Cricket And The Counselor

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jwhouk
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Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

My first day of vacation in weeks, and it couldn't have come soon enough.

Summertime had meant that the institution where I worked had been short staffed on a regular basis, which meant I'd been forced to work more additional shifts than I'd cared to. And, as a result, I hadn't had the free time to go and use my new Library "card" as much as I wanted.

That was sort of the way that I explained it to my wife. It was a reference library, that had opened an annex down near Wausau. It had helped me (in a round-about way) in my dealings with that one kid back in March, I had told her. And now, they'd given me full access.

She had told me, "Just don't be there all day, like that one time." She was still in a bit of a snit because I had come home late after Phix's wedding.

It was a relatively nice day, and the old Scott Town Hall was two miles south of my house. I figured I'd try walking this time around. Granted, I wasn't as in shape as I once was – not that I was ever skinny, mind you – but I thought I could handle it.

There were a few things that I made sure I had with me as I made the trek down: cell phone, water bottle, and sunglasses. I doused myself with bug spray before leaving the house – I was, after all, going to be walking past at least four working farms.

Strangely, even though the route is all rural road, and the last mile is mostly uphill, it didn't seem all that bad of a walk. Perhaps it was because I was pacing myself; maybe it was because I had been actively trying to lose weight.

Or maybe I was just chomping at the bit to get back to the Library.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

As I approached the lot where the old hall stood, I saw someone outside the farm house across the road. An older gentleman was mowing the lawn on his corner lot, riding a John Deere outfitted with a bagging attachment. He eyed me a time or two as I walked up to the dirt drive that ran up to the old building.

Oh great, I thought. I hadn't quite planned for this. I thought about it for a moment. He's going to be working on that side of the yard for a while. I paused to take a drink of my water bottle, trying to make it look like I was just out for an "exercise walk."

He's gonna notice if I walk up to the front door. Maybe if I just go up to the corner, turn around, and make like I'm going to walk back…

Just then, a Ford F-series pickup came down County Highway Z and turned onto Scott Road. After turning, the driver honked at the guy on the mower, then drove down to another driveway further down on Scott Road. I saw the man on the tractor stop, turn it off, and dismount gingerly from it.

This might be my break, I thought. The old guy was walking toward the house, and seemed to be looking back towards where the truck had turned. The driveway for the farmhouse had two entrances – one off of Highway Z, and one on Scott Road. One led to the back barns – where they housed horses, or so it looked – and one went to the house proper.

I slowly edged my way toward the old town hall. When he disappeared around the corner of the farmhouse, I quickly made my way to the front door. Seeing no one else around, I reached to open the door.

It opened, and I found myself in the small foyer I'd been in the last time I'd visited. Another door led into the lobby where I'd last left the Library.

Before I took a step in, I saw a "CAUTION WET FLOOR" sign in the middle of the lobby floor. I stopped in my tracks. Looking down, I saw that the floor was, indeed, wet – but was something else as well.

Frozen.

As in, the entire "lobby," from the one wall by the bathroom to the other, was frozen solid. A closer inspection of the Wet Floor sign and I could see that its base was under the top layer of the ice.

I looked around, with a very irritated look.

Nudge. Had to be her.

Well. There seemed to be two things that she apparently didn't know – or, if she'd actually read up, hadn't noticed – about me.

For one, I was from Wisconsin.

I gingerly put my foot out onto the floor surface. It was ice, all right, but it wasn't a thin layer. It was pretty thick; judging from the reflection I was getting from the overhead lighting, it was maybe about an inch thick.

Maybe Nudge had read up on me, but she had underestimated something: she probably thought that it'd be funny if I walked right into the Library – and fallen flat on my kiester on an ad hoc ice rink.

However, what she didn't read up on was that I was a hockey fan.

One who had walked onto rinks in street shoes – many times.

I carefully navigated my way across the floor, making sure I remained upright until I reached the endcap of one of the stacks, directly across from the exit. I reached out, put my hand on the shelving, and eased my way to the aisle.

