Hello everyone! I'm starting this while I finish my layouts for Our Confusing History and Slender 2! I've got a lot of planning to go through for those before I can just write away like I normally do. Honestly, most of my stuff I don't even think through, the words just come out as I type.
But this, this is different.
When I was about twelve or thirteen (maybe fourteen, can't remember), my best friend's mother got this game that she ripped and burnt onto a disc for me and my mother to play so we could swap tips and stuff. So, I was obsessed with the game for the better half of the year after I got it until me and my mother beat it and I lost it. The game was called Scratches, it's set in (I do believe, I'll correct myself later once I look it up) Northumberland, England around the year 1976 and it's about a novelist who specializes in the horror genre. He rents an old Victorian manor that either lays on the outskirts of Rothbury or right on the edge of Rothbury (can't remember that either, it's been years!) to help his muse for his newest book. So I won't spoil anything (seeing as this will be horror), let's just say...'some shit goes down', 'kay? ^_^
So, our dear beloved Arthur Kirkland (Why is it always me..?) who I am overly mean to, will take the place of the author (who's real name was Michael, for those of you who would want to know). I'll have to re watch a let's play of Scratches to get all the characters (even though most are dead) so I can replace them with our beloved Hetalia characters but I don't believe I'm going to make any pairings in this. There may be some implied, but nothing for sure.
This story will probably be in Arthur's point of view, I'm not sure I'm not to good with first person. I will, however, write the first chapter in first person because that's how the game starts out. Everything else, aside from Michael's thoughts, were in second person, obviously...so I suppose we'll just see how things turn out, shall we?
Well, that said, I'll make my disclaimer and get along with the story! I hope everyone likes it and that it becomes very popular because (even though the game is practically hidden in the shadows) the game was absolutely amazing!
(P.S: Don't hate me for what I'm going to do to our lovely Austria and Hungary, alright? Story's sake!)
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Scratches.
I arrived at Edelstein Manor one cold, dreary Saturday morning. A heavy blanket of fog rolled in as a light drizzle started beating against my windshield. I pulled up to the gate that protected the house from trespassers and got out, unlocking it and pulling one side open. My car was a beat up old hand-me-down from my oldest brother. I dare not turn it off in fear of it not starting back up again before I can get it pulled into the drive. As I made my way to the car and got back in, the fog had thickened reasonably as the rain started to beat slightly harder than before.
The car made it's slow way through the opened gate and into the drive. I parked it and cut it off, the engine making a slight groan as it cooled down. Knowing how this car works, that was probably a sign that it wasn't going to start back up any time soon. I opened my door and got out, walking to the gate and locking it back. As I turned to look at the house through the fog that kept rolling in smoothly, I sighed to myself. It was a moderately old home, probably built in the early 1800's and as far as I know, was passed down through the Edelstein family. The house itself was a bit shabby through the years of disuse, but in otherwise good shape. It was a two-story house with at least two bedrooms and, from my understanding, before the family moved on they were planning on building a tower onto the house. From the looks of it, they finished the tower from the outside but I'm pretty sure it could still use a lot of work from the inside.
Letting another sigh escape, I walked back to my old jalopy of a car and got my bag out, throwing it over my shoulder. Reaching through the bars of the gate, I grabbed the key from inside the mailbox that was nailed to the stonewall connected to said gate. Walking pass the fountain and up the front porch stairs, I stopped in front of the door and peered in the huge stain glass window as I slipped the key in the lock. Windows would have to be cleaned. Good thing I was only renting this house out for the weekend. This place could be someone else's 'fixer upper'.
The lock made an eery clicking noise as I turned the key and opened the door, the hinges cringing loudly from either rust or the years of mistreatment. Walking in, I took a look around. To my left was a wrap around staircase, obviously leading to the second floor. There were a few vases and a pretty huge grandfather clock sitting underneath the landing of the stairs. Ahead of me was a small sitting room with a door, probably leading to what I suspect to be the dinning room. Making almost a full three-sixty, I was met with the small living room. There was a fireplace in front of the light brown coffee table. The coffee table itself had a few books on top of it and a...used coffee cup? Odd.. The coffee table was surrounded by a couch and two sitting chairs that were covered with ivory colored fabric, printed with faded red roses. A beautiful black piano sat behind the couch. The only downside to this beautiful house was the fact that everything was covered in at least three inches of dust.
Turning around and making my way to the small sitting area that held two chairs (that of which I laid my bag on) covered in a red and light gold fabric, I noticed a small rotary phone sitting on a table near a lamp that sat beside a couch covered in the same fabric as the two chairs. At least there was a phone, I was supposed to call the real estate agent about how well I was settling in later on. But, before that, I wanted to explore a bit more. Walking through the door there, I came across what I suspected, the dinning room. Not much here, just a huge table that sat about ten people. A huge mirror sat above a small dresser that probably held silverware and napkins. A huge china cabinet sat on the other end of the room, obviously holding old plates and cups. Said china cabinet sat in between two other doors, one of which could possibly lead to the kitchen but the other was a mystery. I walked over to a smaller cabinet that was a bit taller than the china cabinet and opened it, eyes widening at the amount of booze that still lay hidden inside. Most of it was very old and very expensive wine, some scotch, a bit of vodka. To bad it was all old and covered in dust, I wouldn't have minded sampling some of it.
