Gorehound |-/ Joshler

Chapter One: Joshua Dun, Rookie Reporter

The small town of Arcata, known for its diverse and scenic ecosystem, has been plagued by a supposed urban legend: all of our homeless have been disappearing!

Citizens, as well as officials, have claimed that they are moving to surrounding towns. We may be glad to have them moving from our town to hopefully a better life, but that begs the question. Why are they leaving?

"Dun! Stop typing and get in here!" The shrill cry of a woman came, halting the young reporter.

He rolled his eyes and got up from his desk amongst the conglomeration of other rookie reporters' desks and walked into the board room, where it seemed that the whole floor had gathered.

"What's going on?" The young man asked.

"We got two women missing. Sit down." His boss informed him before flicking a sharp red nail at an empty seat in the back.

"Jessica Beckett and Winnie Jarlsby were last seen walking down Coombs Center on June 6th and 9th." The woman crooned to the awaiting audience of eager reporters and interns. "There was no trace of suspicious activity, no screams, nothing. But there may be some angle we can find."

The cat-eye glasses sitting on her nose were fixed as she paused for effect. Everyone in the room held their breath.

"Door to door interviews."

A collective groan spilled from the mouths of the reporters, their shoulders slumping.

"Oh shut it, it's a good way to get recounts from those who may have seen something!" Their boss complained.

"Um, excuse me?" A small voice spoke over the shared mumbles of hatred. Heads turned and looked to the back at the voice.

"I'd like to volunteer to do it."

"You?" The boss said with a laugh, her eyes going up and down the length of the man's body. "I don't see why not..."

"What even is his name?" Someone in the room blurted.

He stood up, holding his laminated ID from around his neck out and for everyone to see. "I'm Joshua Dun, a reporter working on the disappearances of the homeless people."

There was a scoff. "You like disappearing people, huh?"

Joshua shrugged, letting the ID fall back to his chest. "Guess so."

"So should we put him on the interviews?" The editor-in-chief muttered to the boss.

"He's really the only one willing to do it..." She muttered back before turning back to Joshua. "You got the job. Get on it and have at least 5 accounts on my desk by tonight."

The interviews weren't going too well. Half the people slammed the door in Joshua's face at the mere mention of him being with the local newspaper, and the others simply had nothing to say.

The women had been abducted so flawlessly, so quietly, that not even a stray Chapstick from their purses remained on the road.

With his clipboard and notebook held tightly to his chest, he ventured over to the next house. His backpack, full of comfort food and a few cans of beer, got lighter as he went along. He was a nervous eater.

He broke past the purple oak trees to find the brown house: 3721 Coombs Center. Simple enough, it was a two-story with a large driveway. He walked up it and knocked on the door, feet shifting anxiously below him.

The door swung open, revealing a man with short brown hair, a stubbly face, and kind, warm eyes. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Hi, I'm Joshua Dun and I'm here to gather accounts of two nights in July, when two women were last seen on this street. I work for the Arcata Informant, the newspaper."

The man's face lit up into a smile. "Oh, come in, please!" He held the door open wider for him to enter.

"Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee?" He asked, ready to retrieve whatever the reporter wanted.

Joshua's mind wandered to his backpack and if it would be polite to pop open a beer and chomp a bag of Combos as he asked about two missing women.

"Uh, I'll take water." Joshua croaked. He stood idly in the entrance to the house, and when the man came out with a glass of water, he thanked him.

"My name's Zack, by the way. Zack Joseph." The man said.

"It's nice to meet you. Is there a place we could sit?" Joshua looked around for a table or a living room.

"Yeah, through here." Zack guided Joshua to a simplistic sitting area with a coffee table in front of a nice green couch, which was comfier than Josh had anticipated.

"So," Zack began, hands on his knees. "What's the deal? What happened to those poor women?"

"You don't know?" Joshua questioned as he slipped off his backpack and set it down on the floor at his feet. His notebook balanced in his lap.

"Not particularly. I keep to myself."

"Oh. Well, Winnie Jarlsby and Jessica Beckett were last seen walking down this road on June 6th and 9th, and everyone here has no idea how it could have happened. They just..."

"Vanished?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee that anything I saw that night will help you." Zack gave him a hopeful smile.

"Thank you so much, this means a lot to me. I'm just out of college and my boss doesn't really like me. This should really get me in her favor."

"Fresh out of college, huh? How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm 24." Joshua nodded.

"Ah, so close. I'm 26, I'm an old hermit." Zack chuckled.

Joshua laughed as well. "It's only two years."

"Yeah..."

Their laughter died down and Joshua pulled out a pen and flipped open the notebook to a fresh page.

"So, did you see anyone mysterious lurking around the neighborhood any of those nights, or even in between?"

Zack's eyes flitted to the glass of water on the coffee table before they focused back on Joshua. "No, not really. Maybe a car that drove past kinda slowly."

"Did it seem to drive back and forth? Like, did it come back?"

"No."

"Okay..." Joshua scratched out what he has just written down about the car in hopes he could at least get a make and model maybe off of him or another neighbor.

"And did you know either of the women?"

"I might recall them from church, the name Winnie does sound familiar. Yes, actually, I talked with her often after service."

"Oh, are you a priest?"

"No, no, I do volunteer work there. You know, organizing drives, fundraisers, Christmas concerts."

He's a good man. Joshua thought.

"So Winnie Jarlsby," Joshua reached for the glass of water now that his mouth had suddenly gone dry. Salty pretzels were not a good idea. He took a large gulp before setting it back down. "Was she active in the church community as well? Did she have any rivalries with anyone else in the church?"

"Winnie Jarlsby was a lovely woman. She was Swedish, and taught me words here and there. She didn't have a mean bone in her body."

Joshua's pen hit the paper, but it didn't stay there with the same strength and rigidity as it normally did. Instead, it veered off of the paper as his hand went limp. His arm flew to the side, his entire body following.

His forehead hit the edge of the coffee table, leaving a smear of blood as his skin split open. He fell to the floor, helpless, as the sight of Zack sitting on the couch swirled into a mess of black.