I'm just an author...

The Outsider Sentences

Wellington Paranormal Sentences

"Well, that's pretty normal," Dana reasoned aloud. "Things usually feel more difficult when we concentrate too much. It's a lot easier to solve a problem when you look at the whole, rather than fixating. Maybe that's how you feel about school." That explained the variance, how in one moment his teachers thought he was the ideal student and the next they were worrying his head was more in the clouds than his lessons.

What it didn't explain was how he knew things that weren't on the curriculum, and she wasn't even certain were in any of the books she kept around the apartment.

"But the things you talk about, these are topics way beyond your grade, and that's why...well, I wonder if your school isn't the best place for you. I mean--" She paused, looking at John. "maybe we should look at other options? What do you think?"

No, it was easier to solve a problem when he wasn't thinking about it at all. It was almost like... Well, John supposed it was like his instincts solved it for him? Did that make sense? Maybe not. Maybe he was imagining that it was easier to not think about things? He did have a habit of doing that - imagining things that people later told him were wrong...

"Other options?"

What did she mean by that? John frowned, confused.

"You don't want me to go to school any more?"

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. John did like school sometimes, when he wasn't being told off and when he found the lessons interesting. He liked his friends too, the few he had. Of course, there were also some of his peers he didn't like - the ones who laughed at him - and there were more of them than the number of friends he had, but that wasn't the end of the world! John didn't mind playing alone during lunch; he had more than enough imagination to keep himself entertained.

Then again, though... No school meant no exams, right? John hated exams. Having to remember things under pressure was not one of his strengths, and it reflected in a lot of his test scores.

"Okay! Can I come to work with you instead?"

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 & 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇@imjustanauthor

"Yeah, I'd kill for a proper bed and a bath right now," she complained in unison. But Charlie wouldn't have been injured if they hadn't tried to look for a hotel for the night, and now she was wary about trying something like that again. They'd have to settle for a river.

Luckily, they weren't too far now. Even with their snail's pace, they'd managed to walk most of the way. "We're close," she told Charlie, "we should be at the river in just a couple of minutes now." She could feel it in her bones, yes, but she'd also just seen a sign by the road.

Charlie tried to push himself from her before she could stop him, but he was quick to grab onto her again. She frowned. "Maybe you just need more nectar?" she suggested. But too much nectar and he'd burst into flames so... maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

"Maybe," Charlie agreed. Or maybe not. Maybe he'd already had enough and it just hadn't started to work yet?

Or, maybe it was never going to work at all...

Was that possible? Had it happened before? Charlie wasn't sure, but he also wasn't sure he wanted to linger on the possibility. His head hurt so much, yet the idea of it not getting better somehow hurt even more than the physical pain.

"Bloody manticore," Charlie grumbled, more to himself than anything else. It wasn't fair. Why him? He was glad to be alive, of course, but what he had he done to deserve being alive in such a sorry state?

"I, um- I might need some help washing," he then pointed out. "If I can't walk on my own, I don't know if I'll be able to go into the river alone. You might need to help."

So he wasn't aware of the pattern? It was a hunch? Was he walking into the mind of a mad man by indulging him? That really was an intriguing possibility but the trouble for Moriarty was that Charlie was right. How was that possible? In which part of these files was the clue that connected them? He was always so careful, maybe Moran was being used too much or things were too central. No. No that wasn't it.

He'd marked the calibre of the bullets, he knew them save for the extra one but he was sure to make a show of looking through each of the files and writing on the board. Consulting a page or two and then adding more information. Now he wanted to find the link too, he had to!

"We always have to account for anomalies," he mused about the odd file, wondering if it was a test, he would point it out of course but he was sure he could work it out to protect Moran and by proxy himself. "The same crime repeated five times and one didn't go to plan, one was messy. Not the first," more musing as his copycat had indeed copied him on the third murder by the looks of things.

Moriarty had plotted out the calibre of the bullets and the range on a quick graph and collated the information with height, ah yes these were matched with Moran save for the third one which he had left as it was, the outlier. "You are right, these are all connected, but I can see why you think one," he lifted the third file to bring back to him, "is unconnected." Sloppy, inefficient but within his circle and convenient.

"This is the anomaly. However I think it is all the same person. If you look at the calibre and the range," he indicated to the board, "the other four are consistent, flat, toe to toe encounters." Point blank, "This one went wrong, this one is the one with the evidence left behind because they weren't toe to toe, they were on a slope, altered the height and their aim. This is the one that holds the key. This is where they got cocky." Go and chase that copycat, he loved a good scapegoat.

