Young Writers Society

Chrysanthia Faumont

It was happening again. I couldn't stop it this time. It was like ice, crawling up my skin from my feet to my hair, too fast for me to control it. I was shifting.

A split-second later, I was low to the ground, and everything looked a lot bigger. I looked down at my paws- my paws? Oh great...now I knew why. I had to touch the neighbor's dog I had been forced to petsit yesterday, and now? I was a dog. On accident. Wonderful. And my parents were going to get home from work in a matter of minutes.

I bared my teeth at the sofa, growling in frustration. Why did this have to happen to me? What kind of a freak was I? I got more and more angry as I thought about it. Why? There were plenty of bad people out there who got to live normal lives, who got to be rich, who got to be lucky. But me? No, I had to suffer these- these terrible accidents. This paranormal shifting that creeped me out and made my life miserable. And I didn't even know why. I panted heavily, my eyes wide and furious. Someone needed to be punished. I didn't know who, but someone did. I panted more and more. I couldn't take it any more. I raced through the house, knocking over a chair, and pounded out the cat door, running, running, running...running....pant, pant....What was it I came out here to do? The anger faded out of me like water pouring out of a jug, and I became my normal self again. I lay down on the sidewalk, in tired defeat. I was still a dog.

There was a beep that sounded like car doors being locked. I jumped to my feet, looking all around until I found the source: my parents were home. Panicking, I ran across the yard and behind the house before they could see me...well, the dog me. I sat down and concentrated deeply, pulling back my human essence and letting it fill me. In a few seconds, I felt the icy chill covering me again. When I opened my eyes, I stood at a human height again. I looked down, and black hair fell over my shoulders. I took a deep breath, then remembered my predicament.

Panicking once more, I dashed to the back door, pulled it open, and rushed upstairs and down the hall to my room, just in time to hear my mom coming up the stairs, calling, "Chryssy?" I gave her a yell back to let her know my presence, and let out a deep breath.

I couldn't keep the secret from them much longer.

Name: Richard Meteel
Gender: Male
Age: 30-ish
Occupation: "Paranormal Investigator" (Aspiring reality TV show host)

Race: Human

Appearance:
Medium build, scraggly unkempt hair, neckbeard, penchant for loose fitting clothes.


Personality:
Unable to take responsibility for himself, or his actions. Perpetually searching for the next big "thing" (usually by copying what was big two years earlier), in the hopes of becoming rich and famous by doing nothing. He's not malicious, just oblivious, he doesn't want to hurt anyone, he just seems to keep doing it.

Knowledge: Heard a few urban legends about witches and other "supernatural" events in Matheson, he's hoping the legends will give his show the edge it needs to get picked up by a producer.

History:
Recapping every idiotic thing he's done would take too long, so here's the cliff notes:

1. Had to take summer school in order to graduate high school because he skipped finals to, in his words, "blow Tony Hawk's mind with his awesomely sick and bitchin' skate skillz."

2. Dropped out of college to try and win American Idol. (His singing is so bad he literally failed middle school choir.)

3. Dropped out of college again, because his game show (a version of Jeopardy aimed specifically at marijuana enthusiasts) was "totally going to become huge."

After meeting his (now ex) girlfriend, he started getting his life together, getting off the drugs, holding down a job for more than three months, even saving a little money. After they broke up, he started to regress back to his old ways.


Love Interests/Sexuality: Unimportant

Other:

Traveled to Matheson with his best (only) friend/camera man/ hapless accomplice/brother-in-law, Carl Hanson. Who is married to his younger sister Briana Meteel.


~Richard Meteel~

"I'm telling you Carl, I've got it this time, this is gonna make us HUGE."

Carl sighed, "What is it this time Richard? What's going to make us huge?"

"Two words. Paranormal. Investigation."

"Goodbye Richard."

"No, no, no, hear me out on this one. You know those shows where they run around with a crappy night vision camera and pretend to see ghosts?"

"I know of them."

"Well I was thinking, why couldn't we do that?"

"Because one show about idiots chasing fake ghosts is enough?"

