Behold, my ultimate story masterpost up to chapter 4!!!
Tw: Mild Gore and Death on Prologue and Mild neglect in Chapter 3 so if any of those are sensitive topics i would advise skipping it.
And super mild gore in chapter 1 since roadkill.
That knock on the door should have been left unanswered.
I was living my normal life, well, as normal as meeting with a group or twenty or so people in a run-down old firehouse can be. We all saw things in our lives, or our parents did, that just didn’t sit right. And I don’t mean small things either. Especially after half the town was wrecked a few years ago. Some government figure who seemed pretty high up on the food chain was there just a day after telling people that everything was fine. Just a gas line explosion, he said. And then he had the audacity to call us conspiracy theorists.
Sure it’s a little weird that we all meet in a firehouse, so I guess there’s a point to that, but we all know magic is real. And from that guy’s involvement we know the government does too. All we need is video evidence.
We haven’t done anything illegal yet, so the government can’t shut us down, but we’re getting desperate. There used to be triple the amount of us after the incident, and we’ve just dwindled away slowly ever since last year since nothing weird happened between then.
So we had to do something drastic. Of course we had to, nobody would believe us otherwise. But I really don’t think kidnapping a kid based off one member’s claims was a good call. Poor kid has to be traumatized or something. I feel horrible-but I got outvoted. If he really is magical though, we can finally have most of our questions answered. On the other hand, we might get shut down. Or arrested.
I’m currently sitting by the door when my younger brother Mark walks by and notices my expression.
“Hey Mikey, you good?”, he asks.
“Yeah I’m fine”, I respond. “Just a bit worried about this is all.”
“You should lighten up. The Crazy Catholic vouched for it, he’s pretty legit about this.”
“He claims the devil killed his parents and had smiled at him… plus he’s too young to worry about this stuff anyway”, I retort. “He’s really still just a kid, no matter what he’s been through. He’s probably traumatized from seeing someone kill his parents, and if that’s how he keeps on going then I guess I can’t argue.”
“You know you don’t have to big-brother everyone, right? I’m a handful as is with mom gone.” He chuckles ruefully.
“You’re not a problem at all. I just feel sorry I have to take you along to this bunch just for answers.” I sigh and he pats me on the back.
“We’ll find mom if she’s out there. I know you, after all.”
As seen here, my little brother is awesome.
Before we can talk more though, two people burst through the door out of breath and eyes wide.
“We were right, WE WERE RIGHT!”, the two shout.
Now that i recognize them, they appear to be Josh and Nate. They make up two-thirds of the group that got sent to do the kidnapping, and are definitely more the impulsive type.
The two of them proceed to shout up a celebratory storm-not to mention all the others rushing over-and I get a headache from all their shouting.
“Can all of you quiet down and tell us what happened before I have a whatever-damned migraine again PLEASE?!” I burst out in an uncharacteristic burst of exasperation.
“How harsh Mike, when we just hit the goddamn jackpot!” Josh croons with extra sing-songiness on “jackpot”. “Look, look!”
He shoves his phone in my face and plays a video.
“I-i can’t believe it…” I mutter in disbelief.
I try to say more, but my voice is drowned out by the crowd. Thankfully, we all shared the same idea.
After this, a lot of cheering and slapping each other on the backs commence, with Clara even giving me a hug that lifts me off my feet and crushes my lungs. I should ask her out after this, I think to myself. She’s amazing and I’ve been meaning to for a while after all.
However, in all the intake of celebration I notice something. Or someone. The lack of someone, to be precise.
“Where’s the kid? And your third guy?”, I ask Josh.
Josh pipes up. “Crazy’s right behind us, and we kind of got chased out of the graveyard, so no kid. But you can’t call this special effects, right?!”
“well we’ll get a lot more support, and a lot more pressure from the government and stuff.”
“But forget about that”, I add with a grin of my own that matches the others. “Let’s party!”
In our scramble of cheers and hastily bringing out day-old-chips we brought in for a birthday (because capitalism sucks-and I don’t even have to be a conspiracy theorist to know that) Mark runs up to me and pulls me into a bear hug.
“I can’t believe it… we can find mom!”, he shouts with glee.
A knock on the door sends an ominous chill slithering under the party atmosphere.