The ice ended at the edge of the aisle, where the regular polished granite floor took over from the floor of the lobby. It didn't appear that the floor was exceptionally slippery, except where a bit of moisture had built up at the edge of the ice surface. Just as I thought, it was about an inch thick.

Silly goat, I thought to myself. I decided walk carefully down the aisle, just in case Nudge had somehow decided she would jump out at me from one of the cross-aisles along the stacks.

"If this is how it's going to be every time I try to enter the Library," I said aloud, "I may have to file a formal complaint with Phix." I stopped for a moment.

"If, of course, she hasn't already gone on maternity leave."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

I grew a bit more confident the further down the aisle I went. I reached the other end of the aisle, facing the Great Hall of the Library.

Not surprisingly, evidence of the party was long gone. The hall was now a large, open area – almost like the Rotunda of the Capitol Building, or the nave of any large cathedral. The only hint at the sheer size of the place was when you looked up – and saw balcony after balcony, rising up to what seemed infinity.

"Okay, I'm suitably impressed now," I spoke to no one in particular. I turned to look back towards the stacks. The rows upon rows of book shelves swung around the balcony area where I stood. The distance between the ornate railing and the shelves was roughly the same width of my entire apartment building back home.

I thought for a moment. I'd come there to answer some questions I'd had since the whole incident with Cavin.

And that was what my first query would be:

"Bibliothiki," I began, using the formal name of the Library, "I would like information about fair-folk, namely the paranormals known as the 'fae'. Specific parameters: delinquency rates among males, and how individuals similar to Mr. Cavin Foxglove – and his…"

I thought for a moment as I struggled to come up with the right word. I shrugged, considering that the Library might not be all too "PC".

"…Deformity is dealt with in fae society – especially by family and friends."

I unconsciously stepped back, expecting that same 3-D grid that I'd seen when Atsali had called up the portal map last time.

Nothing appeared.

I looked around. Nothing. No stack of books, no sign pointing This Way, Stupid.

Not even a Post-it note.

I began to wonder if this was another trick on the part of Nudge – until I heard something coming from the Great Hall.

"That's it!" The voice was familiar. "You did it! See? They can't harm you at all, if you don't let them."

"I did do it!" It was a slightly rough, younger voice. "Hot damn, I did it! HA! Take that!"

I went over to the edge of the balcony, and looked down. There, on the floor below me, were two female figures – One, a dark-haired but buxom woman; the other, a shorter, stockier girl who was hugging the taller (not by much) girl.

Monica. And I'll bet that other girl is…

"So, Calista, what say we go upstairs and get a pretzel?"

"I still can't getcha ta try one ah dose chocolate covahed spidah legs?"

"Uh, no, not really," the Jaguar Girl smiled uneasily at her charge.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

They began to walk away, under the overhang of the balcony where I stood. Before I could say anything, they were out of visual range.

Damn, I thought. I quickly turned to see if I could locate stairs, or some other means of transport between…

The endcap of one of the stacks had a sign on it: TO TRANSPORT SYSTEM. The arrow pointed to the left.

"Convenient," I said aloud. I followed the direction of the arrow, which led to an alcove.

Or, more to the point, another small lobby. With two sets of doors, and a panel in the middle.

Elevators. How quaint.

There were two buttons on the middle panel: one read "CALL" and the other read "HELP."

I pressed the "CALL" button. Instantaneously, the doors on my right slid open.

What was inside wasn't an elevator, per se. It looked like something out of a Jules Verne adventure, with tall glass walls, elaborate grillwork, and a very well-appointed – and carpeted – floor.

The Great Glass Elevator was the first thing that came to my mind.

I turned to face the door of the elevator. Next to it, there was a sign on the wall. The door closed just as I read it:

State your destination clearly. If you know the wing or floor name, state it now.

"The pretzel stand," I said.

The lift moved silently and imperceptibly – if not for the motion of the scenery through the glass behind me.

