When the government called, she was sort of creeped out at first, but when the doors of the building opened, she knew that she would grow to like it if the madness managed to spread to her. The gust of cold air failed to snap her into reality; it felt like a dream. Every step brought back thoughts of her brother taking the same steps. Zeffa Kept her composure and walked alone through the narrow halls leading to a elevator that would bring her to the second floor bedrooms. Each teenager had received a layout of the house in the mail a few days before being sent to the school. She flipped the page as the elevator doors opened, she stepped inside, gently pressed the number two button, and watched the doors close her inside.
The elevators in this place seemed to move faster than any other to Zeffa, so she didn't have the time to take a close look at the layout of the bedrooms. To her surprise, When the doors opened, instead of having a cold rush, the air was warm and decent. Zeffa took a deep breath in and took her bags out of the elevator. This is to nice for a testing center. She thought after scanning the long room, she set her things down and walked around cautiously. After about ten minuets, she assured herself that she was alone.
Rows of pink-orange beds lined the pink,white and blue retro walls. She noticed that there were no pillows, except for on the one bed that was centered on the back wall. It was bigger than the rest. Zeffa wondered why. She grabbed her stuffed bags and set them on a small mat on the wooden floors. When she sat, she sank down into the pillow-like mattress. It was then when she realized that there was a small table near the elevator. Shrugging off her jacket, she stood and walked towards the wooden table centered with bright flowers and a letter.
Zeffa decided to wait, she knew that she wasn't the only person who was going to stay here, she could tell by the large amount of beds. The elevator responded with a ding! noise as the doors slid open revealing a tall, blonde. The blonde carried two bags, she set them on a small bed and turned to see me. She smiled and began
" Hey, I'm Desiree, but you can call me ray"
I nodded to her " I'm Zeffa, you can call me Rose or Effie."
Personality: He's fun-loving and can never take things personally. He has a collection of corny jokes that he knows are bad. He knows how to have fun, and he knows that somewhere, everyone likes him (even if it isn't true!). He's different when faced with a challenge, though. He can't take pressure. He cracks easily, but doesn't let that stop him! He's an amazing people person and loves to laze around. Its hard for him to get a lot accomplished, and comes off as lazy. But really, he's good at helping others more than doing things for himself. He can make fun of a dire situation and would become someone totally different if he can get a laugh out of you.
History: His family used to be rich before his father discovered the wide world of gambling. Chase didn't really know his father much, since he was always out at 'work'- also known as gambling with Chase's collage money. His mother was supportive of him, and he became to amusing to others when he realized that he wasn't going to go to collage or get a good job. When his family became flat-out broke, his father committed suicide. From there, he and his mother have lived near the dump in a shack from metals they found.
Up for love? Yea!
other: Even though he's a guy, he wears this-
Spoiler! :
He's convinced its good luck. When you ask him about it, he says he wears it to get in touch with his feminine side.
Oh yea, he's a big flirt.
"Fantasy is a way of looking through the wrong end of the telescope."
"The writer who breeds more words than he needs is making a chore for the reader who reads!"
The comforting sound of his watch flicking its long hands in that repetitive motion was always a soothing factor. Something solid. Something unchanging. They would whirl around the centerpiece always to return to where the belonged. A never-ending pattern, so continuous and yet unchanging, like the sun going down and the moon coming up each night. Always the same.
I wiped the sweat of my forehead, my guitar slung across my back and my suitcase rolling behind me in a noiseless manner. I greased the wheels before I left. Nothing's worse then a screeching suitcase.
As I neared the elevator, my stomach knotted. Tick. Tick. Tick. I had to keep walking forward. Just count... one, two, three.
When I was safely inside the compartment, I began counting the ticks again. When I got to ten, I would inevitably start over. That way, I would always go back to the feeling as so desperately needed.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologuing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. - R.S
We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself. — Dietrich Bonhoeffer
thanks.
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