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#1
He finally convinced Pony to just go be with his sister and then headed to the hospital. Harold picked up the dished from the night before that sat out on his desk before looking at the cot on the ground. He new he should just toss it, because there was a low chance of him ever dozing off in the office again. "Addie.." He looked around the office. "I.." His voice trailed off as he didn't even know what to say. He flipped the mirror over so it faced the wall again. "Why the bog?" He wished his old governess was here. He could focus back on his purpose  as a doctor and leave the spiritual world to her.   Yet, something told him the smell of roses wasn't going to go away if he didn't get to the bottom of the bog. Yet, something told him it wasn't going to be that easy.

He sat down at the desk and decided to write down what had happened so far and that fact he was headed to the bog. It was a precautionary thing incase his mind decided to go somewhere it could not come back from. After writing his thoughts down, he changed into more casual clothes and grabbed a few things out of the drawer. He tried to keep his mind clear on the hike out to the Bog, but every now and then a sudden smell would bring an image to mind. When he got closer to the bog he started to feel  dread. His hand reached into the bag to pull out a leather band that had been made with boxwood, blackberry, rowan, and ivy. He rolled up his sleeve and rapped it around his wrist making sure it was tied appropriately before pulling his sleeve down.
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#2
CW- Violence, gore, suggestive material

She woke up in the cold on an island somewhere deep within the bog, the dark of the night was still and quiet but for the sound of rain. The scent of loamy earth and swamp water was prevalent in her nostrils, and her head hurt. How had she gotten there? Had she walked in her sleep again? It took her a long time to register that she lay on her belly, her cheek cushioned by moist earth and dead grass, most of which was stiff with frost. The moon was but a crescent, high in the sky and affording little in the way of light.

Addie pushed upward, her arms shaking weakly, and she fell back to the earth. The sound of twigs snapping caught her attention, and she could feel the oppression begin to form around her… Her throat was on fire as she tried to sob in her fear. She pushed herself upward again and saw the dark mass, at first with the face of the little girl, and then with other faces. Hers eventually came into view and stayed there. She stood up and started to run, though slowed by her fading health, sounds of sobs filling the air as she tried to get away from the mass that followed her like it was at leisure.

She felt hot hands shove at her and she flew through the air a few feet, landing face first in shallow water. She scrambled to her feet in fear, the muck making it almost impossible. It sucked at her shoes and she lost one of them and started to hobble. She was soon aware of the feeling of fingers as they closed around her throat, lifting her and suspending her. She clawed at invisible hands, her legs flailing as if she were being hanged. Addie felt as the fingers released and she splashes into the water again. Her screams echoed throughout the bog as the entity battered her and sucked more life out of her.

It was hard to know how long she had been running, hours, perhaps… She collapsed at the tree line, too tired to cry or fight anymore. She passed out.

When she next awoke, she could feel that darkness around her, felt it in her veins as it burned like fire. It took her an hour just to be able to get to the hospital where she had ended up being taken in.

There'd been no blindingly brilliant white light, nor was a long tunnel at end of which was that light. There had only been darkness. The pain was gone and replaced with what she could only think of as euphoria.

Upon examination of her body, if that happened, one would see countless scratches in groups of three, some gouged skin and some simple little abrasions. One would also have seen the many faded and new scars along her back and limbs, the most disturbing being bite marks in places that suggested something disgusting had happened to the girl. There was definitely bleeding internally, as suggested by the deep bruising in certain areas, and so many other things that it would be easy to understand that she was going to die whether she was helped or not.

It must have seemed so lucky for her that she no longer had to endure such suffering.
Addie became aware of muted conversation. She was standing there, water at her feet, or so it looked like, and the sight of white flaky looking things floating throughout. She walked forward, splashing lightly only because it seemed that she was walking on the surface as opposed to within. Where was she? She walked for what seemed like hours, and the same muted words were strangely echoing. She turned around and saw nothing but the same.

And then the sound one could only compare to wet tearing resounded, and the blackness began to pull apart and be replaced by what seemed like a giant window. She looked out just as someone looked in. “Hey… HEY!” she yelled, yet the sound was canceled out. “Let me out of here!” she cried out, beating her bloody palms against the invisible barrier. “Can you hear me? Please…” She focused on the face of the mustached doctor she had seen briefly before she’d closed her eyes. He looked tired, worn out, deep in thought. She began to beat a tattoo against the barrier until the tear happened again and she stumbled into the room. “Hey…” she said, standing in front of the man who couldn’t see her. Frustration welled up and she threw herself at his desk to get his attention, only to pass through it and end up behind him.

He might feel a cold chill as her spirit passed through.

He was getting up to do something, and she was aware of being pulled with him whether she chose to go or not.

Once he reached the bog, she tried to yell at him, “Hey! Don’t go in there! HEY! LISTEN TO ME!” Again, she tried to get his attention physically, but her hands passed through.
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#3
He stopped in his track. "Addie" It was the smell of roses that made her name come from his lips. "I'll be fine. Though I don't think you'll be if you follow me..." He stopped at the entrance of the bog and looked around. Talking outloud did help calm his nerves a bit, not to say it got rid of them fully. "I am protected, he lifted his arm and placed his hand on his wrist. He then looked in the bag and grabbed a small grouped up bunch of plant and it in his shirt tucked next to his chest, kept in place because of his vest.

