_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Season 3, episode 4: "The Lawndale Witch Project" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis ACT I: THE BOOK OF MADNESS "Exit light, enter night Take my hand, we're off to never-never land" -- Metallica, "Enter Sandman" _Pizza King, Lawndale, USA -- Friday afternoon_ It started a lot like any other afterschool session. Daria Morgendorffer and her just-a-friend-now, Andrew Philip McIntyre, occupied one side of their favorite booth, and their friend Jane Lane sat alone on the other. It was Jane who asked, "Should we call a search party?" "Oh, come on," Daria scoffed, "it's only a half an hour since school let out." "You gotta admit, though," A.P. pointed out, "she usually motors out of the school building like she's jet-propelled. You think she got detention or something?" "No, she left the school grounds okay," Jane reassured. "Said something about `research' and took off." "Research?" A shrug. "Maybe she's a Watcher." Daria and A.P. just Looked at her. "A `Watcher,'" boggled A.P., who didn't get the reference. Daria, who did, sighed. "You've been reading _Buffy_ fan fiction again, haven't you." Just then, the restaurant door slammed open, and the missing party under discussion -- Daria's look-alike and half-sister Lynn Cullen -- walked in, her arms full of books. "Hey." "Hey. Maxed out your library card, I see." "Yeah, but in a good cause." Lynn dropped the books on table and took the vacant space in the seat next to Jane. "You guys remember seeing _The Blair Witch Project_, right?" All four of them shuddered to varying degrees. "Oh yeah," Jane half-cringed. "Three weeks of painting and twelve tubes of black paint to illustrate the nightmares out of my system." "Well, legend suggests that Lawndale might have a similar skeleton in its closet." Daria and A.P., who had been sipping their sodas, did the ever- popular "spit-take" maneuver. In unison with Jane, they cried out, "*What?*" Lynn grabbed a book from the stack and opened it. "The library here has a great occult section. I was hoping for a juicy local legend to write about for English class as a way to further nudge Wimp-In-The- Willows towards the loony bin." "Why target O'Neill, though?" Daria wondered. "He may be clueless, but he's fairly harmless." "You know, I never thought justification was necessary." She took a moment to consider. "But now that I have, I think it's because that whole `the world is really a nice place to live after all' attitude makes me want to blow chunks. Not to mention the play -- which our class still blames me for." "And anyway," A.P. chimed in, "Purple Peril can't resist a sitting duck." "And with O'Neill, at least you're guaranteed a decent reaction. Shove an unpleasant idea at him -- fish, barrel, smoking gun." Jane realized her friend would need prompting back to the main subject. "So you were looking for a horror history and you found..." "Oh, Carter County was once rife with witch-burnings. One of the Lawndale ones went to the stake screaming about a curse and revenge and...well, as there must, there were...disappearances." "Disappearances?" Daria croggled. "People's kids started going missing. Some of them found dead in the woods, others never heard from again; that sort of thing. The families got all nervy and moved away." A.P. asked the next question. "And...interesting as this is to know...where are you going with this?" "All the way into the woods and wilds of Carter County this weekend...to check it out and do some filming. With whatever company I can talk into joining me." She glanced around the table. "Anyone?" Jane was appalled. "You're insane, Lynn. Certifiable. You're going out into potentially witch-infested woodland with a video camera?" "It could be interesting. And it means I can put off the internal repairs to the house for one more week." As far as Daria was concerned, that clinched it. "I'm in." Now Jane was stunned. "Daria?" "Hey, my family knows where you live and I don't feel like having them pursue me just yet...and I don't really want to be on my own in the remains of the Cullen household all weekend. Anyway, there might be good writing in this for me." "Well," Lynn observed, "that's two of us. Jane? A.P.?" "Sorry, Purple Peril," A.P. shrugged. "Much as I'd love to be witch-bait with you, Dad kind of ordered me to fix his laptop this weekend." "I think a simple `no' will suffice here," Jane decided not to elaborate. Lynn shrugged. "Suit yourselves." She turned