For a short while, Charlie watched with interest as Moriarty worked. It wasn't long before his attention began to drift, though. In the past, he could focus for hours - sometimes even days - but that was all gone now, along with so many other skills that had made him good at his job.

He told himself that he would be able to retrain his brain in those areas - that he just needed some time, and that even if he couldn't regain what he had lost, he could circumvent them with coping mechanisms. So far, Charlie had had some luck with that, but nothing was perfect. For example, he could write notes to circumvent his short-term memory issues, but that required him remembering to make notes in the first place, or paying attention for long enough to understand the important information. It was a problem, but one that he was desperately trying to work through.

While he waited, he began idly looking around the professor's office. Maths had never been his strong point, though he could still appreciate it when it was impressive - and what he could see was certainly that!

Eventually, his attention was drawn back to Moriarty by the other man speaking. Charlie wandered back over to him, legitimately interested in what he had found.

What he was told seemed to make sense, and he nodded along with it, but he still couldn't help but frown a little in confusion...

"If the killer was experienced enough to carry out four consistent, clean hits, surely he would be aware that he needed to make adjustments at that angle? It could be cockiness, yes, but how do we know it wasn't a different man?"

"Mulder, don't," Scully protested before she could stop herself. Don't what? Don't go near the inanimate object that couldn't possibly have moved by itself? Don't get too close to what? A dangerous scarecrow? What was she even scared of? It was probably the wind, or a swing of the staff it was placed on, that caused the movement.

Scully wasn't half as convinced by that private argument as she wanted to be.

Biting her lip, she moved a little closer too, squinting at the detail, trying to see evidence of an explanation for what they both saw, but before she could lean in she felt Mulder pulling her back.

"It's a scarecrow, Mulder, it can't possibly--" The head turned again to look directly at them, its neck at an odd angle, as it ripped one arm down from the pole. "--move."

She stole a brief look at her partner. "Okay, let's go," she agreed before turning around and running, trying not to hear the impossible sound of the scarecrow freeing itself behind her.

Having had the same idea as Scully, Mulder also began to run. The pathways were too thin to run side by side, so he allowed Scully to slip ahead of him as he checked back to see what was happening with the scarecrow.

It was walking now. Somehow, it had freed itself from its stand, and it was walking with a slow, shuffling gait that made it almost look blackout drunk. If it weren't an unnatural monstrosity that was (slowly) chasing them, it would have been funny, but unfortunately, Mulder was a little too caught up in the horror of the moment to appreciate the potential humour in it.

"Do you remember the way back to the entrance?" Mulder shouted to Scully ahead. The scarecrow was behind them, so they wouldn't be able to get to the exit unless they somehow managed to do a loop. However, they'd already been in the maze for so long - there was no way they would accurately remember the path they took!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 & 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐄 @imjustanauthor

Obviously, Salomé didn't like it! It was the most hideous sweater she had ever seen in her life. That shade of blue was terribly ugly, and sheeps, really? He wasn't 5 years old!

But she still felt bad about her cutting comment. Despite being an overall unpleasant young woman, Salomé was not heartless. And Charlie? Well, Charlie was probably the nicest guy she knew. She had not meant to hurt his feelings! In fact, she thought he had worn this horrendous sweatshirt as some sort of joke!

Her usually disdainful expression softened. "It's alright," she attempted, "it's just... not my style, that's all. But blue looks good on you. It matches your eyes."

So... It looked like somebody's nightmare, but it also looked good on him? Or, did blue look good, but only with other outfits? Charlie had to admit that he was confused. He still smiled back at Salomé because of course he did - when didn't he? - but it was very much a bemused smile, and it certainly wasn't accompanied by any kind of hint of comprehension in his eyes.

"Thanks," Charlie said anyway, as if he were certain that Salomé had been complimenting him. "I've got a scarf in this colour too, but that's got collies on instead of sheep."

Luckily, he didn't offer to show Salomé the scarf. Something told Charlie that if she was acting in such a confusing way about his jumper, then her reaction would be no better if he showed her any of his other knitted clothing.

"What would you put me in, then?" He instead asked. "If you had to dress me in your style?"

Oblivious to what he had just volunteered for himself with regards to Jeremiah's ID, Edgar just accepted that what he had said had been enough. He did have to give some acknowledgement in the form of a nod when Jeremiah pointed out that he had very poor internet connection. Made sense, out in the woods, great place to hide.