Not more than a few seconds later, it stopped. The door opened, and I was greeted with the smell of baked goods and a hint of coffee.

I was still in the Library, but there was a pushcart in the wide balcony space between the railing and stacks.

I stepped out, noticing that there were a few other beings milling around, having some quiet conversation at some of the bistro tables that were laid out along the balcony.

At one of the tables, a mermaid – or mermaiden, I couldn't quite tell – was reading something by Herman Hesse. Another had an older being – oh, who am I kidding, I thought, who knows how old these beings might be – that looked like a half-man, half-walrus, and was reading Thirty Days To A New You.

A positively ordinary looking human was sitting a few tables away, holding what looked like a scroll.

I took in a breath of consideration, then turned to see what the pushcart had as its wares.

The cart was a little larger than your typical street vendor, or ice cream truck. It brought to mind a concession stand, though a lot more open concept than what you'd see at a high school football game.

The main attraction, though, was the pretzel display. These weren't those little pretzels you'd find in a bag of Rold Gold or whatever. These were good old-fashioned Bavarian-style pretzels, baked soft and brown. Some had rock salt on them, while some were glazed in butter – and a few were plain. The display also had a few long, twisted rods of the same consistency with the same coating.

I think I gained five pounds just looking at them.

The place had a simple, hand-made sign on the counter:

PRETZEL HAUS
PLAIN - $1
SALTED - $2
BUTTERED - $2
SALTED AND BUTTERED - $3
GRATUITIES ACCEPTED


At those prices, I could afford the weight gain.

I got the attention of the attendant, who was rolling some dough on a pan, in the back of the cart. She turned, smiling with feline-like markings and dentature.

"May I help you?" She had an appropriate Bavarian accent. I liked this place immediately.

"I'll take one twisted, plain, bitte," I said. I raised an eyebrow at that last utterance from my mouth, even as she turned to get my order.

"Ja," she replied. "Eine dollar, bitte." She quickly pulled a piece of wax paper and reached underneath the display area, into what sounded like a hot storage drawer.

I was pulling out my wallet on impulse, not really comprehending why I'd reverted to speaking German.

She handed me the pretzel on the paper, along with a few napkins, then accepted my proffered dollar.

"Dankeschöen," she said pleasantly.

"Danke," I replied with a nod.

Strange, I thought. I knew it was a pretzel stand, but why…

Because it's even harder to keep human form for me if I don't hear it at least occasionally from my customers, came a voice in my head.

I turned and looked back at the woman.

She just smiled back at me.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

(NOTE: I'm probably going to go slower with the udpates after today, as I have to try to flesh out the rest of the story. No worries; this should be over by the time Pablo gets his internet connection back - hopefully.)
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by Sgt. Howard »

Na Ja, es freut mich GANZ!!! AUSgeSEICHnett! Und Bayarn, nicht war? Meine Versogenicht!
Little Miss Kitty Kraut has to hear Bavarian to remain human? What a hoot!!! THAT IS MY DIALECT!!!
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

Her name is Helga, which we will find out in a bit.

...She's actually from Wisconsin, by way of Pennsylvania.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

I snagged a seat at one of the bistro tables near the transport system doors. I knew that M probably didn't need to use the system, but it would at least give me a good view of anyone suddenly appearing in front of the cart.

I pondered that for a moment. I'd only really met the woman twice in my life, and I was already calling her by a nickname only few used. And, as far as I knew, the girl whom she was mentoring…

I stopped in mid-bite.

She's Cavin's sister.

And I had no idea how she was going to respond to seeing me.

The one who, it appeared, the entire freakin' paranormal WORLD knew had "dealt with" Cavin.

I suddenly was wondering how fast I could finish this pretzel, when I saw a pair emerging from one of the stacks behind the pretzel stand.

It was Monica and Calista.

I froze.

"…You'll love this stand. Helga's such a sweetie, and her pretzels are to die for!" They walked right up to the stand, and Monica waved a friendly, "Allo!" to the stand operator.