to Daria. "Not to sound like I'm revoking my invitation, but how are things at home?" Daria glared at her sister, who shrugged casually. "Just asking." * * * _The halls of Lawndale High -- Monday morning_ A.P. was looking nervously at Lynn's locker when Jane approached, heading for her own...but she stopped when she saw A.P.'s face and the absence of Daria and Lynn. "So where are our not-so-happy campers?" she wondered. "I don't know. The Merc's not in the parking lot and neither of them have been to their lockers yet. Should we call them?" "What could it hurt?" "You call. I'll go on IRC. Sometimes Purple Peril wears head- phones while surfing and can't hear the phone." Not nearly long enough later, they met up again, in front of Daria's locker as before. "Answering machine," Jane reported. "Kate's still in Tokyo and I'm *not* calling the Morgendorffers if there's the kind of bad vibes there that I think there are." "No mention of Purple Peril on her favorite channels." After a moment to reassure himself, he said, "They could be too sick to be awake." "We lie for them for now. After school, we check on them." * * * And so, after school at Chez Cullen, A.P. was climbing the trellis to reach Lynn's window as Jane rang the doorbell. "Watch it up there!" "So nice to know you care, Art-Smart Scarlet!" He peered into Lynn's window. "If I didn't know Purple Peril as well as I do, I'd think someone broke in and ransacked her room, but..." He climbed down, as Jane gave up on the doorbell. "Neither of them are here. And no sign of the Merc." "Hey, they could have had a perfectly ordinary car accident and be stranded dying on the road somewhere." She realized that sounded a little less than optimistic. "Hey, just trying to find the silver lining!" "Who has a car?" She stared at him. "Don't look at me. Mom put one of those Club things on the steering wheel of ours after she heard what happened to the Merc. Purple Peril hasn't taught me how to pick the lock on one of those yet..." "We'll use Trent's. Or the Tank. Max owes Lynn." * * * Down in the basement of Casa Lane, Mystik Spiral, in the absence of its lead vocalist, was practicing something loud and instrumental. Jane ran in, followed closely by A.P. She stood in front of them and waved her arms in a "stop the music" gesture, but they don't seem to notice. In sheer desperation, Jane looked to A.P., who, after a moment's thought, yelled, "Have you -- *Shut that bloody bouzouki off!*" At that Python quote, the band stopped, staring at him as one would at a madman. Jane cornered Max Tyler. "Tank. Keys. Now." "Hey, whoa!" Little Drummer Boy spluttered. "Jane, what do you want her for?" "Heylookmanwehaventgotthetimeforthisokay?" A.P. interjected in a fairly high speed-rant mode. "HandoverthekeysorIwrecktheenginekay?" "Hey, look, kid, I..." Trent Lane stepped in. "Janey, what..." With almost noticeable effort, A.P. slowed down. "Purple Peril heard some legend about a Lawndale Witch and she went out a la _Blair Witch Project_ to get some film footage. Erudite Emerald went with her. They weren't in school today and they're not home now. We need a car so we can go out and look for them." "Give us the damn keys, Max!" Jane added. Trent decided his little sister had the right idea. "Max...fire up the Tank. I'll bring my car. We're going after them." You'd have thought Max's sensitive skin was in danger. Then again, his van came a close second to his skin. "I am *not* chasing monsters in my baby, Trent!" "Did I mention that I can play drums?" A.P. interjected, almost coldly. "You can be replaced, Max." "This is blackmail!" He paused to swallow his pride. "All right. But she is still the Tank...anyone makes any Mystery Machine cracks and they *will* get left by the side of the road, okay?" * * * It had started to rain by the time Trent's little car and the Tank stopped along one of the country roads surrounding Lawndale -- near Lynn's Mercedes, which they'd just found parked in a natural cul-de-sac off the road. Trent, sideman Jesse Moreno and Jane stepped out of Trent's car; Nick Campbell, Max and A.P. emerged from the Tank; and they all converged on the Merc. "Damn," Trent philosophized. "So do you know where they went?" "Purple Peril was talking about a spot by a river." A.P. pulled a map out of his pocket and unfolded it. "Right around...there!" He pointed at a spot on the map. "That was where they were headed." "That's miles from here. It'll take us all night to get there." "No way! We just have to go at