“So, who’s congratulating crazy?” I ask with an air of annoyance. He’d never let us live this down.
Clara juts in. “I brought in those chips, I’m definitely not admitting he’s right to his face.”
Mark moves to open it. “Yeah, but that devil he’s on about isn’t even real. Well, most likely.”
We don’t even see who’s at the doorway before my little brother’s body is cut in half. There’s not even blood, he’s just… gone.
The next moments I can’t even think. All I see is this seven-foot-tall shadow leech into the room as everything goes black. I’m not knocked out, and can see everyone fine. But I feel nothing. Like my whole body is asleep and yet my eyes are awake.
I barely finish the thought as through the corner of my eye i see a member I never had the pleasure to know get ripped apart by that THING.
I somehow can’t see it properly, but it feels… cold. Empty.
I feel my grief which is so crushing it feels like the entire world-no-more than the entire world is crashing down on my head and my panic all at once turn into boiling rage but my body gives up on me and I still can’t move as Clara… not her too… I can’t see another friend die but my eyes won’t close. WHY WONT THEY CLOSE?!
My temporary shield of anger cracks and collapses as I see everyone else but me be eviserated and torn into pieces by claws and blades too fast for my eyes to see. I feel an ocean on hopelessness appear beneath me and I drown in it. I feel every light and every joy inside of me sink deep into misery as my mind shuts down and I feel like nothing. I feel blank. Then I can see it. A masked face in front of me with its false purple eyes suspended in a sea of darkness behind it.
Yet somehow I can still register a faint afterimage of fear as it appears in front of me with a trident already though my chest. I don’t understand why but I know what. What will happen to me. Like everyone else in here that only wanted to know why. Screw the reason why it’s here. Nothing can truly be that bad, right?
In my last moment of existence two things occur to me.
1. This is the devil whoever his name was… I can’t even remember my own name at this point… was talking about. How wrong we were. It’s even worse than any imagination of a devil. The devil was described as fallen. This thing is the fall. It is suffering, and that is all it will be.
2. It’s speaking to me. I cant hear it at all but I somehow know what it’s saying crystal clear as it affixes its soulless purple eyes on me with an expression of… pity?
“Your heart was good. I will spare you from what happens after.”
And all that I was, am, and ever would be is washed away in a blessing of purple fire and the sweet lullabies of a lack of existence.
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Chapter 1-Ignatius: I miss the bus.
The annoying blare of the flashing alarm drilled into the side of my head more colloquially known as my ear. A dictionary laid by my bed, which probably explained why I thought of the word “colloquially” and not just stating that it’s my ear. I don’t remember too many words, but I have enough to be a functional human, especially after studying a dictionary the last half of the summer, which was honestly pretty interesting. I sluggishly roll to the side of my bed to click my alarm off, and thankfully manage to do so on the first try before it starts up its second repeat of the noise. “There really need a more pleasant alarm system”, I mutter to myself as I prop myself up on my pillow and stifle a yawn. Since I live at a decently well off orphanage, I only have to share my room with one other person, who thankfully is 17 and wakes up way before me, so I can set the alarm as late as i want. Still, I should probably set it earlier but I really hate getting a bad sleep since it makes my brain all foggy and makes me not want to do anything all day.
I roll out of bed, get ready-very begrudgingly for your information, and pick up my oddly heavy bag. I look inside to see if someone put something in it, but it’s just a lunchbox and a series of notebooks. I believe I’m supposed to get a computer at school, but since it’s my first day in the district I’m without a laptop. I don’t have any electronics and I haven’t had any before so I hope I don’t have difficulty using it. At least my roommate lends me his phone sometimes when he’s not at school or work, so at least I won’t be one of those old people who can’t set up an email. Although I mainly played games so I can’t say that really. Plus I don’t really know anyone to send emails too, considering I have amnesia and can’t remember anything since the summer.
I walk to the communal bathroom with my bag dragging behind me, and begin brushing my teeth. However, a loud noise from outside causes me to panic and hastily finish up, because if I am correct that was most likely my bus.
As I walk the fifteen minutes to school, which thankfully is on the same road as my orphanage because I am horrible at directions, the September wind blasts my face with the pollen of a long-overdue end of summer, causing my eyes to water a little and my nose to stuff up. Why are seasonal allergies even a thing? I don’t have any other ones that I know of but these tiny plant particles seem to have it out for me. However, as I am distracted by my allergies and crossing a street, which honestly is a terrible idea in and of itself because I might have been hit by a car which would very much not have been good, I step on something… squishy?
