Young Writers Society

Every time the clock rings twelve its someones chance to escape


PLOT: You're trapped in a lab where you are either being tested or shuttering in your cell. Each prisoner has a power.. Every day you are brought to the labs and are pinned to a table where you are ejected, torn apart, and modified for hours on end. But every night at midnight the scientist give a prisoner a chance to escape. The only problem is, nobody knows who is being allowed to leave.

This confusion always leads to chaos and death and injury because everyone is trying to leave at once. But so far nobody has been able to leave since they are so busy trying to rip each other apart than to actually get out.

But one night everyone is allowed out, but only if they are able to work together.


POWERS: The range of powers has no limit but don't make it something typical like "speed' or "strength". Use your imagination and come up with something of your own. I have found a link to a list of unique super powers here-http://www.wattpad.com/6850636-100-super-strange-super-powers-uncommonly-used-in

CHARACTER TEMPLATE:

Code: Select all

[b]Age[/b]
[b]Gender[/b]
[b]Personality[/b]
[b]Appearance (Picture useful but not required(does not have to be human looking but still must be human))[/b]
[b]History[/b]
[b]Power (UNIQUE)[/b]
[b]Other[/b]

THE LAYOUT: The building contains 2 labs, a rec-room, a kitchen, a courtyard, and a cell block. Your character is free to roam where ever in the building when they are not being tested on or working. Keep in mind that NO ONE is aloud in the labs when they are not asked to be. Your character may be assigned a chore like cleaning the cells, baking, cleaning the dishes, or even helping make meals.

CELLS: Each character will share a cell, male/female, male/male, female/female, it doesn't matter. They will be sharing bunks as the scientists will be studying how they react to other people and genders. You are free to pick your own bunk-mate or I can assign you one if you want.

Elise Hood

My body bounced in rhythm with the soft steps of a man dressed in all white. With each step my illuminate hair flopped up and down against my face. My eyes opened and stared up at the bright ceiling instantly giving me a headache. Surgery was about to begin.

I was placed on the cold, metal table, quickly being stripped. The sound of what I thought as torture devices spilled out onto a small cart next to me. The mask covered my face turning my vision blurry and unrecognizable. Then soon there was nothing.






I awoke in pain. My body ached with every breath, every movement, every thought. Thick gauze covered my fragile body concealing fresh wounds, or scars. I was in my cell, dressed in a black skater skirt and a white tee shirt. Though we were in a prison, we were almost living in luxury. Tasteful food, clean, new clothing, hygienic resources. I almost wouldn't mind it if they weren't attempting murder on a daily bases.

I glanced down at my soft hands, the pain killers numbing the ache, and concentrated. I focused on my beautiful hands watching them slowly turn to metal. I flexed my fingers, making sure those dick scientist hadn't messed anything up. Thankfully they hadn't.

Years ago, maybe the first or second year I was at the labs. A subject had been completely stripped of their power. Taylor, that was his name, had the power to levitate objects and himself. They had found a small cell in his brain that stimulated it, and the Scientist took it out. Taylor then died, and the Scientist happily sent the cell to NASA who is now using it to improve rockets.

I still thought of this everyday and every time, it almost killed me to even think about what they would do to me.

Feeling slightly stronger, I moved into her wheelchair and started rolling towards the courtyard. Once I found the land of dead grass, I also spotted my long time friend Xander. We were complete opposites, but we still seemed to get along perfectly.

I scooted out of my wheelchair and hobbled over to Xander, before collapsing just behind him.

"Oh shit, you okay?" He asked whipping around to help me.

I nodded, thankful for the generous help. Xander laid my down on the grass before sitting down right next to me. We held hands, both in need of comfort and stared at the gray sky. This is what my life is.

Dex

Dark hallways splatted in blood and throw up. A child screamed my name in the background on a continuous loop. I screamed in reply trying to drown out every sound but myself. A sharp stab ran through my spine followed by slickly wet goo. I turned to see Shiloh hands covered in blood and smile on her face.


My body is shaking as I wake to the sound of my own screaming. It isn't real. I hurry to go find Shiloh. She needs to be okay.

"Dexton..." I hear a small voice say.

I lift my head to see Shiloh in my doorway clutching Addy looking fearfully at me. Thank god it wasn't real.

"Hey, I'm okay don't worry." I say sitting up and crossing my legs so she can sit in my lap.

She crawls onto me and wraps her arms around my torso. I hug her back stroking her tangled hair slowly pulling out some of the matted strands out to fix it a bit. I pull her off of me a bit and sit her next to me on the cot.

"Wanna practice on Addy a bit?" I asked her staring into her eyes that looked so much like my own.

She nodded and sat her doll down on the floor as I transformed into a child around 8 or 9. I knew Shiloh liked it when I changed closer to her age as she felt as I was more of a friend then a brother.

Her little face crumpled up as she focused on the rag doll. The doll sprung to life as it looked slowly around the room and then looked straight back at Shiloh. I smiled at my sister as she started to talk the doll.