it from *this* road." A.P. pointed at another place on the map. "Purple Peril only went this way because it was the way a bunch of campers went before they disappeared. This road here was built since then." "Yeah. Cool. Right," Trent grumbled. Under his breath, he added, "God, I'm sick of you knowing it all." Jane couldn't quite help overhearing. "Hey, don't feel bad. Unlike him, you know what the word `skulking' means, don't you?" Trent looked at her, bemused by the in-joke. Jane shrugged and walked away toward the cars. ACT II: THE BOOK OF MIRRORS "Y'know the day destroys the night The night divides the day Try to run, try to hide Break on through to the other side!" -- Jim Morrison, "Break On Through" Later, on another country road, the Tank and Trent's little car were parked on the soft shoulder. Both vehicles were empty. * * * There was a log stretched across the river. Trent was crossing it, arms extended. A.P., who was pacing the bank, tripped over one of the tree's roots, causing it to shudder. Trent wobbled, nearly maintained his balance...then fell in anyway. It was more of a creek, really, and Trent landed with a harmless splash; when he stood, he was up to his waist in water. He scrambled up the bank and glared hard at A.P. "Why don't you watch it, punk?" "It was an accident!" the Psycho-Maverick insisted. "Don't be so paranoid! Why would I want to dunk you anyway?" Residual awareness of his surroundings overcame his usual social cluelessness enough for him to realize what Trent's look meant. "Oh, come *on!*" "Well, she *did* dump you, didn't she?" "No, she didn't -- she and I broke up; there's a difference. And if you think it was over *you,* maybe someone should take a pin to that ego of yours." "I never *said* that, you damned coward!" "...What did you call me?" "Coward, that's what. They asked you to go along and you turned them down." "Look, I had somewhere to be, alright? Just because you didn't even get *asked*..." Jane decided intervention was called for. "Ever thought that if you two stopped fighting and started thinking about finding Daria and Lynn, there might be a better chance of them being alive to be found?" A thoughtful silence took over. At length, Trent extended a hand, and A.P. shook it. Jane decided that'd do for now. "Good. Now we're all across; can we keep going? It'll be dark soon...and I don't want them lost out there another night." * * * The campsite they found had been ransacked. Vaguely familiar items of clothing -- an orange T-shirt, a gray T-shirt, a purple sock -- were strewn around it. Someone had tied twigs together to make a pattern similar to those creepy stickmen in _The Blair Witch Project_ and hung three of them from the trees. Lynn's jacket lay at the foot of one of the stickmen. Trent and Jesse looked at the figures curiously. Jane and A.P. started going through the bags, and Nick began scanning the edge of the clearing. Max just stood around looking nervous. Being a _criminale_ doesn't mean you can't be scared of the supernatural, after all. "This is scary stuff," Jane said, much to Max's dismay. She thought a moment, then attempted to reassure. "Maybe it was just...I don't know, raccoons or something." "No way," A.P. countered. "This was an on-purpose ransack." Trent gestured to the stickmen. "What are these for?" "Don't want to know..." Max rejoined sharply. A.P. sounded like he was trying not to panic. "Hey, guys? I don't want to worry anyone, but..." The gang gathered around him. At the edge of the clearing were two small piles of stones. "We're not going to find them alive, are we?" "Hey," Jesse interjected in his usual semi-stoner tones. "Be cool." "Yeah," A.P. smirked weakly. "Lynn might have a surprise or two for any witch. She's been studying that witchcraft stuff for years." There was a loaded pause. Jane realized something. "Hey, guys...no one knows where we are, do they?" "Aw, hell," muttered Trent. "It's simple," A.P. countered. "Some of us go back and, if we're not back by tomorrow afternoon, they call the cops and give our location." "Who goes?" They decided to draw straws (well, twigs if you want to get technical), six of them in fact, out of Nick's fist. Jane picked first. Hers was long. "Good. I wanted to stay and look for them anyway." A.P. picked another long one. Jesse picked a short one. Max's was long, as was Trent's. "You and me, Nick," Jesse cooled. "You four are gonna be careful, right?" Nick made sure. "We don't want to have to call the cops for you." "Take my car," Trent shrugged. "We might need the Tank when we find Daria and Lynn." Jesse nodded and took the keys Trent offered. The other four looked at their friends in silence for a moment, then walked back toward the campsite. "South?" Jane wondered. "South," Trent confirmed. They started walking. A.P. started singing, quite horribly as it happens. "o/~ We're off to see the wizard... o/~" "You want to be missing a few teeth," Max gave him fair warning, "you keep *right* on singing that, man." "How about `The Devil Went Down To Lawndale'?" "Shut *up!