Below the shelf full of alcohol sat a lonely stack of slightly over used dishware. Obviously used for lesser valued occasions like a normal dinner and breakfast. Shrugging, I closed the doors and made my way to one of doors beside the china cabinet and opened it up. As I expected, I was met with the site of a rather bland kitchen. The walls were a dingy brown color and the stove was an ancient, beat up, oil powered stove, one of which I haven't seen since I was a little boy. A small wooden table that had about four chairs surrounding it sat in the middle of the room. To my right sat a series of mounted shelves that held old coffee and tea tubs from years passed, as well as a few spices that seemed to be a bit dried up. I walked over to the fridge and opened it, coughing at the smell and instantly covering my nose. It was covered in mold and old, spoiled food. A carton of spoiled milk lay forgotten near the back as a plate of chicken lay wasting away in a plate beside it. Old fruit and bread sat covered in inches of mold as flies swarmed around them. I closed it quickly, not willing to let the smell roll around the room much longer. Seems I'll be eating out quite a bit this weekend.
I turned and walked for the door that sat beside the table and opened it. Gulping a bit, I figured that it wouldn't be safe to wander alone into the dark basement and closed the door almost instantly. Though I pride myself in my books that were mostly of the horror genre, I wasn't a huge fan of dark desolate places. Quite odd, I realized that but that was just me. And a dark basement was an obvious no for me. I made my way back to the dinning room and went across the china cabinet and into the door there. It was a rather cold and grey hallway that held two doors, a few vases at the dead end, and another staircase at the other end. Not wanting to venture upstairs just yet, I opened the door closest to me and found it was a very small bedroom. So, there were three bedrooms? The room was covered in well done paintings with the initials "F.V" in the corner of them all. This must have been a maid's room, from my understanding the family had one before they all left. Deciding to leave this room alone, I shut the door and walked down the hall for the other. Opening it and looking around, I grimaced at the mess that still lay here. This was obviously the maid's bathroom. A used towel hung from a rack near the tub, slightly stiff from where it had dried there and it stunk of mildew. The tub had old water in it with a line and some photos pined to said wire hanging above it. The maid must have used this room as a make-shift dark room for developing photos. I assume she, or he, took the photos to capture what was happening at the time and then painting them out later on.
The first photo was a normal one of the house from the outside. The second was of a chipmunk. The next two were of the woods that surrounded the house. The last one was the one that caught most of my attention. Leaning closer to get a better look, I squinted my eyes. The photo itself was old-style black and white, it seemed to have been taken in the living room. A man with what I assume to either be dark brown or maybe black? hair sat at the piano, scowling slightly at the camera. A woman sat behind him with her hands clasped together in front of her, sporting a rather caring smile. They were both wearing Victorian style clothing, so the picture itself must have been quite old. These two had to be the house's last occupants, the maid obviously being the one taking said photo. I straightened and left the bathroom, closing the door with a small click.
Next up, the second floor.
I do believe I'll keep this in first person. My girlfriend said it sounded pretty good in first person, so I'll try to keep it this good! I'll be writing more than just the first chapter today, I'm wanting to get this out there and maybe even close to half way to the middle of the story. Oh, and to help everyone out, I'm writing out a characters list of who's in it thus far. I'm leaving out any characters that could possibly give out spoilers!
Anyway, as I write the next chapter, leave a review! Tell me what you think! Should I continue this, scrap this, is it bad or is it good or is it just plain weird and shouldn't be continued at all by anyone...you know, all that good stuff! Reviews make me happy!
Character List:
Roderich Edelstein (James T. Blackwood): An eccentric gentleman, Mr. Edelstein had always been a prominent figure in Rothbury, his hometown since his childhood, being one of the most successful construction engineers in the region.
Elisaveta Edelstein (Catherine Lydia Blackwood): Roderich Edelstein's enigmatic wife, an English teacher at a local school in Rothbury.
Feliciano Vargas (Eva Mariani): Mr. Vargas, an Italian immigrant and aspiring professional painter, was the Edelstein family's maid for several years. (No lie, this is an actual character. I laughed so hard when I found her!)
Arthur Kirkland (Michael Arthate): Arthur is an up-and-coming writer. Sales of his acclaimed first novel, Vanishing Town, left him with enough wealth to rent out a Victorian style mansion, a long-time dream of his.
More characters to come, don't worry!
Love, ShuChan