Here is one of the six tales. Each Tale is a clue for a silver ticket. There are six silver tickets in total, each representing each tale. Read the tale and find the clues to the location of the silver ticket.
Starting Clue: Each Tale's clue ties to a book in which the silver ticket is hidden in. The locations can be found across Elgin.
six sinister stories that will fix
your darkest nightmares in this mix.
Six Tales on postcards, each a part,
Of a puzzle to bind a journey to start,
Collect all the pieces, piece by piece,
Form the 2024 poster with eerie ease.
But there's more to these tales than what meets the eye, Each one holds a clue for you to spy.
Six silver tickets, one for each tale,
Follow the hints and you shall not fail.
Tickets hidden in books, you see,
In the city of Elgin where they must be.
Read each story and find the hint,
To where each silver ticket glints.
Two clues you'll need, so keep them near,
One for the book, one for where.
Solve the riddles and do not tire,
To find the treasure you desire.
Save the Date, Save the City, 10/19/2024,
Tickets on Sale June 1st, be sure to explore,
Your nightmares once more.
Technicolor and Gray
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Hi! I am Stacy, and I was running for my life when I saw the strangers arrive. What a day I am having. I woke up this morning in the bunker to a headache and bad hair. My dad always likes to make me sleep there. Get me over my “ridiculous fear of enclosed spaces.” Started when I fell down a well and wasn't found for three days. I tried to convince him to let me sleep in the basement, but that's where his lab is. Sleeping in the bunker sends me into a panic, but I'd hate to disappoint Dad.
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So I go to the main house to get some breakfast, only to find an oversized insectoid/alien invasion going on in my living room. Geeze do I hate bugs. So of course I ran outside, and now, on top of the aliens and insects of unusual size, some very strange looking undead have risen (stranger than the usual undead, which are already weird), while two additionally odd looking strangers arrived in the middle of it all. This day is really giving me the royal shaft.
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I'd go more into it, but I'm kinda distracted by the dead person chasing me. The smell coming off him is awful, full of putrefaction and rot. But it is the look of him that truly sets my teeth on edge. He looks...vibrant? It hurts my eyes, which is why its good I am mostly focused on running. This zombie isn't black and white, but instead a sickly pale...I don't know...like a banana, but with a little something else. It has bulbous...boils. His arms that he is currently trying to grab me with end in moldered hands with splitting bruising along the fingers. I think it's smiling, with chunky bits of...I think it is blood? It's not black like blood should be. My dad says that there are creatures, like bees, who see different shades of gray than we can. Though to be fair he also says that outside our reality the concept of shades and monochrome could be seen as unusual, with shades and forms of black and white we can hardly understand. Such a silly man! But...is that what this is?
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I have to constantly run in circles while I observe the new arrivals. The dead man is persistent, but also kinda dim. Like my last boyfriend. I'll never live down having more than one. Golly, what an odd looking pair they are. They look so weird. Their skin kinda looks like a peach, but with a bit too much of...bright? The lady's hair is cut short (and dyed like blueberries...wait...is that what blueberries look like to bees?) and the man has a beard that looks like an orange. Like the fruit but not, you know?
A beard! Honestly, who does that outside of Old Drunk Johnson. He does cocaine. “Where in the sweet fuck are we?” the lady exclaims.
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I am, of course, horrified. She must be some sort of floozy, using language like that. A dirty mouth always follows soon after a dirty mind. That's what Father McMurphy said, shortly after his most recent description of the hellfire we will all be visiting if we don't give a little extra for the church bake sale. He spoke of damnation, and of the awful shapes it took. What a vivid, if a bit too detailed, imagination that man has! I gave a full dollar, just to be sure. Though I suppose the bake sale will be delayed, on account of the Father's wife currently being mauled by the undead. Not exactly my choice of snack, but who am I to judge? Where they bit her is slowly looking less gray and more like the skin of the undead. So this is contagious. Noted.
