The Coffin Club

You two are old enough for this talk. I love your father but he's not qualified to give it. Things aren't fair. It's not that we're lucky; we are. God, are we lucky. I've got four kids I wouldn't trade for the world. I've got a husband I love, a house I call my own, a job that doesn't break my back, some savings. We're trying to play our cards right to ensure the two of you get to go somewhere like my Aunt Elsie did. We have all of this and it's still not...safe. It's not stable. God this is a hell of a thing to tell you two. I'm sorry. But I don't want you to be blind-sided if it all changes. Because it could. The world moves in big ways we can't ever anticipate. You saw what happened with...with Mama. None of us saw it coming. We keep going, and we remember her and what we had. Sorry. Please give me a second, heh. I'm going to miss her so much. As much as you two will. God. Sorry. I'm okay. Things, uh. Things aren't fair. Your father and I want you to understand the two most important rules. We came up with them when I got pregnant, and we had to go from a couple to parents. They're simple and I hope they help you too. First, the world's not fair. That's not an excuse to not try to be kind and make it better. Second, if you have to be unkind or break the rules, you don't do it in the house. Don't bring it home. I can never be mad at that man because he follows that rule, and I do too. Okay? I love you both so much. Whatever you do, I'll be proud of you. https://thecoffin.club

We got lucky getting this house. First thing your big brother ever helped us with. I used to think I was slick but Morgan's got my charms and your mother's sense even before he was born. Got your mother's temper too but y'know don't tell him I said that, Becks. Your mother and I were, to be blunt, using contraception. We wanted kids, but we wanted them on our own timetable. I was working in construction, she was managing stores, we were making ends meet. This company put out this new birth control drug and they were looking for early adopters. It was not a medical test. That's important. Because if it was, we wouldn't have gotten the money for the house, heh. I don't know if they forced it through the FDA or if it was flawed, but the drug didn't do what it was supposed to, and a few months later she was pregnant with the twins. First thing I did was hustle her over to a doctor, get blood work, all that stuff. It cost us, but it was a smart gamble. See we weren't the only people having kids who shouldn't. And, cynical as it is, we wanted kids and we didn't have the money to. Under other circumstances, we'd've taken care of it. This was our shot *to* have kids *and* have someone else foot the bill about it. Took another risk, called a buddy of mine who was a lawyer, got us into a class action suit against them. Lots of them took the immediate payout. Not us. We got a structured settlement, a check every two weeks. Squirreled that away for a rainy day. Found this place on a police auction, actually. Hole in the ground but I'd had enough experience fixing bad houses. When the twins were born we had three rooms we could live in, and I kept working at it. You're lucky, Becks. Whole house was done when you showed up. https://thecoffin.club

He told you about Mike and Elsie, huh? I love your father but he can be a little judgmental sometimes. You think he wouldn't be considering his family. Well no honey they're. Mmm. I'm sorry. I get a little heated sometimes, thinking about my siblings. Imagine how you'd feel if someone started saying stuff about Becky or how the twins would feel if someone started picking on you. They're my brother and sister. I have a lot of good memories. Sometimes I wish they were better. Your Nana and Papa, I can talk to them fine, but they don't like your dad. Not since the arrest. It's a shame, you think folks like them would be able to hold grace in their hearts for their only surviving son. I tried to get it through their skulls, I promise I did. You should ask Morgan about them, he may remember more than Nancy. They were on good terms with me after your dad went inside for a while. They'd visit and help me with Becky when I was getting the others into school for the first time. Then your dad got out...and they stopped wanting to come around and see him. They'd see their grandkids, sure. Not him. Then I got pregnant with you. And they started getting opinionated about it. At the end of the day I'm not picking my husband's parents over him. Your father is a good man. Sometimes a good man makes mistakes. What's important is where you go from there, not if you have to throw out all those years together. You talk about it, maybe you separate for a while, and you see where life goes. They do send you kids money on your birthday and Christmas, and that's nice of them. But they could do more if they want to be worth being in your lives. Plus, c'mon. You got Mama and Mom still. Trust me, they bake cookies for you all much better than Nana ever could. https://thecoffin.club

