Forums » General Roleplay » Ripley and the Ghost Club (1x1)

"Capital! Let's head out!" But despite her expectations, Frances agreed. They'd been to far worse locations for ghost hunts. If Livia were coming along, she might have complained about her dress getting dirty. Then again, she shouldn't be going to these places in such nice clothing.

He lead the way out of the room and then out of the school. Out front, he had his bright green bicycle locked up at the school's bike rack. Once it was unlocked, he put on his green helmet, and handed a blue one to Visia. Knowing what to do, she seated herself on the back of his bike while he climbed onto the driver's seat.

"Lead the way!" he told Ripley.

Ripley's bike was grand new and the latest model, but it was so dinged, scratched, and dirty that it looked like the oldest one in the lot. She grabbed her silver helmet and plunked it on her head without latching it properly. Then she got on her bike and kicked off. "Come on! Follow me." She headed off, zipping along proudly as fast as she could. She was incredibly fast on her bike and had a lot of endurance thanks to all her time on her bike. She allowed herself some time to show off and be "cool" before slowing down so that Frances could keep up.

They biked for about half an hour before Ripiley stopped and got off her bike. This was where she most commonly went hiking around, so she figured it was as good a place as any to start. She took things seriously and tried her best to remember where she usually went, pointing out anything she remembered as standing out to her, like a cool rock shape or a weird branch. Every now and then, she'd pick something up off the forest floor and carefully tuck it into her shirt pocket.

If it wasn't obvious from his appearance, Frances was anything but an athlete. His attempts to keep up with Ripley left him sweating and wheezing. When they finally stopped, he slumped over his handlebars to catch his breath. Walking through the forest was a bit more his speed, but she was clearly more experienced with it than he was. He ended up tripping over a root while looking at the cool shaped rock that she pointed out. After a while, he turned back towards Visia.

"Sensing anything?" he asked. She shook her head in response, so he focused back on the path ahead of him. One thing he did note was the fact that Ripley was pocketing some items. He tapped his chin, musing for a moment. "I have a hypothesis that something you picked up was likely what instigated the attachment. Do you remember acquiring anything unusual two months ago?"

Ripley was secretly impressed that Frances was keeping up with her - sort of - or at least determinedly tripping his way after her without any complaints. She'd never tell him, but she'd fully expected him to be the type to wander in a few steps and quickly give up, or at least complain and whine all the way through. This determined quiet was not what she'd expected at all. He was still a weirdo, but maybe not an all-bad weirdo. She still didn't want to hang out with him.

"Something unusual two months ago?" she repeated. She paused and took a seat on a rock instead of a log as she thought. Most logs were okay, but every now and then, you came across one that was so rotten inside that it collapsed. That hurt, to put it lightly. "Um... Let's see. A couple of cool colored rocks. A stick shaped like a cross. Another stick that was almost a loop-de-loop. A racoon's finger bone. Some plastic bottles from some idiots littering. Several owl pellets. And a couple of cool bugs. I don't think any of that was unusual."

Frances was nothing if not determined (and weird.) He took club business very seriously. If only there was a career for this sort of thing. Maybe he would be the first. Or maybe he would end up flipping burgers and solving ghost mysteries in his free time.

As she started listing items, he pulled out his notebook to write them down. Chewing on his pencil, he mused over the completed list. None of these sounded like they could be particularly haunted, unless the stick-shaped cross was used as a real one at some point. But then he flipped back to his first page of notes on this case, with the most pertinent words the spirit spoke.

She has me.

As he put the pieces together, the realization hit him like a freight train. There was only item that fit with what he said. He wasn't a rock, a stick, or a plastic bottle. His hands were starting to shake again as he swallowed hard.

"Um...h-how certain are you that t-the bone belonged to...a racoon?" he asked.

Ripley did not pay much attention to the question, not thinking it was important as she picked up an interesting leaf and looked it over. "It's way too small to be like a deer bone, and we don't have a lot of possums in the area. I guess it could have been an opposum bone, but more likely a raccoon. They are really cool looking. We could probably find you one, if you want." She rolled up the leaf carefully and tucked it into her shirt pocket. Then she pointed down through the trees. "There's probably still some left."