Calista was paying more attention to the dough stretching machine than to anything else.

Monica said something I couldn't make out, then turned to take out something from her purse.

Since when did she carry a purse? was my absurd thought of the day.

She looked up – and made direct eye contact with me.

"Joe?"

I waved weakly.

A couple of the other patrons perked up as they saw the diminutive Jaguar Girl stop, hand something to Helga, and then stroll over to my table.

"He's dead," the guy with the scrolls said to no one as he ducked back behind his reading.

"So!" She had a genuine smile on her face. "You finally got full access, hm?" I nodded silently. "Nudge hasn't been giving you any more problems, has she?"

"Other than the ice rink she laid down for me when I came in here this morning, no."

"Miss Villareal!" Calista had the two pretzels in hand. "She gave me the pretzels for…"

She saw who Monica was talking to – and froze.

I waved weakly again.

"Hi, Calista," I squeaked.

She hid behind Monica.

"They're not real they're not real they're not real…"

"Uh, sweetie?" Monica reached around and caressed her mentoree on the head. "He's not a demon."

She peeked around from behind Monica.

"He isn't?"

"No."

Calista gritted her teeth as she looked at me.

"But… but you're…"

"A short, older, overweight and underpaid juvenile correctional officer, yes," I completed for her.

For some reason, seeing the sheer terror on her face caused my fear to disintegrate. And it was replaced by a very warm – and hopefully calming – demeanor.

Monica carefully took the pretzels from Calista's hands, before she dropped them.

"Mr. Houk acted caringly towards your brother, sweetie." She motioned her to have a seat at the bistro table across from me, while Monica went ahead and sat down in the chair next to me. "The other workers at his institution were ready to take actions that might have hurt Cavin badly." She broke off a piece of her pretzel.

"Maybe, even killed him."

I looked at her.

"You read the report," I stated. She nodded.

"Phix was so impressed with it that she had to share. And, of course," she turned and smiled at Calista, "since I was mentoring Cricket here…"

The young fae turned three shades of red.

"I'll admit something to you," I said, turning to Calista. "I had no idea if what I'd been told was going to work."

"But…" Calista was stunned. "Wait a minute – you were told about what to do?"

"Yep." I took a piece of my own pretzel, and motioned at Monica. "She's the one who's responsible for it, though."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by GlytchMeister »

-_-
It's like every installment is a Friday Cliffhanger. It's both awesome and infuriating.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by Dave »

Somebody buys tenterhooks by the case...
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by GlytchMeister »

Dave wrote:Somebody buys tenterhooks by the case...
Me or jwhouk?

If me: I'm only writing as much fanfic as I am now because three of my favorite webcomics are on hiatus or, in the case of Blade Bunny, possibly dead.
:(
But, I suppose something good has come from it. I got a great plot coming together... Better than most of the ideas I have for real books and stories.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

(EDIT: Of course I do the cliffhanger thing. I've been reading this comic for over a decade now, y'know... ;) )
---
"Did you say, Foxglove?"

"Yeah," my co-worker told me. "Should be here in a day or so. Why?"

"I think I recognize the name. He's from the Twin Cities or something?"

"Well, Northwest Regional is the one dropping him off, so I dunno. Birthplace is listed as Brooklyn, New York."

"Hm. I think I do know this kid – or, at least, his family."

"You need to talk to Matt" – our living unit's immediate supervisor – "about conflict of interest?"

"Oh, no. No, I don't think he knows who I am. But – I know who he is."

"Well, he's apparently got some mental issue going with him. Really dangerous."

"If it's who I think it is, I can imagine."

---

As soon as I got home the next morning, I went on to the message board. I was hoping beyond hope that her account was still active – she hadn't logged in for years at that point.

It still appeared active, however.

I sent a private message, titled "HELP! Urgent Para Question":

Monica: Discovered today that we're getting a fae youth with "psych problems" in to my workplace. Need help from someone with para experience to let me know what we're getting into. He arrives sometime today or tomorrow. HALP!