*" Jane snapped. * * * They found a clearing in the forest, with a house sitting in the middle of it. It looked very old and very dilapidated. The four of them looked at the house, then at each other. "I don't want to go in there," Jane quavered. "What if they're..." "What if they're hurt," Trent countered, "and by not going in there, we can't help them and...Look, get a grip, Janey." "Easy for you to talk. You fell asleep during the movie." He thought a moment. "True. Anyway, we've gotta go in there." So they did. Inside, there were a few handprints -- about the right size for older children or teenagers -- on the walls, and some scribbled writing. The foursome looked at each other again. "Basement?" Jane whimpered. "Aw, man," Max jittered, "this is *way* too creepy!" In the basement, Jane pointed to a pool of blood on the floor. Near it was a bundle tied in bloodstained cloth that had once been purple. "Purple Peril's spare jacket," A.P. said at once. He noticed the looks he was getting from the others. "I can tell by the elbow patches." They untied the bundle -- it was Lynn's digital video camera and sound equipment. "We should be able to get matched feed on the sound through this thing." "A.P., I don't want to see this," Max pleaded. "I do," Trent rasped. "We have to know. Come on, A.P. Do it." A.P. fiddled with the machinery awhile, then motioned his companions forward to look through the digital camcorder's viewfinder... * * * The Mercedes looks much as the searchers will later find it. Daria, dressed in the outfit she wore to the Grunge Grandstander's Gala last year -- basically, her usual jacket, T-shirt and boots, but with the pleated skirt replaced by the blue jeans she wore to Alternapalooza -- is taking a pack out of the trunk. "Come on, Lynn," she insists with her usual lack of inflection, "get that camera out of my face." "Oh, be fair, Daria!" Lynn replies from off-camera, or rather from *behind* the camera. "If something *does* happen, we could be awarded the Golden Globe for best documentary...though I guess it wouldn't matter at that point..." "Fine. Take all the footage you want. Just don't expect me to enjoy it." * * * In the forest, Daria is hiking up a hill. The camera veers occasionally, revealing trees with markings carved into them. "Some of these symbols are really interesting," Lynn's voice says. "I wonder what they mean." "I *really* don't want to know," her half-sister replies. "Look at it this way, Daria. If we make it to this place and it turns out to be nothing but vapors, think how much better we'll be able to sleep at night." "I think the hiking alone will encourage that. God, I'm tired. Did we bring food?" "Three bags of marshmallows, two boxes of graham crackers, three bars of chocolate, two packets of hot dogs and some buns, and coffee. That's all we really need for a weekend." Lynn thinks a moment, then snarks, "Hey, we can make s'mores and sing `Kumbaya'!" "Whoever the Lawndale witch is," Daria replies scornfully, "I hope they go for *you* first." "Wouldn't help if it was anything like the Blair witch," comes the smug reply. "The one that gets killed second stands in the corner facing the wall so he-slash-she doesn't see the other kid bite it." "Do *not* remind me!" _Every time I think about that, I get the wet blueberries freaked out of me all over again._ * * * At a different campsite from the one the search gang will find, Daria and Lynn -- the latter, as it turns out, also wearing the outfit she wore for the trip to The Horn Dog (black jeans with her usual T-shirt, jacket and boots) -- sitting by the fire. The fire reflects off their glasses and makes it impossible to see their eyes. They are, as Lynn threatened, making s'mores. You may have thought she was kidding. "Do we have to have that on?" Daria wonders. "Hey, look, I'd like it on for two reasons. One, it might make good reference for how people interact with each other. More for the novels, you