As I look down, a really gross-looking rat or rodent or something is currently on the bottom of my foot. I scream loud enough probably for astronauts to hear as I bolt to the other side of the road and scrape my shoe across the sidewalk in absolute disgust. I feel like crying a little, but thankfully realize it was already dead for a while and I most likely did not step in guts. It still really bothers me and wants to make me throw up, but at least now I won’t be in a state of shock for the rest of my day. Only for a while.
As I sit on the sidewalk with my legs not criss-cross-apple-sauceing because the dead animal is gross, a sense of what I think is pity stirs in my gut. It just feels so, unfair, no, wrong, for lack of a better word, that it’s dead. As I think that, a sudden lightness hits my head, like I just ate way too much. I stand up, take a deep breath, scrape my shoe on the ground, and walk the rest of the way to school while being more than a little down about the day. In addition, I feel really queasy.
The school’s a lot larger than I thought it would be, but maybe that’s because I don’t remember going to school since the whole amnesia thing. I think I’m honestly taking it rather well, since it’s hard to miss what you genuinely have no memory of. My brain doesn’t even try to fill in any gaps or stuff, which is weird. Anyways, I was found by some of the people at the orphanage after someone dropped me off. The orphanage director said they were wearing a fedora and just left after, which I feel was very rude of them. I apparently still had amnesia back then, since I didn’t know anything about my family, but I did seem to know some stuff a regular 6th or 7th grader would know, so at least there’s that. And I knew my name. Apparently it’s really old-sounding, but I guess my family was British or something.
As I catch my breath, I become acutely aware of the swarm of students pushing and shoving each other into the relatively minuscule building entrance, and they are all, unfortunately, extremely loud. I hate crowds as much as the next person, probably more, but for some reason I cant prepare myself for how loud everything is here. It feels like a million individual voices merge into a disconcerting roar of chaos and it feels like the whole world is collapsing in on itself as my head feels feverish… or at least what I assume a fever would be. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten sick beside my allergies, but that’s not the point. I feel people pushing and shoving and at some point I get knocked into, which makes a flash of an almost irrational anger burst through me. I brace myself and keep pushing forward, even though I feel the details of the world slipping away and my fight-or-flight reflexes kicking in. However I’m mostly neither, so I kind of freeze up which causes me to bump into more people. Also, my breath catches in my throat and I feel like my mind is buffeted around in waves of oppressive sound and heat. How is everyone else in the crowd not feeling this?!
I feel like my head is overloading and deep-frying itself like one of those old library computers as I finally burst through the crowd into a refreshingly empty hallway at full speed aaaaannnd bump into someone.
|Classification: Director Only
Low readings of the Anomaly’s magic has been located at a site in Connecticut. It is unclear for what reason it was activated, but it appears a small amount of local roadkill within a proposed range of up to 10 miles from a proposed unknown center have been reanimated. The signature of the Anomaly is the same, but our theories for its purpose seems contrary to its previous motives. We have been able to confine the news from reaching anywhere beyond local, but newspapers are already in circulation.
The New England Supernatural Observation Division
“Guess I’m heading to Connecticut.”
He sighed. Work was about to get a whole lot busier.
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Chapter 2-Cassie: A Dream Come True
I’m running. I’m not sure from what, but I’m running. There’s another kid running with me, who I seem to be familiar with considering I am dragging him by the arm because he’s slowing down. He looks worse for wear, with a gash on his forehead and a limp on his leg. I can feel the panic surging through me as we turn abruptly into a classroom and slam the door behind us as it hurtles by. I can’t bear myself to look yet I know its red flesh with so many eyes scratched the door as it passed by in a blur and tore it open. The other kid’s bright yellow eyes scanned the room before he pointed and urgently whispered “There!”, pointing to an old wooden teacher’s desk at the end of the room. We run behind it and duck in the nook where the seat of the chair usually goes. It’s dark, cramped, but thankfully out of sight.
We both breathe a sigh of relief. And then something else breathes above us.
I wake up in a cold sweat.
What a way to wake up on a Monday I guess!
