« THEME »

design a cover + character + their history for a given book

———

« GRAPHIC »

—

PETER QUOLL is an old man now, with creased wrinkles and aching bones. But you wouldn't know it if you looked only at his eyes, sharp as razors and amber like honey. Watching, observing. All the time.

He was born seventy-four years ago at the cusp of dusk, right as the glimmering reflection of the moon began its journey across the river. His mother said through loosely clenched teeth, "Why, he's quiet as a parakeet!", and then the weak strength left her jaws and her eyes fluttered closed. His father figured her killer's name should be a tribute to her, but "Parakeet" wasn't quite suitable as a name — and so Peter it became.

Peter grew, but not for long. His height hit its peak at 5'4 and his weight never surpassed one hundred and thirty-five pounds. That caused a bit of trouble when he tried to join the Navy, but not for long. Peter wasn't easily held back.

He served for six years, and then he came spiraling back to River's Edge at the call of his dying father.

He was too late, though. He only heard the echo.

Peter couldn't bear to see more death. He was done with the military. He settled down in River's Edge, and quickly found a reputation as an intelligent young man. Word found its way to certain people, and suddenly he found himself working for the government again — but this time, doing a far more covert sort of work. No one knew what he was doing; they only watched with widening eyes. The things he owned multiplied as he seemingly sat around. Peter had become a hoarder, with far too much money to do nothing with it and far too inclined to doing nothing with what he bought.

Eventually, his work came to an end, and he left the profession. He roamed the town, searching futilely for something, anything to do. He couldn't stand to be bored, and that's why his was one of the first interests piqued when the murders began.

When the teens of River's Edge saw him approaching each case as if he were a detective, they came to him. Over time he turned into the one adult that they came to trust. He took every word they said seriously, and consistently allowed them to take whatever they wanted from his house(amongst which included copious amounts of cash). 

With every new day, there was another murder. With every new murder, Peter was closer to the answer, to the murderer.

In the end, though, it wasn't her who killed him.

LLOYD PARKER is the younger step-brother of Peter Quoll's mother. He was only nine when she died; she was twenty-three, and he'd worshipped her all his life. Her death devastated him.

And why had she died? How had she died?

Giving birth to Peter.

His grudge was seventy-four years old.

One morning, Peter rose early and made his way to an old hunting lodge, deep in the woods that surround River's Edge. The cold cut through to his old bones, but he'd found clues that traced the murderer to the lodge and was determined to discover who it was.

Lloyd was who he found at the lodge, polishing an old gun, for the cabin was his.

Peter was taken aback, but remembered abruptly of Lloyd's ownership. His suspicion dissolved; though Lloyd had always been distant, he was family. He sat next to Lloyd on a bench.

Lloyd smiled, for he'd realized his chance. He'd waited long, he'd fantasized ages, but never till this day had he seen such a clear opportunity.

No one knew that Lloyd had come to hunt on this day. No one would know that he'd happened across Peter. 

No one would know if he killed him.

It would be far too easy to blame the town murderer. Lloyd jumped from seat and crossed to the other side of the room, startling Peter. The sleek nozzle of his gun winked in the soft light, and each footstep jarred the wooden boards underneath.

"Lloyd," said Peter, rising to his feet.

Lloyd watched him, expressionless. "Peter."

Peter began to become aware of the danger, and his fingers curled almost reflexively around the pistol in his pocket. "What's wrong, Lloyd?" he asked.

"I've always hated you, you know," Lloyd told him, his eyes sliding down to his own fingers and the trigger they slipped into place around. "I've always wished you were never born."

Peter began to draw the gun out of his pocket.

But Lloyd's gun was already free. Lloyd's gun rose and aimed and shot.

Peter's body thumped into the ground.

There was a flicker of movement. Lloyd's head snapped to the side, and he saw a pair of wide eyes, watching from behind his oaken table. He jerked his gun in the universal 'move' motion.

The figure stepped out, slowly and carefully. It was a young woman, with hair the red of an autumn leaf and spasming green eyes that seemed to twitch and roll in her eye sockets. All the tautness, the control in her body, was missing from her eyes.

There could only be one other person in the lodge.

The one Peter had hoped to find.

Lloyd surveyed the woman, his face yet again a closed mask.

A minute passed. Two.

Then Lloyd gave a slow nod, his gun jerking again but now towards the door, and then a dark blob was darting through the trees as he watched—

And all throughout, there lay Peter Quoll, with unseeing eyes that had come so very close to seeing the answer to his mystery.

———

Tada! Tried out a weird sorta style, I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with what came out, but I'm always glad to grow and experiment! In case it was difficult to tell exactly what happened, Peter went to an old cabin owned by Lloyd in the woods of River's Edge. Everyone knew of the cabin, but most had forgotten that Lloyd was its owner, due to the fact that he kept so quiet and was so rarely seen inside it - he limited his hunting always to the early hours of morn. Lloyd has always viewed Peter as his step-sister's murderer, and he's long wished him dead, so when he realizes that this could very well be his opportunity, he takes it without further ado. Just as Peter dies, it turns out that his final clue had been correct; the murderer is in the cabin, and Lloyd discovers her. He allows her to go, because he knows that with the death of Peter, it's unlikely she'll be found very quickly, and she's definitely not in a state to tell others about what he'd done, not when she's a murderer herself. The murderer and her intentions, I'll leave up to you to dream.

—

|  _BALENCIAGA_  |

—