CAST: James Caster - Chris Pratt; Julie Hampton - Emma Roberts; Mark Sullivan - Evan Peters; Nora Bell - Sarah Paulson.
Episode 1 "Freak Storm" Act I
Oswego, New York
2013
Time's a wasting, sitting here at the local coffee shop ain't going to help me get my pay for next month's rent. Being a freelance reporter means half your time is in meeting places like coffee shops or alleyways looking left and right for your 'reliable' source. It's a pain in the ass and the shit they tell me ain't even half decent to put on the paper, let alone on the Friday news. But, nonetheless, sometimes, you hit gold and with the little tidbits of information these sources tell you can actually not only help your career but also help the cops out a bit.
He pulled his trench coat tighter and closer to his skin, the cold of the rain outside entered the shop like a ghost, with mist pouring all over the street floor, even willowing upwards the glass. He looked outside and saw no one except for an old man trying to cross the street, the man wore nothing you'd wear out in the freezing cold, loafers and khaki pants and a button-up green shirt. He shivered and his teeth chittered as he hurried across the abandoned street and into the coffee shop. James Caster eyed the old man as he took a look of his surroundings, their eyes met and the old man beamed him a smile that lasted only a split second.
The old man seemed to glide across the floor of the shop, next thing James knew, the old man was sitting across from him. Steam billowed from his cup of coffee and he stared down at its rich, brown surface before looking back at the old man. "You're my source?" he asked as he took a quick glance around them, no one seemed to bother looking their way but James still leaned in closer.
"Mighty fine, I am and would it kill you to give little respect to an old man?" his source said with a thick southern accent. "Here's all I got, by the way" he produced a brown envelope, it looked bulky and carried a lot of papers inside. He handed it over to James and James, in return, handed the old man a rather thick wad of crisp one-hundred dollar bills.
"Two grand" James said opening the envelope and peering inside. To his surprise, it wasn't paper inside but a black box, he tried to pull it out but the old man stopped him before he could.
"Not in here, too many people will see what it is"
"What exactly is it?" he raised a brow at the old man. The old man was counting his money and paid no attention to his question. With a sigh, he placed the envelope inside his briefcase and drank the rest of his coffee. "Weather's a bit weird in this place, ain't it?"
"Mighty fine, it is" the old man finally finished counting his money and stuffed it inside his pockets. "Got pretty damn wet from just crossing the street to get to ya' thank god, though, that that thing didn't get to wet"
"Yeah, but what the hell is it? It's not some rubik's cube that summons up some kind of demon is it, because I want my two grand back if that's the case"
"This ain't some cheap horror movie, son. But hell, if I had something like that, I wouldn't go for some lousy freelance reporter and instead I'll just go to the big companies and try to sell it there"
"A serial killer's loose out there" said James taking a quick glance out the window. "It's already a horror movie for those victims' families"
"Butcher ain't here, son" said the old man with a firm, matter-of-fact tone. James looked passed him and noticed a group of teenagers a few booths from them huddled, whispering. One of them was a tall beautiful blond girl with full lips and vibrant green eyes, next to her was a young man wearing the local high school's jersey, his slick golden hair tips with black highlights seemed to have jumped out from a 70's magazine that featured Dirty Dancing on the front covers. James returned his gaze to the old man before the teens noticed he was checking them out. He sure could use some release from being cooped up inside that tiny and stuffy motel room he rented a few blocks away. The blond girl's perfect for him, he thought as he continued to talk with the old man about the weather of Oswego.
Julie Hampton sat beside Mark Sullivan of the Oswego High School's football team. Just sitting next to him meant you were the popular chick but that wasn't her thing, she was one of those outcast types, the gothic kids you usually found in the dark alleys of cities huffing god-who-knows what kind of drug. But she wasn't going to tell Mark that little fact about her, just yet, she had the hots for him since her freshman years when he was in sophomore and into basketball instead. Nell Jackson, her best friend, sat across her with her boyfriend Jack Muller. Nell and Jack, as Julie saw it, were the perfect interacial couple she had ever seen, she was dark skinned and he was fairer than snow white but that didn't matter to them, even with Jack's super racist parents, he fought for her love and in the end they ended up together. Julie hoped she could have a love like that.
"I tell you guys, we go in, take the doll and bolt the hell out of there before anyone sees us" says Rick, the leader of the group, sat on the far end of the booth. They all looked worried except for Mark who seemed amused with the idea of breaking in into a shop. Julie caught Nell looking at her and they both did a synchronized roll of the eyes.
"Rick, it's… ugh, I don't know… illegal?" said Jack who wrapped his arm over Nell's shoulders and pulled her close. Julie hoped Mark would do the same but they weren't a 'thing' and hell would freeze over first before they could ever be. Instead, she resorted to being just near him. It would suffice, for now at least but the burning itch underneath her was steadily growing and she wanted him to break her. She shook her head and listened in on what Rick was saying.
