Tag Archives: VineyGTAV^^++++^*++++$

00440506

Q:  Tell us a little about yourself. And how you got involved in the Mysteries.

A: Well, my name is Tom Morrow Jack Shepherde, and, yes, that’s like the LOST guy. Except with an extra e on the end, the 9th to complete the 3 and the 6.

Q: Cool.

A: Yeah, that’s part of the Mysteries too as it turns out.

Q: Nice.

A: So, you know, I came up here to the vineyard because I like the nice view from the hills. Figured I could, er, practice my video techniques in this cool setting.

Q: Nifty.

A: And then people, you know, my online GTA buddies, told me about the vine and that I should check it out. So I did.  Just over there (he points). You can just insert that picture I took here if you wish.

Q: I will.

A: And, um, as you can see from this next photo — please insert again — I also found out that the vine glows at night, which my friends *didn’t* tell me about.

Then I found the ring nearby which was *also* glowing;  just down there on a, um, culvert at the bottom of the vineyard (he points again).

Q: Tell us more about the ring.

A: Well, er, I connected it — eventually — to a marriage, like as in a marriage that took place at the vineyard. That was the symbolism that Rock* put in here. Or at least that’s what everyone — my friends again, my online chooms — were telling me. Then I started to have my doubts. I started thinking that the marriage in the vineyard was *my* marriage, as if I was the one getting married here. But not to someone else as in a human — not really. Instead: to the vineyard itself, the wine and so forth. And, ahem, Viney.

Q: Viney?

A: Ah, you know. (he lowers his voice as if this is just a secret between me and him) The vine.

(to be continued)

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00440210

“Since you’re so curious, um…”

“Stacey,” I said.

“Since you’re so curious… Stacey,” he began again, adding my name, “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking I had no other choice. I was trespassing on his land after all. And he was so much, er, bigger than me. And even more, I think, remembering the stealthiness.

“Up in the fields,” he continued. “Won’t take a minute to reach. An object, invisible to my touch but not to a certain set of others. I know you know about the plane, the *vine* — I saw you in the lower field flashing your light at the thing.” Your confounded, bright light, he thought but kept to himself. And your blasted crunchy boots. Nights are for silence!

“I’m with you, sir.”

“Great. Give me one second.” And he went into a nearby lavatory to stuff his ears full of cotton before proceeding.

(to be continued)

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00440209 (down from the rooftop)

Something to do with the plane, something to do with the vine, she thought parallel to the other investigator, the one who works more during the day. This one prefers night, when the NPCs are all asleep and silent and away from their normal routines. Silent night. Like the Hispanic worker also with an interest in “Viney”. Is that the actual name for the thing? Can it *talk*? Questions like these haunt her nights more than actual sightings of oddities fer sure.

This day was different. Special indeed. 25. “What are you doing at my house?” the man who looked like Santa calmly asked but ready for action if needed. As always.

“I-investigating, sir,” she managed through the shakiness. Came right up on her without a sound! Stealthy, she quickly determined. Cat-like.

“Investigating *what*?” Still calm. He spread his arms, indicating the whole manor. “We make wine. No mysteries here.” But there was a slyness to his voice.

“Th-there’s rumors… sir… of a monster about here,” she came up with off the top of her head.

“Monster?” Eyebrows raised again in disbelief, but with that wry smile. He stood his ground, waiting for more. Nonthreatening, but Stacey (Stacey?) knew he could pounce in a flash anyway. The tiles, she realized. She could make something up about the tiles. He probably saw her shine her light on them from this distance. So she said this, connecting them with patterns. Patterns of monsters.

“Ahh, that old thing,” he seemed to dismiss. “You’re not the *only* one. And won’t be the last one. But I’m surprised you didn’t mention the flying machine that collided with the field at precisely 3 o’clock,” he said in his cunning way. “Or the other thing.”

“Flying machine?” she offered, ignoring the second for the moment. “The plane you mean?”

“Yes, I’ve heard it called that. By the others.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, as if thinking back to prior conversations with them. “Tin can too.” He shuffles his feet, reorienting himself. “Do you know what that means?”

Tin can — airplane, she thought. But all that came to mind is that old David Bowie song about space and its own set of oddities. Which was actually correct.

“Nothing?” he asked, eyebrows raised and arms spread at once.

“Nothing,” she admitted.

(to be continued)

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00440208

Still no sign of the parachute even from this rooftop position, *sigh*. And what about that Viney obsessed fellow, huh? Turns out it wasn’t hate in his eyes as he approached me again, just fiery, passionate interest. Investigator of the paranormal. Just like…

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00440207

I was almost halfway through my tour of the vineyard when I spotted it crazily dangling above an attached plant.

Then less than a minute later the plane crashed, BOOOM!

I rushed to the scene…

… only to find an empty cockpit bent up like an old tin can. But where was the pilot? I scanned the grounds from my position for signs of a parachute. None spotted.

Then I went back to the main house and found this tile thingy and knew one was somehow related to the other. Channeling, I realized later. Because I wasn’t the only one who’d made the association. More on that soon.

Despite the oddities, I decided to finished exploring the vineyard to complete my video. “How about that plane crash, huh?” I asked a passing worker in an upper field.

“Happens all the time,” he responded in a Hispanic accent without stopping, surprising me. Initially. Then I followed this up with, “And the vine!” as he was walking away, halting him in his tracks.

He reversed course, venom in his eyes. “What — do you know — about *Viney*?”

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