A Whateley Academy Tale

Scald-Crow 1: The Rocky Road to Whateley

by

ShadowedSin

Part Two

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight next morning blithe and early
Took a drop of pure to keep me heart from shrinking
Thats the Paddy's cure when'er he's on for drinking
To hear the lassies smile, laughing all the while
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a-bubblin'
They asked me was I hired and wages I required to lay
Was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin
The Dubliners, The Rocky Road to Dublin

Chapter 6 - The Road Gets Rockier

Morning, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale Police Department

I thought I would never want a nice couch to sleep on or even just a shitty cot in the middle of a cabin back at summer camp. If one day I would be arrested for a crime I didn't commit I would tell my younger self to speak up more about my pain. About denying who I was and more about the bullying I was being put through. Perhaps if I said something my parents could have pulled me out of that hellhole. I held onto my knees as I awoke in a sweat and pulled them up to my chest. Sleep had barely been my friend as the changes continued. First, it was my collar bone, and then my ribs. Like molten magma, I swore I heard each of my bones creak.

The Sith Code

By

E. E. Nalley

So, I have not been completely lazy over the past months, and there has been writing done, but more on that later.  I can't yet go into great detail about what I have been doing, but, it is graphical.  As a belated Christmas present, I thought I'd give you all this.

A Whateley Academy Tale

Dissonance

A Sara Waite story by Branwen Gillen

Part One

Prologue

Waves rolled over rocks far below where Otto stood leaning against the railing of his balcony, overlooking the iron grey ocean. The steaming cup of cocoa warmed his hands and face as he sipped it gingerly. Tiny sporadic flakes of snow drifted on the breeze, stinging his face as each alighted on his drawn, unshaven, face. He breathed in the salty scent of the ocean spray, trying to centre himself.

The sound of a car pulling up the driveway on the other side of the house called his attention back to the dark, empty interior. Wandering back inside, he picked his way through the mess of his living room, converted months ago into a crisis room. Free-standing cork boards covered in photographs and maps, different coloured strings cross-crossing between linked pieces of information, clues and persons of interest.