know? And for another thing...well, if anything *does* happen, I don't want to miss it because I fell asleep." "Do you *really* think that's going to happen?" "What, something happening?" "No, either of us falling asleep." Lynn has the grace to look sheepish. "Um...in all honesty... no." "Well, anyway...now what do we do?" "We keep watch. If one of us gets tired, the other takes first watch." "And if neither of us get tired?" "We keep each other company, I..." Lynn holds up a hand. "Wait a minute." There is a noticeable silence, and both Daria and Lynn take on a tense, listening posture. "What?" "Tell me you didn't hear that. Tell me that was just an aural hallucination brought on by too many gigs with Mystik Spiral." "I thought..." In the background, the viewer can hear a very faint wail. "There it is again. It's like..." "Screaming." Lynn thinks a moment. "It's too much to hope that there's a zoo in the area -- you know...maybe the wildcats got loose?" "No zoos. The Big Strawberry is the only point of interest in Lawndale." "Besides the big evil witch myth, you mean?" "Hey, no one I knew had even *heard* of it until *you* went digging it up!" "Oh, look, if you took the *least* bit of interest..." Lynn sighs. "We should *not* be fighting. In that movie, those three film students were fighting and they bit it." "Right. Crap." Daria wars with herself a moment. "Oh, turn the damn camera off! If there's anything out there, I *don't* want to know." Lynn walks out of shot. * * * Elsewhere in the forest, the camera watches Lynn shuffling precariously across a river -- a different one than the searchers will later cross -- on a log. "And now, when there's a chance of me humiliating myself, you want the camera on." "One day we'll look back on this and laugh," Daria promises from behind the camera. "They said *that* in the movie, too." "Damn." At this point, Lynn slips and falls into the river -- it's deeper than the one Trent will fall into. She surfaces after a second, looking angry. "Turn. The camera. *Off!*" * * * In some generic piece of forest, Daria is looking slightly worried. "We should start heading back towards the car. Can you take a look at the map and see where we are?" The camera bounces as Lynn hands it over, then we see Lynn going through her pockets with a increasingly frightened look on her face. "Um..." Daria sounds angry and incredulous at the way life is imitating art. "You *lost* the *map?*" "It must have come out of my pocket when I fell in the river." She thinks a moment about how that sounds. "Look, we shouldn't panic. There's a road up that way." She points. "We just have to keep going in as straight a line as we can until we find it. Then we flag down a ride and get the hell out of here." "Now that's an idea I can get behind." * * * It is sunset at the campsite that Jane, Trent, Jesse, Nick, Max and A.P. will have stumbled over. It looks fine at the moment. Lynn's jacket is hanging from one of those twig configurations, her T-shirt from another and her jeans from a third. The camera is set up on a tripod so the viewers have a wide-angled shot of the camp. Lynn and Daria come into shot, each carrying a small pile of rocks. Lynn has changed into dry clothes. "I note we're still lost," says Daria. Lynn drops her rocks, moves towards the improvised clothes- hangers, takes her T-shirt and jeans off them, and wrings out the shirt. "Look, we'll find a road at some stage." "While wandering around like idiots and probably just missing anyone who might be looking for us." Lynn chucks the T-shirt onto the ground. "Listen, can we just focus on setting up camp?" She gropes through the pockets of the jeans briefly, then tossing the jeans aside. "You use the rocks to set up a fire bowl and I'll try to find the spare matches. The others must be soaked." She bumps the camera by accident as she passes it on her way to the packs, causing it to swing as if it were following her. She starts flinging clothes out of one of the packs. "I *know* I packed a second box...aw, it's going to be a miserable night if...*Ah!