Shiloh smiled big as the doll stuttered out quiet words back at her barely audible. I high fived her breaking her focus and causing the doll to crumple onto the ground.

"Sorry," I squeaked in my small voice.

Shiloh sighed and turned back into a 19 year old again picking her up as I did. I hugged her tight before laying her down on my bed.

"Dexton Turner." A guard said from the door, "You are needed for kitchen duty."

I sighed and kissed my sister on the cheek before going to do my chores hating that I have to leave my precious sister once again.

Xander

Shadows danced in my mind as I slightly dozed off, laying next to Elise. Her hand was soft on mine, but that's all it was. A comfort. Nothing intense. I honestly don't remember some of the things she tells me.

The dickhead scientists decided to play around with the part of my brain that stores my memories. There is one part of that side that keeps the subconsience things, like breathing, walking, and all that good stuff. Then there's the stuff that holds my personal memories. My name, age, past.

I woke up, knowing nothing. They basically filled me in on the rest. I didn't like the name they gave me, Elliot. It sounded like I was a girl. So I asked if I could change it to Xander, they obliged. Everyone else I seemed to know had trouble switching to the new name, but soon got the hand of it.

Elise said she was close to me before I lost my past, I couldn't be sure, but she seemed nice enough. I didn't talk to her at first, but she was so damn persistent. No matter how close with me she thought she was, she wasn't even an inch into my skin. I hid myself.

I noticed she kept her thoughts very carefully hidden. She tried to think about certain things when I was around. Oh yeah, I can hear other people's thoughts. At first, after the experiment, I thought I was going mad. But then I realized it was the thoughts of people I was hearing. I actually learn quite a lot from the memories Elise has.

She was thinking about this guy, Taylor. I don't know him, but she seemed to have a pretty intense relationship with the guy. Wasn't my business.

"So bullshit about you being alright." I said knowingly.

"God, Xander. Sometimes the whole mind-reading thing get's old." She rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Seriously though, what's up?" I was looking at the side of her face, she was still staring at the sky.

"There was this guy, Taylor. The scientist took the cell in his brain that gave him his power and sold it to NASA. He's dead now." She turned to me, "What if I'm next?" There was slight fear in her eyes.

I pulled her closer, I wasn't use to trying to comfort people, and I hoped it wasn't awkward. "They won't touch you." I said, determined. She's the only person I talk to, they won't take her.

She nodded, and I kissed her hair. I nodded and got up, walking away, not looking back.

I think black is my favorite color. It has the most unique feeling, having a thick, coarse and grainy feel stuck against the page. Each time my fingers run across the letters of the page, the feeling of black comes to my senses, like charcoal. It's stickier than other shades of black because of the way it was printed, but it is black nonetheless.

Even so, black is more than just a feeling against my skin. It's meaning is far deeper than just senses and perception. In itself, it is symbolic of how we should be: void, rough and deep. But usually expectations fall short and mankind is stuck with majority of its population idiotic and emotion driven.

Continuing to run my fingers along the page, I watch the words appear in my mind, merging together to form sentences to press the adventure forward. Though I've grown rather bored with this book entirely. Its outcome is far too predictable, not even taking into the account the glaring obstacles which the protagonist should face.

With an exasperated sigh, I slide the book across the table. It didn't even make the average of captivating me for ten-point-four chapters, falling short at a mere six-point-two. This outlier will probably mess up the numbers a tad, since it was a poorly written novel altogether.

Snatching up the notebook and red pen from the table, I flip open to the last page with writing on it and scribble in the data, calculating percentages and averages as I go along. Afterwards, I flip through the remaining blank pages, only counting four. I'll definitely need a new one by the end of the week, as there also needs to be more of a collection of reading material if experiments continue to run this slowly.

As I replace my notebook and pen in their spot as neatly as I can, I notice the faint sounds of footsteps out in the hall. Teresa definitely. They are softer, indicating feminine, though the sound from the step rings out slightly longer and bounce around more. That's just how she walks.

Sure enough, seconds later, the door to the recreation room opens and it's her. Because of her ability to sense emotion, her scent is slightly sharper, and her essence reaches out further, causing a slight tingling sensation in my skin. I don't even have to turn around and face her to be able to tell it's her.

I decide to engage in conversation. "Glad you could join me, Teresa."

"How'd you know it was me?" she asks, shyly.

A faint grin tugs at my lips. "You've been here long enough to figure it out. Now what brings you here? Need someone to entertain you?"

Her cheeks grow hotter, probably flushing a slight red. "No, I was just hoping to find some quiet. You know, from the labs..."

"Good luck finding any quiet," I say. "Those labs have screams like banshees, constantly following you. But you get used to it."

"I'm sure I will, but it doesn't help my fear any." Her voice grows quieter, trying to become more coy. There is a character of something fragile there, but it feels unnatural. She gives off such a bold and determined aura. The two don't match up.

I sigh, "Fear is such a pointless thing. It's irrational. What is there to fear when someone screams? Take the logical route and fear just dissolves."