Frances didn't want to spell out what he was thinking. It was quite the grisly theory. He glanced nervously in the direction she indicated. There was an easy way to confirm his suspicions.

"N-no thank you." he said. "It would most likely end up consumed by my dog. But I think it could be...beneficial to search the area where you found it. Could you please lead us there?" Hopefully, there was some other explanation. Visia hadn't pieced together what he had, but she could tell he was distressed, so she just watched him curiously.

"Sure. Come on, it's this way." Ripley stood and started walking back toward the road. Once she had the road in sight, she angled to walk alongside it, staying just within sight of it and using it as her guide. It was still a bit of a hike to get to where she remembered finding the bones, and she couldn't remember exactly how long it took to get there. Thankfully, though, there was a very clear landmark marking where it was. A small bridge in the road crossed a creek. Heavy brush covered a lot of the area, but the creek was still reasonably outlined.

Ripley stopped at the edge of the creek and pointed down. "Just down there. I think it got caught in the shrub and drowned or something. Why are you worried about an old coon skeleton?"

Jared the ghost drifted into view. He was barely visible, but what could be seen was dark and foreboding. He hung there across the creek from the group of children, watching. Waiting to see what would happen next.

Once again, Frances was winded by the time they made it to the bridge. But he didn't complain. This was too important. His eyes widened as she pointed out the shrubs. Although Jared was barely visible, Visia fixed her eyes on him the moment he appeared.

Not even answering Ripley's question, Frances leapt down into the shallows of the creek. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he searched through the brush, and now, it wasn't because of the hiking. Suddenly, he let out a scream, falling back into the shallow water. With a shaking hand, he pointed to where he'd cleared away the brush.

"T-t-t-t-that's n-not a r-r-r-raccoon..."

Sitting in the creek, entrenched in mud, was a very clearly human skull.

"Of course it's a raccoon," Ripley said, not looking down in the creek. She was busy picking up a few bugs and setting them in a line. "What else could it be? A giraffe?" She turned and finally looked down, prepared to laugh at the kid sitting in the water. The skull caught her attention, and she swallowed her laugh. "Oh. Yeah. Not a raccoon."

Ripley climbed down to join Francess, scowling. A bit of poking showed a tangle of other bones. It had long since ceased looking like a properly laid-out skeleton. It was easy to see hoe a finger bone or two might have escaped the main grouping of bones.

"Maybe we shouldn't touch too much," she said nervously. "Maybe we should just drop an anonymous tip to the police or something. How did I miss this when I... Wait, so you think that bone I have is one of...?"

Through his sheer terror, Frances felt a tinge of respect for Ripley. She was handling the fact that they found a dead body remarkably well. You would think a group of ghost hunters, who deal with death on a daily basis, would be used to that by now. But this was the first time they had found someone's bodily remains.

At her question, she nodded. "Y-yeah..." he muttered, shakily getting to his feet. His cargo shorts were soaked from landing in the creek. All his devices would be going in rice later. "Jared said that you 'have him.'" He pulled out his phone. Luckily, that at least was water resistant. "I'll n-notify the police..."

“Wow,” Ripley said because she needed to say something, but she didn’t know what to say. “Wow. Okay.”

As Frances pulled out his phone, the ghost of Jared – who until now had been sitting quietly on the sidelines – surged forward. He hissed and lashed out at Frances. There wasn’t much a ghost could do, especially not a weak one, but he could still try as he touched the phone in Frances’ hand. Words and garble poured out of him. He went on for several seconds, but it was impossible to understand most of the words.

“No! Call … not right for … family will … not them!”

Frances screamed again. Whether dropped from shock, or because Jared actually managed to knock it out of his hands, his phone fell into the creek. Suddenly, Visia glared at the spirit and held out her hand towards him. It wasn't immediately clear what she was doing, but Jared would feel himself get yanked away from Frances.

"It's okay! I'm unharmed!" the boy quickly assured her. She put her hand down, stopping the mysterious influence, but kept glaring. He nervously watched the ghost in front of him, fidgeting with his hands. "You...you don't want the police informed?" Still fidgeting, he looked between Jared and what used to be Jared. He took an involuntary breath.