"Oh," was all he could offer at first in answer to the question shot back at him because no, he was not following his own advice but he had good reason, which he could not explain to Jeremiah. Here was that hypocrisy again. "I don't have an ID deep enough to set up social media accounts. Except Alistair Mason I suppose." Such a bizarre cover but in all truth, Edgar was a little sad that the psychic medium dramatic Brit was truly gone.

"And in all truth, I don't think anyone would be looking for my social media, I feel like no one would be surprised if I did not have one?" Not that he was at all suggesting that he was not in any way cool or too old! But well, he certainly did not want photographs of him anywhere available to the public let alone people who were looking him up even under fake identities. "I sound like a hypocrite, hm?" He cracked a smile at him but yeah, he knew how it looked.

So if Edgar got to get away with a lack of social media because he didn't seem the type to have it, why did Jeremiah need it? Surely he too gave off that impression? And, if he didn't automatically, then he certainly thought he did once he mentioned anything about his life - such as the fact he lived alone in the woods!

"Yeah, you do sound like a hypocrite," Jeremiah replied, perhaps a little too bluntly. He wasn't annoyed at Edgar, of course - it just didn't occur to him that maybe he should have a bit more tact when agreeing with self-deprecating statements, even when they were said with a smile.

"I'm not going to set up social media accounts. I don't want to, and I have better things to do on the internet when I can actually get connection." Things like talking to people on the Dogman forums - because yes, they existed. There was a good YouTube channel about it too, but Jeremiah didn't watch it very often because it took so long for videos to load.

"What if I took some photos of me in other situations? Like... I don't know, smiling with 'my family' or, um... Eating clams?"

𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 & 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 @imjustanauthor

"Oh yeah, I know," she replied, visibly a little bit hurt that Jeremiah would think she'd throw an invasive species back into the wild, "we called animal control and gave them the frogs." Brook would obviously not kill the frogs, she loved frogs! But she also knew very well that an invasive species was dangerous to the park's ecosystem.

She raised her eyebrows, before taking a sip of her coffee. "What are you focused on?" Actually, she was kind of really curious. Not that she'd push the subject any further if he didn't want to say.

The prospect of working with the frog issue seemed to mellow Brook out, and in the span of a few seconds she had clearly forgiven Jeremiah's earlier offense. "Really?" she said, "that'd be so cool! Thanks, Jeremiah."

It was so hard to explain what he did in addition to his typical ranger duties. Even back in the day, towards the start of his career, it had been hard. The ghost boy by the lake had changed everything for Jeremiah, and though those early days hadn't really involved actually doing anything about the unnatural forces around them, he'd never been able to explain what exactly he was trying to avoid - because how could he? Whenever he had tried, nobody had believed him!

Thankfully, Brook did not linger on the topic, allowing Jeremiah to avoid an explanation altogether. That was a relief; he never liked the awkwardness that came with discussing such things.

"It's no problem. I'm sure that team would be thrilled to have an extra pair of hands. We get loads of people who are interested in animal research, but it's usually the elk or the bears - maybe some of the more popular birds too, if we're lucky. People don't care fo the smaller wildlife."

Finished looking at the photographs, he handed the phone back to Brook.

"I'll probably see one of them tomorrow. I'll mention you then, okay? Whoever I find, I'll tell them where they can contact you."

"Right, of course," Scully agreed, pressing her lips together as she nodded at the undeniable Mulder logic. Of course it couldn't be werewolves; it wasn't yet night. Or, she believed, even a full moon.

"Well, you seem to pretty sure what it isn't, Mulder, and I'd have to agree with you on all counts...but what about what it actually is?" She turned to look at the print again, as well as the destroyed foliage and the hiker's torn property. If she had to hazard a guess, she would say it was the work of a wild animal, one perhaps in an unfamiliar area. She privately wondered if there were any zoos nearby; places such as those experienced escaped animals far more often than common public opinion was aware.

"Half wolf?" She repeated, eyebrow raised. "How is that any different from a werewolf?" Or any less fictional, she added silently. "I don't think it sounds like anything, Mulder; we have a footprint and a torn safety alarm. It might as well be Dracula from that evidence."

She sighed a little. "And if it was seven feet tall wouldn't the foliage higher up be damaged as well, not just on the ground?" And as far as she could see, the upper branches were entirely untouched.

It was then that she heard the scream.

Meeting Mulder's eyes, a silent communication between them, she ran in the direction of the man's cry, gun in hand, and trusted that her partner was following.

It clearly wasn't a vampire! The footprint was entirely wrong for that! Scully had to know that, right? Yeah, she had to. Clearly, she was just being the typical, stubborn self and refusing to look at the real evidence right before her eyes.

