SBC Horror Story: Pirates

[Ron]

Based off American Horror Story... coming soon.

 

 

[Ron]

 

Plot

The chilly French seaside town of Seashell-Braux-Colfax (often abbreviated SBC) is experiencing something fishy. What is it? Pirates? Or pirating?! 

 

THE MAIN CAST

Wumbo - a young, intelligent detective new to Seashell-Braux-Colfax

OMJ - An elderly old woman who knows more than she can say* 

Aya - Another old woman who OMJ suspects of being possessed 

Cha - a local horse-owner who enjoys riding out in the countryside 

Nuggets - the owner of SBC's only successful restaurant, French Onion Nuggets 

Clappy - the keeper of the lighthouse and avid urban-legend junkie

Jelly - the operator of SBC's boat rental shop; an expert on fishing

Shinya - A mysterious neighbor who is supposedly caught up in his war days 

 

ALSO FEATURING: 

SpongeSebastian - the uptight mother of a young child, Steel Sponge; neighbor of Shinya*

ssj - an avid fisherman; always out at sea, attempting to catch fish; his only friend is Clappy

SG12 - the town's only police officer; doesn't really do his job* 

Jerbox - an oddity of a woman who appears at night, wandering the streets of SBC

 

 

This will be a 13-episode miniseries (as with American Horror Story), and will hopefully have an array of guest writers.

 

*This means that the character is the opposite gender of its user.

[Clappy]

Can't believe I didn't see this sooner.  It took me long enough to get into the show (probably two years of saying I was going to watch, then I finally watched ), I can't wait to read this.

[Old Man Jenkins]

Ooh, am I Jessica Lange?!

[Ron]

poihaps 

[Ron]

*French is spoken in the beginning, the characters are speaking in French throughout the series despite dialogue switching to English. 

 

Episode 1: City by the Sea

 

Wumbo arrived in Seashell-Braux-Colfax, a tiny little town in France, looking out at the Bay of Biscay. A small island sat out from Seashell-Braux-Colfax, called Belle-Île. It was an empty, uninhabited island, overgrown with trees and plants. He stared at it as the taxi drove down the gravely road into SBC. He paid the driver and got out. The town was not very large, but was a picturesque French civilization. 

 

He started walking towards what looked like the town's only hotel. Living in Quebec, Wumbo was bilingual and fluent in French. The words "Hôtel-Château" were scrawled on the large board in front of the building. 

 

"Bonjour! Vous êtes nouveau?" a voice called from the side. Wumbo turned to look. 

 

"Oui, est-ce l'hôtel?" replied Wumbo, gesturing to the hotel. An elderly woman was who had asked if Wumbo was new. 

 

"C'est en effet l'hôtel. Je suis OMJ. Qui êtes-vous?" 

 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Wumbo," said Wumbo. Wumbo extended his hand to OMJ; she looked at his hand oddly before taking it. 

 

"Well, I assure you you will be at home here," said OMJ. "It is a very nice, safe community." 

 

Wumbo nodded; something about the woman didn't sit well with him. He headed into the hotel; it was weird how quiet everything was. Nobody was at the front desk. He waited several minutes before OMJ wandered in behind him.

 

"Oh, son, nobody checks you in or out in this hotel," she said sweetly. "You go into your room and leave whenever you need. Just make sure you clean up before you leave."

 

She forced a Grandma-like laugh, despite nothing having nothing she does said been laughable. 

 

"Thanks," nodded Wumbo and walked towards the door marked Stairs.

 

"Oh, no, son!" shouted OMJ. "Take the elevators." She stood in front of the entrance to the stairs protectively. 

 

"Er. Where are they?" asked Wumbo. OMJ nodded over to double doors; they were dusty and didn't look like they'd been used in ages. They blended in almost completely with the walls. Wumbo hadn't noticed them. He walked over to the doors and examined the wall for a panel of buttons.

 

"How do I open this?" said Wumbo, growing frustrated. Why couldn't he just take the stairs? 

 

"Hit the door," said OMJ softly.

 

"Hit it?"

 

"Yes son." 

 

Wumbo hit the door, and they immediately slid open. Hmm. How does that work? he thought as he stepped in. 

 

"It doesn't matter what room?" I asked. 

 

"No," said OMJ. "Please just always take the stairs, sonny." 

 

As the doors shut, OMJ kept her eyes trained on Wumbo until the very last second when Wumbo saw her enter the stairs. 

 

Inside the hallway, everything appeared very clean, contrasting the very dirty and dusty lobby of the hotel. He chose the first room he came to. The rooms were small, but homey. The bed was made, there was a small TV, a dresser, and a single queen-sized bed. 

 

"Where the hell's the bathroom?" sighed Wumbo after looking over the room. 

 

He went back out into the hall. He saw a figure pass by at the end of the corridor; it looked like OMJ. 

 

"OMJ! Hello?" he said. He began to walk briskly over to the end, hearing no reply. He turned and jumped in fright. Another old woman stood there, resembling OMJ. 

 

"What are you doing in here?" the woman said spitefully. "You have no business in this hotel, get out!" 

Taken aback, Wumbo replied, "I'm sorry... OMJ said anyone could stay here." 

 

The woman's face curled up sourly. "OMJ! Ha!" She shook her head. 

 

"I'm sorry, who are you?" asked Wumbo. 

 

The woman looked down and then back up Wumbo, her left eye slightly closed and her lips pursed. "Aya. Go back to your room."

 

Aya pushed past Wumbo into the hallway. He turned and followed.

 

"Wait! Why shouldn't I be here?" 