I hit send, and prayed that it would somehow reach its intended recipient.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by GlytchMeister »

Ahhh, here we go. We're finally gettin to the meat o' the matter.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

"It was funny, but I hadn't responded to anything on that board in ages," Monica explained briefly. "But it came up in my e-mail, and I read it."

Monica smiled at me.

"And I knew just who to send."

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting her, you know."

"She told you what you needed to know, right?"

"Yes… But she didn't have to scare the crap out of me to do it."

"That's just how Jin does business, sweetie."

Monica took another bite of her pretzel with a smirk.

"So, what did she tell you to do?" Calista asked, genuinely interested.

"Something you would be familiar with: It isn't real if you don't believe it is."

Calista's eyebrows shot up.

"The Third Rule of Glamour," she said in a surprised whisper.

"Yep. She told me the first two, as well. That part helped when we were trying to get Cavin to go with the MIB officers."

"So, you didn't use some sort of magic spell or anything like that?" she asked.

"Nope. Just the basics. And like I said before – I had no idea if it was going to work. Can't emphasize that enough, hon."

"And it kept Cavin from getting a face-full of OC spray," Monica added.

"OC?" Calista's face twisted slightly in incomprehension.

"Oleoresin capsicum," I explained. "What we generally call pepper spray. And, what I didn't find out until afterwards, would have likely melted Cavin's face off if they would have used it on him."

Calista suddenly realized what I was talking about.

"The Melting Fruit! Oh, boy, I thought mom was crazy when she told me 'bout dose tacos dey was always havin' at mah school on Tuesdays."

"After the incident, I tried to track down your mentor here. But she'd resigned from her job at the Museum."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

ONE WEEK AFTER THE TIME FRAME OF "VISITING MINNESOTA"
The first thing that hit me as I stepped out the door was the slight smell of garbage. It shouldn't have surprised me, of course, since the door opened to an alley behind a grocery store – and a restaurant.

I closed the door behind me and quickly walked down the ramp to the alley.

I didn't want to be conspicuous, of course.

The "doors" to the main Library had been closed and locked – again – when I'd entered from Scott Town Hall. At least now the Library was at least putting me where I wanted to go – sort of.

I had my messenger bag with me, but I also was in the Twin Cities without something for the first time:

My car.

Which meant that I either had to hoof it to wherever I was going, or I had to find alternative mode of transport.

Fortunately, I had discovered that there was a bike share place just around the corner from the Lund's Grocery. I'd seen them numerous times as I had driven around the Lake Calhoun area, and I figured I'd be able to get some exercise in along with mobility.

I followed the instructions for a half-hour pass, unlocked a bike – adjusting the seat before I did so – and headed off. It felt a little odd, pulling my bike helmet out of the bag, but I knew what I was going to do once I got through the Library Portal.

I took the route suggested by Google – get over to Girard, head up to the Greenway, and take that all the way over to Nicollet.

I had to laugh a bit as I rode past Stella's Fish Café, but I was brought back to reality by the honking horn of a car. I got over to the right lane, crossed over Lagoon and headed up to the Midtown Greenway.

Biking in a big city can be tedious – and if you're slightly out of shape (okay, really out of shape) like me, it can also be a chore. The rental bikes, though, were built for the city. And the fact that there was a major bike "freeway" in the middle of Uptown Minneapolis helped.

The adventure began when I got to the Nicollet ramp. I decided to walk the bike up before getting on to Nicollet proper. I had to do some zig-zagging, but I got over to 1st Avenue South (which had a dedicated bike lane).

I got to the next bike rental place – right on the campus of the Minneapolis College of Art and Design – well before the 30-minute rental limit.

Now was going to be the hard part. I was going to have to track down someone at the MIOA, someone I wasn't 100% sure would be there.

I worked my way over to the entrance to the Library wing, and found the Information desk.

"Can I help you?" A gentleman in a security uniform leaned forward at the small desk in the atrium.

