monster || VA

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THIS IS NOT ABOUT CATS I JUST NEEDED A PLACE TO DUMP CRAP

I. Lights! Camera! Action!
II. Act 1 (WIP)

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She sat on the cold edge of the stone fountain in the heart of Ravenhill, her hometown. Summer was ending, and the chill of autumn had already begun to settle in the air. Even the trees were beginning to change, orange and red hues overtaking their bushy tops. Charlie picked up a leaf that had fallen by her foot, examining its delicate structure. She tapped her forefinger on its pointed tip before letting the wind whisk it away.

It was early in the morning, and the sun barely shone in the sky. Charlie was the only one out and about. She looked down the dirt streets at all the cozy houses and businesses, including the old brick building that the ghost hunters had recently bought and taken residence in. Those freaks always sent a chill down her spine whenever they passed her on the streets. They were always prowling around, making commotions about "Paranormal Occurrences" and other far-fetched ideas. Nobody ever believed them.

The front door of the town bakery was nudged open, ringing a jangly carillon from a string of bells tied to the inside that roused Charlie from her thoughts. Shouldering his way into the street backwards, cradling a heavy crate in his sunburned arms, came a tall, powerful, blonde-haired man of about fifty. His name was Aaron Rickey, and something about his lined, no-nonsense face and craggy brows suggested that here was a man it was better to have as a friend than an enemy. He also sported a scruffy beard, which was the inspiration behind Charlie's nickname for him: Beardy McBeardface.

She smiled at the sight of him and stood up, instinctively crossing the empty street to help Aaron. As she jogged up to meet him, he grinned at her and delivered the same old line he delivered every weekday morning -- along with the crate -- without fail. "Heya, kiddo. Ready to roll out?" Charlie returned her part of the ritual: "Yep! Somethin' sure smells good in there," she said, standing on her tip-toes to peer into the crate.

"A dozen wholegrain, dozen white, dozen mixed," Aaron proudly informed her.

"Just like every day," Charlie said.

Which was, in fact, entirely true. Ever since Charlie'd been able to hold a loaf of bread, she'd woken up early in the morning to help Aaron with his deliveries. It started as a way for her mother to keep her out of the house -- Charlie didn't blame her, she'd been a really loud kid -- but had evolved over the years to become what could almost be identified as a job. Once she'd turned ten, Aaron had begun to pay her a dollar at the end of every delivery, and now at fifteen, she was receiving five. It didn't sound too impressive, but it was enough to buy a cookie at the bakery, so Charlie didn't mind.

So Aaron carefully passed Charlie the crate of bread and they set off, making their way around town, placing a loaf of bread wrapped in paper at every door. Some people had even woken up early to greet and thank them, and they even received a few gifts: A burlap pouch of blueberries, a white ribbon, and a few coins. Aaron was glad to pass the ribbon and coins to Charlie, and told her that when they got back to the bakery he'd make blueberry muffins.

It took a few hours to finish the deliveries, and by the time the two finished, the sun was high above their heads and the streets were busy. Aaron led Charlie inside the warm bakery and made his way behind the counter in order to prepare for the day. Charlie sat at one of the small round tables near the door, settling in the comfortable chair. The front room was rather small, only leaving room for the glass counter that showed various breads and pastries, and room for a queue line. Two round tables sat in the front corners, accompanied by a pair of chairs each. Behind the counter was a doorway that lead to the kitchen, where Aaron spent most of his day.

"Lookin' spiffy, kiddo," Aaron told Charlie, who had just finished tying her hair back with the white ribbon. Charlie smiled at him. "Thanks," she said, already rolling up the sleeves of her yellow sweater. She knew what was coming next. "Wanna help me make some muffins?" Aaron asked, and Charlie answered as soon as the words escaped his mouth. "Absolutely."

. . .

Charlie waved goodbye to Aaron, heading back to her family's house with two large blueberry muffins clutched in her fists. She had just begun nibbling on one (it was delicious, if you were curious) when people shouting in the Town Square stole her attention. The ghost hunters were at it again, demanding entrance to the Mayor's house. According to the snippets of heated argument she heard from behind the gathering crowd, there had been a "paranormal occurrence" last night.

Charlie shoved her way through the sea of people, hoping to get a better view of the commotion. All four of the ghost hunters were there, armed with strange-looking equipment ranging from strange tubes and boxes to cameras and binoculars. One of them, a dark-haired man she knew to be named Mason, stepped forward. "Mayor Harrison, we demand access to your house! The spirits are restless, and we need to investigate!" he insisted, waving around a black box with a glowing screen like a madman. Filthy out-of-towners, Charlie thought spitefully.

It seemed all the rest of the townsfolk were sharing her thoughts. Ravenhill had never been very welcoming to outsiders. They always tended to cause problems. It was easy to tell who was from town and who wasn't -- everybody from Ravenhill sported bright blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, and they all knew each other. They were the only people around for miles, and it was a rather small town. The ghost hunters, however, all had dark or brightly-colored hair and odd eyes.

The Mayor was quick to retaliate, slapping the tool out of Mason's hand. Another hunter, Lily, caught it. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to barge into my home without a valid reason. What proof do you have of this so-called paranormal occurrence?" he said firmly, voice shaking with rage. "Proof? We've been tracking ghostly activities for weeks now, and all signs point to your residence!" Lily scoffed. Another, Dean, added: Yeah, we've got electromagnetic readings off the charts near your place! Something unnatural is happening, and we're the experts here." The Mayor shook his head. "EMF readings? That could be anything from faulty wiring to a passing storm. I can't risk my family's privacy based on mere speculation," he said through his teeth, and the crowd shared murmurs of agreement.

The fourth one, Rhea, said seriously, "Mr. Mayor, you don't understand. These spirits are powerful entities. Ignoring them could lead to dire consequences for Ravenhill."

"I understand your concerns, but I won't have my private life turned into a spectacle for the town's gossip. I'll hire professionals if needed, but I won't tolerate this intrusion!" The Mayor cried.

Mason straightened his posture. "This isn't about gossip or intrusion! We're trying to help Ravenhill by dealing with supernatural threats before they escalate!"

The Mayor stood firm. "And I appreciate your concern, but I won't be bullied into letting strangers into my home without proper cause. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

Lily ground her teeth. "This is unbelievable! We're offering our expertise, and you're brushing us off like we're some kind of hoax!"

"Yeah, we've faced poltergeists, apparitions, and worse. You think we're scared of a stubborn mayor?" Dean shouted.

"I think this conversation is over. You're welcome to leave peacefully," said the Mayor in a final sort of manner.

"Fine! But mark our words, ignoring the supernatural won't make it disappear," Mason said. "Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts, Mayor. But remember, Ravenhill won't stay quiet forever."

Charlie couldn't hold in her laughter, and it came bursting out uncontrollably. Who did these city-folk think they were?

Mason whipped around to face her, his brown eyes blazing. "You think this is funny, do you? You should take this more seriously! You should all be taking this more seriously!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "This town is a hotspot for paranormal occurrences!" The townsfolk all shouted, some forming words and some just letting out roars of anger. Charlie, glad that the spotlight was off of her, backed into the safety of the crowd. The man who owned the General Store, Garret, set his hand on her shoulder and pulled her out of the commotion. He looked worried. "I'd head home if I were you, dear," he said. "I don't want you gettin' hurt."

Charlie swallowed, eyes wide. She nodded and made to stuff her hands in her pockets, but suddenly remembered her blueberry muffins. She'd been holding onto them so tightly they'd nearly been reduced to crumbs. She handed Garret the one that still slightly resembled a muffin, saying, "Thanks," before running home as fast as she could.