"I hear what your saying, but I have to thoroughly disagree. The solution isn't just lower speed limits- it's also improved infrastructure for fine individuals such as yourself. I've seen these tunnels they dig under the roads in Ohio, like drain pipes, to cut down on those horrid accidents. They just need some of those here."
Parael glanced at the squirrel quizzically, watching as it clacked its acorn against its teeth and waiting for a response. It bit through the top of the nut. Then hopped off. Typical squirrel, always running away when it couldn't make a proper response in an argument. Parry much preferred debating chipmunks anyway. But there weren't many on this side of the state, and besides, he had work to do. The others would be getting here soon, if they hadn't arrived already! Glancing into his waistcoat pocket for his watch. Twelve noon. It would begin quickly, then. It'd been a chore getting the proper attire for this gathering (Parry always insisted he looked horrid in a suit and tie) but proper respect needed to be paid, especially for one so young as Mark, so he'd come dressed to the Nines in his best 1920's era suit, tie and walking stick- though he had the good sense to leave the top hat at home. A lot would happen here that would depend on first impressions. As the lines of students continued to stream into the funeral home in ones and twos, Parry glanced up at the gray skies and frowned.
This city had a past that wasn't trouble, but wasn't exactly hopeful either. During the summer people came from around the country for the beaches. Money and alcohol flowed freely, young lovebirds flocked to the parks, and there were plenty of historical sites to see. But the darker side was prevalent as well in the outskirts of town. Old cotton mills had long since been shuttered and splattered with graffiti, or burned to shells. Most of the farms had blighted in the '40s and never bounced back. An unhealthy number of people were being crammed into trailer homes.
And now, this. A sickness not of the physical realm was taking root. Oh, Parry couldn't sense the where or the what, but its presence was an ache in his bones. When the sun went down, something dark was coming over this place.
And it would take more than just little old him to bring it into the light.
"Well everyone, I'm waiting..."
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
It was meant to be a statement of fact, but Ian had to admit that it sounded more like a prayer. Most everyone heading into the open doors of the funeral home was dry-eyed and grim. Everyone had the same thoughts on their mind- poor Mark. Stuck in that coma for six months, no explanations from the doctors, and then suddenly last week, gone. Never to wake up again. How terrible for the family. But who was going to be next? The adults were in denial that anyone else would fall into a coma, that it was anything more than a coincidence (at least in public). But it was all the talk around school, and everyone was looking for a common thread to pin on their social enemies.
The victims were all watching American Idol (false; Mark loved 'The Voice'). They all had brothers (false). They all had cats (oddly true, but Ian doubted that was the cause). One of the most recent rumors: they were all gay.
And the thought of that one made Ian squirm in his seatbelt as his dad pulled the car into the parking lot. "You okay?"
Ian nodded silently, not wanting to open his mouth with that three letter word on his mind. Mom and dad shared a concerned look but said nothing else. Teenage grief. So sad.
Ian just wanted to say goodbye in peace. Hopefully that wouldn't be too much to ask, even as he stepped out of the car and headed for the parking lot. His mom and dad mentioned something about going to Mark's house and preparing dinner for the family, so he wasn't surprised they drove off right after leaving Ian at the doors to the Gothic-style funeral home.
OOC: The OOC- http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...els-in-Arcadia