"I didn't come from New Orleans to deal with the supernatural, I came to escape it and parts of my past." He was giving himself a pep talk in the form of talking to Addie, hoping she was still near him to hear it. "My governess is a priestess, currently lives in the bayou, sort of like a bog.. probably more dangerous creatures though." He looked through the bag again to find a smooth stone with a strange design marked in it. Harold placed it in the palm of his hand and closed it.

"Let's just my childhood wasn't normal. One hand passed down wealth with a father as a sheriff and a teacher as mom" He was trying to say it wasn't like he got away with much if he acted out and his schooling had to be impeccable. It also led to him not having many friends growing up, which is why he would hang out with governance a lot. "With a governess that dealt in witchcraft and healing.. I saw my own share of strange. Not to say all of those encounters dealt with the supernatural. Looking back I am pretty sure one of them was because the ingested Indigo." He took a very long slow breath in and then exhailed.

"What I am trying to say is I am prepared and if something were to go south... I'd rather it be me than well you know.." He tried not to picture Miss McBride or say her name. As he wasn't sure how spirits operated. For all he knew the smell of roses was some other ghost trying to make him think he was with a safe spirit. "If you are sticking around, show me what I need to see and get out fast, and maybe cross over if you can."
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#4
A scream rent through the air, but it sounded disembodied, distant yet right there next to his ear. Addie moved to stand in front of him as her murderer closed in on the two and started speaking to her in it's disgustingly grating voice, "What are you going to do now Adelade?" She charged toward it and it disappeared.

She was dead. That was the only explanation to be had; she had become what she was consumed by. Words echoed in her ears and a picture of her friend appeared in her thoughts... He was Harold? He was the one that Karen had spoken of?

She moved and spoke into his ear in hopes he could hear her, "Dybbuk. Need a dybbuk. Trap it. Danger." She concentrated hard, using her fear and her grief, and her hand finally closed around his wrist and she put forth an image of the dark entity as she had seen it, holding her in the air, choking the life from her. "Trap it. Dybbuk."
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#5
This would be something his governess would have called destiny. He wasn't really sure about destiny, but he definitely couldn't say he didn't believe in spirits and demons. He felt cold when he took a few steps into the bog, it was an uneasy feeling. That feeling was not Addie, what it was he wasn't sure. The next moment he heard a scream and naturally his hand went to his gun, but he didn't pull it out.

He took a couple of more steps when he suddenly felt like his inside was being kicked. His eyes closed only to open wide with a blank look. He could see the images of Addie and the Dybbuk. The images moved fast, going back to the same images but different perspectives until the word Trap It were heard. He came out of his blank stare feeling ill, like he had gotten a really nasty stomach ache. Harold stood very still. "Crap"

He hadn't heard the term Dybbuk, but based on what he had seen and felt, it must have been a bad spirit. If he left now, would it follow him? He didn't have anything that could trap a spirit. HE only had things that could protect him and collect evidence. He brought his finger up to his teeth, putting one of his nails in the gum space between two teeth. This was what he did when he was trying to think when he was in a tricky situation.

He needed to get word to his old governess, maybe she or one of her kids would know what to do and send supplies. It would take a very long time to get the word to them and the same amount of time if not longer to get whatever response. Harold could ask around town, but the question on the table was 'would the spirit follow him'. He took a few steps back until he was on the outskirts of the bog again. Maybe it was trapped here when it didn't have a body and was forced here as soon as its host died. If this was true then he had even more questions to figure out the answer to. If it were true that would mean his love was safe.




"
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#6
She was starting to weaken in the state she was in, but she said one last thing, "Zecheriah..... Meijer...." and attempted to send a picture but it was more likely unsuccessful. The scent of roses ebbed and so did anything she was trying to say.

Addie heard that liquid tearing again and she was back behind the barrier, beating her fists against it, yelling to be let out.
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#7
There was a noise, but he couldn't make out what it was. He thought he heard something say Zech, but wondered if it was a creature native to this place. When Addie was being through back behind the barrier, he got an uncomfortable feeling, like the feeling that stayed with you after nails went down a chalkboard. Then the environment got silent, not a normal type of silent either. For a few minutes it was like everything around him didn't exist. You would have thought there would be sounds from crickets and birds or even wind rustling in the trees. He wasn't sure if he was in danger, because what he saw may have been a vision of the past it did not mean the things inside of it didn't see him peering in. As he walked away from the bog and back into town he rolled up his sleeve to see if there had been any markings left on him.
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#8
He would probably not see any markings if he didn't feel any, namely scratches or bruising. However, the feeling of cobwebs in his face might be felt as the dark entity went with Addie behind the barrier. It was a cold and disturbing feeling that followed in it's wake, the scent of putrid, rotting flesh easily curling against his nostrils and a feeling of oppression. And then there was nothing; it was as if the bog had gone back to normal.
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