Fairview Fall

Chapter 1: Dirty Little People

(Fairview Fall is a concept story for a game. You play as Evelyn Ross as she searches for her friend's killer in Fairview Fall, a large hotel resort (now functioning as a part apartment) up on a snowy mountain. Many of the inhabitants hide awful secrets from each other, including murder. Once you find things of interest, you must use it to uncover the truth behind Dawkes' death, as these can become clues or leverage to get more information. If you find that someone may pose a threat towards a person of interest or a possible clue, it is best to take care of the matter through various means. Be careful, getting caught doing what your not supposed to do can cause you to lose access to your contacts, get imprisoned, or putting a lethal target on your back. The goal is to manage your time and investigate. The story arcs for each room are meant to be pursued simultaneously and interweave with each other, but for the sake of writing it in story format to avoid confusion, the story will follow Evelyn as she focuses on one suspect at a time for a "best" possible ending).

WARNING story will be for mature readers only due to the following: language, violence, gore, sexual themes.

Chapter 1: Dirty Little People

"Two more minutes until you have finished digesting, Evelyn. Please wash up and get ready for bed." Her father called from downstairs.
Evelyn sat in front of the television in a daze and mumbled an "okay" back to him. She was engrossed in the show she was watching. The man on the screen was chasing the woman down the the road with a knife in his hand. She was screaming for someone to help, but in long stretching road there was no one to hear her, and so she quickly was losing her breath and the distance between the two figures closed in. He was in arms reach of her when-
Suddenly the television snapped off. Her father's finger still hovered over the power button as he stared down at her behind his thin framed glasses. "I am sure you were able to notice the parental warning before this program started, or did you forget how to read when I was not looking?"
"I turned the tv on when the show had already started." She mumbled almost in shame, her head lowered toward the floor. "I was going to change it."
"I do not appreciate a lie Evelyn, and you know it. That show is not for a seven year old. Get dressed for bed."
She slowly got up with her pajamas already in hand. When she returned from the bathroom and climbed into the bed, she stared at her dark bedroom for a moment before she called out to her dad. He peeked his head in a few seconds later.
"Evelyn, you do not need a light anymore. It will disrupt your sleep."
"No, I just wanted to ask something."
"What is it?"
She paused and her father eyed her position patiently. "...was that woman a bad person?"
"What woman?"
"The one on the tv being chased by the man."
"Why do you ask?"
"If she wasn't-"
"Contraction." Her father interrupted. "You know I do not like contractions. It makes your speech lazy."
"Was not bad then why would he try to hurt her?"
Her father stared at her with steel eyes through the dark, he knew she could feel them, but his voice remained somewhat gentle. "Sometimes it does not matter if someone was bad or not." He saw she looked troubled with that answer. "Would you feel better about it if she was bad?"
Evelyn thought about it then shook her head. "No."
"I see." He pondered for a moment. "Then leave it at that. Good night, darling." He waited for her to turn over in her bed before he dipped back into the dark hallway. Evelyn felt herself getting heavy, drifting off into the void. It wasn't long before it sweetly consumed her, causing her to relapse into her own mind. Her question lingered, and she could still see that woman running in the endless woods. She wanted to know the beginning of that scene so badly, to know how the woman wound up in that place, and why the man made the decision to kill her. Death was already familiar. She had attended her grandparents' funeral and her father, as always, was incredibly blunt on the subject. He had simply stated that you just cease to be. Some believe in an afterlife, but he explained it has not been proven yet and it also was highly unrealistic. That night she went to her room and pretended to be dead. She tried to stop breathing, she tried to close her eyes and block out the sound. But no matter what her own heartbeat rang true, and that moment when the air returned to her lungs reminded her how pleasing it was. The thought of one day losing both caused her to scream out and cry.
So what could make a man choose this horrible early fate upon a young woman in the woods? She could not see this man as a monster from a book or another movie. A human mind could be understood.
Then another question arose.
If she knew what made him choose so... would she understand...and if she did...what does that make her?
She opened her heavy eyes. She should not have snuck that drink before bedtime, now she must venture through the house to the toilet.
She lowered her bare feet onto the cold wooden floor and exited her bedroom. Her eyes were well adjusted and she made it to the downstairs bathroom in one piece. However, as she placed her hand on the knob, a sound caught her attention. It sounded close, and it was a muffled sound. She turned in the direction it came from- the kitchen perhaps? She crept her way towards the sound's possible location with an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation in her heart. The kitchen was only lit from a garage light outside the window. It gave the utensils and pans a long, grimacing shadow that was cast upon the wall across the room. The sound came again, muffled, but sharper. She could hear it from the door ahead. The garage. Slowly she opened the door, and peeked inside. The garage too, was empty, even of a car. Father said he had the car out for repairs. Evelyn stepped inside and looked around. Nothing.
She felt relief that there was nothing to confront. Speaking of relief, she still had something to take care of. Just as she was leaving the garage, it was there again.
The sound.
This time, she heard it clearly.
It was a muffled scream.
She slowly turned, remembering the door on the other side of the garage in the dark. It was the spare washroom. Again, the low scream was heard, right from the other side of the door. A shaky breath as well as a shaky hand aided Evelyn to open the door and stare into the dark. The muffled breathing hitched, as did hers and she felt her hand along the wall inside for the light switch, and when it rubbed against her finger, she instinctively flicked it on and jumped back into the doorframe at the sight.
In front of her was a gagged man who was tied to the sink. His blackened eyes were locked on hers, opened and furious under his dark hair. His clothes were loose and torn, as if he just suffered a fight. His bruised face confirmed it as did the blood staining from his side.
It matched the blood that was on the light switch...
Which matched a stain on her hand.
The warm wet feeling in between her legs proved that this was far from a dream.
''''''