"Yes, I'm looking for a Dr. Katherine Gilchrist?"
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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I took the hallway down to the sign saying "Administrative Offices/Support Services". The open, modern office design led down to a door that looked like it was something out of the turn of the last century.

The sign next to the door had a list of names on a sign board. It had a list of rooms on the left – I noticed that one, 109, had no name after it – and down toward the bottom was "119 K. GILCHRIST PhD ART HISTORIAN".

Interesting.

I buzzed the speaker for 119. After a moment, I heard a buzz: "Hello?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Dr. Gilchrist?" I said, hopefully. It was just then that I noticed the security camera, hanging from the wall just above and to the left of the door and opposite the intercom.

There was a long pause.

"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"

I could tell she was somehow looking at the video feed, probably from her desktop computer. I looked up at the camera.

"I'm an acquaintance of Monica's," I explained briefly. "I thought you might be able to help with a little problem I have."

Another pause.

"She doesn't work for the museum any more," she began.

"I'm aware of that," I said. "However, all the contact info I have for her is out of date." I wasn't exactly lying. I hadn't saved her phone number since switching to a new phone with Verizon.

There was a pause. "I don't have her cell number handy," came the response.

She's stalling, I thought. Time to break out the reason I'm here. I flipped open the front of my messenger bag and pulled out my Wisconsin DOC identification badge.

"It's business related," I said, holding the badge up so the camera could clearly see it. "A client of ours is apparently… 'special needs'? And I can't get any information from the Library regarding his problems."

"The Library?"

"Yes. Apparently I'm still in the process of having my credentials checked out by the powers that be." I looked up at the camera. "I've only been allowed to use the portals, for some reason."

Another long pause.

"Just a second," she replied after what seemed forever. I heard the barely perceptible sound of the speaker clicking off, then a creaking noise coming from the end of the hallway on the other side of the door. Sure enough, I saw this dark-haired figure walking toward me.

A moment or two later, she had the door to the hallway open. She eyed my badge for a moment.

"Wisconsin DOC?" she asked. "You're a little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you?" She closed the door behind her.

"Technically, yes, but the individual I'm dealing with isn't."

She raised an eyebrow at me – and that was when I got a full-on view of her dark, huge irises.

"And who would that be?"

"Cavin Foxglove."

"Name's not familiar," she said as we entered her rather dark office.

"No, but he has a sister," I explained. "Named Calista."

That stopped her, briefly.

"That one's familiar."

"It should be," I replied with a smile. "She's a friend of your daughter – Atsali?"

Kath's jaw dropped.

"She mentioned it in a letter that arrived after Cavin was removed from the institution – for his own safety."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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jwhouk
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

"That was when he finally got a hold of me," Monica explained. "You still have the phone number for the antique store?"

"Heh, of course. My only question? How the heck did you manage to get that one?"

"Well… Georgette had some connections, and Bud did some heavy work for me."

Calista was confused.

"I don't get it," she said. "It's just a phone number…" She dug out her cell phone from her hip pocket, and touched a few numbers. "Yeah, here: 612 area code, 867-53…"

"Oh ni-eee-innnne," both Monica and I crooned at the exact same time.

"What the…?"

"It's a song from before your time, kid. And, ironically, yours as well," I said, turning to Monica.

"I love 80's music," she replied. "I listened to American Top 40 constantly when I was in grade school."

"A true MTV baby," I noted. "Back when, of course, MTV played music videos."

"Is that what the M stands for?" Calista was somewhat surprised.

Monica and I looked at each other and started laughing hysterically.

Calista, meanwhile, turned beet red.

Monica was nearly turning red, herself.

"Sorry, sorry sweetie, it's just… (gasp) …a running (cough cough) joke among us older (cough giggle) people."

I managed to recover enough to catch my breath.

"Anyways – that wasn't the reason why I was here at the Library today." I pointed, a bit unsteadily, at Calista. "You were. Sorta. I started my day here with a query about what happened with your brother."

Calista's look changed dramatically.

"I… uh, we… don't really talk about that much," she finally stated.

