The Playhouse Experiment pt. 3

Lorene was scared. No, uncomfortable was the right word. She had always been a stickler for precision of language. The man's skin was darkish, and he looked as though he was one of those people who spent so much money on trying to change their face, but none of the features quite fit together. His eyes were two different shades of brown, his nose was a bit too wide to be proportional, and looked a bit twisted. His upper lip was almost too big, and his chin was not in line with the rest of his face. He had tiny, almost healed scars all over his face. He stared intently at Lorene, and she started hyperventilating, she was starting to panic. But, then, a huge eighteen-wheeler passed in between them. Lorene sighed in relief. This had never happened to her before. The man wasn't there after the truck had passed. Lorene began to get up from the fire hydrant she was sitting on, when she saw him crossing the crosswalk. She took a deep breath, and began to walk away. She had only gone twenty feet, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A voice then said, "You are Lenore, no?" The voice had a Russian accent, but it sounded practiced, almost faked. She turned around and saw it was the man who had been across the street. She then, without thinking, corrected him. "Lorene," she said, "my name's Lorene." She began to realize it had probably been years since she had said that to anyone, when the man interrupted her thoughts with a rude comment of "Whatever." She didn't even have time to be shocked, when he said, "You follow me. Now. If you want to live, you will follow me exactly. Come." He turned on his heel and walked away. Lorene was frightened, and was about to run away, when he was suddenly next to her again, whispering in her ear. "If you value your mother's life, you will come with me now. We have guns trained on you and her right now, and would be fine with killing her, but would prefer not to kill you. You are very valuable to us, Lenore, and would hate to kill you, but we will if we have to. It would be best if you came with us, though. If we killed you, we would have to kill or erase the memories of everyone here on this street. Although," he muttered, " the snow has kept most people inside. But, if you come with us, we will spare all these people, and your mother. Now, COME!" he said, and began to hurredly walked away. Lorene, knowing what was at stake, instantly followed. They walked quickly, taking a complicated route that no one would follow. Lorene kept her head down, walking fast,until she passed an alley. Someone yanked her into the alley, and covered her mouth. It was the same man, now picking her up and roughly cradling her, rushing towards a truck, the same one that had crossed in between them. She was thrown into the back of the truck, the man climbing in after her. The doors slammed shut behind him, and a moment later, the truck started up. Lorene had time to register other men in the truck, when someone held a rag over her mouth and nose. She breathed in the sent of chloroform, and in moments, she was unconcious.

The Playhouse Experiment pt. 2

Lorene would often just wander onto a busy street and watch people. The fact that nobody ever noticed her allowed her to avoid awkward stares and simply look. One day, though someone DID notice her. Someone bad...


It was a normal day. Lorene had left school, gone home, left a note for her mom that she was out people watching ( It seemed like this was the only way they communicated anymore, which was one of the few things that bothered Lorene, she missed human contact), and gone downtown on the subway. She was at a street full of tourists, just watching them wander around, when a few tears began to creep out of the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away, wishing that, just for once, SOMEONE would look at her. She looked up, trying to hold back the unfamiliar tears, so different from when she had fallen and hurt herself on the playground as a child. That pain washed away quickly, those tears were a reaction to the pain and shock of injury. These tears, and the reason for them, were completely new, and frightened her. Had she become one of those whiny, wimpy emo kids who cried and cut themselves because Mommy and Daddy didn't get them the pony they wanted for their fifth birthday? No, she was stronger than that. This must have been brought on by that dead homeless man, Paul or Raoul or something like that, that she had bought a cheeseburger for when she was twelve, his body now sitting in an alleyway while people passed him by, not wanting to acknowledge that, if society had cared, he would have been alive and fine. No, they were too involved in everything else that was so unimportant to care that a good man died right there, she thought bitterly, then shook her head, telling herself to snap out of it. She couldn't control society. She could only observe, and take notes. She didn't really exist in most people's minds. She was a girl they used to know, but she moved away years ago, they thought. Right then, though, Lorene realized something. She had never really TRIED to mingle with people, to break into society. She had simply accepted it, and let time push her away. This feeling of pain, rejection, disappointment, misery ,and rage that had been looming in the back of her mind for so long was directed at herself. She had not just let society push her away, but had walked away herself, just accepting it. More tears flowed down her cheeks, as she realized that she hadn't said "I love you too, Mom" in so long, that her mother just stopped saying "I love you." She had pushed the world away from her, for no discernable reason. Silent sobs wracked her body. She vowed to herself that she would go home, hug her mom, and say "Mommy, I love you." She was suddenly pulled out of this reverie by the realization that, across four lanes of traffic, a man in a trenchcoat was staring directly at her. Not THROUGH her, as usually happened, but right at her. And he wasn't looking away at all when she looked up.

The Playhouse Experiment

Lorene was a normal 14 year old girl. She was average height, with dirt brown eyes and hair, average everything, really. If there was one face you could stare at for an hour and never recognize it again, it was hers. She was almost nonexistant in a crowd. She had a quiet voice and rarely talked anyway, so she was eventually forgotten about at her huge urban high school. Friends she'd had since kindergarten began talking to her less and less, until they had completely forgotten her. Lorene liked it that way. She had never been very social anyway, and the gradually distancing between her and everyone else seemed to have begun the day she was born. Sometimes her teachers even forgot about her. She didn't mind. After all, it saved her the homework. Her mom had raised Lorene all on her own, but even she didn't seem to know Lorene at all. But, she had two jobs, a full time and a part time, so she didn't have much time for her daughter. Her clearest memory of her little girl was holding her for the first time, and expecting to see the most wonderful thing in the world, but her baby was just, okay, there really was no other way to put it. Lorene was fine with that. She had grown up with a busy mom, and had never asked for much attention, which left her plenty of time to do her favorite activity: people watching on the street.