Well we don't really talk to your mom's side of the family because we don't particularly. Like them, y'know? Yeah, okay, Grandma Nina and Grandma Tess are the exception, we make time for them. It's your aunt and uncle who are the problem. Your mom's still got some positive feelings but I'm the outsider so I can bring a balance to that sort of thing. So your Uncle Mike, he joined the military. I think he wanted to be a Marine but they ended up making him a drone jockey. He got involved in the surveillance push in the Thompson administration, was involved in Operation Radiant Beacon. I'll explain that when you're older but it's not a good thing he did that. I got in a fight with him one Thanksgiving before you were born. Talking about duty to the country and, well. Never join the military, Taylor, okay? No matter what they say. There's always a better way. I had Morgan and Nancy in my arms and Mike's screaming at me and I thought to myself, "hell with this, I got two toddlers and he's gonna lay into me over this? I don't care if he's her brother." Your mom and I talked about it on the way home. She wasn't happy. But she saw how he was talking to me and the twins and. Yeah. Your Aunt Elsie...different story. Smart lady. I liked her a lot. Then one day something...shifted in her. She was educated, your grandmas got her through college. She even went Ivy League with a bunch of grants and debts. One day she calls your mom up, smiling wide, "I met the most wonderful man!". They get to talking, your mom hangs up, looks into him and immediately calls her back. See, uh. Sometimes, people hear what they want to hear and then ignore the red flags. There was a lot she shouldn't have ignored. I'll tell you when you're older. Important thing is she lives on his compound out in Montana now and even if we did invite her to holidays...she wouldn't come. Sorry kiddo. I wish you could meet them. Family's important and you care for them, mostly. Family's still made of people. https://thecoffin.club

When did I first meet your father? Ah Jesus, great question. Let's see. Johnny Banks wasn't really a fixture of the scene as much as he was a nuisance. I used to play in a band back in the day. I even dropped out of school to pursue it, had to get my GED later. Don't drop out to join a band, by the way. Odds are rigged against you. Anyway you've seen those pictures of me in those jeans. We called ourselves The Screwdrivers, we thought we were punks, we thought it was cool. Played a lot of local shows, didn't ever get a record down but we got some EPs together. We were down in the scene and so was Johnny Banks. Your father, god bless him, used to have the dumbest hair I seen on a man. It was cute. He tried to do the liberty spikes, but never really put enough product in, and had half his head shaved. He looked like a palm tree. He hung around at shows and parties, this beanpole guy in an old army jacket and stompers and chains. Everyone thought he was there to score heroin or screw high school girls, so they gave him a wide berth. He wasn't confident in himself so he'd just stand and loom all quiet. I didn't meet him properly at a party. I met him at work. I did graveyard at a convenience store. He shuffles in one day, jacket too big, hair all floppy, asks me for smokes. There was this nervous energy and then, suddenly in this shotgun blast of words, he says to me: "I really like your band. I think you've got some good songs. I have questions about your lyrics. I think you tuned your bass wrong. Can I help you tune it properly?" I told him to get lost. The next day he showed back up with a tuner. I said "where did you get this?" He smiled wide and said "don't worry about it." And that's the first present your father ever gave me. https://thecoffin.club

I met Louise Wallace when fucking Richard Lincoln tried to kick my teeth in. It was a hot summer, and they'd cancelled public summer camp again for the third year in a row. I was thirteen years old. Not old enough to get a job yet, too old to hang around home and not get told off for it. Richard and Toby and Donny and me stole some shit from the Bullseye and ran off to a nearby park to see what we got and screw around. Fireworks (the boring kind), some inflatable balls, some food. We didn't steal a pump. Ended up sitting around trying to blow the stupid things up by hand (mouth, really) as we chewed shitty candies and snapping noisemakers at each other. Normal shit. We got a soccer ball mostly inflated, kicked it around a bit. Then I slipped, fell on it and popped the stupid thing. Donny and Toby started laughing, but Richard. Richard was pissed. "What good is taking crap if you're just gonna break it, you dumb piece of shit?" was more or less his sentiment at the time. Told him the truth: wasn't my fault, wet patch of grass, and maybe it wouldn't pop if you weren't such a weak loser who couldn't inflate a damn ball. He ended up on top of me as Donny and Toby stood around chanting "go! go! go!" whipping noisemakers at us. I don't remember what happened next. I do remember this clearly: Louise Wallace standing over me as Richard lay howling on the ground. Younger kid, ten years old, wiry girl. Tomboy. Richard had to go to the hospital with the way she hit him. She didn't pay him much mind as she helped me off the ground. I mumbled thanks, because what else am I supposed to say to be saved by a girl. All she did was roll her eyes. "Don't be a fucking idiot, dude. Learn to shut your mouth." And those were the first words your mother ever said to me. https://thecoffin.club

