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Put Me Back Togther (to call yourself a artist) PREPTOBER 2024

SUMMARY HERE
1978, serial killer/detective, psychological thriller, perchance some homosexual vibes


The year is 1978 and a new serial killer is on the loose in Springfield, Georgia. Both the local publishing house and municipal police are in uproar. It's a constant battle to get to the crime scenes first and it seems like the killer is always only just slipping out of both of their hands.

Accomplished private eye, Harlem Locke, who has only recently gotten the job of detective in circumstances better yet left unsaid is ready to move forward when assigned to the case in the small rural town, burying behind him metaphorical (and literal) baggage in the ground 1000 miles away.

Only, the murders are getting more and more implicating and he's left putting together the puzzle pieces that the murderer is leaving behind with the help of the equally new newspaper reporter Ana who may be holding a few buried secrets of his own.


WIP summary

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Psychological thriller, mild homophobia (writing a realistic 1978 setting with a diverse cast does not a homophobic-free environment make), the inherent tragedy of repeating your mistakes with higher and higher stakes, Manipulation, not actually a lot of gore, Obsession, "i can make him better" NO i can make him embrace his traumatic past and still become worse, Religious themes, Power Dynamics, Mindgames, mentions of racism
CHARACTERS
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drawn by a friend!
HARLEM LOCKE

THE DETECTIVE
CW: swearing
"Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, don't swallow. And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is He doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off! He's a tight-ass! He's a SADIST! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? FUCK NO!"

- Harlem Locke, 2 am, outside of a car dealership, painfully sober
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Morals what morals. The result of someone following the system because without it he's not quite sure who he is. Takes in a patchwork of personality traits from people he's known and have had a big impact on him. Confident but not overly, snake oil salesman vibes. Could talk a thirsty man into buying liquid mercury. Has a gun he's named Punchline and another named Special Delivery. His colleagues do not find this as funny as he does. They also think he should be fired. He should be fired. Is competent sadly. Cannot legally button up the first 2 buttons of his shirts. Hispanic, 5'11'' claims to be 6', his loafers add one inch to his height making it 5'12''. Uncomfortably familiar with a crowbar. Is surprisingly good at cooking. Black tendril tattoos on his arms. Roughly 37 years old but he refuses to confirm nor deny (he's 40)
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drawn by a friend!
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ANASTASIUS BALTHAZAR

THE SERIAL KILLER
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to be added.
SETTING
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ACT I
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SCENE 04 - “We all have our vices though yeah?”
Eleven minutes after Harlem leaves him there on the docks, breathing in the rough sea salt air that tears at his lungs and watching the faint tendrils of smoke that seem to dog his every step, Ana pours over the memory of flashing white grins that were just a tinge too sharp to be happy and the jaunty wave he favors.

He stares after him, smile fixed to his face like a concrete imprint as he considers the implications and the ramifications and a thousand other things-

‘Maybe.’ He muses, turning over thoughts and running his tongue over his bruised bloody lips. ‘But a little vice once in a while never killed anyone.’

(His are running his tongue over his bruised bloody lips and relishing in what caused them. His are bad decisions that reek of congealed blood and the looks golden eyes give him when he can't quite figure out what's wrong with him)

(His are people who are just a little too smart and may already be onto him for the first time in two cities)

Ana laughs softly into the empty night air and laughs harder when no police sirens sound and no handcuffs are placed around his wrist. He doesn't even need to bend down to check that the body he’d rashly hidden under the docks hadn’t floated away.

It seemed officers were unavoidable in this town, but for the moment, Ana was looking forward to seeing a detective again.
ACT II
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ACT III
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EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA
❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞
xxx
STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10
LOVELY CREATURE
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