Luckily (or perhaps not), before Mulder could complain about this, and before he could attempt to come up with a way to explain the lack of damage up high, the scream that pierced through the forest cut him. His eyes met Scully's (though, did they really need that millisecond of communication to know what they were going to do?) and he also began to run, a step behind Scully.

It had been a human scream, he was certain of that. Well, unless there was something that could mimic a man out in the woods - which was entirely possible, but seemed unlikely, especially when Mulder was pretty sure he could also hear something else up ahead. Something like... Growling?

It was very true that the last thing Killian had wanted was a Delta Green agent stood in his home with his family. Much like Jeremiah thought he could take on Andrea if he felt she was a threat, Killian was more than sure he could handle Jeremiah if things turned hostile. He'd of course rather it didn't and would make as much reasonable effort to make sure of that.

"Well, we have worked together," he pointed out, "elements of the truth make it harder to forget the main points. You and I were on an investigation in Seattle looking into a missing person's case for the artist Rebecca Collier around a suspected serial killer, Matilda Troyford." He could see that Jeremiah was not used to this sort of thing though and after a moment, Killian managed at least something of a reassuring smile, despite his discomfort. "You were there as a consultant because you've seen a similar case in the woods."

Easy right? So very simple, no need to mention the troll at all. The cover story was solid enough on its own and that was easy to stick to, surely. "Ok? Does that make sense?" He checked in with him, not wanting him to panic or suddenly forget everything that happened in Seattle, or worse relive it.

But wouldn't that story just raise more questions? Like why didn't he mention it earlier, and why didn't he call Killian when he got lost? But then again, maybe the other man knew best? After all, they were dealing with his wife, right? And the kids would be no issue - they looked too young to really notice anything.

Alright. If Killian wanted him to say that they'd met in Seattle, then Jeremiah would do that. He had been looking into a serial killer because he'd seen a similar case before. How exactly was it similar? Well... He supposed he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"It makes sense." And it did, sort of. Maybe. At the very least, Jeremiah would remember what Killian had told him to say. The trouble would come when he was forced to improvise, but with any luck, Killian would step in and change the topic if things got desperate.

"Are we going to eat now?" Jeremiah then asked. "Because I don't want to be rude but I am hungry, you know. All I've had today is a sandwich and that muffin, so..."

So he really would like to have dinner, if it was allowed. And, while he didn't say it aloud, Jeremiah did have to admit that he was keen to get out of the study and back in the company of others. While Killian didn't seem like he wanted to murder him anymore, he'd still rather get back out into the open just in case!

Scully had to smile, quietly and surprisingly amused by what appeared to be a childish enthusiasm for simple pleasures. She could honestly say she'd never seen an adult man so happy at the idea of a milkshake. But it was a kinda nice, a break from the darker aspects of the world, especially on cases like these.

"You want to write about this case?" Scully asked in surprise. She wasn't even sure what the rules would be surrounding that, since she'd never been in a situation where anyone had ever asked. "You think it's interesting enough for one of your books?" She asked with quiet interest, raising her eyebrow slightly even as she turned to open the door of the diner.

"Well, I'd probably have to run it by the Assistant Director, but since he once had his own writer friend create an entire Hollywood movie around one of our cases-- a movie riddled with inaccuracies, by the way--" As well as an overly flattering portrayal of Skinner himself. "--I don't see why a book would be a problem."

To tell the truth, John didn't think the case was the most interesting in the world. Obviously it wasn't boring either, but it was going to need some editing if it was going to match up to everything else he wrote. That was okay, though - all good stories needed some work put into them!

"You have a film about you?" John asked, very interested - even more so than usual. In his head, he was picturing an epic cop movie with shootouts, explosions, and all kinds of special effects.

"I love movies! What's it called? I've probably seen it!"

John wondered if had the film, whatever it was, on DVD. There was a good chance he did. Oh, but what a shame he wouldn't be able to get Scully to sign it! If he ever came back to the US (which was pretty likely, considering his book tours), then maybe he'd have to bring it with him so he could change that.

"There's been some talk of turning my books into a TV show, you know," he then said. "Oh, actually, you wouldn't know - it's still a secret. Don't tell anyone I told you that, yeah?"

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 & 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 @imjustanauthor

Fish stared at Charlie for a moment, before awkwardly looking away. "It's not that simple," she muttered, "I know you're not dead! But you're hurt, and..." And he hadn't been the same since that injury. "Even the Apollo kids couldn't do anything to help."

She was still happy to hear that he wasn't mad at her. But the truth was that it didn't make her feel any less weird about him, and she didn't know what it meant! Maybe she'd like it better if he fought her, maybe she wouldn't feel so awkward anymore.