"Well, then, let me tell you what I know, and you can give me a yea or nay on each one. That way, you can say you're not divulging anything – and Monica here can verify it. Good?"

She gave me a non-committal shrug.

"Okay, then – three things that Ms. Aedeobie told me about Cavin. First was about his antennae." I gave her a little once-over, noticing that she had them "hidden" in with her hair.

"Sometime when he was younger, there was an accident involving one of his antennae. This is not considered to be a good thing, as it causes fae to become…" I looked up, searching for an appropriate word.

"Unstable?" Monica offered.

"Psychotic," I stated, turning to look at Calista. "They lose track of what their reality is and what they have made of… gossamer is the term you use, right?"

Calista only nodded, though her face had noticeably paled.

"The normal way of handling a situation like that in the fae community is by termination. However," I raised a finger in emphasis, "Cavin happens to be the crown prince of the Fae Kingdom. And there were concerns about you." I turned my finger and pointed at Calista.

"Me?"

I simply motioned with my hand between Monica and her.

"Uh, yeah," she looked at M, then put her head back down.

"So, instead of having him killed, they tried to see if they could work with him. Sadly, that's where the second thing comes in."

I sighed deeply.

"And, sadly, that's where things fall into my professional territory."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

The northwestern part of the state of Wisconsin is very picturesque and scenic, as it is comprised mostly of forest land, streams, and rivers. The area is generally bounded by the confluence of the Mississippi and St. Croix rivers on the west, and the Chippewa River valley and the Chequamegon National Forest on the east.

The area is rather rugged, as the great forests and lakes are all on top of glaciated rubble. Wisconsin's highest point, located within, is literally nothing more than a hill; Timm's Hill is the largest of a set of moraine "rock piles" in the area around Ogema.

What the receding glaciers left behind caused the land to become very fertile – and very rugged. The whole of the area is located north of the 45th parallel, and average temperatures in the winter months can be quite cold. (I should know.) The hardiest of trees – mostly firs, pines and other softwoods – are about all that can thrive in such climate.

Humans discovered that these woods were great for use in building, for fuel, and other applications. Their continued presence nearly destroyed some of the state's forests – but in other parts, the environment drove away all but the hardiest of those who sought to tame the land.

This includes individuals that were less than reputable in nature. I can state for a fact that the part of the city where I live – a town that grew on the lumber trade – was known as the "Bloody Sixth Ward", for its proclivity for being the home of rough and tough lumberjacks.

This rough and tough nature was handed down through the years – the influx of gangsters from the Chicago area, fleeing from revenuers to the solitude of resorts in the north woods, giving it a boost.

This also brought in a different trade: drugs. Just as in the southern US and their "moonshiners", people quickly found that they could grow certain plants, outside the snooping eyes of the government, in places inaccessible to all but the most knowledgeable.

The crops were initially marijuana, but in recent years a trend came to the production of another, more sinister drug: methamphetamine. It was discovered, roughly 20-25 years ago, that by following a simple (yet potentially dangerous) process, people could create meth from common allergy drugs and bleach. Because of the dangerous part – the chemicals involved were highly flammable, and inattentiveness could result in very fiery explosions – placing the production "labs" in out-of-the-way places was considered more desirable.

Like, say, out in the middle of the woods.

(I'm kinda gettin' the feeling no one's reading this?)
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Dave
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by Dave »

jwhouk wrote:(I'm kinda gettin' the feeling no one's reading this?)
And your feeling would be faulty, for you're setting up for a fierce fae fire in the forest and that's fine!
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by GlytchMeister »

Look at the number of views your thread has and divide by how many posts you've made. Purpose is in the three hundreds and I've made over forty posts. That puts it at less than ten readers per every new post I make. And, to get really accurate, I subtract the view count I generate when I enter the thread to post a new... Uh... Post.
(Ahem)
So that leaves me at about 8 readers. *shrug* That's more readers than I've ever had on anything else I've done. I'm happy.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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