 

"Nothing, get back in your room, sailor," she said. Wumbo noticed she walked with a limp and was stalkier than OMJ. 

 

"Are you and OMJ friends?" 

 

"Yes, now get back to your room, before I evict ye!" she spat. Wumbo stared at her before walking back to his room. 

 

Wumbo had only a week to be in S-B-C; he was divorced and his ex-wife and son were vacationing in Bermuda. He had not been allowed to tag along, so he was in the supposedly sunny seaside Seashell-Braux-Colfax; wasn't sunny at all. 

 

 

[Steel Sponge]

Old Man Jenkins is an old woman. Ironic.

[Ron]

Episode 2: Are You From Paris?

 

 

Wumbo woke up to the smell of shit. Not just any shit. Horse shit. He got up and looked towards his open window. I don't remember leaving that open. Smells horrible.

 

He got up and walked over to the window to close it and saw a woman with horses in the field next to the hotel. Had that field even been there last night? 

 

"Bonjour!" the woman called, noticing Wumbo's stare. "Are you new here?"

 

"Oh, um, yeah," said Wumbo, embarrassed. 

 

"Come on down! You can ride the horses!" said the woman.

 

"No thank you," said Wumbo as warmly as possible; that did not sound appealing to him. He wanted to get straight over to the beach and relax. That's what he was here for.

 

"Are you sure?" persisted the woman. "C'mon, I insist! My treat! It's on the house!"

 

Implying that you charge people? Ew.

 

Wumbo grudgingly got dressed and walked over to the lady, who introduced herself as Cha. She helped Wumbo get up on the horse (falling several times in the process) and then looked on gleefully as a stone-faced Wumbo sat on the back of the animal as it galloped around the field, trying not to fall off its back again. 

 

Once it was over, Cha invited Wumbo for lunch. 

 

"No, no, thank yo---" Wumbo tried to decline.

 

"No, it's my treat! On the house!" repeated Cha, adding in a giggle. 

 

Oh my God, please, I just want to go lay on the beach, thought Squidward Wumbo.

 

Cha had a little house adjacent to the stables. Upon stepping inside, Wumbo felt as if he'd gone back to colonial times. She had no running water... no electricity... she made tea by burning it over a fire in the dirt floor of the cottage. Wumbo looked on with disgust as she poured the nasty tea into a chipped tea cup. 

 

"So," said Cha, smiling broadly. "What brings you to these parts? Are you from Paris?" 

 

"I'm American," nodded Wumbo. "I live in New Jersey. I'm on here for some much needed me-time and vacation."

 

Not catching the hint, Cha proceeded. "Wow, America! Your French is great for an American!" 

 

Wumbo desperately wanted to say, "My French is much better than your shit French, you sound like a Texan" but restrained himself. He forced himself through the rest of the conversation before excusing himself, claiming he had a bathroom emergency. Cha of course offered her bucket but Wumbo put his foot down and ran into the hotel (taking the stairs, per request of OMJ). 

 

Wumbo dressed into his bathing suit and examined the restroom for any towels. There weren't any, so he entered back into the hallway, ready for the beach. Walking down the hall, he heard crying. It was soft... muffled by something. He stopped, listening intently. It stopped abruptly and there was silence. The room door closest to him swung up, scaring him. He jumped. 

 

"WANT TO ASK ANY QUESTIONS?" bellowed the man who bombarded out of the room. "YE ARE A NOSY ONE, EH?" The giant man crashed into Wumbo's personal space, not entirely realizing how close he was to him.

 

"No, no, sorry, I just heard someone crying and I thought---"

 

"THOUGHT WHAT?!" the man screamed. "THAT A MAN LIKE MESELF CAN'T CRY?" 

 

He was wiping the tears from his eyes and sniffing monstrously. 

 

"No, no, I don't even know you! Please, just---"

 

"Calm yerself," the man said, suddenly smiling. He extended a hand. "The name's Clappy." 

 

"Er.."

 

Wumbo shook his hand, confused. 

 

"I'm sorry ye had to hear dat," Clappy said. He put his hands on his waist and looked off in the distance, although there was just a wall behind Wumbo, so he wasn't entirely sure what the hell he was looking at. "Sometimes teh best sailors... sometimes the best sailors get eaten by teh sea."

 

Clappy had a deep, gruff voice and as far as Wumbo could tell, was bipolar. 

 

Wumbo sought an exit from the conversation, and left. He successfully got out of the hotel without attracting the attention of a crazy horse owner, or pissing off a bipolar giant. 

 

And then he saw what the beaches of Seashell-Braux-Caolfax actually looked like. They looked like shit. 

The ocean was freezing, dark clouds hung over the choppy waters, and there were rocks everywhere. This did not look like the brochure.

 

And then it got worse. 

 

"AY, SAILOR!" screamed Clappy into the ear of Wumbo. Wumbo jumped. "WHAT ARE YE DOIN DOWN HERE!?"

 

"I was going to sunbathe!" said Wumbo.

 

Clappy laughed heartily (and loudly, in Wumbo's ear). "Aw, sailor. And where did ye get that idea?"

 

"The brochure..."

 

"What brochure?" asked Clappy. 

 

"The brochure for SBC... said this was a great resort on the French coast." 

 

"Ha!" said Clappy. "Must've been older than I am... this place ain't a resort! I'm teh lighthouse keeper, I sherd know!" 

 

Once again seeking an exit from this uncomfortable conversation, Wumbo left the beach, wondering how outdated that brochure had been. As he walked away, he turned around and saw Clappy waving and yelling at someone out at sea. 

 

There was nobody there.