll have room for all of us, or else would someone want t'come to the Sumpter house with me? I don't want to sound skittish, but I'd rather not spend a night in a stranger's house all alone."
After you have brought your scarce belongings to the place and Murphy has said farewell to Cummings, you all gather around Mrs. Hobbes' large dining table.
The house is very tidy but quite full of kitsch - porcellain figures, strange collectable plates, an assortment of colourful pillows and some teddy bears...
While she is preparing a roasted turkey in the kitchen she calls over to you
You have to know, my husband Harry died last year, since then I often lodge strangers at my house. And since Cheeps like you , I like you to.
You have to know, my husband Harry died last year, since then I often lodge strangers at my house. And since Cheeps like you , I like you to.
"Well I can sure tell you ma'am, we are happy you did, I don't suppose you get much call for lodging tourists and sightseers round here. So what's a 'must see' around here for a bunch of visiting city folk?"
@ Murphy:
Mrs. Hobbes has just started to carve the turkey and without looking up from it, she answers
Oh, you mean like sights? Hmm, the cemetary is quite old, from the time when the first families from Salem came here. Besides that...umm there are these strange occult places of old Indian magic in the hills, but otherwise I fear Dunwich has not much to offer.
"Magic in the hills, eh? Do you know anything about that "Dunwich Horror" piece in the papers? I don't mean to pry, but we read it earlier and all had a pretty good laugh about it."
Mrs. Hobbes makes a dismissive gesture and replies
Forget about this Arkham rag. Hills that moan in the night and Whippoorwills that sing when someone dies and try to catch his soul? That's too much for an old lady to believe, tee-hee. Hey Cheeps, you would know when these birds had such powers, wouldn't you?
But Gentlemen, you didn't tell me who you are and what brought you to Dunwich, I mean besides a a damaged bus. I guess you were on the way to Innsmouth?
That's fascinating. I love tales of folklore and such. Perhaps we might go and take a look, eh chaps? When Mrs. Hobbes asks about where we were going he responds, I was heading to an Archaeology conference at the Natural History Museum in New York.
"Gee miss, that would be swell if you could point out a few interesting locations here on my map, maybe when the bus gerts going we could stop off at a few... they'd make a great sidepiece on the new article I'm writing about this countries great heritage and the small towns that formed the backbone of our great nation, and in some cases then abandoned. It'd be a nice piece, real classy, no scandal or trumped up ham like those hacks made."
Murphy gets a hold of a map and puts in on the table, should she feel like obliging...
Mrs. Hobbes has to get her glasses while she absently speaks to Victor
Archaeology? Oh how fitting.
Then she takes the map and marks severl locations in the hills surrounding Dunwich
I'm not quite sure, but that should be as exactly as I'm able to do this.
"No, Madam, we were going to New York, all of us, I think?" Daniel looks around for the nods of his fellow travellers. "I know that type of 'journalists' like those from the Arkham investigator"he repeats much quieter "oh yes, I know that kind", then clears his throat and contiues in his usual clear accentuated voice "they look for a story to tell, not for news that are even related to truth of any kind. When they got their story in mind, they just keep looking for a victim fitting it - I guess Dunwich is kind of 'off track', so most readers have never been here or met any of you fine people, and the history with Salem lends what they would call 'credibility' to the ghost stories..."