*" She comes up triumphantly holding the matches and walks over to the camera, swinging it around as she talks. "Hey, Daria, I..." Daria is not in the camera's view angle. From the way the sentence trails off, she's presumably not in Lynn's view either. "Daria?" A pause. "Daria, don't fool around with me like this; come out." The only response is that it starts to rain. "If you're taking a leak, then at least say so!" There is a long, silent pause. "Oh, hell." The camera turns, and the viewers see a close-up of Lynn's face, a la Heather Donahue's heartbreaking yet easily parodied "I'm so sorry" soliloquy. "I hate talking to machines, but apologies to those who might care if we die because I took us out here are _de rigueur_, so I'll make it short. If anyone cares if we bit it today... whoops." For a few moments, the viewers see Lynn's run through the forest from her, or rather the camera's, point of view. Then she reaches a clearing -- *the* clearing. Right away, she sees the house. "*Daria!*" She, and the viewers, hear a voice that might be Daria's. It's very faint, though, so it's hard to be sure. "Dammit, Daria, if this is your idea of a joke..." The camera, on Lynn's shoulder, goes into the house. "Daria, you had *better* not be in the basement, or you are *walking* back to Lawndale!" Daria's faint voice comes from out of view again. Lynn goes to those creepy basement stairs, and the camera bounces down them...only to see Daria standing in the corner. Lynn sighs, then starts haranguing her sister with mingled relief, fear and fury. "Damn you, Daria -- that was such..." Daria turns around and looks behind Lynn with real fear on her face. Lynn starts to turn around. There is a crash and a low cry, and the camera falls to the floor. It records for a moment and then is switched off. ACT III: THE BOOK OF SHADOWS "There goes my hero, watch him as he goes There goes my hero, he's ordinary" -- Foo Fighters, "My Hero" In the basement, Jane, Trent, A.P. and Max looked up from the camcorder, looked at each other, then looked at the bloodstain on the floor. "No...*freaking*...way..." Jane breathed, as if she could make all that bad craziness not have happened. "It...could be some sort of misunderstanding," A.P. mused, going what passed for thoughtful with him. "I mean, this explains the mess the camp was in...the rocks...the symbol in the tree...This could all have some reasonable explanation. It could even be Purple Peril's twisted idea of a joke." "Since when do hoaxes bleed, punk?" Trent snapped sharply. "Hey, *shut up!*" He took a moment to collect him, then quietly added, "give me my little moment of delusion, okay?" "Can we get *out* of here?" Jane wondered. "This is *way* too freaky." * * * Outside the house, it was raining harder now, and was quite dark. "Nice night," said A.P. "*Shut up!*" Jane fairly screamed. "We've got to find who did this," Trent grimly decreed. "Man, are you out of your *mind?*" Max half-whimpered. "It's dark! It's wet! And if..." "*Don't say it!*" Jane screamed -- no "fairly" about it this time. "If *whatever* is still out there and we *do* find it, we're gonna get wasted! And *not* in the good way!" "I'm with Trent," A.P. countered. "Lynn's been my friend for over a decade now and Daria...well...Let's waste some witch!" "No *way.*" "Max," Trent pointed out, "not only are Daria and Lynn our friends, but Lynn's our singer." Jane couldn't believe her ears. "*What?* Is that *it?* What about New Year? And your date?" A.P.'s ears perked up. "*Date?* What do you mean, *date?*" "Shut up, Janey!" Trent explained. "*Still* no way, man!" Max insisted. Jane had been hoping it wouldn't come to this. "Max...Lynn keeps the Tank running." There was a pause while that sank in. "Let's get...whatever it is!" * * * In the dark forest, A.P. was lighting their way with a small Maglite. "Do you always carry crap like that around?" Jane wondered. "Be glad I do." There was a crack of thunder. "This blows," Max observed. They heard a rustling, twig-snapping sort of sound off to the left. "What the *hell* is that?" Jane outgrabe. "That's our witch!" A.P. pulled a Swiss army knife out of his pocket and popped out the big blade. "I don't think revenge is such a good idea anymore..." Suddenly and without warning, a shadowy figure came lurching out of the trees. The gang screamed; A.P. leaped at the figure, knocking it over, then pinned it and raises the knife. "Stop! Stop!" it cried in a familiar voice. "Dammit, A.P.!" A.P. recoiled, and the figure stood. A.P. turned his flashlight on it to reveal...Daria. "That's some welcome. Are you quite through?" "*Daria!*" He hugged her. "Where's Lynn?" "We saw...we thought..." Jane quit babbling and hugged Daria briefly. "...what *happened?