TW: alcohol
My friend gave me this idea, blame them for the following events.
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The next morning (3rd person omniscient):
Eddie is out delivering mail. He grabs a load of boxes to deliver to Howdy first, considering the packages are most likely goods for the bugdega. Then, he makes a complete turnaround to poppy's considering she has quite the few packages herself. It's from Howdy, so it's probably the pig food. Ew.
Eddie decides to go counter-clockwise for his deliveries, heading back towards his post office to get a curtain for Sally. Before he could turn the knob, he hears a voice in the woods surrounding the neighborhood.
Eddie usually turns and sprints to Frank's home as he makes tea and gently listening to whatever nonsense he has to say, but the voice sounded oddly familiar. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Eddie, however, wasn't stupid; he would never go alone. So he went to Barnaby, and with his heightened dog senses, he would truly know if something was out there.
Eddie grabbed Barnaby's mail, and ran over to Barnaby's abode. Eddie swore he could hear Barnaby snoring before he got to the door, but still knocked. He hopes Barnaby would help him.
Barnaby creaked off the bed, after loud knocking riddled his ears. It stops, but after less than ten seconds, starts again.
Barnaby opens the door, to find an anxious Eddie. "Sorry to wake you so early Barnaby, but I was wondering if you could help me with something."
The Night Before; Wally's POV:
I had came home early that day, opting to paint. Recently I've been spending lots of time painting, though I would never show his art to my friends. I used to show them every time I finished these paintings after being sucked into it for hours, but my recent canvases hadn't taken this long, not that I tracked the time it took. My recent paintings had been a bit more personal, a bit more red.
As I was finding his easel, I spotted a few bags from the corner of my eye. They were slumped onto a wall. One of those bags was a Jaguar print purse; it has to be my mother's. I walk towards these bags, now being able to spot a black duffel bag, and more mud near it. I was honestly too tired to clean the mud, though I did hate that it was there.
I wasn't usually nosy, but I wouldn't have the gall to call them back, so I figured these were mine now. I searched through my mother's bag first, having found lots of things that shouldn't fit in the bag, but nothing that peaked my interest.
I had then searched through David's bag, finding some concerning things that I didn't think were allowed on a flight. I was especially concerned with the amount of alcohol in the bag. He had liquor, wine, and bacardi, two bottles each. Around half of one of the liquor bottles was empty, must've used it on the punch.
There were lots of questions circling my head as to how I could dispose of it. What if I threw it in the woods? Maybe just pour it down the sink?
What if you drink it?
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Today I realized how long of a book this is going to be. I should practice finger stretches, because I'm always writing one thing or another. I might put out more chapters in a span of time, the danger is over I think. I'm not completely sure.Also, I was too tired to proofread this chapter. Either way, Thank you for reading this chapter,the next one is coming soon, have a good day or night.
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Wally Darling - An ANGST story
Фанфик(ON HIATUS) Wally was always perfect, at least that's what his friends thought. Leaving his old world behind, He tries to be happier in his new life. But what will happen when they both crash down on him? TW: self harm, suicide, abuse, discriminatio...