"Ah, but we'd be different, I've totally got this great place picked out. They've got all these legends about ghosts and witches n'shit, our show would, like, have historical backing."

"Look, Richard, I know you've been taking the break up pretty hard, but you need-"

"This isn't about her, I'm doing fine on my own. I just need to get back in the game, and this'll be my ticket to doing so."

"I thought you were over this, I mean Jesus Christ Richard, you're thirty two years old. You need to start acting like an adult."

"Fine, I guess I'll be going by myself."

"Going where?"

"This tiny little town up in Maine."

"Maine? That's on the other side of the country! How are you planning on getting there?"

"I've got a bit of money saved up."

"Please don't, that's everything you have, don't blow it all on some asinine pipe dream."

"You can't stop me from going, all you can do is come with me."

They both heard an indignant snort. "Hang on a second Richard," Carl said. He looked up to see Briana standing in the doorway holding the other handset.

"You're not really thinking about going with him?" She said.

"I-I don't know, if I go, then at least he won't end up dead in a gutter somewhere."

Her gaze softened for a second, "we can't keep protecting him from reality."

"There's a difference between that, and keeping him from killing himself. You should know that better than anyone."

"Please don't bring that up. Just. . . don't. Things were different."

"They weren't. After what you did for me, turning my back on him is downright unchristian."

She started to speak, then stopped, nodded her head silently, and walked away.

"Sorry about that Richard, had to deal with the missus."

"Ah yeah, Bri sure is a slave driver. Anyway, what's your answer? Are you with me on this?"

Carl snorted, "I am on one condition, you have to promise me that when we get back you'll have a talk with a friend of mine."

"I've told you Carl, not interested in any church stuff."

"It has nothing to do with church stuff."

"Fine, I promise."

"Alright, so what's this town called?"

"I got it around here somewhere. . . oh there it is. It's called Matheson."

Nemier Loredo - School - "How about a demonic summoning?"

I like this girl, she wasn't totally afraid of using her magic like me. Hell she got the spell in a little quicker than I thought she could, not bad. My next class was band, at least someone gave me a class that I knew I would enjoy, I loved playing the flute, when I found the locker I was assigned and opened it. I thought to call my mother later and thank her for teleporting my flute in, because I don't know if I could stand using a school assigned one.

So there I was, walking into band class after fumbling around the school trying to find my next class. Then some time after the tardy bell rang, give me a break, I'm new here! As I walked in, all eyes were on me, the teacher who was female and I couldn't remember the name of for the life of me. Smiled and took my secduele and saw I had the case containing my flute.

"What instrument do you play Ms. Loredo?" she asked.

"Flute," I said simply.

Her eyes grew wide, her smile, wider. "How long have you been playing the flute?" she asked.

"Since I was six or seven, my mother taught me how to play. My dad played the violen," I said.

"Ah, so you come from a family of musitions huh?" she asked.

"You could say that, would you like me to demonstrate how well I'm practiced?" I asked.

"Sure, we actually have plenty of time to talk about everything, so you may," she said.

I opened the case and I quickly assembled my flute just as my mother had taught me, as I did, I was picking from a variety of songs to play. Then my witchy little mind came into play, how about a demon summoning? Na, as much as I like to, I needed to find the people I was sent to get.

The second I finshed building it, I immediately began to play the slected song of my choice. "Blackmore's Night, Play Minstal Play!" my mother loved Blackmore's Night, and she had taught me the flute segment of that song. My fingers played the notes correctly and with presidtion, not a single mistake made. As I finished the song, the whole class began to clap and cheer all but one, who was smirking uncontrollably.

"Very good Ms. Loredo, your mother must be a great teacher to have gotten you to such presidtion." The teacher said.

"Thank you," I said slightly breathless from my playing.

"Please go take a seat by Mr. Bloodroot over there." she said.

I do as I'm told and take the empty seat beside him, he was the guy who smirking at the end of my preformence. But now he wasn't, he was just acting nerviously now, but he did manage to get out a few words.

"That was great." he said, his voice deep and powerful like my fathers.

"I'm Nemier, and you are?" I asked.