"It's a dare we were given for the upcoming Halloween party at Jackson's house" he said, his tone having an air of annoyance and impatience.
"Is that party really worth it, though?" asked Nell.
"I fucking hope so" said Mark. "I fucking hope Jackson isn't screwing with us like last time"
"Dude" said Rick, "Chill, I got this, you have my word"
"Okay… when do we do it then? I don't want to go right now because we'd be drenched in that kind of rain" said Nell. Just then, lightning illuminated the sky and the entire shop's electricity died out. There was a chorus of gasp and the screams of children but the five remained quiet. Julie felt a cold wind sweep past her and if made her shake to the bone. She nudged herself closer to Mark.
"Freaky storm, the weatherman from News 7 said there shouldn't be a cloud in the sky today" said Mark.
"Well, weathermen always predict the weather wrong" replied Julie who couldn't believe he used her 'Goth' tone on him.
When you grow older, my mother always said, you'll learn the importance of being with someone. I never did. My dolls keep me company, they're always there for me and I am, for them. So it's a big depressing thing to sell them away, my mother used to own this shop and now that she's cooped up inside her dingy coffin under six feet of dirt, I have the shop to myself. Looking at Mabelle, my favorite of them all, I can't help but feel the sadness trickle down my neck and grip it so tight I feel as if I can't breathe. I know I shouldn't sell them but… what can I do? I'm being forced by my dead mother's spirit to sell them all.
"For the last time, mother, I'm not selling Mabelle" she shouted into the empty space of her shop. No one answered back but inside her head she could hear her mother yelling a ther for being a failure, for being the irresponsible of the two children she had, even going to length to telling her that her birth was completely accidental and that she never wanted another daughter from the beginning. Nora Bell sat behind the counter of her doll shop, aisle upon aisle of dolls sat between her and the front door. The dolls' eyes seemed to glow with such beauty that it mesmerized any girl who would enter the place. Mabelle, a country-looking plush doll sat on her lap as she bickered against the faint voices of her mother.
She's a wicked doll. Sell her. the voice kept saying and she kept shaking her head never wanting to hear the same damn voice ever again but she knew for a fact that it would never leave her alone, this was her punishment for standing in front of her mother, watching her with dread as the life slip from her body and as the blood poured out from the stab wound she got from her drunk husband. Nora could never get that sight out of her mind and she could never let go of the guilt she felt for her mother's death. It burned her insides, every time she had glimpses of that terrible night, her stomach would do flips and she'd empty her belly unto the sink. She couldn't escape it because it was imprinted there.
Nora didn't reply. She covered her ears with her hands and let Mabelle lean against her instead. The lightning flashed outside and the power went out. The shop was pitch black, but the eyes of her dolls seemed to glow and gave her enough light to see the figure standing just outside her window. Another lightning flashed across the sky to reveal it's contorted face, it's eyes bleeding profusely with blackish-red blood, its grin reached its temples and its bald head seemed to have razor blades imbedded in them, in that brief flash of fear, Nora Bell fell off her chair. She stood back up, the shadowy figures till present in front of her shop's window. It was tapping on the window, three taps then a pause. Her feet didn't moved away from it, however, and instead moved her closer. Try as she might, her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Her feet carried her across the aisles of beady glass eyes and fabric hair. She could feel her dolls' eyes following her, screaming at her to stop, turn and run but she kept on going, her body felt mesmerized. Another flash of lightning and the contorted, face from hell disappeared and instead, appeared the face of Alan Greene, her next door neighbor. He was furiously tapping on her window, saying something muffled by the high winds and paltering rain.
"Alan!" she jumped and quickly opened the door. He entered, shaking, wet and cold. "I'm sorry, I was…"
"Spacing out again, Nora, that's what you were doing" he said in his raspy voice. "What is it this time?"
She thought about telling him what she saw but judged it would be better not to. At least not to involve other people in her hallucinations. She shook her head and guided him to the back door behind the counter where it connected the shop to the rest of her house. In a small room just before her living room, she sat him on a chair and took out a towel from a small cabinet. She wrapped him in it and busied herself with looking at the shivering man. "I was just overthinking something, I'm sorry"
Alan looked up and saw the flickering lights above him. "You have a backup generator?" he asked, his teeth still chattering from the cold.
"I do. Walsh got for my birthday" she replied crossing her arms in front of her. "What do you need, Alan?"
"I came by to check up on you" he said. "I know you have a leak on the second floor and thought I might as well look how much damage the storm's going to cost you" he looked around the small room, aside from the cabinet it was furnished with a long sofa and a coffee table, there weren't any wallpaper and the walls showed signs of old age as yellowish stains appeared around the cracks running along them. "But you seem to be good" he finally added.
"I am"
"Can I…" he looked at her but she remained silent. "Can I stay here until the storm passes, at least?"