We do session zero, character creation and enclave creation for our Red Markets 2e's beta test! Thrill at what protagonists are designed! Chill at how distracted we get looking at a map of Seattle! Spill into a chair and listen up for the stories that will be told about the enclave of Deception Pass and the Banks Family Takers. https://thecoffin.club

What are they dressed as? I mean it's. Obvious, isn't it? Y'know, he's the leader, she's the lieutenant, there's the big strong one... Look, ma'am, my kids worked hard on these costumes, and for you to start throwing words like those around- I do, yes, we're in district, they go to the school at Twelfth, those two are in sixth grade- Oh I'm sorry I thought we lived in America? Since when is there a cut-off for Halloween? They're eleven! I don't give a sh-damn if fifteen-year-olds can go get a job working at Shake-It-Fast, they're still kids! Your lights are on, th- Y'know what? Fine. Fine! I hope you like getting a bad review on BlockParty! Last time we go trick-or-treating in this neighborhood! C'mon, we're leaving- I said we're leaving, you don't have to yell- Morgan, try to look a little more upset? There we go. Perfect. Where the hell are Becks and Taylor. Don't answer that. The less we know the better. Sh-damn. Sorry. I know they had those big bars. I didn't expect her to be such a shi-stick in the mud, heh. Where did you get those. ...I'm not saying don't put those in her mailbox but if you do, do not tell me. I'm gonna move to the next block. See you two there. https://thecoffin.club

Take another tissue. Take as many as you need. Misa's going to be okay. Shit like this happens all the time, Nancy, it's part of field hockey. It was an accident. Everyone saw what happened. They're going to reset her nose, run some tests, she'll be fine. I promise it'll be fine. Because it happened in such a safe place, is why. I mean. Yeah. You all tend to get the blood up on the field, but. It's just sports, honey. I mean, god knows I got in all sorts of fights in less safe places and came out of it okay myself. I did too. Ask your father about that night we saw Broken Socket at the grindcore show. I have a reliable eye witness to some shit I don't remember. Heh. Do I miss it? No. Not at all. Maybe a little. Ha! Got you smiling. Look, it's...shit like this just happens sometimes, okay? Someone gets knocked down, they need to get picked back up. They need teammates or doctors or moms or whoever. I mean, how many times did you cut your knees learning to ride? You just get back up and keep going. Do I feel bad about it? I mean. Do you feel bad about hitting Misa? Alright. And that's okay. It's all a matter of perspective and intent, honey. Shit happens. It's what we do next that matters. I think if you go see her in the hospital and say you're sorry, she'll believe you. Plus it's not like you won the match anyway, her team did win. Fine, no more jokes. I can be the serious mom. So. What's the biggest sundae I can go get you that'll get me off the hook for those swear jar donations? https://thecoffin.club

Jesus Becky, I dunno why I gotta be the one doing this. I told your mother and she wanted to give you a high five. I think that'd undermine the point of this talk we're having. God how the hell do I even approach this. Fuck. Don't. Don't tell your mother I said that. Ha. Sorry. Look. I understand, Dennis Hanson's a little shit. Don't tell your mother I said that. And I understand he was giving you shit. Again, don't...fuck it. This is serious, Becks. You put him in the hospital. You really are your mother's daughter sometimes. You broke your violin and you put that boy in the hospital. I know you're not, sorry. And I get why you're not sorry, I do. It's gonna be hell to replace that and find you a new tutor. If. If we let you keep, playing it. God, kid. Fuck. Fuck! We'll figure it out. We'll figure it out! I don't have an answer for you, honey, I don't have an...answer to this. You're probably going to have to apologize to that kid though. I know you won't want to. That's just. Part of how it's all done. Part of the ritual. Polite society. It sucks. I know, and I get it. A lot just, happened today. And it doesn't get to go away. We have to figure out what happens next. No you, don't have to go to your room. We've said what we have to about it, what is sending you to your room going to do? It'll be okay. We'll figure it out. https://thecoffin.club