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The lady might be a lost cause, but her male companion seems like a treat. All “man of action,” even if he has weird threads and has a beard. Who ever heard of a man wearing...well whatever the he double hockey sticks, that is. Like the “blood,” only lighter? Honestly, looking at them is hurting my brain, like trying to talk German while speaking English while headbutting a beaver. Still, I plead with God to let him be her brother. Shave the stupid beard and he'd become quite the dreamboat. Though maybe not. Touching their weird...skin. Are they sick? Do they have what the zombies got? No, they don't look like them. They aren't chewing on me. Are they from somewhere...different?
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“Welcome...to...Kippers...Grove...strangers...I...am...Stacy...Marie...” I say in as friendly of a tone as I can manage between breaths. Cardio was never my strong suit. The only running I like to do is laundry.
“Heather, I think we are in the movie on the TV,” the man says. My dad always says I always fall for the wrong kind of sort. He didn't even say hello! Only beatniks and sailors don't introduce themselves.
“Really Cooper?” the lady prods. “How many brain cells did it take for you to figure it out?” Cooper looks injured, and I feel second hand embarrassment, even if now I am certain she has to be his sister. She turns and looks at me, watching as the zombie slowly walks after me, my breath coming out in gasps by this point. How embarrassing!
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“I meant, when did this happen in the film?” she questioned. “I don't even know who the hell this lady is.”
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Does she always have to use such terrible language? Of course she doesn't know who I am. We just met today. But what does he mean they are in a flick? Is this what this all is? Am I in the pictures? I don't think so. Mrs. McMurphy may have some acting talent. She was in our rendition of “A Christmas Carol,” after all, but I don't think she would agree to have her face chewed on camera.
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“I...would...be...willing...to...show...you...around...once...I...am...done...running.” The lady looks at me with what can only be called scorn as she reached for Lisa Paulson's fence, tearing off a picket and driving it into the face of the zombie as it dropped limply to the ground. Then she walked over while she calmly bashed the creatures head in. Cooper vomited, though somehow I was still able to keep my eggs and toast down (alien invasion or no, breakfast is still the most important meal of the day), while Heather simply looked at the blood on her boots.
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She...is kinda cool? Unladylike for sure. The bad sort of character. Still, saved my life. That's worth at least a little bit of forgiveness. Maybe I could buy her a malt as thanks, so long as the shop hasn't been destroyed.
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“Thank you...so much,” I say catching my breath. “Gee whiz! I don't...think I could have done that for much longer.”
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She smiles, blood caught upon her cheek. Maybe she is nice after all.
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“You are welcome,” she says, light disdain still on her features. Makes sense. A hard nosed, likely cigarette smoking, future spinster like her probably has a lot of situation unrelated reasons to be angry at me. She could definitely use a friend. More than her brother at least. Who ever heard of a man losing his lunch! “A true man holds it in.” That's what my dad says when he comes home from the bar.
“So...” I say slowly, “what brings you to our quaint little town?” A large boom could be heard in the distance. Please let it be the school! “Well...formerly quaint little town.”
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That got a laugh out of her. “Still working that out-”
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We find ourselves temporarily distracted as we see one of the aliens get overcome by a hoard, watching as it falls to the ground and lets out a terrible screech of pain. It is just as ugly as the rest, all teardrop shaped head with glass shards for teeth, and what I must say is an entirely unnecessary number of limbs. It is an imposing shape, even while every part of it is desperately trying to get away from the undead.
Well, a stranger in need is a stranger to meet, even if it isn't friend shaped. I quickly head to my garage, grabbing my brother's baseball bat. If this strange lady can be heroic, then so can I! I take a swing, striking one of the dead on the side of the skull, but on my second swing I accidentally strike the alien on its shoulder . It lets out what I assume is a long string of expletives. Why does everyone have a potty mouth today?
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“I'm sorry,” I say earnestly. “I've never swung a bat before!” Well, maybe not never. I once tried to hit my brother with one after he took the last piece of cake, but that was back when I was a kid. Now I am twenty one. I'll be getting gray hairs soon!
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Any further explanation is cut short as Heather rushes forward, a tire iron from my father's garage collapsing in the head of another zombie, mostly gray brains spilling on the ground. Her second swing strikes the last one, burying the tire iron in its right eye, causing it to burst, as she finally sets the alien creature free.