"Sure, just don't disturb my dolls"
"I won't even touch any of them, especially that one" he pointed past behind her. She followed his finger's direction and turned, sitting on the couch from across them was Mabelle with her arms crossed much like Nora was doing. Nora wasn't sure if the doll was looking at her or at Alan but she could feel something emanating from the fabric skin of the figure, it felt like pinprick icicles on her skin. Nora shivered, then another thought entered her mind, she had left Mabelle in the shop counter and never brought her with them into the room.
James Caster watched the old man wake away, the storm had finally started to calm and a light drizzle had replaced the downpour. He thought of going back to the motel but instead decided to walk up to the teenagers and ask them some questions about the Butcher. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a small notepad and a pen before heading over their directions. When he stopped just in front of their booth, they also stopped talking. He tipped them his hat, "Hey, I was wondering if you could help me out with something?"
"Anything you need, we can help, but when a price" said the guy at the far end. He was wearing a black shirt that looked too large for him, his hair was buzz cut except for the middle. A dark skinned girl was leaning against a boy that contrasted with her color, both their hair were long and brown, hers had curls and his was silky straight.
"I'm a reporter from one of those big ones up in New York and I was interviewing anyone about the killings going on around here"
"There's nothing we can help you with that" said the blonde girl.
"C'mon, he's got money, I bet" said the boy in the black shirt, he was clearly the leader of the group. James made eye contact with the boy for a moment and a glimmer in the boy's eyes meant he was right for asking them, but to what extent he could bribe them, he didn't know. He only had a grand in his wallet.
"You want money? I got at least half a grand" he lied, this seemed to peak at least the long-hair boy and the leader. The two girls and the one wearing the varsity was having doubts when he pulled his wallet out. He ushered the dark skinned girl to scoot over and they gave him space to seat in. he flipped open his wallet and was thankful his grand was two five hundred. He pulled one out, careful not to let them see the other. He laid the crisp paper bill on the table and all eyes were on it. "It's yours if you can give me any real piece of information about anything you know"
"Well…" starts the long hair boy.
"Can I get your names first? I'll make sure to censor them when I send the report to my boss but I don't want to refer to you guys in my head as stereotypical-looking high school kids" James interrupted before the boy could continue.
"That's a bit rude" chuckled the leader. "Name's Rick"
"Julie" said the blonde.
"Nell" said the other girl.
"Mark" said varsity jacket.
"Jack" said the long-hair boy. "How 'bout yours?"
"Name's James. James Caster" he looked around, the group's attention was on him and the dollar bill. Every other patron in the shop was either busy talking to each other or looking out the windows to give a care about them. "So… the Butcher—
"Is a myth"
"What?" James looked at the man who sat on the next booth.
"He ain't real, but I'll tell you what's real, you getting kicked out of this place if you keep on bothering these kids so you can get money out of them" the man looked old but not as old as his earlier 'source'. James' mouth thinned into a line, he wasn't going to let someone like him stop him from getting the truth… and his payday raise.
"Don't mind him" said Jack, "He's loony" he adds doing circles with his finger at his temple.
"No, I am not!" shouted the man. He stood up and walked towards them.
James, sensing what was going to happen next, stood up and confronted the man. "Hey, man, don't. They're just kids"
"The hell they are!" he tried to push James, but being the mountain of muscle he was, the man didn't even moved him an inch from when he stood.
"Hey, come on, know what? I'll interview you instead—
"I tell you the Butcher ain't real!" he shouted and tried to push James again. He still didn't budge.
"Okay, I believe you, just come down, I'll ask you about the freaky weather in this city instead"
This made the man leer at him then to the kids. He scuffled away murmuring curse words under his breath and walked towards the direction of the doors. James hurriedly tore a piece of paper from his notepad and scribbled his phone number, he took the five hundred dollar back just before Rick could get his hands on it. "Hey!"
"I'll give you my number, if you want to make some extra cash, you'll contact me before the end of the day, if not… I have other sources to ask—
"Come one then you—
"Coming!" he shouted back. He quickly returned to his booth and grabbed his briefcase. He rushed out of the coffee shop, eyes following him, him following the old man walking near the edge of the building, trying to avoid the light drizzle of rain. "So, what's with the weather?" he asked as he caught sight of the man turning a corner. James followed, but just as he had turned from the street and into the alley beside the cafe, a hand holding a solid red brick slammed at his temple and his sight blurred, he fell back unto his back, his head hurt and he could feel blood from a wound where he was hit.
The muffled sound of running made him try to concentrate at what was in front of him. The man had his back to him and running down the alleyway. The next moment, the man was gone and the group of teens he was talking to earlier was behind him helping him out. they were saying something he couldn't make sense out of, his hearing was still muffled and his sight was still a blur but an image came into clear view just before he passed out, Julie's face, her thin lips glossed red, her eyes of green seemed to gleam at him just as the darkness pulled him into unconsciousness.