The Keeper's Journal
The crowd stood morose around the crumpled body of Snorlax. The more moralistic of the group trying to keep the younger ex-celebrants from approaching the corpse. The rest had started discussing, asking questions that no one had an answer too. No one living, at least.
". . . Why did he scream?"
"Maybe he tripped, and did when he fell out?"
"He screamed before the glass broke, we all heard it."
"Did he. . . see something?"
"What would he have seen? I checked the entire floor, there was nothing else there."
"Look, we can't just stand out here. Did somebody call 911?"
"I did."
"Then let's go inside."
"We can't just leave him here like this."
"He's already dead."
"But we still shouldn't. . . -"
"I'll help you. Grab his legs."
The first decision made, the rest of the group moved back into the B&B, as Michonne and JNathan reached to lift the body. But as they moved him onto his back, from off his arm, they saw his face. Twisted, and macabre, frozen in a look that proceeded human. One of primal disgust, anger, and terror. Like that of a dog the has been back into a corner, and knows that it will die, but curses the hand that kills, hoping to at least harm it's destroyer as it's last will. Exchanging a look of nausea, the pair lifted their newly dead friend and followed the rest of the group.
. . .
CarcharOdin was still inside the house. Having stayed inside to look around as the others left to delibrate. Climbing the stairs, thoughts swum through his head. Why did this happen? Snorlax didn't seemed depressed, why would he jump? Why did I even come here? But his thoughts were not fated to last long.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused. Was that a figure he just saw? Calling out, he set down the hall in pursuit, turning the corner in little time, and finding a dead end. There were four doors on this side of the building, and one was open. Cautiously, he stepped inside. But the moment his foot hit the floor of the room, his mind went blank.
