Sal hung up the phone and stared, wide eyed, at Travis. "What the fuck," he managed bluntly, his mask wasn't on but it didn't matter at this point, at least he didn't think so. "What do you know about the cult?" He asked, pointing at Travis.
Travis shook his head and shrugged slightly. "My dad, he uhm," Travis didn't know what to say, "my dad was the pastor and stuff y'know. He still is," he began. Sal nodded along to Travis' story, none of the information was new to him. "When I was a kid, I remember waking up late night and seeing him dressed in his robes leaving the house. I was so confused. When I asked him about it the next morning he said he had something to show me," Travis spied. The doorbell had rung. He stood up and walked out towards the door.
As expected, standing at the door was Larry, a joint in his mouth and his hair falling loosely down to his shoulders. Sal hugged Larry softly and motioned him inside. Travis gave him a small smile and sighed. "As I was telling Sal, I started noticing my dad leaving late night and when I asked him about it in the morning I told me he had something to show me," he paused again, walking to the living room. There was a large map on the wall above the mantle, placed in an old wooden frame. "He walked me right out here and pointed to that map. Now," he walked towards it, standing on the mantle to point to spots on the map. "This isn't a normal map," he began.
Larry shook his head. "Bullshit, Travis," he said quietly. Travis turned around and frowned. "Listen, Sal and Todd and Ash and I, we all know about this cult, we've all seen the meeting place and know about the bologna made of people that you adore so much. It's disgusting. You don't need to come stand up there like it's some fucking concert and pretend to know about this cult. There's nothing special about your little map, and there's nothing special abo-"
"Larry," Sal interrupted. "Stop, let him talk," he said, pointing to Travis. Larry sighed.
"Fine, but if this doesn't get anywhere is the next five minutes I'm leaving," he decided.
Travis nodded and continued. "This isn't a normal map, if you look at the blue lines spread across the map you'll notice something, they aren't rivers." Sal moved toward him and stood up on the mantel, standing on his tippy toes to see the map properly. Travis was right, the blue lines were all over, far too many to be rivers. Not just that, but there were red pins in a few locations on the map, surrounded by more and more blue lines. "The rivers on the map are represented in grey, you can see it here." Travis pointed to the Hudson River. It was in grey. "This is the Hudson, and over here," he moved his finger to the Mississippi. "That's grey too. Those blue lines can't be rivers."
Larry moved closer. "Alright so what are you saying preacher boy?" He asked, causing Travis to frown again. "The blue lines represent something else. What is it?"
"The tunnels, they represent the tunnels you and your little gang must've stumbled upon that led to the underground cult circle. Those tunnels are all around the world, accompanied by secret passage ways," he explained, moving his finger slowly along the blue lines.
Larry stared in awe, not wanting to believe it but clearly giving in. "Okay so, so how do you know all that?" He asked, staring blankly at the map.
Travis sighed and put both his arms under the map, lifting it off of the mantle to reveal a solemn metal trash shoot filled with bones. "My Dad runs the whole thing."
WEET REET. Alright fellow homosexuals (I meant to type homosapians but homosexuals seems more fitting so) have an update my doods. I'm really exited for the rest of this story so like please gimmie clout. The views on this have been slowly going down and stuff and of course I'm still happy I get as many as I do I just low key hope you guys are still enjoying my content. Anyways, I'll update again someday, but until then, I love you.
Sincerely,
Author.
YOU ARE READING
•discontinued• i need this-Sally Face and Travis
Romancedon't read this ever i was TWELVE when i wrote this please stop