𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟
☼
❘ ❙ ❚ . .in which a spirit
doomed to roanoke
feeds off of the fear of
others
or
all who attempt to heal
her heart s...
𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆, 𝑈𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑃𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑆 have transpired and billions of theories have been thought up. Aliens built Stonehenge, the CIA killed John F. Kennedy, the moon landing was faked and directed by Stanley Kubrick. There are millions of people who would wholeheartedly believe these theories since they need an explanation for everything, but those who understand that life is random, find these people to be insane.
However, the Roanoke house and the Lampad have a unique way of shifting even the most rational minds. People see things, hear these inhuman noises that could be brushed off as some animal, but only those screeches could be born from a creature far more terrifying than Lucifer himself.
Matt and Shelby Miller heard one of these noises.
It was the dead of night, nothing but darkness, but the couple was wide awake, enjoying each other in their new home, but were quickly interrupted by some inhuman screech and the sound of something crashing. It understandably frightened them both, especially since this was their first night in the infamous Roanoke house.
Shelby was far too scared to investigate this strange disturbance, so Matt acted as her knight in shining armour- or knight in shining plaid pants.
Matt had only taken a flashlight with him as he stepped out front, hoping the light would be enough to protect him. He wandered the front, seeing piled up metal barrels that had been clawed out and thrown at his home. Matt had no idea what this could possibly be from. The Polk's could have thrown the barrels in retaliation, but only something as large as a bear could have made these scratches. It couldn't be both.
Matt's mind jumped around to dozens of different conclusions, all rational, but he couldn't quite place a pin in something certain. His focus should have been elsewhere since suddenly, a loud gunshot was heard from behind him and a barrel fell back a little, further from him. It was going to hit him, but Solange was there to stop that from happening.
Matt turned around to see Solange walking down the porch steps with a shotgun in her hands. His heart was still racing while Solange seemed unbothered. "Holy shit! Where'd you come from?!
"I think the proper sentiment here is 'thank you.'" Solange snarked, glaring at the man whom she just saved. Saved from her own plan, but still saved. Matt was far too involved in his own mind while the shock was still fresh.
Solange ignored Matt's shaken state and walked towards the scene of the disturbance. Solange kicked over one of the barrels to get a better look at the markings as Matt wondered, "Where did these even come from?"
"Hicks probably. They're gonna keep bugging you, so you might want to bring your gun out here next time instead of just a light." Solange suggested, motioning to the flashlight Matt had chosen as his weapon to defend he and his family.
"I don't own a gun."
Solange furrowed her eyebrows. "You're an American black man that has a white wife and you live in North Carolina in the middle of the woods surrounded only by hicks and you don't have a gun? You're one of the few people that should be allowed to."
"I don't believe in violence." Matt motioned to himself with a proud smile on his face. Solange, a being that feeds off of pain, has only ever known violence, she needs violence. Too, Solange as herself, was very happy to hurt people if they deserved it.
Solange furrowed her eyebrows, part of her disgusted and confused expression. "Why not?"
"It's inhumane. Communication is a far better tactic to solve problems." Solange, who did not agree in the slightest, had to prove her point. Solange stepped forward and put the barrel of the shotgun right to Matt's chest. His breathing hitched, his heart beating much faster. His eyes said nothing but fear while Solange snarked, "Communicate your way out of this one."
Matt couldn't say anything, his fear wouldn't allow him. Matt was frozen, stuttering nonsense, but that was proving Solange's point. "Exactly."
Solange lifted her gun, resting it upon her shoulder. She had already saved this man, done him a favour. She didn't owe him anything else. So, Solange began to walk back into the house as she called to Matt, "Goodnight! Don't let the hicks bite!"
Matt was uncomfortable with the twist on the phrase and the fact Solange could point a gun at someone who had done nothing wrong as if it wasn't a deadly weapon. Solange approached death like swatting a housefly; no second thought.
There was something deeply disturbing about this house, about the people nearby, and about Solange. Everything had a small tweak that made it ever so slightly twisted, but while Solange might be threatening, she was otherworldly. Matt could see that.
Matt was terrified of this woman, he would never dream of being on her bad side. There was no telling what she might do. However, there was a charm about Solange that made Matt desperate to follow her. He wanted to follow Solange into the house, down to that basement. He had to be with her, he needed her. And Matt had no clue why.
if anyone is offended by me calling the polk's hicks, i'm very sorry. i didn't mean to offend anyone, but i live in the country and that's what we call people like that. they even call themselves that, so the word isn't much to me and they use it in the show. if anyone really wants me to change it, i will.
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