"Ok!" she exclaimed, visibly irritated, and just as weird as before, "I won't be weird about it!"

This was still weird, wasn't it? It felt weird, and Charlie was pretty sure that wasn't just because the entire world felt weird now. He'd told Fish not to worry, and now she was... Annoyed? Yeah, that was weird.

"What's wrong with you?" Charlie asked, forgoing tact in favour of being upfront and blunt about the whole matter. Not that the decision to do that was a conscious one, mind you. The words came tumbling out of Charlie's mouth before he could reconsider them - and, even if he'd had that chance, he wouldn't have thought twice about them anyway.

"You're saying you're not going to be weird, and I'd said it's all fine, and now you're acting like you're mad at me. Why? Do you want me to blame you for events completely out of your control? I mean, I can, if you want. I can call you an idiot and say you should have known better, even though it wouldn't be true."

𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐒 & 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 @imjustanauthor

Oceanne didn't really know where she wanted to go. There were plenty of touristy things one could do in New York, but she didn't really dare ask for any of those. Wouldn't it make her seem like a silly girl? Smart and sensible girls went to museums, not the Statue of Liberty! And since she knew better than most that appearances could reveal an awful lot about a person, she was always very careful about making a good impression.

Oh, of course! "I'd like to go to the Stephen A. Schwarzman library?" she suggested with a smile. She had meant to go last time she was in New York with her dad, but Sherlock and her dad were far too busy to accompany her. "I heard it has an impressive historical collection."

Dallas' next comment made her feel silly anyway. Did he think she was dull? That was no better! She blushed, looking at her feet. "I do play chess for fun," she replied, "I also love ballet, and playing the piano. Oh, and I go horse riding when I can." To her, all these things were fun! "But my horse is kept on one of the King's estates because I live in London with my dad."

She wanted to go to a library? Lord, these British kids were something else. Sure, maybe the collection there was impressive, but Dallas could think of so many more interesting things to do in the city. Not that his opinion mattered, of course. If the kid wanted to see the library, then he'd make a few phone calls and hopefully get permission to take her there.

The mention of horses had Dallas perk up. Now, that was something worth talking about - and it was something he'd expect a young girl to want to talk about too!

"Oh yeah? I bet your horse is as fine as frog hair split four ways! What's the filly called?"

He took his wallet from his pocket and pulled a photograph out of it. Dallas kept a picture of his own horse in there just in case he ever wanted to show anybody the animal. For obvious reasons, he didn't want to show anyone using his phone. While his identity wasn't a secret in his day-to-day work, it still wouldn't be wise to risk anyone seeing more than he wanted them to.

"This here's my horse, Outlaw. He's a gift from a former president."

Was he showing off? Yes, he supposed he was, but what else was he supposed to do when his charge for the day was doing the same thing by broadcasting exactly where she kept her own horse?

"You sure you want to go to the library? I'll go and make a call about it if you are."

𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 & 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 @imjustanauthor

Brook was not convinced at all. He didn't look fine! Jeremiah looked like he hadn't slept in months. Hell, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. An army of ghosts! But Brook was also not a very confrontational person. If she'd known Jeremiah more, she'd have insisted. But he was an acquaintance more than a close friend, and she didn't want to overstep her boundaries.

"Okay," she replied with a little frown, "dad's been growing camomile, I'll bring you some. Should help you sleep better."

She wasn't surprised that he changed the subject, clearly he didn't want to talk about whatever was troubling him, and she didn't want to push. "I'm good, I've had a bit of good news, actually. The veterinary school I want to go to has accepted my application."

Of course, the school was far away from here, all the way in Virginia. She'd have to move, go live with her uncle. But she didn't say that. Not that she thought Jeremiah would care, but she felt a little sad about leaving the park.

While Jeremiah was pretty damn sure camomile wasn't going to fix anything, he still nodded and murmured his thanks. Brook was just trying to be kind, and he did appreciate that. It wasn't something he was going to make a huge display about, but he appreciated any kindness he could get nowadays.

Maybe it would be a good idea to go and see a doctor about his sleeping? Camomile may not work, but a prescription for something strong might.

"Oh yeah? That's great." There was no enthusiasm to his words, nor did his weak smile reach his eyes, but he was happy for Brook. Going off to become a vet was a great achievement. It suited her, too. Jeremiah felt confident that she'd not only enjoy it, but she'd also be good at the job.

"Which school is that again?" He then asked, just because it was the polite thing to do. "When do you leave? Autumn?"