Young Writers Society

Yup, it's a piece of Dream Catcher again. Most likely you're thinking "what the heck is going on in the story", and you should be thinking this because I'm throwing a random piece at you guys xD As for the break into italics, it happens all the time in the story, so don't feel the urge to comment on that ^^

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Somewhere there is man taking sips of his freshly brewed coffee and watching the morning news from the comfort of his apartment. The stock market’s gone down, he’s thinking, or the season finale of [inserthere] is tonight at nine. Suddenly, a weather report transitions to the screen showing showers. Hmm, the man thinks, I better bring an umbrella. If only I’d been smart like that man and watched the damn news.

“You didn’t check the weather, did you?” a girl asks. Shut up, I tell her in my mind, shut up shut up.

“Yeah.” I force a smile as I yank off my heel. Gold and mud don’t go together, ever.

“You’re new here?” She continues to badger me and I search for paper towels to pat-dry my shoes.

Instead of the usual paper-towel dispenser fastened on the wall of every other bathroom in the world, an electric hand dryer is fastened here. I retreat to the stalls and return with a stolen roll of tissue paper.

“That won’t dry in time.” Her hair, the same shade and texture as cotton candy, distracts me from my focus; it explodes at the sides of her head like sparklers. Does she think they match that tutu? “Why’d you wear them?”

“Because I‘m a rebel,” I grumble. My dabbing of the shoe becomes aggressive mopping. I hear fidgeting and a quick zipping noise.

“Take mine.”

I whip around. Tutu girl’s holding out a pair of fur lined boots and earmuffs. My eyes drop to her feet: they’re bare except for the orange rabbit socks slouching at her ankles. She piles the items in my arms and dashes out of the restroom.

*

A boy with tired eyes and blond tangles punches the space before him. A stream of water from his fist blasts the security box. He steps aside for the girl behind him, his leader. Her liquid gold eyes spark as she commands a lightning bolt to strike the weakened box. The box bursts with a small cloud of smoke and a series of charred junk metal. The doors slam against the concrete wall. She steps inside.

The room is empty except for a dining table extending thirty feet to the opposite wall. A dimly lit chandelier dangles from the ceiling. The boy shifts forward.

“Chandler,” another boy hisses. He slinks from the shadows into the light. The orange glow of his eyes stand out against the black of his clothes and his whitewashed skin. Distorted red light swallows the room as the alarm goes off. Chandler looks down at his sneaker. It interfered with the sensor. “That’s why you should get some sleep, idiot.” He spits his spiderbite piercings on the floor and launches himself at the swarm of guards.

“Forget it Rai.” Their leader, Kyra, leaps onto the table in one fluid movement. “Toss me my claw.” Rai’s leg bursts into flames black as the shadows he came from as he punts five henchmen unconscious. He grunts, reaches into his vest, and pitches a gold object at Kyra, who catches it and slips the arm extension over her hand like a glove.

Her wrists flex before she slashes out half of the guards. They fall to the floor, the gashes in their chests laced with electricity. She glances at Rai.

“You didn’t stop their hearts, did you?”

“Of course not.” Kyra flings the claw back at Rai, replaces it with a whip, and lashes the bars of an air vent. “They’re only paralyzed. Now get Chandler and come on!”

Rai puts his index finger and thumb to his lips. He blows hard, summoning Chandler.

“Mmm, yeah?” Chandler wakes from his slumber and rises to his feet. He scuffs his heels on the ground, trapping the remaining bodies in their own personal icebergs.

“Get over here!” Rai swats the opening seconds after Kyra disappears within it.