The Interesting Tale Of Wolfgang Edwards And Cole Wilde

(Also Known As The Time An Entire School Ripped Itself Away From Earth)

For the most part, school life sucks, especially in high school, so it's only natural to want to do something to interrupt it. However, when your plans involve black magic and a bunch of kids high on sugar, everything which could ever possibly go wrong is guarranteed to go wrong. Strange situations push adolescent society to its limits, but, amidst all this turmoil, it is somehow possible for relationships to blossom... relationships with varying degrees of healthiness, but no matter - it is time for this tale to begin.


1. Wake Up - A Prologue

Slim fingers, sickly pale, tips tapping against the cracked cream sink basin, nails torn up to the flesh. Sky-blue irises, glazed over, crowned by long, dark eyelashes, quietly observing a reflection in a dusty mirror. One finger rising, trailing through a sea of small grey particles, carving valleys and mountains, revealing a cleaner picture through a single streak. It falls, returning to rest on the side of the basin, before drifting up to smooth down a single auburn hair fallen out of place, back behind an ear pierced by metal, no longer ruining the perfection of the braid falling down a back, defined by its protruding spine, tight against the skin.


Rough-skinned fingers, slightly tanned, running through light blond hair, one hand grabbing for a black and white cannister, the other suddenly alerted to dive for a brightly-coloured toothpaste tube dislodged by the sudden movement on the tiled shelf. Movements accelerated by a shout from beyond the locked door, fingers pressing down on the lid of the cannister, spraying aerosol in a short burst before discarding it, letting it clatter among the clutter on the shelf. A last glance at an uncertain face in a mirror speckled by condensation, a quick hand sweeping a short fringe out of two thundercloud-reminiscent eyes, a quick swish of an arm moving, a hand grasping a small bottle of eyeliner, hiding it in a pocket instantly, and another shout from beyond the door.


Angry, bruise-coloured semi-circles beneath deep ocean-blue eyes, brimming with scornful tears, refusing to blink, strained red lines striking two watery scleras. Soft red tongue running over metal braces, hiding ever-so-slightly yellowed teeth. Candy-pink painted nails digging into a palm, one hand occupied with a faded purple hairbrush, pulling through a tangled blond bird’s nest repeatedly, until it is pulled into two equal pigtails, tied with matching black hair bands. Finally, exhausted eyes blink, allowing small relief, tears quickly wiped away; a small, pink glass bottle picked up by one hand, its palm marked with small, curved red lines where nails pierced the skin, its finger pressing down on the plastic top of the bottle, rose-smelling mist filling the air.

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