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“Thank you,” the alien responds. What was that accent? British? “We came here to invade your world, but your act of kindness has shown us the error in our ways.”
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“Huh,” Heather pondered. “You know, I don't think I've ever noticed the people trying to talk to
the aliens before. Usually in these films they just start shooting.”
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A high pitched yell rang out as Cooper charged, picking up the dropped picket and driving it into the alien's skull. The creature went limp upon the ground, black blood splashing onto the forms of what were recently some very alive (very excessive) former dead.
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“What the fuck, Cooper!” we both scream in unison.
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“I saved you...from the alien,” he says nervously. Okay, so, maybe he was on thin ice before for the beard, but now he is officially uninvited to all birthday related social gatherings! “Wait...” Heather says, her...caramel with extra steps looking eyes staring at me with concern. “Did you just swear?”
I go to clasp my hand over my mouth, before changing my mind. If there is a day to swear, this is it. “Did you hear me swear?” I ask with a smile.
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“Nope,” Heather confirms, “Can't say I did.”
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“Well,” I add, “I suppose we will just have to find another alien to save.” My blood is pounding in my ears. My first swear and my first dead zombie. What an eventful day this is turning out to be. Now that I know I can swing a bat, maybe when this is all over I can try out for the softball league.
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Stacy nods along with my plan. “Seems at least like a good start, since Cooper here just added at least another fifteen minutes to the film.”
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“So this is a film shoot? But, my hair is all a mess. And I didn't even do my makeup! Oh, what will my mother think? Me joining in on some science fiction/horror production without her permission? She is going to ground me for sure! And all before the Pierce Prep College football game. Tony will be playing, and he said that if I watched then he would tell Fred that I like him.”
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Heather tilted her head. “You are full of all sorts of weird priorities.”
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“Well sooorry,” I responded in my most obnoxious voice. “Some of us weren't born with good looks and a can-do attitude.”
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“I think you are pretty,” says Cooper shyly.
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I roll my eyes at that. Who does he think he is! Mr. Beard Face...Mc...Butt...Person! “I think you are kinda hot,” Stacy adds. Am I blushing now? Feel warm. Okay, that was weird. “But,” she continued. “Still a lot of unanswered questions. Like how did we get here through the TV, or how did the undead follow us along? Or how do we even get back to where we came from?” “I may have an explanation for the first part. My dad has been working on teleportation technology. He says that if he succeeds, that it will cause world peace...because science...Anyway, last night he said that he was going to be doing his greatest test yet, to connect us to another universe. As we understand it. So, if we are in a movie, maybe you are from another movie?” “That's,” she says with surprise, “...well shit.” She looks like I probably did when they first arrived. All scrunched up and worried about being insignificant. Mom says that's what marriage is. “I was,” she continues, “not expecting to find out that I was part of someone's crossover. Fuck. Okay...not the time for this. Before we can fix things, I think we need to deal with the aliens, zombies, bugs, and whatever the hell else shows up.”
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As she says this, we hear a scream as we watch Peggy Lee Applewood, Pierce Prep's cheerleading captain, run for her life from what I can best describe as a bog monster (looks like a swamp smells). Absently, we watch as they race across the street. Peggy manages to clear a neighbor's fence (great form!) but so does the creature. Can't see her, but she suddenly sounds like a soda pop. “Like that!” Heather barks. “Seriously?!”
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“Well,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster, swinging the bloody gray bat onto my shoulder, “nothing is better for monster killing, alien saving, and finding out you are an insignificant piece of a much larger whole, than a malt and some fries. My treat! Cooper can come too. Malts really razz my berries!”
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“That,” Stacy responds with a confused sigh, “is a wonderful idea.”
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Greetings, fiends, for a riddle so grim: A place where Elgin’s shadows never dim.
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In a Greek revival from eighteen fifty-six, Old Main holds tales that time cannot fix. Once part of a campus, now history’s keep, where the past’s dark secrets quietly sleep. A society thrives, preserving the old, what’s the name of this haunt where stories unfold?