Hard Answers
In which Scoop is lectured about branding
Welcome to the twelfth issue of Sketchy Scoops! Your number one source for the most spurious content on the internet.
Scoop Reports: Hard Answers
Shelly had taken the passenger seat next to me in the van. I was still so angry that I looked away from her as she climbed into the seat. That was the moment when I noticed the van had been moved.
I’d parked it under a spreading sycamore tree that overlooked a quarry outside of Bellarmine. Now, we were nestled under a group of Maples surrounded by low, crowded hills. We were in an entirely different place than where I’d parked last night. The terrain was so different here, we might even be in a different state. Someone had broken into my van and driven it to wherever we were. Could this day get any worse? Had they taken anything from the van? I’d have to check later when she wasn’t around.
“Ready to get started?” Shelly asked.
“Get started?” I blurted out. “No, I’m not ready to get started. You guys kidnap me, take me who knows where, and threaten to destroy my life if I don’t start writing the stories they want to see. Then—and this is the best part—they straddle me with a babysitter, and you have the nerve to ask if I’m ready to get started? The answer is no. No, I’m not ready to get started. I’m ready for some answers and you’re going to give them to me.” I gestured to the windshield indicating the scenery outside. “You can start by telling me where we are.”
“We are home. Well, it’s going to be your home. We’re currently about three miles away from Bessie’s antique shop. I believe the locals call this Saxman Hollow… or, as they say, holler.”
“Nicholas County? Why am I moving back to Nicholas County? What part of my life makes you think I want to return to West Virginia?”
“The part that is now in service to the council. Either you don’t understand this or you’re unwilling to accept it, but they own you now. You’re marked. There’s nothing you can do to change your fate. The faster you come to accept this, the easier this transition will be for you.”
“And, why does the council want me back in Fenwick?”
“You don’t have to live in Fenwick. You could move to Richwood or Holcomb. Even Craigsville would work. I might be able to persuade them to let you live in Summersville, but that’s when things start to get complicated because you’d be at the boundary of their domain and subject to the whims of warring factions. You’re better off staying right around this area.”
“So, the council is here, then?”
“Yes. The council members—and all our people—moved here long ago. Sure, they’ve spread out into different areas, but we find Appalachia to be our home of choice. Some of us have made homes deep in the forests or under the earth. In a way, it’s similar to our homes across the sea. We came to this land with the immigrants from Ireland, England, and Wales.”
“Do many people know about your kind?”
“Sometimes more people know about us than we’d like. Recently, you’ve been the reason why that’s happened. It happened enough that the council decided to intervene, but you know that part already.
“Naturally, we’ve formed alliances and relationships with the topsiders. Most of them are completely unaware of our true nature, but every now and then, we encounter some sharp-eyed person like Bessie who can see through the glamours. It’s dangerous for the mortal when that happens. Many times, things end badly for them. The more astute among them are able to navigate the situation in a way that preserves their safety and sometimes we come to an agreement with them.”
“Like you did with Bessie?” I asked.
“I think we’ve prattled on about these matters long enough. Let’s move on. We need to talk about your newsletter. That format has gotta change,” Shelly said.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What’s wrong with my format?”
“It’s silly. All this stuff about being the number one source for spurious content. Who wants to read that? Also, the name. Sketchy Scoops? Are you deliberately trying to sound like a joke?” She stopped and looked at me. “I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I? Well, look on the Brightside. That silly tone is the only reason you’re still alive. None of the council members believed that many people would take you seriously. It’s why I was allowed to intervene instead of just making you disappear.”
I started to reply, but I really didn’t know what to say. How do you respond to being told that your life’s work is a joke? Shelly didn’t seem to notice because she just continued talking.
“Now, I’ve been thinking about branding. We’re going to keep the name short and to the point, but the tone will be different. Something more respectable and something that communicates what you’re all about. What do you think of Scoop Reports as a new name?”
“I hate it.”
“It’s settled then. As for the format? We’ll leave that open-ended for now. I want to experiment and see what fits you best.”
“This is too much.”
“Look, Sam,” she said as she placed a hand on my forearm. “I know these are big changes and they are changes you don’t want to make but trust me. It’s better to do this quickly and get it all over with at once.”
“But my readers have come to expect…”
“Let me stop you there. Your readership has changed. Remember? Now, it’s our readership. You are representing the council and will act as their voice to the greater paranormal world. For that reason, you need to present yourself in a more professional manner. Don’t worry. I’m here to help.” She smiled at me. I think she meant it to be comforting, but it offered no solace for me. It came across as a gloating reminder of everything I was losing because of her interference. Every value for which I stood. Everything that I had worked so hard to build. Every dream slipped further and further away with every word she said, but I had no other choice.
It made me think about Bessie. Somehow, she was caught up in this same mess. Was she being forced to comply with their wishes as well? That had to be the case because the Bessie I knew would never have sold me out the way she had earlier today. I needed to talk to her. Away from here and away from my handler. I didn’t see how that was possible right now, so I’d have to bide my time until an opportunity presented itself.
“Okay, Shelly. You’re the boss… I guess. We change the name. We change the format. And I guess I’ll become Alosonder’s propaganda puppet.”
“Propaganda? No. Nothing so sinister as that. We still want you to write stories similar to the ones you’ve always been writing. Many of the things that we’ll cover are the exact same issues that you would be investigating if my people hadn’t actively hindered your efforts. I think you’ll find it to be interesting work because finally have access to all of the answers you’ve been seeking. You’re going to learn so much more about the paranormal world than you ever would have otherwise. You just need to frame your reports in the right way.”
“Isn’t the framing bit the part that makes it propaganda?”
“Scoop, you’re being given a tremendous opportunity and you’re going to be given access that no mortal has had for… well, for a very long time,” she said with a smile. “You’ll be able to write stories that matter to you as long as we control the distribution. Naturally, the tone of your pieces will need to change a bit, but that’s not such a big deal, is it?”
A Note from the Editor
It’s been a rough couple of days for Scoop. Big changes are coming to his life and those changes will start with next week’s exciting issue!
Until next week remember the Citizen Journalist’s creed: If you see something, say something.
Shelley is obviously not a creative because she'd know better than to interfere with a writer's voice.
This is fun. Ooh, Shelly ... I can see her ‘resting bitch face’ from here (far from the warring factions). Amazing how you’ve been scooped up by the Council. Good luck