The Monster of Cricket Hollow
Inspired by the tv series Criminal Minds, and the films Silence of the Lambs and Red DragonHow far would you go to protect the one you love?
Cricket Hollow is a quaint small town in the Eastern US that remains fairly remote and untouched from the influences of larger cities. There are two main thoroughfares that run parallel to one another: highways. One is fairly busy, that which connects Cricket Hollow to the stretch of road that paves a path to the cities. The other is rarely used save by locals, and in turn, is the main street of Cricket Hollow. Only a block or two south of the main street, is a vast river, one that stretches for a mile and a half at it's fullest, and it splinters into creeks that flow along the outskirts of town.
The town is charming or 'picturesque' as the locals would say.
The townspeople are friendly, and many know one another with neighbours looking out for and helping each other through difficult times.
But Cricket Hollow is seemingly deceptive.
A third body has been recovered from the remote forested area outside of town.
A third body in three years.
A third body killed in the same similar fashion as the other two.
The local police request the aid from the FBI.How close would you dare to get?
The BAU, the one that is designated to crimes against adults, investigates the deaths, the crime scenes, interviews a few of the locals, and a profile is offered to the local police.
An arrest is made.
Cricket Hollow, the residents of it, are safe once more.
The one member of the BAU, however, revisits Cricket Hollow on his own accord. Something is urging him there, feelings for a woman he had met, who had offered her assistance to the unit, and there is an emotional struggle within him on whether or not it is right to have a relationship with her despite the investigation is closed.
Neither can deny that there is an attraction between them.
Neither can deny their relationship.Can secrets be kept? Notes:
First and foremost, this is a much beloved older idea of mine, once written with a partner who, unfortunately, vanished. I would like to revisit the concept with another writing partner. However, I would like to keep the same opening post (with edits, obviously) as the original story. I mention this because that may offend some, and I wish to be straightforward regarding that issue.
The crunch and crackle of gravel underneath the heavy tires of the black pick up truck, that distinct stridulous noise that briefly grazed through the warmth of the mid-September afternoon, drew Rachel's attention. A careless glance from where she stood in the depths of the secluded backyard near the old shed that once had been her childhood fort, her 'doll house' made by her grandfather, she saw Doug Fraser park his vehicle in her driveway. That careless glance became a calculated stare, gray-green eyes studying the detail of the man who she once knew in high school many years prior, and her grip tightened on the pot that held the burgundy-purple mum that she had planned to plant in the garden along the slope of the hill.
Those gray-green eyes watched steel toed brown work boots trek along the gravel drive, kick up a trail of dust as he dragged his feet, and then Doug walked down the stone steps that were framed by the gardens. Over the years, his sturdy body became more rugged; broad shoulders he had and thickly muscled he was; bulky he looked in his red and black hunters jacket. It made Rachel surrender herself to stepping backward, her back brushing into the tall cedar hedge that separated her property from those of her two neighbours; her house was edged by a street otherwise, and a park that was abandoned to silence.
Strange it was of how two people who used to speak, who used to share notes and books in class, were now strained in friendship if one could call it that. Rachel loathed him. Rachel feared him, and unbeknown to the thickness of Doug's intelligence, it never occurred to him as to why she neatly avoided him.
“Rach,” Doug called out while adjusting his sunglasses.
“Doug.” Rachel said, her voice dead and emotionless.
“I was just at the hardware store,” Doug told her, and he watched Rachel hug the pot of mums a little closer to her body. “And 'cross the road at the gas station, I swear I saw that one mousy FBI Agent fueling up his SUV.” There was a pause as he scratched at his short dark hair. He shrugged a little then as he slouched his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I thought I'd check up on you and see if you were okay.”
It was Rachel's turn to shrug. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Oh, I don't know, Rach.” Doug breathed out, huffed a sigh. “Maybe 'cause you found one of the bodies, and had spent a lot of time with the FBI while they were here conducting their investigation.”
Rachel nodded. “Well, Doug, your concern is appreciated, but I'm fine. I'm well.” It was a simplistic answer to a complicated issue. They stared at each other for brief moments, and it forced Rachel to shrug once more. “Was there something else?”
Blankly did he stare at her through the dark lenses of the sunglasses he wore. She could tell he wanted to say something else, to make a further inquiry, but whatever Doug was thinking ended when another vehicle pulled into the driveway. The black SUV that Doug had spied at the gas station was now parked behind her car, a white Mercedez-Benz that her father had given her, and confusion overwhelmed Doug. He turned to give Rachel a sidelong look, and his brow wrinkled. “If everything is fine, why is he here?”
Thin fingers slipped out of gardening gloves, and once Rachel placed the gloves inside the shed, she locked the door to it. “I invited Agent Messieri to my home.” Rachel said, placing the pot of mums down by the shed door. “And he accepted.” On seeing Doug's puzzled expression she felt the need to further explain. “It's what friends do.”
“Since when did you become a friend,” A hand gestured to the SUV. “With that FBI Agent?” Doug asked, almost hissing, his voice low and he met Rachel half way across the backyard.
“During the investigation,” Rachel explained wondering why it seemed like an odd concept for Doug to understand.
“I don't think it's right for him to become involved with you.” Doug outright stated. “It's like doctors and patients. There are boundaries.”
“And you are overstepping yours,” Rachel reminded him, and climbed the stone steps. She didn't bother to tell Doug that Agent Messieri was a former student of her father's, and that their friendship blossomed over a conversation pertaining to the history and psychology of night. Doug would not understand. Waving to Agent Messieri, or Samuel as his friends called him, or simply Sam to her, Rachel walked over to the SUV to greet the Agent.
Doug departed, and as his pick up truck rolled out of the driveway, as gears shifted, there was a squeal of the tires.
Gingerly, Rachel turned to watch that black beast of a truck leave.
Secondly, I am looking for somebody willing to write the role of the FBI agent as well as minor characters (NPCs). Details of the agent, of what he is like, that is for my partner to decide. I would also like contribution/suggestions/ideas with the plot. I'm also a detailed writer and I would appreciate the same in my partner (I do look at my partner's previous posts and their ons/off if they have them listed).
My partner should be open to the ideas of gore, violence, and possibly non-consensual encounters. I would like to place this story into the Extreme Solos category.
I won't lie. I'm going to be particular on who I accept as a writing partner for this concept.
If interested, please PM me.