》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚❦ In which Anthony 'Lockwood' Lockwood thinks he sees a girl from his past and passes it off as a hallucination.
Or in which Harlow Meadows returns to the city of her youth with her own budding business and gets swept up into mystery...
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╔═══━━━─── ❦ ───━━━═══╗ Reign of Night Whispering Skull ╚═══━━━─── ❦ ───━━━═══╝
There is one thing that consistently guides stories, whether they be written or spoken, every story has one thing that changes everything about it. Perspective. When children are young they are taught the differences between first person point of view, second, and third through limited or omniscient. There was a fourth point of view as well, yet one rarely taught in lower levels of education reserved only for the higher ones and even then it's debatable if the point of view is discussed. This is called the fourth person point of view. Rather than being singular, the fourth person is the collection of individuals using the words we and us, combining them all into one entity while showcasing certain individuals before shifting back to the group. Works of an American called Walt Whitman were mentioned to include this point of view, but Harlow has yet to see any of his work.
Perspective can change one's entire world, if they were an ant everything would suddenly seem bigger, if they were a bird such as a pigeon they would soar high above the landscape below, but how would architecture and furniture view the world around it? No one could answer the last question, not until they took a picture from every angle while attached to the building. The closest Harlow has ever been to doing that was sitting on top of her flat's roof, looking down upon the people below.
Now Harlow was on no roofs, unfortunately. She was however, rushing along the nearly empty streets but while most were off scurrying to their homes for sanction she was heading towards a place most in their sane mind would not dare go. This was exactly why Harlow had agreed, a chance to photograph the process of rehabilitating graveyards promised error and she wanted to be there to capture it.
Perhaps it wasn't the most positive outlook, but when faced with a boss who wants nothing more than to just get the money and not care about his employees despite having enough dough to properly pay them it was only a matter of time before lashing out occurred. Naturally, Harlow had to be there in order to capture everything, so taking a shortcut through someone's alley that connected to a main sidewalk, then jumping over a small canal that cut between flats Harlow continued her brisk pace for one more block before turning at the corner and arriving at the graveyard. She did not slow immediately, eyes scanning through the bars, rolling her eyes at the ghost cult posters. Those people never saw the undead and if they did they were definitely not in their right mind to love something that can kill them nor that foul looking. If they can look at a raw-bones with its limbs splayed in all directions, flesh rotten and peeling to reveal the bones beneath and still want to hug the undead, they deserve to be locked up in a mental institution. Unless that's the point, to cause more deaths. She scrunched up her nose and settled her expression into one of serenity and professionalism, breaking it only to smile at the kid by the door, one of Mr. Saunders' many nightkids.