Hi again from the monkey house. I hope the POLICE don't redact this one this time. The kids are doing okay. Rebecca's big now, she's started walking around. Almost ready to start talking. The twins...well the twins are testing my patience, honey. They keep getting in fights with the other kids. It's always some stupid thing, and they don't cause it, but it doesn't help because they're children. Wish I could grab them and shake them and tell them to knock it off. But they're kids and we don't need to both go to jail, haha. It's one of two things. Either Morgan is arguing with another kid and starts getting in over his head so Nancy runs over and starts throwing fists. Or, Nancy is getting picked on because she's quiet and Morgan comes over and starts saying shit to them until they cry or scatter. I don't know where he's learned those words. Maybe we should've cleaned up our act a bit. He's cutting when he wants to be. And she's rough when she wants to be. God bless them both for watching out for each other but I wish they wouldn't piss people off doing it, haha. The school thinks splitting them up in class is a good idea. I'm not so sure. They also say sports might help. I'm not putting my daughter into softball, that's not gonna do anything to help her. Probably see how she likes junior field hockey, though. Should help her burn off energy. As for Morgan, I dunno. He keeps taking shit apart because you're not around to hide the tools. I'll see what programs are around for him to get his fun in. They need an outlet that's not their weird little games. I miss you a lot. I'll send more commissary credits in a week. The POLICE put a limit on how often I can do that, some stupid new regulation. Respond when you can. Love you a bunch, monkey man. Lou https://thecoffin.club

The crew talks about the experience of putting together our interpretation of Brindlewood Bay, discusses the different systems we used, and talk about the ups and downs of running mysteries and horror. https://thecoffin.club

We poisoned ourselves. I was complicit in it but we all had our part to play. Grief, anger, ego, curiosity, four ingredients we all brought into our group. Useful in small amounts. Dangerous when concentrated. Lethal when there's enough for you all to drown in it. I'm sorry for what I've done. Helping you doesn't make up for any of it, my death doesn't roll back the clock. It was never a punishment for me if I was going to instrumentalize it.I don't have an answer for the four of you. They stole my papers away when I died and even if you had them, I don't know if you have the time you need to delve into them, create another way. I don't have a solution going forward for what this world needs and what it should be like. I always agreed it should never be like this, but I'm a historian, not a philosopher or ethicist or strategist.What I do have to offer is the last word. They thought they quieted me, and I'm glad you never told them otherwise. That is, of course, assuming you get these messages or theirs. I can feel my control slipping; I hope it goes somewhere useful.The best way to offset a poison like this isn't just to purge it; that's often too late. The best solution is dilution. Broaden your horizons. Be in the world. Think, question, reason, accept when you're wrong. Grow. You're never too old to grow or change. Take it from the dead woman, hypocritical as this advice may be coming from a scholarly shut-in. Grow, learn, love. Bolster the self and it will endure until your dying breath and beyond.Good luck. I believe in you. I always believed from the start.https://thecoffin.club

Janice and Lillian are done talking with you, and Lavinia, she's dead, and they don't tend to tell tales. That just leaves me. To be honest I don't have much more to say. I think I've made it all fairly clear.We cannot abide the state of things, the cruel engine that powers the world. I am old and ready to join my sister, I have been for longer than I'd like to admit. But we can't leave the others to their own devices. The information is out and god help us all if someone decided to put it into action for their selfish desires.I have no family, I have few friends, I have no children. My legacy is my work and even then that will be forgotten in time. The other thing I would bequeath on the world is the hand of the Midwives not being able to snatch the others away from the cliff and falling into the ocean.I would feel worse if it was not for the way the world is right now. And we did try to save the world. But here we are, and the final move to make has never been more clear. https://thecoffin.club