Prophecy really is more of a curse than a blessing when you think about it. Especially when it’s not even the good kind of prophecy that lets you predict lottery numbers or see your math test results. I just dream some random moment in wherever and whenever and I can’t even control when I have them, it just happens when I go to sleep sometimes. So it’s less prophetic and more of a curse. Of course, I can’t tell anyone, since they’d call me crazy, but it’s not too bad most of the time. But the most confusing thing about the dream last night was…
As I walk to my first class while pondering this, I bump into another kid. Anger at being bumped into flares up, but I remind myself that it’s the first day of eighth grade and it was probably mostly my fault. Probably.
“Sorry”, the voice who I match to a seemingly frazzled face replies that is surprisingly familiar and not exploded at the moment. Wait a second!
“It’s you!”, I say before I can stop myself.
“You know me?”, the boy asks.
The boy is a bit smaller than he is in the vision, but his hair is the same. It’s black like mine, but way more fluffy. I’m honestly a little jealous of it. He also has vibrant brown eyes, which I could have sworn flashed yellow, but I don’t naturally look at eyes so I have no clue. I have bad eyes so it might have been light reflecting off of my glasses. What was I doing? Oh yeah talking to the “dream boy”. He’s smiling at me, and his teeth are shockingly good for a middle schooler without braces. I have braces. They suck. At least they’re kind of ‘metal’. Saying puns to yourself really is a new level of low… wow I’m zoning out a lot today. Guess I’m just nervous. Or exhausted from all of the 4 hours of sleep I ended up getting.
“Uhhhhhhh… noooo?” I reply. Would he think I’d be weird if I said I saw him in a dream? I mean he would probably find it weird, so I guess I’m not going to say that. My social skills are crap what do I say?! Crap’s not too bad of a word, right? I get snapped out of my headspace again by his voice.
“But you just said you knew me? Well, uh, you said ‘it’s you’, but I assumed you meant you knew me and that I’m not a national fugitive or something?”
“Are you?” I ask confused if it’s a joke
“What do you mean you don’t think so?”
“Oh so that’s why-“, I get cut off.
“That’s why I was asking why you knew me. Sorry if that sounded kind of rude.”
I start to speak but he starts talking again.
“I’m sorry for interrupting. Sebastian says I do that a lot?”
He grins bashfully. It’s kind of cute. I honestly used to do the same so I shouldn’t mind, even though I haven’t done it for a while. He apologized for it too so I guess it’s fine in my mental tally, plus I’ve mentally hyper-panicked for a lot of this conversation so if anyone’s bad at talking it would be me.
“Who’s Sebastian?” I ask.
“It’s a long story. Was I on a missing person poster or something? Is that how you knew me?”
“Uhhhhhhhh” my awkward attempt at a stall is saved by the bell. Nice.
“I guess I’ll explain later. Do you know if we have a class together?” I ask curiously. I’m secretly hoping yes, but also no considering he dies in the future so…
“No, but if we do I’ll say hi. Bye!” He runs off excitedly, and then turns around and runs past me “my class is the other way! Sorry!”
No clue what he has to be sorry for, but I know of another person who does that too. That’s me. I’m that person. Speaking of people, it’ll be nice to have another friend besides…
“Hey Cassie! Who’s the boyfriend? Kidding, kidding. Just checking you know I was kidding right?”
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Chapter 3-Tommy: Algebra is the Bane of my Existence
I started my day off pretty good. Well, after having to wake up after a night of my dad forcing me to do my practice work before school even starts. It’s just so… boring i guess? I think that’s the word for it, but it’s not even that it is boring. Well it is, but not in the way I mean it. I just can’t seem to find the want to do it. My brain just nopes out. I probably only just have a short attention span from all the stuff online, really. Well, the stuff I get to watch, which is mainly finance things now that “I’m becoming a young man”. I mean, they’re kind of entertaining. If you squint really hard. And then imagine you’re watching something else. But other than that I do get to have a limo drive me to school, so that’s pretty nice. Still, all the extravagance can get pretty old. Especially when trying to make friends with new people.
I groggily trudge out of the limo, with the driver hurriedly whisper-shouting to me:
“Young Master Bancroft, you forgot your bags again.”
