Like a child would, I outstretch my arms and run down the boardwalk. When a child would tire, I slow to a stop and watch the sun set over the pacific-blue ocean.
When someone taps me on my shoulder, I think about those teens down at the tiltowhirl, hanging out scoping the area and hiding the pipe bombs in their jackets. They could have realised who I am. This could be it.
I turn but it's just her, eyes wide in wonder, stinking of no showers and less sleep. She hugs me, weeping and moaning.
"I thought I lost you again," she says.
She thinks I'm her daughter.
In a way, she's right.
I watch the cop approach from behind. Gold badge on his cap reads SAN VEUSTER POLICE DEPARTMENT. He coughs and taps her on the shoulder.
"Ma'am?" he says. "What are you doing?"
She doesn't respond, holds me tighter.
"Let it go, ma'am."
"She's my child."
"It isn't anyone's child."
"You can't say that!"
"Don't make a scene, ma'am."
It's too late. The teens are prowling up toward me, shouldering with their hockey sticks and baseball bats. They're not sure yet, but they move fast.
There's six of them, five too many. In this form, I'm weak.
I stop, I breathe, I think, I decide.
I tune into your voices and leave this in your hands.
A. Provoke the cop by punching his nuts. It'll land me in a police station but I'll be safe.
B. Consume the cop, steal his form, and take out the teens. It'll leave a mess but give me a running start.You always have two options. Sometimes more.
1. An option in plaintext goes as planned.
2. An option in italics means risky; I roll 1d6, RtD rules.
3. You can write-in your own options, but it can be no longer than four words.
Author
Topic: Seaside Ghost [SG] (Read 5319 times)