Over the years we all went mad in our own ways. Halsey went from disbelief to anger to anguish. Forrester remained at her side, ever vigilant, repeating "this too shall pass, this too shall pass". It went from soothing words to rote recitation to a grim, resigned mantra. This too shall pass. Ingham was excited; the masks were off, the base, cruel nature of the world revealed, the game bigger than she ever realized. I slipped deeper into my studies, into alienation from the world, into cold moonlit water and the thing beneath. Things were more stark and sober, especially now that we knew who also were in on our little secret. They held a meeting. I was more of a consultant than a participant. That's when I knew how bad it all had gotten before they even broached the topic of using it (that would be another meeting, one they didn't think I knew about). This was before the pandemic. We didn't know how things would get and they were already acknowledging the elephant in the room. I made my stance clear to them: that the juice was never worth the squeeze. We buried it deep enough, and all we needed to do was ensure the information was never found by anyone. They thanked me for my input and kept talking. Why would they listen to the woman who sequestered herself away from the world, after all. It's not like I was in touch with society anymore; I had my job, my quarters, my research, my neighbor. Too young, too naive. As if they could ever have figured their plans out without me. As if the bargains I made didn't give them the material necessary to put their plans into action when they inevitably did. As if I didn't expect they might take me off the board. As if I never found whispers in the silence, companionship in the dead of night, my own compromises and sacrifices. As if one of us wouldn't have a conscience, even if it meant dying to do the right thing. More than they ever did. https://thecoffin.club

Everyone here is either an asshole or a freak. At this point, I'm not going to count myself immune to this judgment. I've got a doctor on my arm and a local middle school math teacher might as well be my walking, talking shadow. Not to mention I'm not dressed for this sort of shit; people are dressed well, so are they, and I've got tan slacks, white shirt, blazer, shoes, like I'm going to circle-jerk with a bunch of middle-aged franchise owners after we talk about our divorces. It's hot in here and I fucking need air. Leaning against a railing, drink in hand, enjoying the night. I know a thing or two about perverts and fixations. Seen shit that makes folks' hair stand on end while someone involved begged for more as sweet as can be. My problem isn't with the gratification, it's with the simpering, the begging. There's a difference between an absence of shame and being shameless and these people are shameless. I understand why. I don't approve but I understand: because what they're all focused on there isn't real. It doesn't make sense. Yet here it is, irrefutable, outside under the waves, and it's crossing their wires and making them all think with their pricks and pussies. The priest is fixated on trying to define the nature of evil and if this thing is evil. The couple just want to dress up and screw about it because if you can't have a kid, why not make the year better. The dancer might as well be Jeffrey Dahmer if he was a worthless bottom who needed his zombie slave to rule his life and be his god. The "Satanists", the gossip, the fascist, the anarchist...it's all like going to your first orgy and realizing that the human body is, first and foremost, a physical thing beholden to disgusting laws of biology. The idea of the orgy is an enticing erotic fantasy, the reality is complicated and often off-putting. If you're at the pervert convention and nobody around looks normal, you might be a pervert too. All worthless fantasists. Even the pervert I love. Even me. https://thecoffin.club

I will not fall in love with the sea like Captain Nicholas Flagg. Mother has forbade me from sharing in the same love of the sea as my father. She was right and I was foolish and I will go home and she will chide me and I will say "I am so sorry I did not listen, mother" and she will hug me with tears in her eyes and it will all be wonderful. I will go to the school we have decided on, find a husband, bear him many sons, build a home together. They will ask me of the summer I spent with my father and I will never, ever tell them of what we did. His name will be a distant memory. As we sit here I can see the gears turning in his head. Father defines himself by his worth. Not his income, not his possessions, but a more esoteric thing, a je ne sais quois that he feels makes himself important. He will have a story to share, one that earns him sympathy, even empathy. But these are not worth. He hides it well but he is my father and I am clever. He has already decided there will be another boat. It does not matter if we survive this. He has made up his mind. So be it. There is only so much ocean, only so many sailors. There is this island and there is me and him and the sea. Somewhere out there are all of the dead and the wreck of the Isabel. I have made up my own mind. Because I am a girl I know I am not supposed to speak my thoughts aloud. I hold them close to my heart unless a man asks, and he will never ask, because he wishes to protect me, even though I am here because of him. I have decided that if he returns to this line of work, I may never forgive him. My worth will be of my own measure. And I will never fall in love with the sea like Captain Nicholas Flagg. https://bullypulpitgames.itch.io/desperation https://thecoffin.club