"I suppose we'll have to solve this mystery without the assistance of professional forensic science."

Jered flashed back, his words, if they even were words, hissing and completely garbled now. There was no understanding the upset spirit or parsing together any sentences or meaning. He faded into almost nothing, appearing as nothing more than a faint mist.

"Why wouldn't he want the police involved?" Ripley demanded. "We're just a bunch of kids! How are we going to find out anything? Other than tripping over a skeleton. How are we going to know who killed him or why? Unless." She eyed Francess suspiciously. "You have a full CSI kitted out in your treehouse?" It would not have surprised her.

"I wish." Frances responded. "Unfortunately, the majority of my technological paraphernalia is focused primarily on ghost communication and pacification." Tapping his chin, he stared at the skeleton. After a moment, he turned to Visia. "Can you glean anything from these remains?" In lieu of a verbal answer, she waded into the creek, placing a hand over the decomposed body.

"It's faint." she said. "He must have died months ago." Her head twitched involuntarily. Her next sentence was horrifying, but it was spoken in the same deadpan rasp as always. "His neck was broken."

"His neck was broken??" he exclaimed, empathetically clutching his own. "What could have caused that?" Nervously, he looked over to Ripley. "D-do you think it was...murder?"

"I guess so. I mean, it's the only thing that makes sense, isn't it?" Ripley asked uneasily. "How else does a guy end up in a creek bed all... unbodied and with his neck broken?" She frowned thoughtfully, still staying up on the bank. "The real question is Why? And who, but if we look at the why, that should lead us to the who, right? We'll have to be careful. I mean, no one is really going to pay attention to a bunch of kids, but it'd be best if we don't catch any attention, right? We have no idea who might be a killer."

Frances awkwardly nodded. "Based on my...limited understanding, the majority of homicides are committed by someone close to the victim. We should learn as much as we can about Jared Gun...I believe that's what he elucidated his last name was. Once we know that, we can begin to compile a list of potential suspects." He sighed. "If only we could ask him..."

That seemed to remind Visia of something. She stood up and turned to Ripley. "You were able to see this ghost, right?" she asked. "Have you heard The Knocking?"

"The Knocking is a purported phenomena reported by psychics around the world." Frances interjected to explain. "Many of them believe it to be a myth, considering the immense amount of psychic energy it would take for an event like that to occur worldwide. Visia always inquires about it whenever we meet anyone with a level of Extrasensory Perception."

"I guess we can go to the library and see if there's, like, a list of Jared Guns," Ripley mumbled. "I can't look it up because my mom checks my search history." She was distracted from her mutterings by Visia's question. "Knocking? What knocking? The only knocking I ever hear is when someone's hammering on my door or Frances' knees when he's facing a ghost." She gestured at Jared's ghost. "He's the first ghost I've ever seen, and I'm hoping the last."

She turned and started to walk away from the creek. Then she paused and looked back. "Hey, aren't you guys supposed to do all the solving and stuff? Do I need to, like, pay you or something?"

Visia hung her head, apparently disappointed. Frances rolled his eyes at the comment, but chose not to retort in any way. Without hesitation, he followed Ripley away from the creek, his soaked shoes squeaking with every step. When she paused he did as well.

"Oh, no no. We provide these services pro bono." he told her. "All us members of Ghost Club are immensely passionate about assuaging hauntings and assisting spirits in moving on to the other side." Although she usually acted distant, Visia nodded in agreement as he continued. "We're more than happy to spearhead the investigation, but if you want to assist, you're welcome to. We've had several 'clients' who wanted to investigate for their own curiosity."

Ripley was already shaking her head before he finished. "No, thank you. I am very happy to let you guys do all the work. Just so long as you get this creepy dude to quit following me around. If you do that, I'll give you," she hesitated, looking him over, "your weight in pens and pocket protectors." She started walking again. "Can you guys find your way out all right? You won't do any good lost in the woods."

The faint shadow of Jared followed Ripley, not really walking or floating, just somehow moving through the world. He had stopped trying to talk or communicate. Perhaps the earlier attempt had worn him out? Drained what energy he had? Or was he just not interested in attempting to make himself heard any longer? Whatever the reason, he followed Ripley in silence, barely visible in the sunlight.