Project

2.2: A Night to Dread.

Questioner's POV: 20:49pm

The journey to the motel was long and quiet. None of us wanted to say anything, none of us could say anything. We were all so tired and heated from the conversations, from the Mystery, from gaining little after exploring for so long. I recite what my friend had read in the stories in my head.

Each of them seemed to correlate to each other, each of them seemed to have a character with no name. I can only assume that this is indeed Project, the one who never told their own name. Everyone else in the story seemed to have alibis, or fake names. Will was someone called Roger, Sam had given himself the title Ellis, and even people with such convoluted names like Wynter were given a new name... Alex. It all seemed weird to use these specific names, as I know Sam picked these names for a reason –it's what he likes to do– yet I couldn't figure out the reason as to why. Luckily, I had received enough information about most of the people in the stories now so that I could tell who was who.

Yet none of them seemed to correlate to any of the POMS characters. I looked for any key detail in descriptions, even in letter choices, yet by the looks of things, Sam indeed did not know who any of the POMS characters truly were.

As I was only searing my mind with these unanswerable questions, I decide to turn to the actual story line.

As stated earlier: These stories correlated with each other, every single one of them. Even the ones that seemed to be complete different genres had the same principle, same characters, and the same unnamed character with the exact same quote: "They had an aura of Mystery about them." It was all too coincidental, it all linked too easily, yet it had to mean something! Were these all in one storyline? Were they apart of alternate realities? Even if it was something as absurd as a "What if ___" thing, I had to take it into consideration. It was all the info I had, and thus I had to keep any option open for now. I still feel as though I'm a surgeon in the middle of nowhere, with nothing at hand except for some tissues and a thin twig, being commanded to save a mutilated man.

I'm stuck being forced to try and do an improbable thing with little to nothing to work with.

I decided to take my mind off it for a while in the car journey by playing some music. Ever since the storm died down, everyone's been exiting their homes, cheering to each other "It's over, we can leave!" All over any tech-based item, including radio stations. Luckily though, one station always keeps music playing: Classic Radio Station 5. Though classic music wasn't always a favourite of mine, it helped calm the mind from troubles and worries, and so I put it on despite everyone's glares at me.

"Look, I know you want something to calm you down, but you know I hate classical music. The strings, the woodwinds, it all seems too mashed up!" Writer complained into my ear. I'm guessing he's still a tad annoyed with me about how I used my deductions. I wanted to give him a look, but needed to keep my eyes on the roads for now; though the weather has calmed down, the roads are still pretty soaked. "I know. I just wanted to lighten the mood for a little while. Plus this is the only thing that would be playing music instead of cheers and cries of joy. I know how much you hate people praising things on the radios." I counter, knowing fully well that Writer can't disagree with me.

"To be fair, classical music does have its advantages, but I prefer something with more... 'Oomph' to it. Something with lyrics, with beat, and with more emphasis on certain aspects!" Ridley joins in from the back.

"I know, I know, but you have to understand the calmness of Classical music! Each instrument has its own role, each note emphasised just enough, that you can imagine yourself playing the part!" I refute, yet all that happens after that is more silence. We all have something on our minds, something that is making us fear our every move. For me, I was afraid of many things. However, I was more concerned with Sam.