They asked if they could come and speak to me, and so I set the table for the four of us. Spent the day cleaning the house, getting everything in order, had food delivered (nothing fancy, just a roast chicken from the place down the road and all sorts of sides). The three of them were so nervous sitting at the table with me, I almost forgot to eat. The tension was palpable; they didn't quite know what to make of me. I scared them. I relished it dearly, just in case this was the end of my little game. I was the top of their list. An anomaly. A red flag, highest possible danger. Little old me. Can you believe it? I was clever, but I was outnumbered by people who knew what to look for. Someone who can access juvenile medical records, someone tied into the legal system, someone who knew how to connect the dots on the east and west coast. It's not ever day a girl gets given the treatment and respect she deserves. So I came clean. Yes, you've got me. The executioner of Forest Glen, a person of interest in assorted cases along the Pacific coast, someone in the periphery of misfortune and misery as I got what I wanted. They told me what they thought I wanted and I laughed. Why would I want that? I have my life, my rules, my honor, my game. That repulsed the youngest one, she had to excuse herself. The other two found their voices and made their pitch: if I joined them, I would know more. About the things I still dreamed about, deep within my loveless heart, the mystery of the world that captivated me as a girl. The beautiful thing out in the sea would be mine to understand. How could I ever pass up such a reward? Once again, I remain unpunished. Once again, my game continues. This time I had other players. https://thecoffin.club

It took longer than I'd like to admit to decrypt the Witch's notes and even then they weren't the most clarifying. Nance had been an assistant until he was on the wrong side of the ritual, and they had been working for decades with no real rhyme or reason. It wasn't until I brought others in on the secret that I started to get it. They believed they could get what they wanted through sacrifice and they had high hopes. The notes were riddled with inarticulate racist screeds, paranoid doctrines, petty delusions, manic hopes. They had theories and hypotheses and experiments. More organized than I wanted them to be, to the detriment of everyone around them. It was interesting, inexcusable work; they were testing responses, seeing what could or couldn't be given to them. I don't know what caused the Witch and Nance to come to odds, but once Nance was out of the picture it was clear the goals became more desperate, more sloppy, leading me to him and to his death. I sat on it for another 15 years. Isn't that funny? To keep it all inside for 34 years of my life. I was 42 when I told someone else and it was a woman I met at a gay bar. I told her less than a year after meeting her. Yet that still just broke a seal. It demystified something forbidden. And it lead to a new purpose: community pillar by day, scholar by night, surrounded by three other women. A piece of my heart, even if she never returned my advances, by my side. A protégé who helped us all realize our potential. An asset embedded in the community, watchful, patient, lethally clever. We all believed in the purpose of containing the knowledge, up until we started to see what holding it back was costing the world. https://thecoffin.club

On a good day, I was their protégé and they were my teachers. On a bad day, I was their pet and they were my owners. I didn't really care one way or another, the work was important and I never really cared for other people. Maybe in some part of my heart I hoped they saw me as their daughter. Seeing as how this all shook out...they eventually disabused me of that notion. I disappeared from the world. They funded my transition, my new identity, my studies, my work for them. A history student can access a lot of materials without raising a brow. Put together a historiography of the Bay, looked at surveys, maps, stories. Why did nobody else know about this? Why did a teenage boy with a spectrograph get a community killed and the NSA, with all their fancy toys, had no idea? Mysteries abounded, deeper, ever deeper. I became their pet scholar, their witness. I figured out who else would know. I probed, confirmed, helped construct a threat dossier. In 2012 we held a sort of convention. All the threats in one place to be assessed, weighed, measured. I did not attend; the three of them wanted to consider the targets without my immediate bias. And I was busy with moving to the island facility. We had to consolidate everything we had and ensure it could hold enemies and witnesses. The first night in Flagg House I couldn't sleep. Found myself sitting on scrubby, shitty shore in the twilight, bare feet dipped in the shifting tides, smoking a cigarette. It was there, and it was real, and I would be its neighbor until the day I died. A part of me was tired of the loneliness and compartmentalizing, and I decided. If we were to be neighbors, maybe we should learn more about each other. And so I put out my cigarette in the sand, took off my dress and waded out into the surf. https://thecoffin.club