Carte du Jour, Disciple

197: Those Who Drop Breadcrumbs

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There are four (4) NEW colored artworks, one (1) inked work in progress for DISCIPLE members only of which one (1) colored artwork is free to view. Sign up & log in to view to images by visiting our secret fine dining establishment. For more details on membership tiers, ways to support the site and how to purchase comics/collections, click here. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. 

 

Hello fellow Patrons. We continue this edition with the story of the the Last Days of Winter. On another side note, I've made some minor changes at the projects page, updating a few new ones while also adding another option of finishing past works in progress if you'd like to see them completed. This month I've been playing quite a bit of catch-up but hopefully the work quality will be worth it. And on to the show!

 

 

Continued from Carte du Jour #193: Last Days of Winter, Carte du Jour #194: The Green Man's Hunt, & Carte du Jour #195: Defiant Doe. At an undisclosed location, a conversation between members of the Doe Patrol.

What about this one here? Got a small column cutout a reader sent me out of the local Tahoe Times. Headline goes...

"Mysterious Circumstances Surround Missing Hikers in Sierra Nevadas, Authorities Baffled." 

So get this...

"The missing include couples, academics, solo female hikers, hunters, rock climbers and various international travelers including a German phycisist and a Japanese group tour whom have since been located alive but a little worse for wear. Details are muddy at the moment, with authorities citing unpredictable seasonal weather in recent years and difficulty reaching remote areas of the wilderness due to budget cutbacks and wildfires raging the throughout the state. According to a local detective, the sheriff's office has sparked speculation of criminal activity involving drugs or human trafficking as some of the missing were using false identification. Due to the unusually high number of young women missing in the region, the detective has also speculated at the possibility of a serial killer operating in the region. Unfortunately, our field reporter has met with unusual resistance from both the local sheriff's office and the The National Park Service when pushed on reports of witnesses having interacted with an individual who fit the description of one of the missing and dismissed it as conspiracy theory. The Times urge readers who have any information on this individual through police sketch below, do not hesitate to contact the Times or your local law enforcement agency."

What do you think? That's a little strange, isn't it?

It's not a very good article, I'm afraid. Because they sound a little too much like us.

Oh? And that's a bad thing?

Too much speculation, not enough bald facts. Don't get me wrong, what we do is important. But we know what we are, and our readers know it too. We're just the stick that kicks at the hornet's nest. We don't pretend to be real journalists, more like concerned citizens who are seeking answers that are too horrible to ignore, that the powers that be seem to ignore. This column, sure, it hits the right buttons, but our sources have to be credible. We gather the intel and read between the lines. We can't follow the trail others have laid for us. We have to drop our own breadcrumbs. Poke our heads into every foxhole and we'll just get stuck in the mud. Let's think of it this way, it's like making a xerox of a xerox of a xerox and on it goes. The details get worse. The facts get lost. And with that, the truth.

Okay. I get it.

The monsters we're looking for, they're generally more organized. Hiding behind organizations. Suspicious deaths. Bookkeeping. Information we don't find when it should otherwise be there. Granted the acts of the Park Service and the local sheriff is suspicious, but maybe the reasons are more mundane. Like drug or sex trade. This situation seems to scream lone serial killer. Or I have to admit... just simply accidents happen in the middle of nowhere due to inclement weather.

I don't know, man. The description of the witness, does fit what we've seen on the mysterious Mr. Greene. Even one of the hotel registrations on the fake ID has a Mr. Peter Green. Green without an "e". Coincidence?

Yeah, I see you've already made calls. Okay then. Use your instinct. If you feel this is worth pursuing. What's this?

Photos of the missing. And this one's the police sketch of the mystery man.

This one. She's quite a looker.

Yeah. Way out of my league. The others aren't bad looking too. And get this, the bartender at one of the local ski lodges said he met her... and strangely enough, it was the old man who also said he had a peculiar conversation with a man who fit the police sketch. That's how they got the description in the first place.

I see. At least this part connects. Alright. Put a pin on this. But a very small pin until we get more information. File this with the "El Azteca". If we have a slow news day, we'll put our own small column in the Lantern Bearer. Right now, we've got more pressing matters with the nursing home in France and the one they call the Anatomist.

--to be continued--

 

 

Aside from the stories and comics I'm working on, there are dozens of loose artworks that are on my gallery that's currently not attached to any projects. One completed, and another, a sketch. If you'd like to see any of these half-done sketches along with works in the past completed, you may help drop some extra coin in the donations section to see these works completed.

The first is a scene that takes place in an undisclosed time in the past and an undisclosed place of a man marinading and massaging a plump and tender slab of meat that's strangely alluring, cold, and recognizable.

The second is a black and white inked sketch of a spitted roast, hands laid on the same meatiest parts, the ample rump, holding pounds and pounds of quality, luscious protein about to be chopped and distributed.

With this, bon appétit, my friends.

 

 

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