Short Story

At the bottom of the stairs, she turned to the left and went nearly to the end of a long, stone hallway, small rooms dug into the walls. She walked into the living quarters of her family and smiled. They'd gotten one of the biggest rooms, since her father was helping on the company's project here in the Sahara.

Finally spotting the room, she swiped the card and entered, wondering if she was there first, or if he had left already. She was really nervous, a feeling she wasn't that used to experiencing, and that she absolutely hated. She was taking the pitifully low class interior decoration when she felt something cold against her head - it had to be a gun - and someone pushing her in.

At the end of the hall there was an airy sound of a flute reverberating from Gretchen’s room. The door was open. On the opposite side of the hallway was a rack holding a rainbow of dresses. She paraded in and out of the room carrying different colored fabrics.

She stooped low, reclaimed the hat, and placed it on her head. “Kat . . . Katlin Collins.”

“Hello, my names Katherine Clark. I couldn’t help, but notice how amazing you did up there. Give me a call some time.”

“Good morning Ms. Robertson,” Daniel said to the woman sitting behind the desk doing paperwork. The woman looked up, straightened her glasses and her face lit up.

The underground compound of the WWA she was in was decorated with banners and flags. It was a very special date, the day in which the next Head would be chosen. A small group of witches and wizards stood in the middle of a raised platform located in the center of the room. They were almost

Garrett’s 6 year old sister, Megan, fled down the steps, sprinting the whole way down. Sweat had plummeted down from her face, leaving beads of sweat dripping on her forehead. Her eyes were glistening and glazing with tears, to the point where she was about to cry. “Garrett! I-I didn’t know what to do!

She had to rush to her dressing room due to everyone else already being there and in costume. Quickly, she put on her costume and did her hair and make up only to have a stage hand come knocking on the door, giving her the five minute warning.

The dark grey robe slid off her thin shoulders as she walked to the door. The hooks on the back were to hang the robes so they would not get filthy and covered in blood in the process. Katherine put the robe on the hook, revealing the brown pants and black blouse she wore underneath. Everything about their lifestyle was muted in the cult. Boring even compared to her life before the cult.

"Okay, class! Quiet down." Mr. Perone smiled, triple chin appearing out of nowhere, but Chelsea was more so focused on the fluffy, pink fuzz in the doorway staring in awe.

"Hi. Hm I was sent here for the student president to take me to my homeroom." She said, softly

Rena puckered her lips, balancing a pencil between her nose and mouth. She leaned forward over her desk while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

At the top of her apartment complex, above families and lovers, perched a figure on the ledge of the rooftop. It stood above layers of humanity in that complex, liveliness indicated by the lights shining through the different curtains and blinds covering most of the windows of the complex. The figure stepped closer to the edge, its head turned to Teresa Sandoval. The silhouette reminded her of a woman: the harsh wind pulled back its hair and a sheet cascaded down the building.

The room was rather big with windows making up the side walls and everything else taking on a honey gold tint. To her right was a small kitchen complete with dining table, stove, and countertop. On her left was the the entrance to the library followed by figurines and busts of important figures. A large grand piano sat just past the kitchen, tuned as perfectly as the day it was made. In the middle was a large, circular table with holograms dancing on its surface, though what ended up being in the middle of the main room changed day by day. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was as susceptible to change, as some times it would cast seemingly real sunlight and other times it would show pictures straight from the recesses of your mind. Train had full control of the place, so really the whole ship could change in a matter of seconds, with the only constant being the grand piano.