“Oh, sorry Vincent. Thanks for telling me”
I trudge back the few feet I made in the snail’s-pace mad dash to freedom I walked and take the second bag full of textbooks, which is absurdly heavy. I don’t blame Vincent for having to remind me though. He’d lose his job if he didn’t tell me to take them, but he’d definitely get fired if I told my dad I never read them anyway. I’d probably also get scolded.
But as I finally make it into the school campus, thankfully a little later than the usual rush thanks to the detour so I miss the crowd, I see something that makes my day. Because this will be the most fantastic fuel for teasing I’ve ever seen. I’m so giddy I can’t even believe my eyes. Cassie and a boy-who’s probably in our grade from my best guess too-are talking. Like really in-depth talking.
“Oh this is gold”, I think to myself. As they talk I get bored and slump against a locker and take out one of the big textbooks I bring. At least now I can try to read it. I unzip my second bag and take out a textbook about history the size of my face.
“All this for eighth grade?”, I mutter to myself quietly. However, as I crack open the shiny cover depicting a globe the same color as the weird beige used for treasure maps, its pages remain a mystery to me, because lo and behold, I still can’t read. I don’t know why either. There’s just some disconnect between the page and me, and it’s not an eye thing either… I think. My dad just says I’m not trying enough and that I’m lazy, but it just doesn’t click somehow. I mean if my dad says it’s just me being lazy, then everyone else went through this, right? Maybe I’m just not great at this whole smart thing. Well at least I can crack a good joke. As I’ll demonstrate now considering the boy just left.
I leave my books by the locker for the optimal sneaking, and walk towards Cassie. She’s currently looking in the direction the mystery boy, as I’ve decided to call him. Wow, the situation could not be better. As she finally notices me, I release my magnum opus:
“Hey Cassie! Who’s the boyfriend? Kidding, kidding. Just checking you know I was kidding right?”
Wow that was not my best execution. But Cassie takes a lot of stuff literally and I really don’t want her to think I actually think she has a boyfriend. We’re in eighth grade, so it’s pretty unlikely, and she probably would have told me since I’m her best friend of course. I think.
Cassie interrupts my overthinking with a sigh. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She then starts to walk away, which I join her in since my class is that way too.
“Well can I at least tease you about it a little…?” I plead.
“No”, she says firmly. A little too firmly I think.
“But I’m losing so much good material!”
“Fine, You get one more joke”, she states defeatedly. Yay me!
“Wow you’re acting like one of those tropes from those TV shows you get to watch. Are you suuuuure-“
“I’m counting that as the joke” she mutters.
As we walk up to my classroom, I start to wave goodbye as I realize… I forgot my bags. S***.
I run back as fast as I can and as I finally reach my bags, the bell rings. Should I just skip… nah, although I don’t always act the model student I am still decent. So I trudge back to class at my own pace, as the bag and the stress weigh heavy on my back and head respectfully. I’ll just get the other one later.
My arms are killing me when I finally get back to my math class, and am greeted with the disapproving icy cold glare of my teacher, Mrs… Sarah I think? It’s the first day so I don’t know, but I think I can make out an S on the board.
“My name is Mrs. Scott, it’s on the board.”
I go to my seat with a feeling of shame, especially with the snickering around me. I groan. First days are the worst. I know the routine though, don’t get called upon and then try to do the work later slowly and painfully until my brain feels fried. I thought i did pretty well at this today, but I guess not since Mrs. Scott pulls me over after class.
“Tommy, please”, I correct her.
“Hey, uh, Tommy, do you have… vision problems?”
“I don’t think I do. I think I’m just not a great reader… but I’ll catch up!”
She looks concerned. I feel suddenly concerned as well, mainly because she’s looking at me someone would look at roadkill. It’s rather unsettling.
“Is everything alright at home?”
“I think so… why would you ask?” I, of course, only have my own home experience, so I don’t really think I have a good frame of reference, but I’m not getting hit or anything so it’s probably fine.
“Nothing… but I think your parents might want to see this”, she says, sliding a freshly printed piece of paper into my hand. I can tell because it is really hot. But in a good way, like the heating pads I have for my back in my massage chair.
“What does it say? I mean I can kind of get it of course but…”
She gives me another concerned look. I’m not the best liar.
“Just… give it to them, alright. I think they may find it helpful.”, she concludes with an air of pity.