"Ash, Ash Bloodroot," he said.

Ash Bloodroot~~~~~~~~Band Class

I had to admit it, Nemier seemed to have quite the taste for Blackmore's Night. "Play Minstral Play" wasn't one of my best of songs, but the mastery of the flute Nemier had was just as uncanny as a fellow magic user. Ash! I scolded myself sharply. Snap out of it, you curse-caster! If you blow it, then kiss your life good-bye or what else might happen to you. Just because you started to develop a major crush on her, doesn't mean you got the right to admit straight off that you're a Red Cycle warlock! You don't even know what the blazes is she! I opened my case and took out Cherrywood. I tightened the bow and rosined it.
Nemier said, "That's quite a nice violin you have there, Ash. Where'd you get it?"
I answered, "This is Cherrywood, my most prized violin. My parents, although greenhouse keepers, gave it to me after I finished private violin lessons. Cherrywood's been my pride-and-joy for quite a while, but I'm never anywhere without her except certain occasions I rather not explain." I set Cherrywood on my shoulder and sawed the bow across the strings, playing my best violin version of Cartouche while cracking a sly smirk. Nemier wasn't the only one around here who had a thing for Blackmore's Night and I wasn't at all afraid to prove it.

~Shiyera~

As I made my way into Economics, I handed Mrs. Goodin my schedule.

"It appears you're in the wrong class," she said. "You have Band this period."

She walked over to her desk and handed me a piece of paper. "Here's a note to give to your teacher."

I nod my thanks and head off to Band.



Just as I walk in, I hear someone playing the end of a song to Black Night and nod. Not Bad. I stop nodding when I notice it's Nemier playing. Great. As she takes her seat, I walk up and hand her my schedule. All eyes turn to me.

"Ah," she smiles. "Another one. What instrument do you play?"

"What ever instrument you want." I answered, and her eyes lit up.

"Really?" her eyes lit even more. "What instrument do you prefer?"

"The Flute." I pull my case out.

"How long have you played?" she looked at the case in my hand,

"Since I was about four years old." I had to think about that for a second.

"Would you care play for us?" she asks.

"Sure." I pull my flute out of it's case and piece it together. "May I?"

"Yes of course." she motions to the carpet.

I sit down on the carpet, folding my legs under me, beginning to play immediately afterwards. The song I play is one i'd written myself. Traditional Japanese flute playing had always sounded like such a beautiful thing, and from the first time I'd heard it, I'd been smitten with it. My eyes drifted closed as I let myself get swept away in the sound of the music, feeling as if I were floating. My eyes slowly opened as the song came to an end and stood up. It was completely silent for a moment before the entire class began clapping and cheering. There were even a few whistles.

"That was absolutely wonderful Ms. Stonewall!" she touched my shoulder. "You must have some teacher."

"I'm self taught," I shrug nonchalantly.

"Why don't you have a seat next to Ms. Loredo and Mr. Bloodroot?" she motions towards them.

As I make my way over, he begins to play Cartouche while cracking a sly smirk. I was actually quite impressed, but I would never show it. Listening to him play made me smile. I'd found another musical soul to play with. Everyone clapped as he finished song.

I take the seat next to the guy as I smile as Nemier. "Nice playing, and nice Violin."

"Nice playing to you too," he smiled.

"Although Blackmore's Night is good, Japanese flute music stole my heart at a young age," I smile ruefully.

"I can understand that," he nods. "Ash."

"Shiyera. I'd like for us to play together sometime." I reach out and shake his hand.

"Like wise."

"You did good too. From what I heard at least." I leaned over to look at Nemier.

"Thanks," she says. "You too."

If the two witches didn't think that Thomas couldn't see their pens moving by themselves, then they were stupider than they thought. He sighte4d. He unconsciously touched the dagger hidden in his shirt. The only thing his Templar superiors didn't know about him was that he himself was a witch. Well, witch born. His father had trained him to be a warrior mage. One who could kill with magic and blade. He smiled. All the witch covens he had destroyed had been surprised when he used magic. His eyes glowed silver briefly.