3:17 am.
Bedroom.
Tossing, turning, trying to go back to sleep, but it's no use. Something feels wrong. Brain is overheating, body feels jittery. Time to get out of bed...maybe get a glass of water. Have to get back to bed soon, work starts at nine.

3:18 am.
Kitchen.
Trying to stay in the dark. Turning lights on is what distracts your sleep.
Cup is misplaced. Moved?
Ah.
In the rush for work one fell out of the cupboard. Which left one final mug by the coffee pot under the window sill.
There should be Earl Grey left in it from this morning. Decent tea, but it came from James. No one liked James. Maybe it was his over eager attitude on Monday mornings. Then again he had a lot of cat hairs always on him. And he didn't bathe much. Anyway, no need for tea. Just water. Where was the sponge again?

3:20am
The window facing Mrs. Jen's house caught my attention. It's unusually brighter from outside than normal. She must be awake.
Yes, she is.
In the frost tipped grass she is out in her slippers walking her weak excuse of a dog on her lit front lawn. Just looks like a rat to me. Can't help but imagine it getting caught in a mousetrap. Or smearing around a spinning rubber tire. Or just maybe getting dragged away by some predator bird... A golden eagle, perhaps? Well, things like that serve little purpose except just to make an old crone feel like something's dependent to her. But I am not one to judge an old dingbat and her rat. I clean toilets for a living. I am not so far apart on a level of insanity. Her walks in the morning with her rat are just the same as my cup of water and my surveillance of those around me. It is what we choose to do on these cold nights since it's all we have in our pathetic lives. But something felt lost in this life and I have been missing something for a long time now.
Well, she is back in her house now. Better try to sleep again...

...a note.
There, on the tip of the faint window light, laying on the back door floor mat. I was in this room at 9:46 earlier, so in five hours and thirty four minutes someone slipped a letter under my door.

Keep finding myself circling it, like a vulture.
It could be him, but he would never send a letter directly to my house.
Who else would it be? This handwriting on the envelope is unknown to me.
Swift, harsh, but articulate on the edges and ends of each word. Feminine handwriting with 'Evelyn Ross' with a thoughtless haste.

I do not know any females, let alone anyone who would write like this. Hmm. Inside...pink parchment, folded, a map, folded, and a newspaper clipping. The clip... A cut out portion of a story of funding being cut for a town. Based on the cut off words along the edges, it can be assumed it is not the side I am intended to see.
But the overwhelming pink of the paper calls to me first.
I need a light to see better.
This handwriting inside the note... is the same as my name.
"I am in need of a cleaner, I heard you were decent enough, This place has been dirty for sometime. What hell awaits someone that would try to clean it? I am anxious to see, my dear. All these dirty little people. But only one has particular blood on their hands -LS"
Blood? Who is this person?
The map is next. It started to unfold itself. I'm guessing it wasn't always folded so small.
I assume once it gets opened I will get some clarity?
My head...pain. Sharp, then throbbing then pounding. Anxiety?
The map does not spark anything for me. Fairview Fall? A picture of an old resort sitting atop a mountain. A old brochure...it looks like a hotel. Hmm.
The surrounding woods...districts and portions of it called Briarwood...Wolf Creek... Ralph Peak...Stone Road...Hilde Nature Park. There is more but none of these places make sense.
The newspaper clip had to tie it in. Let's see...it says...
Jonathan Dawkes.
Aged 52.
Died on Monday...cause of death...suicide...
Jon...
Dead?

Jon is dead.
The only friend I have ever had.
And I know him. He would never take his own life. Someone in that hotel killed him.