“Alright… thanks.”, I say as I awkwardly leave the room, and immediately chuck it into the nearby trash bin.
Sure it might contain something, but it might also contain another pamphlet about mental stuff that my 6th grade health teacher gave me. She got fired the next week, and my dad taught me harder for the next month.
Even if I do have something wrong with me though, I’m not taking a single chance that the main office will get involved. Because if I get called down, everyone will know….
My first name is Thompson. Which means my full name is Thompson L. Bancroft. AND IM NOT EVEN BRITISH!
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Chapter 4-Sebastian: The Oh-So-Tragic Life of a 17-year old Orphan
I got home after my shift and collapse on my bed. I then proceed to mumble into my pillow defeatedly. With my jobs, I haven’t been able to attend school and save up for college at the same time, so I’ve been walking a wire for a while and now… i have to quit both my jobs. Not just one, both. I mean, it could be worse. Not by a lot, but could. I roll off my bed and make a “thwump” sound on the hardwood floorboards as I lay on the floor, face down on the ground. I really need some sleep, but considering it’s noon I need to get some coffee or something before I take my road test, since my guidance counselor helped me schedule that since I lack parents. Well, I lack parental support since they cut me off a year ago and kicked me to the curb for personal reasons. They apparently divorced after it too, and yet neither of them took me back. And my grandparents and other relatives are in Norway of all places, so reaching them has been tough and they’d spend more money then I’m worth getting me over there. Plus I’m not ready to freeze to death or get, like, mauled by a bear or something. Though it feels like I’m dying now… ugh.
As I get up and dust myself off, I notice that for the past probably two minutes the director has been watching me. Which sucks because I definitely said all of my emotional baggage out loud.
“Sebastian, please come to my office if you have time, alright?”
The director, or Mrs. Margaret, helps me up from the floor. She probably noticed how skinny I’ve been getting, since I may have been living off of the restaurant scraps I’ve been sneaking out instead of any actual real food, considering she was looking at me with a lot of concern.
“Young man, are you alright? You look as skinny as a pole!”
“Yeah, I’m fine Mrs. Margaret. Thanks for asking.”, I reply. I don’t feel fine though, just for clarification. I am ten thousand percent aware my life is falling apart. But at least I’m aware about it.
“Sebastian, I noticed you’ve been not spending your weekly meal budget as of late… I know money is tight but you need nutrition too, and sleep for that matter. You look like a corpse.”
I laugh a bit about that comment, because I haven’t taken a good look in the mirror for a while, so I decide to take a quick glance at my reflection in a standing mirror next to the door. My blue hair is fading back to its natural black, and it’s unfortunately at the state where it’s probably in the least cool way possible. My eyes are definitely a lot more gaunt than I remember too.
“It’s fine”, I say dismissively. “I’m quiting my two jobs anyway. I think I’ve made enough and I need to make sure I get a passing grade senior year or else I won’t get any chance at scholarships, which, let’s be honest, is probably the only way I can support myself in college… if I can even get there.”
I sigh defeatedly. It just feels like the weight of the world is always on and around me like a giant blanket of invisible force. I don’t tell this to her, because she’s worrying enough considering she’s rubbing her arm, which is odd, since she usually fidgets with her…
“Mrs. Margaret, where is your ring?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.” She looks nervous as she takes a folded up piece of paper from her shirt pocket and hands it to me.
I unfold it and immediately hand it back after a few seconds of disbelief. “I… I can’t accept this. It’s too much-”
She cuts me off by lightly grabbing my shoulder. “Young man, listen to me. The whole purpose of being the director of this orphanage is so that I can help make sure everyone here is fed, clothed, and able to have a future. My husband and I-before he passed-started this orphanage for that purpose, and both of us would want you to have this. And even if you’ve only been here for a year, please, just take the check.”
I can’t believe how much my hand shakes as I take the money.
“Think nothing of it. Now let’s get you ready for the road test.”
“Well I am going to think about it, you gave me fifteen thousand dollars.”
“You know what I mean.” She smiles at me reassuringly, like my mom used to.
Maybe life isn’t so bad after all.
That’s all i have so far! I hope you all enjoyed! I cannot overstate how excited i am to finally put this out. Its like a birthday gift from myself!
Woo! Yippee! Hooray! (Aka me being sleep deprived but truly i am super excited to share this.)