*" "I'll try to explain," she replied. "I wandered off while Lynn was tearing the luggage apart looking for the spare matches. I had to... answer a call of nature." Jane and Trent must have remembered her pee- break on the road to Alternapalooza, but thankfully, they had the good grace not to mention it. "I kind of got turned around in the woods. I wandered around for a while till I found the house." "Bet it didn't look any more inviting to you than it did to the rest of us." "Not really. Not until it started to rain, anyway. I got curious and wanted in out of the wet, so I went in and had a look around. There was some writing on the basement walls, and I stopped to read it. I got really involved, and when Lynn came down the stairs, I didn't turn around until she started damning me." "And then you turned and saw..." "A loose beam falling from the ceiling. I didn't even have time to shout a warning. It hit Lynn on the head and arm, and she folded up neatly." She noticed Trent, Jane, A.P. and Max staring at her and didn't much care. "She's fine -- just a few cuts and bruises. But we wanted out before the whole place came down around our ears. We left Lynn's equipment wrapped up in her jacket down there because she wanted it in out of the rain, then went to try to find the campsite...but got lost. We've got a little lean-to built over there." "But what about the rest of it? The screaming you heard?" "Screech owls and overactive imaginations, apparently." "The markings on the trees?" Trent wondered. "From what I read on the basement wall, the whole Lawndale witch thing was a hoax. The kids that `went missing' were a bunch of crack- heads who either OD'd out here or were found bombed out of their minds and put in rehab. Their parents didn't want to talk about it because they were too ashamed, so they perpetuated the witch myth to cover it all up." A.P. was flabbergasted. "So Purple Peril's Lawndale witch was screech owls, drug addicts and...parental *cover-up?*" Daria shrugged. "Looks very much like." "Let's get Lynn and get out of here," Trent suggested. "We don't want Nick and Jess calling the cops." * * * Later, in Jane's room, Jane was painting Lynn and Daria around a campfire -- but with a menacing shape looming behind them. Lynn was reading _Everything You Need To Know About Survivalist Measures_. A.P. was sitting on the floor watching Jane. Daria was sitting on the bed. "So," Jane summed it up, "you uncovered the Lawndale Hoax instead of the Lawndale Witch." She fell silent for a breath; when she spoke again, it was rather shyly. "I'm glad you're okay." She took a moment to shift gears again, this time to a sterner tone. "Now don't *ever* do that to me again!" "That's two severe blows to the head in the last month," Lynn mused. "And people wonder why I am the way I am." She thought about it. "But I suppose it could have been worse. At least it was only you guys that came hunting. I don't think I could have taken a *real* rescue team." "That *is* pretty embarrassing," Daria confirmed. "I'm still not over the emotional scarring from last time." A.P. got inspired. "Hey, Purple Peril -- you realize that now that I've saved you, your life belongs to me." "I don't subscribe to ancient wisdom that puts my life into another's hands," Lynn replied. "Especially not if it's *you.*" "Oh, come on. You at least owe me a favor." "I guess I can manage that." "Just a question. What's this about a date with Sir Naps-a-Lot?" Daria was stunned. Jane looked expectant. Lynn groaned and leaned back in the chair. "If that's the fee, take me back and *leave* me there." "*Lynn!*" the other three chorused. Lynn sighed, looking resigned to it. ADAPTOR'S NOTES As some of you may recall Jan mentioning in her Fanfic News and Reviews section(s) at the time, an earlier version of this script almost ran right after "The Parent Crap." Not that this wouldn't have been good in that slot, but "How the Other Half Lives" was quite nice. The original version of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" is (as you've all written in to tell Jan) by the Charlie Daniels Band. I haven't heard the Levellers' version, but with a name like theirs, I might just have to give it a listen. Daria's thought on the final scene of the movie is based on a comment made by Wanderer, though he used (approximately) the phrase "freaked the fsck out." Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. _The Blair Witch Project_ is copyright 1999 Haxan Films. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not- for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose. Austin, and good day. Al D T0 W- Q Fw^Fr O+ Ow+OH+Of m c- MV+ F:111,208,313 BB+ FCT -DT+ q fJ^fj^fD