"Easier said then done," she mumbles.

"Another example of where self doubt suppresses the actual capabilities of your mind. Try it out sometime. Another cliche saying could be, 'don't knock it, until you try it.' Now, if you'll excuse me, I recall that I have a kitchen to clean."

They’d given me a boring doctor again. This one didn’t even flinch when I gasped and let out a tiny shriek. Unlike everyone else, I used to love lab time. I could feel the coursing guilt steaming off of my experimenters like waves raging over my head. Cold, sharp, and suffocating. I’d always known what to say, then, the words that would make it their torture, instead of mine. And even though it hurt, I would laugh, watching the doubt in their eyes grow.

But then they’d stopped given me those doctors entirely, choosing ones with cold eyes and calm, calculating fingers instead. I hadn’t seen the doctor I’d reduced to tears after that incident. Maybe he’d quit. Quit living, more like, if I was right about the ruthlessness of those who ran the lab.

Without my little game I couldn’t, but it was probably for the best. They didn’t like it when I didn’t scream. It made them uncomfortable. And not the good kind of uncomfortable, the kind of uncomfortable that made me think my days were numbered.

Finally, he was done, and I was released. I went back to my room. It was usually empty this time of day. I laid in my bed for a long while, enjoy the solitude. When my roommate did return I left, choosing that moment to do my chores. I had cleaning the bathroom this time. That was fine though, because once again it meant I was alone.

It was nearly midday before I wandered into the rec room, finally forced to interact with my fellow inmates.

******************************************************************

I didn’t like that blind kid. He knew way too much for having no eyes. At least he was treating me like some weak little baby doll. It may have been infuriating the way they all seemed to look down on me, but it was useful.

And though I’d never tell him this, his little speech about fear was actually kind of inspiring. Maybe if he ever got out here, he could go around being one of those motivational speakers. He could speak to the blind and the recovering from illegal experimentation alike.

She laughed, out loud, to herself, earning her several odd looks.

-Belle/Wandering around-

My fingers pick at the sleeves of my dress. It's long, and white, and made of something cottony. A drop of blood lands on my finger. I touch it to the cloth and watch as the redness spreads slowly.

Blood is everywhere. Even the walls drip with it. Or do they? Maybe there are no walls.

There are no walls.

The walls are gone.

Gone.

Am I gone? Am I here?

Here? Is here gone? Something isn't right.

I study my nails. They have dried blood underneath them. It strikes me as hilarious, and I start to giggle.

"Bloody hands! Bloody hands." And I haven't killed anyone.

I stop laughing when a gigantic knife appears next to me. The ground squishes under my bare feet. Something liquidy pools underneath me, staining the hem of my dress. The knife disappears in a burst of blood.

"Hello?" A footstep echoes behind me, and I turn around. A man in black walks towards me. "Who are you?"

He smiles, but doesn't say anything. He offers me his arm, and I grasp it. A bloated corpse floats past me in the river of blood. I stop.

"She has red hair." I turn to the man, but he's gone.

Is that me?

I continue walking, sloshing though the blood. I can feel my heart beat faster. I tug on a lock of my hair. I want to sing, but I don't know what.

A piano plays, somewhere down the corridor. I hear a girl's voice begin to sing. "Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme."

I hear the song and smile, picking up the tune. "Remember me to one who lives there, for once she was a true love of mine." My favourite song. "Tell her to make me a cambric shirt. Sober and grave grows merry in time. Without a thread-"

A door appears in front of me. I blink. The wood feels worn beneath my fingers, and the river of blood is gone. That's odd. I open the door and step inside.

Even my dress is clean. But my fingernails still have blood underneath them. I start singing again, softer. "Are you staying in Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me, for I once lived there, and then it'll be the place I call home." I've gotten louder, and I giggle.

My voice was always pretty.

Both boys turn around when they hear me laugh. I laugh again at their expressions.

Wait, where did the boys come from?

One of them looks horrified. The other looks amused.

The ceiling is dripping blood onto the floor. "We should clean up the floor."

"Is there anything on the floor?"

I frown. "Hello. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" The little girl glares at me and runs out of the room.

I glance up. "I have to follow her, don't I?" When neither of them answers, I run out of the room, following the little girl. A cat waves at me from outside and turns into the man from earlier. I find a door that takes me outside.

I twirl around. "We should dance!"

"There's no music."

I take his arms and start waltzing. "Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me to one who lives there, for once she was a true love of mine. Tell her to make me cambric shirt." I twirl, and when I turn back, I am dancing with the corpse. I scream, running away as fast as I can.

I pick up where I left off. "Tell her to make me a cambric shirt. Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Without a seam nor needlework, for then, she'll be a true love of mine." I sigh with relief as my fingers cut into my cheeks and smile at the taste of blood dripping into my mouth. The grass beneath me is soft. "Tell her to wash it in yonder dry well." I keep singing, listening to the music flowing to my ears for what I should sing next.